Old, old story, originally posted under the name Lex1. Recently rewritten, mostly just for fun.

670378 (08.14.85)
08:51
BOX 01, Message 7 of 18
To: COMM (CO)
From: MED (CMO)
TRANSCRIPT:

Hey Prime, it's me. Uh. I guess you're not there right now.

Ugh. I hate leaving messages on this thing, so I'll keep this short. I've got a couple things I need to run past you - uh, you know, maybe I should just come up to Communications and look for you in person. Don't tell Wheeljack I said this, but I honestly cannot stand this thing. I never know what to say. I literally sit here for two minutes trying to compose a message in my head before hitting the comm. And does my voice really sound like this? I'd love to just switch back to the old text system through Teletran.

Ugh.

Mmm, no, I guess I'd better not leave the ward. Lately it seems that every time I step out something new sidles in behind my back. Like two weeks ago after that patrol north of Portland. I had Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker, and Ironhide all down in here at once - all of them with superficial injuries, fortunately, but god, it was hell.

Eh, I'm rambling. There were only a few things I wanted to run past you: first off, could you pass a message on to Jazz for me? I could ring up his box, but I'd rather just get all of my messages over with at once. All I need is for him to stop by Medical later this afternoon and go over inventory with me. There's a few things I'd like to add to my usual list - like overhead lights for that damn biobed. You know the big one? Yeah, well, Ironhide punched out two of them out by accident while he was down here. Well, he said it was an accident, anyway. This being Ironhide, I have my doubts. So, I need lights.

Secondly, Slingshot's still down here from the August eleventh incident. He's pretty stable now, so if you'd like to shoo someone his way to get a report off him for Prowl, I'll find something in my office to keep me busy long enough for him to spill his guts. It might be for the best - he seems pretty subdued about the whole thing. He might appreciate the chance to talk to a sympathetic ear. And, uh, while I like the kid enough, I really don't have the time to wheel him around the ward and pet his hand.

And hey, while you're at it, could you please have a talk with Silverbolt? Every time I turn around I trip over one of his hooligans. I've told them fifty times if not a hundred time that Slingshot and Skydive are going to be perfectly fine, but they still keep moping around. I think they've even been sneaking in at night, which is a bone-chilling thought.

Hmm. I think that was it. Hey, if you've got some free time later this afternoon, feel free to drop by. I'll dig up someone to keep an eye on the ward and we'll go crash the Rec for a while. I've got to get out of here, even for a little while. Work is pretty light now that Skydive's in the clear, and if I have to look at Fireflight's worried face one more time I'm going to snap. Anyway. Take it easy. I'll talk to you later.

...

...

... uh, bye?

...

...

(Gah, I'm telling you, I really can't stand talking on that thing. My mind just goes blank when I have to leave a mes-)

(What?)

(It IS?)

(What little red light?)

(Oh, for the love of-!)

(-click-)

67.03.78 (08.14.85)
TRANSCRIPT, AIR RAID: MEDICAL HALL, 09:40

Yeah, hi, excuse me-

Huh?

What?

Look, I'm sorry, but I really can't stop right now, I gotta go find Silverbol-

Ugh, I can't- look, come over here for a second, out of the hall. Over here! Geez. What's with all the people around here today, doesn't anybody have somewhere else they have to be-

There. That's better. This room looks empty. Now. What did you say?

...

Aw man, I really wasn't kidding when I said I can't spare the time right now.

Waaait.

You were just heading to Medical, right? To see them?

Huh.

Hmm.

All right, all right, but only for a couple minutes, okay? I just got radioed by Bolt-

Oh, I don't know - he said something about a meeting. Aerialbots only. He probably wants to lecture us about something. Who knows. Primus, we only been around for six months and already we've heard more about things we can't do than jobs we should be doing.

Real annoying.

Uh... hey, don't take this the wrong way, but...

What was your name again?

Oh, right, right. Sorry about that. I still haven't got everybody sorted out yet. There sure are a lot of you guys on this base. You Autobots. What do you need us for, anyway? There's gotta be enough of you around to-

Oh. Ha. Riiight. The flying. Heh heh.

Anyway. What can I do you for?

Uh huh?

Yeah, I just came back from visiting Slingshot. And Skydive. Okay, I'll level with you. Ratchet kicked me out. Oh, I don't know. Ratchet does lots of stuff that doesn't make any sense. What's his problem, anyway? I mean, it's a medical ward. Of course people are going to want to visit their injured friends. Man. You should have seen the way his eye ticked when he spotted me. Fireflight too. It was awesome. That guy seriously needs to relax.

Mmm?

Yeah, they're doing a lot better, especially Sling. Dive is still pretty banged up, but I was there when they first carted him in and he looked a lot worse then, trust me. Holes all over him, wings all torn up, and that big ugly dent in his back, and- and, slag, this is stupid, you can look up his medical report if you want to know the details, all right? I don't need to draw you a picture. He just looked like crap, okay?

Meh. Yeah, I'm fine. Just been a rough couple days, that's all.

Slingshot?

Oh yeah, he's up now. He wasn't nearly as bad off as Skydive. His arm is still bothering him, but I dare you to get him to admit it. I think the twerp is gonna be fine.

And, uh...

Look, don't tell him I said this, but you should know he's still pretty torn up over the whole thing. Hey, don't look at me! Sling and I are cool now. We sorted everything out between us when he came back online. I dunno. Maybe he's worried about Dive. I can sympathize with that. Or maybe he's just bored. He did look a lot happier when I arrived today and showed him all the stuff I'd smuggled past Ratchet.

Did I say 'smuggled?'

That is a terrible word. You should forget I said it.

So, what - you're going to talk to Sling now? Ah, it's probably for the best. And hey, if you want some advice, tell him Prowl sent you for a report. No, trust me. He'll get all embarrassed and sour if he thinks you're there just for him. Which even I don't get, because if there's a guy out there who loves to brag about himself, it's Slingshot. It's weird, you know. Half the time he's doing his best to steal your thunder, but then he does something genuinely amazing all on his own and suddenly he gets all defensive about it.

Hey, I know these things. And I know Sling, all right.

Huh?

The August eleventh-?

Look, I really don't have the time to talk about that right now. I gotta go find Bolt before he starts getting antsy and comes looking for me. And Primus only knows where Fireflight is. If you want to know what happened on August eleventh, you can either read Silverbolt's full report or you can go ask Slingshot for the whole story.

Yeah. You know what, do me a favour. Go talk to Sling. I think he's a little frustrated that nobody has yet, aside from Silverbolt and Fireflight and me. Look, if we can take the time to sort things out between us, then you can do the same. Okay? Okay. Cool.

Gotta fly, jerk! See ya later! Say 'hi' to Ratchet for me! HA HA HA.

...

...

And hey! HEY! Don't pester Slingshot too much! If I hear you've been bugging him to death, I'll come back and kick your ass!

What?

Well, no, not really.

670378 (08.14.85)
TRANSCRIPT, SLINGSHOT: MED, 11:13

Well, well, well. Look who's here.

You're running a pretty big risk you know, sneaking in behind Ratchet's back. He just chased Raider out like ten minutes ago.

Yeah, he stopped by to visit. Second time today. That twit.

Uh?

Eh, I'm all right.

Hmm?

Oh, come on. I mean, I'm not gonna be out running laps anytime soon, but geez, it's not that bad. It looks a lot worse than it is. See? Check it out. I can move it now. I can even wiggle my fingers a bit. Before I couldn't even rotate that arm at all. It was twisted over, like someone had bent it over backwards. But now it doesn't hurt that much. Just a bit of a twinge now and then.

And check it out - Ratchet put all these metal plates and things into my elbow to stop it from tearing while auto-rep gets the little stuff patched up. It's still kind of stiff, but at least I can move it again. Pretty good, eh? So yeah, I'm doing all right.

Look, forget about me. Have you checked up on Skydive lately? Naw, he's not here - he's a couple rooms down. You know. Extensive Repairs, or whatever Ratchet calls it. Go stop by and visit. He's still totally offline, but I bet he'd appreciate it anyway. Now he's the one who looks like he got dragged through a combine backwards.

He was a mess when they brought the two of us in. Silverbolt came by last night and confessed that he was scared that Dive was gonna, uh, bleed to death right there on the biobed that first night. I don't know about you, but to me that says a lot. Not much gets to Bolt when he's safe on the ground, so when he gets freaked out you know things are serious. Raid told me that Fireflight was so upset that he wouldn't rest or anything the whole time Ratchet was working on Dive. Hell, when I think about it, I got off pretty easy in comparison. Some dents, some scratches, a busted arm- yeah, I got real lucky. But I swear, if I could get my hands on Skywarp right now, I'd fold his wings until they were all sharp corners and jam them up his-

What?

What, you want to sit? Planning to hang around a bit? Yeah, sure, go ahead. Knock yourself out. Uh, I guess you could just try the edge of one of those biobeds over ther-

No, not that one!

...

Oh man, just please, sit! Siddown! God, it's like talking to a dog.

Yes! Yeah, that one's just fine. Just sit, okay! I just about blew my fuel pump when you-

Huh?

Uh. No reason.

...

Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't do anything! Okay? Okay. Okay, maybe Raid smuggled me in a few essentials. Maybe you could even call it contraband. And maybe we stashed it in the biobed when nobody was looking. Yeah, that biobed. I wouldn't blab to Ratchet about our stash if I were you, or we will hunt you down and kick your ass.

Damn straight.

So, what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be up in Communications with the rest of your pals?

Me? What do you want me for?

...

You want to do what?

Oh.

... Oh.

No, that's fine. I guess. But I should warn you: if Ratchet sees you interrogating one of his patients behind his back he's gonna blow a fuse.

Yeah, interrogate, that's what I said. Well, that's why you're here, isn't it?

Uh huh. 'Interview.' Right.

Eh?

A report for Prowl?

Why don't I believe that.

Whatever. It's a free planet. You want me to talk? I'll talk. This is about August eleventh, isn't it?

Thought so. Ugh.

Hey, I said I'm fine, didn't I? Don't give me that look. Maybe I'm testy because I don't like it in here, you ever think of that? I hate this place. There's nothing to look at, nobody ever comes by to visit because who wants to hang around a depressing bunch of cripples, everything smells funny, the energon sucks, and orange is a shitty colour for jerks. Who the hell picked orange for a medical ward, anyway? Were their optics screwed up, or were they just mental to begin with? This is not a calming colour! Orange! I hate it!

Eh, I don't know. I'm going kind of stir crazy in here. I want to get out. I want to fly again. Hey, if you could fly you'd be nuts about it too. What's with you Autobots anyway? What's so great about cars and trucks? Who'd want to crawl around on the ground like a sucker when they could majestically launch into the sky? Holy shit. I can't believe I just used the word 'majestically' in a full sentence. I must be losing it.

Huh?

Flying? What do you mean, what's it like?

Wait a minute.

Hey.

Don't try to get into my head, pal.

Yeah, I know what you're doing. You're trying to get on my good side. Start in with the easy questions, friendly as you please, so you can soften me up, get me talking. Then WHAM, in comes the inquisition. Spill your guts, Slingshot.

Uh huh.

Ffft.

Right. Whatever.

Let's can the baloney, all right? Cut right to the chase. Look, I'll admit it: I'm tired. I'm dead tired. I'm sore. I've got... metal plates screwed into my arm. All things considering I really I don't feel like looking at your face right now. You want to talk? Fine, we'll talk. Just lay off with the psychoanalytical questioning.

What?

Oh, for the love of-

Don't give me that surprised look! I damn well know what 'psychoanalytical' means. What the hell do you think I am, retarded? I got a computer brain in here, same as you. Primus.

Ugh. You don't have to apologize. Just forget it. Forget it! No, shut up! It's nothing. You just hit a bit of a sore spot, that's all.

...

Oh, why the hell did I say that.

Look, I didn't mean it, it just came out of my mouth. What's with you, anyway? A guy can't even say anything the slightest bit cockeyed around you without you turning it into this great big production-

I know what 'avoidant' means too, jackass.

Ugh.

All right, look, if it'll get you off my back, I'll admit it: we Aerialbots, we're only been around for what, six months or so, right? Okay, so maybe we haven't been on this dirtball planet for as long the other Autobots have, or been alive for nine billion years or whatever. Would you still use that as an excuse to treat us like we were idiots, or sub-Cybertronian or something?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

So yeah. A sore spot. Oh, it's not a huge problem and I bet we're the only ones who notice it - but still. You get the vibe sometimes, you know? Like people see us as punks, like they're just putting up with us because we can fly and they can't. Even Silverbolt gets it sometimes, and he's supposed to be our leader. Okay, I give Bolt a hard time, I'll admit it, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see him taken seriously, like he wasn't just as important as Prowl or Jazz or that goddamn cowboy, Ironhide. It's annoying. We're new, not stupid, and we're just as good as anybody else around here.

There. And now I'm done with that.

So, anyway. August eleventh, huh?

Ugh. Haven't you read Silverbolt's report? I figured you guys would just run to Air Raid and get the story from him, never mind that I was the one who saved Skydive's ASS. Forget Slingshot, he's flat on his back down in Medical, who wants to hear what he's got to say.

Yeah, that's right - me! You heard right! Just me and Skydive and the woods that time forgot! You want a good story, you come to us!

Well, yeah, Raider was there too, but only at the end of it. Yeah, okay, so maybe he might have been the one to find us both. Before you start falling all over precious Air Raid, you'd better remember who deserves a big chunk of credit himself. You're damn right that's me! Who stayed behind to fight off those 'Cons after Starscream pulled a fast one on Silverbolt? Who went running through the woods after Dive was shot down? Who came up with the brilliant idea to keep him talking over the radio? Was it... AIR RAID? No, I don't think it was!

Huh. Ha ha. You know, now that I think about it, maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all. Yeah, I'll tell you about August eleventh. What the hell, I've got time to kill. At least if you hear the story from me you'll get what really happened, with none of Air Raid's melodrama thrown in or Fireflight's confused babbling.

Look here, pal. Forget about Air Raid for a moment. Forget Silverbolt. This is my story, and I'm gonna make sure you get it right. I hope you're comfortable, because you're not getting out of this room until I'm satisfied you've got it all straight in your head.

Okay. So. Where to begin.

The beginning. Duh.

The whole thing took place on August eleventh. That was what, three days ago? Man, it feels like longer. Anyway, the morning of the eleventh had been pretty boring, as usual. There's not much to do around here when we're not fighting Decepticons. We can't just go flying around because apparently that freaks out the humans. I know, because I asked Skyfire about it once. I was hoping he'd be game for a quick hop over those mountains out west to help get me familiar with the landscape. But when I went to see him he was holed up in his quarters with some rocks. He was pretty apologetic about it, so no big deal, I guess.

He was a scientist once, did you know that? Huh. I guess that explains all the weird stuff he likes to collect. Did you know he's got some sort of scanner jury-rigged up in his quarters? He built it himself, no help from Wheeljack or anything. I was pretty impressed.

We got to talking about stuff. He explained to me how airspace works, how you've got to tell the humans when you're flying near some of their installations so they don't worry you're gonna hit any of their planes. I thought that sounded kind of dumb, but he's got a lot of experience dealing with that sort of thing, so I listened. Skyfire's cool, not full of himself or anything. He's a good flier too.

Yeah, there isn't much to do around here when you're not kicking the crap out of Decepticons. Ironhide's always telling us, 'practice on the range, practice on the range.' But have you seen my shooting? Hell, I don't need to practice that - my aim's great. Everybody always says Mirage is this hotshot sharpshooter, but can he hit a moving target the size of a stop sign while flying at seven hundred miles an hour? Can he loft a bomb through the side window of a truck from six miles away while he's in the middle of a hard climb? What the hell does he know about leading a shot and deflection and laser designation anyway?

So, like I said. Boring. Usually when we're on base with nothing to do we either hang out in our common room or wander around the Ark. Pretty dull. Even Bolt gets tired of it, and when he's got nothing better to do he likes to start getting on our case about little stuff, just to be an ass. Air Raid's the worst of us, because he's one of those guys who just has to be doing something every minute of the day or else he climbs the walls. Believe it or not, but he's the one who gets into the most trouble, not me.

Fireflight doesn't seem to mind the boredom, but then again, Fireflight watches butterflies. Skydive reads a lot, straight off the computer. Mostly about airplanes. He's nuts about flying. I mean, he's really into it - the physics, the history, the strategy, everything.

And naturally he assumes that you're just as interested in whatever he's reading about as he is. You'll be sitting there minding your own business, when suddenly he'll turn around and fire off some bit of trivia about one of those dead aces he likes. I tend to just phase him out when he gets going. I'm all for good stories about dogfighting and stuff, but history puts me to sleep.

One day though, he told me something that did sorta stick. It was after we flew a patrol near that big city up north... no, don't tell me... Portland, that's it. We did a circuit of the city limits just to get a feel for the area. I was in a pretty bad mood when we got back to base because not only did we not run into any Decepticons while we were up there, but, uh...

Ugh.

Okay, I'll admit it: I'm not the fastest flier around. There. I said it, and I'm sorry you had to hear it, but it's true. Okay? Right. I'm not as fast as the others. I was the last one to make it back to base after the patrol. Flying full throttle the whole time too, completely buster. Ate up fuel like a monster. The other four strolled on ahead of me like I was standing still, engines barely clicking over, happily taking in the scenery. Meanwhile I'm racing along full tilt just to keep from losing sight of them. They didn't even notice I was missing.

Oh yeah, I really wanted to thank them for leaving me behind like that. But hey, I'm a nice guy, so when we got home I kept my trap shut and landed and stomped back to the the common room. Didn't say a word to anybody, not even to mouth off. I wasn't going to let them know I was mad - to hell with that! Let them figure it out. I'm not here to make their lives easier.

Well, Skydive must have sensed that something was up, because for a long time after that he kept shooting me these odd looks. I ignored him. Ignored everybody. It was only later on that he said to me- and I remember this perfectly, because it struck me as being so goddamned strange at the time:

"Do you know what one of the most important abilities in air-to-air combat during World War II was?"

Oh god, here we go. Was World War II the one with all of those old prop planes he likes so much?

"No, what?" I said sulkily.

He grinned. "Tight turns!"

And at this point I'm staring at him like something just leapt out of his forehead on a spring. "Tight turns?"

Instantly he was in lecture mode. "Back then, there were often cases where the pilot who could turn inside his opponent in a fight was given a clear advantage. In fact, it was widely recognized that British planes such as the Hurricane and the Spitfire had a superior turn radius when compared to their German counterparts, which gave them a big advantage in a turning fight. There was a basic rule of dogfighting back then: you never got suckered into something like a scissors fight against a more manoeuvrable aircraft. Never. It was a fast way to get yourself shot down."

Hurricane? Scissors fight? What the hell was he on about? I just stared blankly, hoping he'd get the message and go away.

No such luck. I was in for the long haul. "But to turn inside your opponent you couldn't just fly very slowly. A low airspeed meant that you could make the smallest turn, yes, but naturally it took much longer to complete it."

He wagged a finger. "But the alternative wasn't much better. If you flew quickly you would make a very fast turn, but its radius would be too wide."

Skydive looked serious, a sure sign he was getting to something important. I hoped it was THE POINT. "The ideal turn in combat was one that maximized the degrees of turn per second, the happy medium between the slow turn and the fast turn: the tightest turn!"

"I'm not following you," I said.

Which didn't deter him one bit. "See, the whole way to win a turning fight back then wasn't to be the fastest guy in the sky," he said. "Sure, that might get you through your acrobatics quickly, but you wasted a lot of room doing them. You had to slow down to a proper airspeed to pull off the tightest turn, the one that would put you onto the tail of your enemy for a killing shot."

His hands traced elaborate motions in the air. "Essentially, what it all boils down to is that sometimes you have to slow down to get the proper advantage. You can't zoom around full bore all the time and expect to win fights that way. Just something I read and found interesting, that's all."

And then he sloped away, shut off like a faucet. I could only stare after him, mouth popped open a little.

Where the hell had that come from? Was it really just a bit of random information that had caught his attention, like he said? Or was he actually trying to make me feel better?

That's Skydive for you.

... Man, that sure was one hell of a tangent, huh? But hey, this is Skydive's story too, so he should get a big part in it. Nobody marched you down here at gunpoint and no one is forcing you to stay, so if don't want to listen to what I have to say you might as well walk right back out the door.

So? Whaddya think?

Yeah?

Ha. All right. I'll go on then.

So, on the morning of August eleventh we were doing squat, as usual. Bolt was off on Silverbolt business, and at one point we sent Fireflight wandering up to Communications to see if anything was brewing there that we could horn in on, but he came back with nothing. Another day on our asses collecting dust, totally grounded. What a joke.

So, we did nothing. Just sat around and glared at each other. Skydive eventually wandered over to the computer, but by four o'clock Raid and I were getting pretty snappish. Arguing seems to be our favourite way of killing time lately. Fortunately, before things could get out of hand a report came down that Teletran had just picked up a big group of Decepticon jets flying in off the Pacific.

I think that was technically supposed to be bad news, but we were pretty happy to hear it. Our crappy moods vanished. Finally, some real action, and not just another one of Prowl's damn patrols!

We all stampeded up to Communications. Bolt filled us in on the details: not only was there a bunch of Decepticons inbound, but their predicted flight path would take them over a heavily wooded area. This was bad for the Autobots, because it meant they couldn't just drive out to intercept the jets - too many trees and not enough roads. And they couldn't just sit back and wait to see where the Decepticons were heading, because if all those jets scattered on separate missions they'd have a hell of a job chasing them all down. What they needed was somebody to head them off before the 'Cons could sneak further inland.

I think you can see where this is going.

Heh heh heh.

Well, Prowl wasn't too happy with the idea of sending us out to intercept the Decepticons alone. I didn't really pay much attention to him, because a) its Prowl's job to nitpick about stuff like that, and b) Optimus was standing pretty firm on our side, saying we'd have to start fighting the Decepticon jets sooner or later, and that we'd only learn through experience. Was this the same Autobot I'd badmouthed a month ago? Man, I've sure learned since then. Say what you will about the guy, at least he's always willing to give you a chance to prove yourself.

And since Silverbolt always sides with Optimus, that meant we had two officers in our corner. Even Ironhide seemed all for it, possibly because he wanted to see us taken down a notch or two. I didn't care, since I knew we'd show him what we're really made of. Jazz just kept quiet, because he's one of those guys too smart to jump in on an argument at anything but the exact right time. Eventually he sort of smiled and poked a few neat holes into Prowl's case, and that was the end of that.

Eventually, Prowl just gave up. Ten minutes later the five of us were barrelling out over the volcano, climbing hard for altitude. Boy, we were excited. Later on we found out the only reason Prowl backed down was because Optimus agreed to send Skyfire after us once Mr Science got back from his patrol. We must have missed that little compromise.

Silverbolt hadn't, though. He admitted later he knew about it. Probably for the best. We would have been insulted by the suggestion that we needed Skyfire to babysit us, but to Bolt it would have been a good idea. There are plenty of reasons why he's our leader, you know.

Huh?

Hey. None of that. Bolt's problems are nobody's business but his-

Huh.

Yeah, I guess that's true.

Eh. He doesn't like to talk about his fear of heights, so we don't either. He's pretty good when he's in the middle of a big scrap, or working out a plan of attack. Then there's no problem at all, like he's forgotten he's even up there. But when he's just flying along without anything else to preoccupy his thoughts you can watch the fear take a hold of him.

Usually he's pretty good at keeping it under control. It's a struggle, though. Sometimes we'll be out on a patrol and it will hit him fast and hard, force him down. And we'll circle overhead and watch him pace around on the ground, all of us thinking the same thing: what if this happens when it counts, like in the middle of a fight? It hasn't happened yet, but who's to say it won't? He's our leader, but will there ever be a time when he's his own worst enemy, downs himself before the Decepticons get a chance to, right when we need him the most?

Back then on August eleventh, if the fear was bothering him at all he was doing a good job of hiding it. And we were flying at about thirty thousand feet too, putting ourselves in the best position to get the bounce on the Decepticons, and at that point the sheer height you're at is really profound. The horizon curves, the sky is this insane colour of blue, you can fly faster and farther on less fuel because the air is thin and there's little drag - you can even see clouds way off in the distance that aren't just miles away, but days. It's one hell of a view.

We didn't have much time to enjoy it through, because our radar was starting to paint a fuzzy picture of the Decepticons flying eastbound about four thousand feet below us, forty miles out or so - five or six of them altogether. Silverbolt was pretty quiet the whole time, either thinking hard or just afraid to open his mouth in case he accidentally voiced his fears. Who knows. He was leading us up through the high level clouds steadily enough, and we were too excited about the prospect of a fight to notice if anything was bothering him.

And when we finally spotted the Decepticons themselves, five shiny stars flying line abreast with their shadows racing along the clouds beneath them, the last thing on our minds was Silverbolt. Until his voice cut in sharp over the radio:

"See them, Air Raid?"

"You bet I do," said Raider.

"Slingshot?"

"Hell, yeah," I said.

"That's good, because you two are leading us down. Skydive, Fireflight, you're on wingman duty today. Dive, you're with Slingshot; Fireflight, you're with Air Raid. Got it?"

We got it. Ah man, this was awesome! Flying wingman sucks, because all you do is watch your leader's back. But when you fly as the leader you're the real offensive, the guns of the pair - you're the one doing all the actual shooting. And like I said, I'm a damn good shot. Was I all right with Silverbolt's decision? You're damn right I was!

Something was bugging Fireflight though. "What about you, Silverbolt?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll fly alone between you and help out anyone in trouble."

"You'd better," I said.

"What trouble?" laughed Raider.

There was a long pause. "Don't do anything stupid," said Bolt.

"Who, us?"

I silently agreed with Raid. Who, us?

That didn't seem to sit well with Silverbolt. "Just watch your tails," he grumbled, and peeled off to port.

We all shadowed him, rolling onto our backs and nosing into a steep dive. As we were sliding back into formation a wordless squabble between me and Air Raid began as we jockeyed for the best attack position. I tipped his wing; he blasted to full throttle right in my face. Outraged, I did the same - wingtip to wingtip we raced downwards in this crazy spiralling dive, Skydive and Fireflight racing madly to stick to our tails. We shot past Silverbolt like he was standing still, one on either side of him, still jostling for point position, still rocketing downwards in a two-ship helix.

Two seconds later Silverbolt's astonished voice rang through my head. "What in the name of Primus are you two doing?!"

"What are you doing, you idiot?" yelled Raid.

"What am I doing?" I yelled back at him. "What are you doing? Get out of my way!"

"You get out of my way!"

"Why don't you come over here and make me!"

"Look out!" a panicky voice yowled - Fireflight!

Startled, I threw out my scanners and was shocked to see Ramjet's bulky jet form directly beneath my nose. As I wrenched myself hard to one side to avoid a collision I scanned frequencies until I found the one the Decepticons were using - it was full of noise as they all yelled warnings. Apparently we'd been spotted, but not soon enough, as by the time Air Raid and I had broken apart from our aerial row we'd already gone crashing through the Decepticon formation like rocks through glass.

Eh. Whatever works, right?

See, that's what I said!

I think Silverbolt was pretty pissed off, but he didn't have a chance to give us hell because at that moment the Decepticons swarmed all over us. Metal flashed to either side of me - whip whip, streaking past - as I flattened out my dive and began a hard climbing turn back up into the fight. There were swooping contrails all over the sky.

Suddenly two big vertical stabilizers dodged right in front of my nose - two of them, that means open fire! - and without thinking I snapped off a shot with my lasers. But they missed, and the jet was gone again. Thundercracker or Skywarp? Hoping for Starscream was a little too much, but at the same time Air Raid has an F-15 alt mode as well. It would have served him right if that had been him, the glory-hogging air jock.

I was still too disoriented to know for sure. Everything was scrambled in my head from that crazy dive.

"You still there, Dive?" I said groggily.

"I'm right behind you, Sling," he said. "Wow, that was some split-S!"

My sensors flicked through the sky behind me. Sure enough there he was, climbing to join up off my wing. "Some what?"

You'd think I'd have learned not to give him an opening like that. "It's really just an inverted Immelmann, where after a vertical dive you roll out with a new change of direction-"

"Could this wait?" I snapped.

Startled, he trailed off.

I almost felt guilty for that. Almost. "Is anybody after me?"

"No, you're clear."

"I'd better be," I muttered, and dove after the first Decepticon I saw.

It was a weird looking white jet flying westbound - Ramjet again! This time I didn't even bother firing, I just pelted straight down on top of him. I smashed directly into his left wing and then looped underneath him with plenty of speed to spare. When I glanced back the damn Decepticon was corkscrewing helplessly through the sky, trying desperately to right himself. Pow! The twit hadn't even spotted me once.

I was absurdly proud of myself for that. So I looped high above him, turning over at the top of my roll to bring my guns to bear. Man, it was gonna be a beautiful shot too, with his ugly jet form framed perfectly within my targeting sensors. I could just picture my lasers arcing out alongside my nose and riddling the idiot full of holes. I was picking up speed again, racing downwards in a killing dive-

"Slingshot, look out!"

Skydive! Without thinking I broke hard to the right, just as a loose missile hissed wide of my nose, trailing smoke behind it. Holy shit! I don't like admitting it, but that got me rattled. I didn't feel any better when I saw it curve around again on a wide arc, it's radar locked and tracking me.

Ramjet was instantly forgotten. I banked hard and watched the missile follow me in an attempt to get within a lethal radius. I blasted away at full afterburner for a few minutes then snaked hard to the left, back in towards the missile. It tried to match my turn but ran out of fuel midway through and fell down towards the ocean, fluttering harmlessly through the sky.

I sighed in relief. "Good call, Dive."

I'm no coward, you know that, but I still felt every resistor in my body go cold when I heard nothing in reply.

Throttling back I made in a tight half-circle, looking for my wingman. But he was nowhere in sight- and now there were two Decepticons right behind me, lining up on my tail!

We've only been around for six months or so, but already we Aerialbots have noticed we seem to draw a lot of resentment from the Seekers. It doesn't make sense because the Decepticons haven't had nine millions years worth of war to learn how to hate us like they do the Autobots. If you ask me, they're all just pissed off because they were used to lording up their aerial superiority, all King Shits of Sky Mountain. And then we came along and suddenly it wasn't quite so lonely up there anymore. And they hate us for it.

Right then, I was getting a pretty good idea of just how much.

I started jinking back and forth, so fast and hard I could barely keep my sensors focused. I had no idea where Skydive was - all I could see were purple tracers streaking past as the Decepticons opened fire. Skywarp was back there, I was sure of it, because I could hear him jeering over the radio every time he let off a shot. I could only guess the other jet was Thundercracker - those two morons always stick together.

But Air Raid and Fireflight - where the hell were they? Off tangling with Starscream was my only thought. Raid always makes a beeline for him in a fight, always wants to bag the biggest, flashiest kill. Primus only knew what had happened to Silverbolt. Had he been shot down? Did his fear of heights grab a hold of him?

Where were my teammates? I couldn't see anyone else in the sky for miles in all directions, not even a glint of sunlight on metal. It had all happened so fast. According to my internal chronometer barely seven minutes had passed since we first attacked, but now I was alone.

Save for the two idiots on my tail.

So I did the only thing I could think of, which was flip out completely. I hurled myself into every insane manoeuvre I could. I banked, I rolled, I slowed down to nothing with the hope I could force them to overshoot me, I dove at obscene speeds to put distance between us. I think I saved my own life with all that freakshow flying, because none of their shots managed to hit. Sometimes it was like I was flying through a hedge of purple lasers. A couple of them clipped my wings with a nasty jolt, but nothing contacted hard enough to do any real damage. I was alive - fighting like crazy, maybe - but unhurt.

Huh?

Hey, I told you I like stories with lots of dogfighting in them, didn't I?

Heh heh heh. Oh, don't look so worried. It's not like you don't know how this one ended, right? I mean, I'm still here, aren't I?

Now. Where was I.

Oh, right. Fighting for my life. Man, it sounds cool when you say it like that. Well, it's not so hot when you're actually out there doing it, with real lives and everything.

So, I was still alive. On the other hand, I wasn't exactly owning the fight either. Everything I did was defensive, just to keep my tail out of the fire. I wasn't trying to win, I was just trying to stay alive, and the problem with that plan is that it lacks ambition. Skywarp and Thundercracker couldn't hit me maybe, but they could still run me into the ground. Every time I went into a batch of psycho acrobatics I lost a little altitude. In ten minutes Skywarp and Thundercracker had chased me down from thirty thousand feet to five.

I was running out of room, fast. I wasn't even over the ocean any more, but that huge forest instead. Miles and miles of pine trees were whipping past in long dark speed lines. If I was gonna go down, it wouldn't be a soft landing.

By the time they had me down to a thousand feet I knew I wasn't going to be diving anymore. So I grasped my last straw and started doing the hardest, sharpest turns I could, flying so low my wingtips tore through the treetops. And do you know what was weird? Just as things were looking grim, my brain reached back in time and put a voice, a memory into my head:

"The real turn they wanted to do in combat was one that maximized the degrees of turn per second, the happy medium between the slow turn and the fast turn: the tightest turn."

Primus. I can't believe I still remember that, word for word. It's nuts. If I'd heard it from anybody but Skydive I would have forgotten it.

I had nothing to loose. Skywarp was hot on my heels and Thundercracker was circling overhead like a damn vulture, waiting for me to climb so he could shoot me himself. I had nowhere else to run. No wingman was around to bail me out. I wasn't going to just roll over and let them blast the slag out of me. Oh well, what the hell. So I throttled back instead, dropped my airspeed, and started to scissor around in series of half-figure eights to get myself turned back in towards Skywarp.

And do you know what? It worked.

It took time, and I was expecting to get my back shredded with laser fire at any moment. But gradually I became aware that I was out-turning the Decepticon!

Oh, he was still following me, don't get me wrong. But my manoeuvres were tighter now, more efficient, and soon I could see that our turns were falling out of synch because mine were getting smaller. Every time I finished one turn I would see him in front of me for a couple seconds. It was just enough time for me to hose him down with laser fire before we broke apart again, curving around to repeat the whole thing.

Soon we were butting heads like that on every turn. Every time we veered away to avoid a collision Skywarp had something real friendly to say over the radio:

"Getting scared yet, you stupid punk?"

Hard turn, hard turn, fire, fire!

"We already killed your friends, they ain't coming to help you."

Ignore him, ignore him, hard turn, hard turn.

"They didn't put up much of fight."

"Got the one that was following you with just one shot."

"Went down in flames, didn't he, Thundercracker?"

"You can't keep this up forever, you know."

"Eat scrap and die!" I yelled back, nerves fraying.

Nothing but hysterical laughter for the next couple passes.

Assholes.

Huh?

No, of course I didn't believe him. About the others being dead, I mean. I haven't been around that long, but I still know psyche-out tactics when I see them. The whole thing reeked of head games - they were trying to rattle me, make me slip, do something stupid that would get me in trouble. I blocked him out as best I could, just ignored his stupid taunts.

Besides, I know if the others were gone. I'd just know it somehow. Not in any smart way - I just would.

But I also knew that Skywarp was right about one thing. I couldn't keep this up forever. They were playing with me now, having a little fun, but they'd get bored of it soon enough and then Thundercracker would drop down from his perch to finish me off or Skywarp would teleport behind me and that would be the end of that. I had to do something, something unexpected, something that would surprise them long enough for me to squeeze in that winning shot-

-so I transformed.

Right in mid-air.

Even now, I don't think Skywarp was expecting to crank around that murderous turn and run into a robot instead of a jet. Call me a punk, will you?

I said I was a damn good shot earlier, and I meant it. I mean, I am the KING. As I fell through the sky I swung my rifle around and fired off a volley of shots - and wouldn't you know it, all of them connected beautifully, punching holes through his wings and fuselage and blasting fantastic strike patterns right into the heavy armour underneath his cockpit. He let out a shriek and swerved off, trailing bits of metal and smoke behind him.

And as he hit the trees I shouldered my gun and shook my fist down after him - hey, Skywarp! Do you suck, or what?

I started falling faster then. So I gripped my rifle in both hands and flipped around until I could flare my thrusters a bit to slow my decent. None of us Aerialbots are real sure yet how well we can fly when we're in our robot modes, and having just escaped a mauling by Skywarp I sure as hell wasn't about to start experimenting. So I let myself fall and ran through my options, real quick.

First I thought I'd just drop down into the trees, where I could slip away from the fight under heavy cover and go looking for the rest of my team on foot. Then I changed my mind. Thundercracker was still prowling around somewhere above me, probably shocked by the sight of his buddy taking a nose dive into the trees. For the next couple seconds he might be distracted long enough for me to transform and fly back up for a bit of revenge. Sounded like a plan.

I was just getting ready to jump back into my jet mode when a flash of light to the west caught the corner of my eye. Just a glint, like a star. I looked at it, and finally spotted Skydive.

Well, of course he was still alive. But he wasn't looking good.

"Skydive!" I said.

Nothing over the radio.

"Skydive!" I yelled, not even thinking about Thundercracker at that point.

My wingmate looked like hell. Even at that distance I could see that the was flying low, real low, just skimming over the forest. It looked like a struggle for him just to maintain altitude. I kept expecting him to stall and roll over at any moment. There was still a bit of fight left in him, but it wasn't the urge to shoot and kill, but simply to stay airborne, to stay alive.

His wings were shredded. And I don't mean they had some slashes in them, I mean they were literally full of holes the size of my fist. Even worse, each of those holes had great streamers of wiring ripped out of them, like somebody had punched straight through his armour and yanked out handfuls of whatever they could grab a hold of. Whole metal panels were missing, rivets popped, and the aileron on his left wing was so crumpled that I was amazed he could fly straight. I figure he he must have been flying on a limping left turn the whole time, which is why I'd lost sight of him for so long - it must have carried him far away from the fight.

And the damage didn't stop at his wings. His entire tail assembly was chewed up, his vertical stabilizer nearly burnt to a stump. A long trail of black smoke poured out of his engine. From nozzles to intakes it was riddled with laser shot. No wonder he'd lost so much altitude. He must have glided the whole way down. Spatters of energon were flying back, mixing with noxious jetwash and spraying the trees with a blood path that stretched for miles.

Holy shit. I couldn't believe it. He was alive, still flying! At first I was overwhelmed with relief to see him in once piece, but it didn't take long for anger to creep in. Where the hell were the others? Why had they left Dive all alone like that? He was injured, he was crippled bad - he needed someone flying with him, to protect him, because he sure as slag wouldn't make it home on his own.

Oh, was I ever pissed off. I know, I wasn't thinking straight at the time. I just had this screwed up idea in my mind that the others had left him behind, like he was... well, like he was me, or something.

Huh?

Yeah, yeah, I know better now - I heard it all from Fireflight. And then from Air Raid. Even Silverbolt shuffled through last night and told me the whole story. Starscream suckered them completely. They had no idea what happened to Skydive and me after we all got separated. I understand. If you want to know what happened, then go ask Bolt or Raid, or hell, even Fireflight. But you want to know what happened to me that day, right? What I was thinking at the time?

Yeah, that's what I thought. I got your number too, buddy.

Anyway, I was glad to see Dive again, but pretty steamed with the rest of the guys. I could barely think straight, I was so mad. All I could think of was that I needed to get to Skydive right away and fly cover for him before some other asshole tried to finish him off.

Then, two things happened.

First, Thundercracker dove down and shot me in the back.

And then I hit the trees.

It was a damn good thing I'd gone robot when I took out Skywarp. One minute I was looking at Skydive, and the next there were needles and branches flying past me. I was too shocked to do anything but smash down through the trees like a dolt- WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM!

I think I hit just about every goddamned branch on the way down. It sure as hell felt like it. You saw all the dents on me when I first came in, right? Well, now you know how I got them.

Anyway, I must have bashed my head on a trunk or something, because everything went real black. Next thing I know I'm lying in the trees, with my top half on the ground and my legs wedged up between a couple of big firs. I don't think I'd been out of it very long, maybe just a couple minutes, because bits of bark were still plinking down. I could see the sky overhead, just scraps of it poking through the leaves. I remember seeing clouds of dust swirling in the light, and a ton of little disturbed insects buzzing around. My head was spinning and my back felt like a mess.

There were a ton of torn branches and crap lying across my chest. I pushed all it off with one hand and reefed my legs out of the trees. Sitting upright was an ordeal, because the underbrush was so thick I could barely move.

Then I just sat there with my head in my hands and tried to reorient myself. Trees everywhere. I had no idea where the hell my gun was; I must have dropped it. So I was unarmed as well. Thundercracker was still circling overhead - I could hear his engines in the distance. He was probably looking for me, which was fine by me because it meant he wasn't hunting down Skydive. I felt bashed up and rattled, but figured I could walk it off.

It was only when I ran a self-dio that that I realised there was something wrong with my left arm. I couldn't feel it, probably because the pain receptors all down that side were shot to hell. It was bent weird, right at the joint, the metal wrenched so hard it was all torn around the edges. Must have rammed a tree on the way down.

Ugh. No, it didn't hurt or anything. I just- I couldn't move it, not even the fingers. Looked awful, like I could have just reached over and twisted it off...

...

Ugh.

Eh?

Whaddya mean, I'm holding it weird?

Naw, it's just a little twitchy.

Forget it, it's okay. All this talk is making me imagine it's- ow.

Ah! No, it's fine! What are you, a doctor or something?

Just siddown, I'm fine, my arm's fine, everything's super. Let's just keep talk-

Agh.

Hey! Hey! Where do you think you're going? Get your ass back here! I'm fine, it's fine! No! No! No, don't go get Ratche-

Oh, you bastard.

670378 (08.14.85)
PERSONAL MEMO:

- Have talked with SS. His arm was paining him (more than he willing to let on, I'll bet) and I broke off the interview to allow time for his repair (more accurately: kicked out by R. Oh, dignity.) According to R. his self-repair made a faulty reconnection, causing a relay to burn out during our conversation - painful. Minor damage, easily fixed; get info from R. later, plus official med. files for both SS and SD.
- Will return later this evening to resume interview, must admit I'm curious to hear how it ends.
- Check on SD! Don't forget!
- NOTE: Talk to AR re: Starscream incident
- NOTE: Talk to SB re: official report
- NOTE: Talk to Jazz re: R. med supplies. Something about biobeds? Lights?

670378 (08.14.85)
TRANSCRIPT, AIR RAID: AERIAL COMMONROOM, 14:43

Huh? You again?

Heeeey, didn't I see you in the hall like, two hours ag-

Yeah, uh, I guess you might as well come in, just watch the door. Yeah, grab a seat. No, not that one!

...

...

Whew! Close one, buddy!

Huh? Contraband? That is not a very nice word either, you know.

And no, it's not that - it's just that Sling already broke that seat, so now if you sit on it the top part slips and it'll dump you off. I dunno, he tripped over it or something. I think we were fighting at the time. We fight, stuff breaks. The world turns.

So! Howsit going?

Ah, pretty good, I guess. I'm bored witless, if you want the truth. Actually, I was just thinking about sneaking down to visit Sling again, Ratchet be damned. It gets pretty dull in here when there's nobody else to talk to. Silverbolt's still off looking for Optimus, and god only knows where Fireflight wandered off to.

Huh?

Eh, no, it's not that I'm trying to avoid you or anything. I'm just surprised, that's all. We don't get many of you Autobots stopping by our common room. What, does it smell in here or something?

Heh heh. Want the grand tour?

Ha, naw, I was just kidding. You look like you've got something on your mind. Besides, there's not much in here to look at. Bolt's pushing to get us some more energon dispensers and computers and seats and stuff, but what the hell - you take what you can get, right?

Yeah.

Anyway, what brings you here? I thought you were off bugging Slingshot about the August eleventh thing.

You were? Did he, uh, give you the whole story?

Well, why not? It's not like him to just shut up in the middle of a good-

Ha! You got booted out by Ratchet, didn't you? That big white tool! Oh, don't worry, I feel your pain. I've been kicked out so many times he claws at the air now when he sees me again. Hilarious.

Huh? He didn't? Then what-

What?! What kind of repairs? How bad- is Sling all right? Aw geez, I knew I should have been down there.

Yeah, I'm fine - look, what's wrong with him?

Uh huh?

Huh. Yeah. You know, now that I think about it, I noticed that myself. He was worrying that arm the whole time I was there with him too. I don't think he noticed me noticing, or he wouldn't have touched it- ha. That's so Slingshot. What a twerp. I'll have to give him a hard time about being stoic the next time I'm down there.

Well, look - how long will it take for repairs? Did Ratchet give you an estimate or anything?

Yikes. Well, that's only an hour away. I guess we just kill time until then. I'd offer you some energon except that, uh, we don't exactly keep any in here.

Heeeey, I know. Did Sling get around to telling you about what happened with us and Starscream?

He did mention it, eh?

Well, I'll tell you what. Since we're both just sitting around with nothing else to do until Ratchet is done with those repairs, how about I run the whole thing past you? It's kind of a weird story, but it shouldn't take long to tell. Then we can both sneak down to Medical and you can sweet talk the Great White Snark into letting me back in. Last I heard Skydive is still offline, but it would still be good to see him. Maybe we could even hunt down Fireflight and all go together. He'd like that.

How does that sound?

Awesome. Okay, the Starscream thing. Man, where to start...

Well, I'll assume that Sling already told you about the events that led up to our mission over the Pacific, so I guess I'll start at the point where things began to wrong. We were cruising around at around thirty thousand feet, trying to get ourselves into a good position. I was flying a little ahead of Fireflight when I heard Bolt's voice over the radio.

"See them, Air Raid?"

"You bet," I said. Of course I'd already seen them; I'd been watching the 'Cons on radar since they'd drawn into range. Honestly, we're not as attention-deficit as the Almighty Silverbolt seems to think we are.

"Slingshot?"

"Hell, yeah," said Sling.

"That's good, because you two are leading us down. Skydive, Fireflight, you're on wingman duty today. Dive, you're with Slingshot; Fireflight, you're with Air Raid. Got it?"

I got a private message from my wingman at that moment. "Air Raid? Is that okay with you?"

"No worries, Fireflight," I said. "Welcome to Raider's Wild Ride."

And I wasn't worried, not really. Fireflight flies like a cow and his attention tends to wander, but he's a nice guy. Plus, he's got uncannily sharp vision and that's a good quality in a wingman.

In the background I could hear the others calling in to let Bolt know they were happy with the arrangement. I flipped off my private channel and added my own approval to the din. I love flying in the number one position. Love it. Flying wingman blows.

"What about you, Silverbolt?" That was Fireflight.

"Don't worry about me," said Bolt. "I'll fly alone between you and help out anyone in trouble."

For some reason that seemed to annoy Slingshot. "You'd better."

For all his bragging, Sling can be touchy sometimes. This looked like it might be shaping up into one of those times. Like the hell of a guy I am I decided it would be wise to defuse tensions before they got out of hand.

"What trouble?" I laughed.

"Don't do anything stupid," growled Bolt.

Geez, you'd think the boss would know better. "Who, us?"

"Just watch your tails."

We all began a sharp dive onto the Decepticons. Slingshot, of course, just had to be the first one down, and he tipped my wing when he tried to shoulder past me. Obviously I wasn't going to take that sitting down, so I blasted away to full throttle and let him have it right in the face. I expected him to back off after that - but, this being Slingshot, he seemed to view it as a challenge and fired up his afterburners instead.

Well, to hell with that. I went to afterburners as well and the next thing I knew the two of us were in a race as we blasted towards the ocean in a crazy spiralling dive with barely two feet of clearance between our wings. Poor Skydive and Fireflight must have thought we'd both lost our minds.

Silverbolt was spitting nails as we shot past him. "What in the name of Primus are you two doing?!"

That was a good question. "What are you doing, you idiot?" I yelled at Slingshot.

"What am I doing?" he said. "What are you doing? Get out of my way!"

"You get out of my way!"

"Why don't you come over here and make me!"

"Look out!" shouted Fireflight.

Whoops. We'd been so busy trying to outdo one another that we'd completely forgotten about the Decepticons. I looked down long enough to see that I was about five seconds away from ramming into Thrust. I braced myself for impact and aimed for his left wing, figuring that if I was going to hit him I might as well do a lot of damage on the way down.

The crash was awesome. I don't think Thrust ever saw me coming, because he certainly didn't move out of the way. All I can remember is a tremendous blow that rattled every rivet in my body, the sound of screaming metal, and then tumbling helplessly through the sky. As I tried to gauge the damage I had to take satisfaction in the fact that Sling and I must have given the Decepticons one hell of a shock. Death from above! Kick ass.

After a three thousand foot freefall I managed to right myself. I blasted back up towards the fray with my head ringing and my radio fritzing. I felt pretty shaky after the collision but I got off easy compared to Thrust, who was corkscrewing down towards the Pacific Ocean with one wing missing. I was absurdly proud of myself for that. Chalk one up for Air Raid! I bet not many Autobots can say they've survived something like that, eh?

At that point I was feeling pretty good. Okay, so I nearly ripped myself to shreds - whatever! Air Raid's Wild Ride doesn't stop for nothing. All I wanted to do was get back up into the looping dogfight taking place above me and start busting heads. As you can probably guess, I'd completely forgotten about Fireflight.

Luckily, he hadn't forgotten about me. I think I gave him a bit of a nasty shock as well, but he'd kept his head and circled the place where Thrust and I had gone crashing down together. As I banked towards him I tried a private message. My radio sputtered. Must have been damaged in the crash.

"Fireflight?"

"Air Raid?"

He was desperate with relief. "You're all right!"

"Hell yeah, kid."

Fireflight drew up onto my wing. I could feel his sensors flitting over me. "That was amazing! I don't think Thrust ever saw you coming. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, cutting him off. Far be it from me to discourage praise, but there were still four more Decepticons out there. "What happened? What's going on? Where are Sling and Dive?"

"You won't believe it! We lost sight ofthem after we scattered the Decepticons, but guess what happened!"

"What? What happened?"

"Silverbolt shot Starscream!"

"He did what?!"

"Shot Starscream!"

I was amazed. Silverbolt? I mean, he's smart and a good leader and everything, but out of the five of us he's got the alternate mode least suited for a dogfight. And Starscream is the best flier the Decepticons have. Even I have a tough time flying one on one with Starscream. Primus.

So, like I said. Amazed. "You're kidding?"

"I'm serious!" laughed Fireflight. "Silverbolt caught him completely off-guard and nailed him right in the afterburner! You should have seen all the smoke, it was incredible. Talk about a great shot!"

I'll bet it was incredible. Ha. Great shot. Silverbolt's victory turned sour in my mouth. Fireflight's admiration only made it worse. I've been gunning for Starscream since I first came online. No luck.

What the hell was Bolt playing at? He's a freaking Concorde! Concordes don't shoot down military jets - I do!

Luck! It had to be luck! Nothing more than a case of being in the right place at the right time!

"Where are they now?" I said sulkily.

"Below us, about five miles over the ocean, dropping altitude fast. Starscream's been crippled pretty bad and Silverbolt's chasing him to make sure goes down for good."

Perfect. There was still time. Starscream was still alive.

"Well, look here," I said. "You know Silverbolt - he might lose his nerve the closer he gets to the ground. We should fly out and help him."

Fireflight didn't share my enthusiasm. "Well, yeah, but-"

"No buts! Bolt and gravity have issues. If his phobia gets bad he could crash. And you can't trust a Decepticon, especially not Starscream, no matter how damaged he might be. Starscream's smart. He won't go down without a fight. We need to rush over there and lend Bolt a hand."

"But what about Slingshot and Skydive?"

That was a good question. I'd taken care of Thrust, and Ramjet was nowhere in sight. I assumed that he'd been shot down as well. That left Skywarp and Thundercracker, a tough duo with a lot of combat experience behind them. But surely Sling and Dive could handle them?

I was torn. On one hand, Starscream is the ultimate Decepticon kill. He's a smart and vicious schemer who has inflicted untold misery upon the Autobots and the humans alike. And now that menace was flying out of my reach with every wasted second.

On the other hand, I couldn't leave Slingshot and Skydive to tackle a pair of his flunkies on their own.

Could I?

I mean, I always give Slingshot a hard time, but I'll admit he's a good shot. Hell, he's probably the best of us. And there's no question that Skydive is the smartest. Both of them are well-equipped to handle any Decepticon they come across, in weapons and skill if not in experience.

Finally, I made up my mind. Thundercracker and Skywarp were punks. Two good Aerialbots could handle them any day.

"Come on, Fireflight," I said firmly, and began a sharp turn to port. "Let's find Silverbolt."

He followed me out, but reluctantly. Fireflight's a good wingman.

We entered a shallow dive, our sensors alert. We were picking up speed fast, our engines blasting and the wind whipping past us - what a rush. I loved it. The coast was visible below, rocky and desolate. I could see white foam where the waves smashed against the beach. We flew through a layer of grey cloud, and when we broke out beneath it foggy streamers trailed from our wingtips. Our contrails disappeared as we dropped into warmer air. All I could think of was Starscream, flying wounded somewhere ahead of us.

We levelled out at ten thousand feet and began a circling search pattern that started at the shoreline and gradually swept outwards. We were low enough now to see smaller details of the landscape, like whitecaps on the water and pale sandbars. There was a big pine forest on the shore. I could make out tiny human houses and thin dirt roads on the distant hills.

Fireflight spotted Silverbolt first. Our illustrious leader was flying perpendicular to us about five miles to the west, maybe three thousand feet below. His big alternate form stood out sharply against a bank of white clouds. Starscream was flying out in front of him. The Decepticon weaved erratically, as if stricken with pain. A long banner of black smoke poured from his engines.

At any other place and time I would have been impressed at the sight of Silverbolt overcoming his fear of flying and putting a Decepticon on the run. This time, I could only see him as competition.

I went to full throttle and dropped my nose. At the same time I turned to pull in behind Starscream, instinctively knowing that my current path would put me in a little ahead of Silverbolt. Once behind the Decepticon I would have roughly eight seconds to snap off a shot before my speed would force me to break off and disengage. After Thrust, I had no desire to crash into another aircraft. A dull ache was already starting to settle in across my body.

Fireflight followed me down. Good bot.

Eight hundred yards from Silverbolt now, who was drawing a careful bead on Starscream's cockpit. The boss doesn't like to waste his fire. As I closed in overhead I saw his lasers needle out- and miss. Starscream had jinked to the right just in time. Oddly, he seemed to be flying even slower than he was before. This struck me as strange, but I shrugged it off. Just exhaustion, probably. Or injury.

The distance closed rapidly - seven hundred yards, five hundred yards, four, two - and then I was directly above Silverbolt. Bolt's wings jerked in surprise when he spotted me hovering over him. I heard his voice sputter over my radio. I ignored it. I had my sights dead set on the two big vertical stabilizers jutting up from Starscream's tail, framing his afterburners. One good shot and he'd go up like a rocket. The Autobots would be rid of a nasty enemy, and I'd be the base hero.

I was half a length ahead of Silverbolt by then. I could see every scratch on the Decepticon's frame. Smoke wreathed my cockpit. I lined up to take the shot, and Silverbolt drifted over to give me a little more room-

A couple things happened all at once.

Even as I fired my lasers, I took a glance at my altimeter. I just about screamed at the number. Eight hundred feet! Eight hundred feet? Eight hundred feet!

Holy crap! How did we miss that? We'd been so intent on Starscream that we hadn't bothered to keep track of our altitude. That oversight had cost us a good nine thousand feet!

And then, Starscream began to fly smartly.

All of the weaving stopped, the jinking, the staggering jerks. His engines stopped gushing smoke, as if he'd turned it off with a switch. It was then I spotted the a small canister fastened in front of the afterburner nozzles. A smoke canister. He wasn't crippled at all. His engines were grazed, blackened, but perfectly fine. He really had turned it off with a switch. Duped, totally duped, all of us. I felt incredibly stupid.

He blasted up into the sky, straight as an arrow, completely vertical. To add insult to injury he did three beautiful climbing rolls on the way up - victory rolls, the bastard! At twenty thousand feet he half-rolled off the top of the loop and resumed level flight in the opposite direction, now inverted. Seconds later he idly flipped back over and flew back towards the Pacific. Soon he was nothing more than a white speck against the sky. I just knew he'd taunted us the whole way up. Outwitted. He'd fooled us all. So stupid!

Fritzy radio be damned. I needed to talk to the others.

"What the hell just happened here?" I bellowed aloud.

Fireflight zoomed up next to my starboard wing. He didn't bother to use his radio either. "It was a trick! He was just trying to lead us off on a wild chase!"

"I sorta figured that! Silverbolt?"

"Air Raid!" Fireflight sounded worried. "Silverbolt just commed me. He wants to know what happened to Slingshot and Skydive. I told him they didn't come with us, that we couldn't find them."

A dark shadow fell over me. Fearless Leader had closed up overhead, blocking out the sun. There was a brief pause, during which I assume Fireflight explained the situation with my malfunctioning radio. He must have been convincing, because after a minute Bolt shouted, "Air Raid! What happened? What are you doing here? What happened to your radio?"

"Thrust happened," I said. "You were missing, so we came to help you. I thought you shot Starscream!"

"I did. I hit his tail assembly. After I saw the smoke I assumed it had been a damaging shot."

"He faked it. I saw the canister. He must have planned this from the very beginning! It was all a trick to separate us from the others! This whole thing was nothing more than a big plot to draw us out of the Ark!"

"And we fell for it." Silverbolt's voice grew serious. "Guys, where are the other Decepticons?"

"I took out Thrust, no problem," I said. "I haven't seen Ramjet since we attacked."

"Slingshot got him," said Bolt.

"Oh. Good for him."

"What about Skywarp and Thundercracker?"

I winced. "No idea."

Tensely, Silverbolt said, "I can't believe it. That was it. That must have been the plan. Starscream was bait to lure us away while those two finished off anyone who lingered behind."

Maybe you can imagine how pissed off I was as he explained it. Suddenly the it all seemed so obvious. It was such a simple plan, but it had worked so well. The Decepticons had flown inland hoping to lure us up after them. Starcream would break our group apart by pretending to be injured, and whoever stayed behind would be shot down by the other Decepticons. We'd fallen for it. I could barely fly straight, I was so angry. I had persuaded Fireflight to help me chase down Starscream. I'd left Slingshot and Skydive behind. I'd left them behind to be killed.

"Again!" I fumed. "They fooled us again!"

"We don't have time for self-recrimination," said Bolt sharply. "We need to find Slingshot and Skydive right away."

"How do we do that? We have no idea where they are. Everyone got scattered after we dropped on the Decepticons. They could be miles away by now!"

Silverbolt was silent for a moment. Then he said, "How long has it been?"

"About eighteen minutes."

"Then they should still be in the vicinity. Even flying straight at full afterburner wouldn't take them out any further out than forty miles. Nobody flies straight if they're being shot at. They must be within range somewhere."

"Well, I'm not getting anything on radar," I said. "Fireflight?"

"I'm not either. Bolt?"

"Nothing," said Silverbolt grimly. "I don't like this."

Without warning he made a hard turn back towards the coast, banking so sharply he nearly flew at knife's edge. At the same time he began to climb to regain altitude. Fireflight and I slid back to flank him, me on the left wing and him on the right.

Silverbolt was talking again. "We have to find them. We have to find them right now. We'll do a circling search pattern in slewable radar mode, starting at the shoreline and working inland. Use a twenty by sixty scan pattern. Air Raid, you look high. Fireflight, you look low. I'll sweep the flight path."

Fireflight said, "Will it pick them up if they've crashed?"

"I don't know. It might not. We may be stuck trying to get them over the radio. Air Raid, if that's the case I guess you're just going to have to keep your optics peeled. Fireflight, if we have to use the radios to find them you and I will begin broadcasting on the usual frequency and then cycle through emergency frequencies every twenty seconds. Got it?"

"Yes, Silverbolt."

"No problem, boss."

"Good," said Bolt. And then, awkwardly, "Don't worry, guys. We'll find them."

"I shouldn't have left them behind," I said bitterly.

"We can talk about that later. For now, let's just concentrate on finding them."

Neither Fireflight or I could get a word out of him for a long time after that.

We started our search in completely silence. With every minute that passed the unspoken tension between the three of us hiked up another notch. Nobody spoke, but we were all thinking the same thing: what had happened to Slingshot and Skydive after everyone was scattered? It had all happened so fast. One minute we were together, and the next we were all fending for ourselves. I kept thinking to myself over and over: I should have been paying more attention. I shouldn't have risen to Slingshot's bait and gone into that crazy dive with him. I shouldn't have hit Thrust. I shouldn't have turned my back on my team. My brothers.

There was nothing in the sky around us, nothing. Nothing but fuzzy white contrails that the wind still hadn't blown away. They hung in the air like smoke.

For at least an hour we found nothing, not even wreckage. An unbroken forest of black pines stretched out for miles in all directions. I couldn't even seea telltale hole in the thicket that would have marked the spot where a heavy body had impacted with the trees. None of us said a word, for fear that we might miss a call for help from one of our missing wingmates.

We didn't see Starscream again. I guess he figured his job was done. We didn't see Ramjet or Thrust again either, although at once point Fireflight excitedly reported that he had spotted metal amidst the trees. We made a low pass and found twisted scraps stewn beneath the spot I hit Thrust. We couldn't find his body anywhere of course, which meant the lousy asshole must have gotten away. Too much to hope for, eh? I hope it was a miserable trip back home.

And as for Skywarp and Thundercracker...

...

...

Whoa, hang on, wait a minute - that's all you're gonna get out of me.

What? What? Oh, come on, it's not like you can't figure out what came next. What do you think happened: everybody hugged?

Heh heh. Hey, I like I said before, this is Slingshot's story, and if I told it to you he'd kick my ass. You want the rest of it, you go to him.

Actually, now that I think about it, that's not a half-bad idea. What time is it anyway?

Yeah? Perfect timing. Wanna head back to Medical?

Well then, come on. We might as well go together. I want to go check up on Skydive, and you can go bug Slingshot for the rest of that story. You can get me past Ratchet while you're at it. I honestly thought he was going to kill me last time.

670378 (08.14.02)
TRANSCRIPT, SLINGSHOT: MED, 16:51

Aw, Primus, no! Not you again!

Get out! Out! No! No, don't walk over here!

Ugh. What gives? You here to sic Ratchet on Skydive this time?

Aw, geez. Don't give me that look. I hate that look.

Ugh, all right, fine. Sit down. What the hell do I care. It's not like I'm going anywhere.

Huh?

Fine. It's fine. Look - I can move it again. Ratchet fixed it. I don't know what he did, but the pain's gone. He gave me hell for not telling him it was bugging me earlier. Thanks a lot for ratting me out, pal.

Yeah, I know. Yeah, it was probably for the best. Yeah, yeah, I know- hey, shut up, will ya? I get the point.

Man.

So, where'd you take off to after Ratchet tossed you out? Did you ever track down Silverbolt?

Air Raid? You went after Air Raid? What fo-

Oh. Wait. The Starscream thing, right?

Ah ha. Yeah, that's what I figured. Oh well, good for you, I guess. I haven't seen Fireflight since this morning, and Silverbolt's report would put you into a coma. Air Raid was probably the best guy to get the story from, and I will straight up murder you if you ever tell him I said that.

So... he told you about what happened, eh? Like I said, it was nothing more than a stupid trick. Starscream suckered them good. His plan might have worked if I hadn't shot down Skywarp, and even then I still got hammered by Thundercracker. And geez, they nearly killed Skydive. I mean, I got my arm busted and Air Raid's ego won't ever be the same, but that's nothing compared to the big holes in Dive's wings.

The next time we run across Starscream, though... man. We'll be lining up to kick his ass.

Being fooled like that really bothered Air Raid, that's for sure. He sat down and explained what happened right after I woke up, like he was just waiting for me to come online so he could get it off his chest. Surprised the hell out of me. I expected to find Silverbolt fussing over me because he's the leader and worrying is what he does - but Air Raid? I dunno. I thought he'd just give me a chummy punch to the shoulder, or make a smartass crack about being shot down by Thundercracker.

Instead Raider parked himself right on that biobed you're sitting on. The first thing out of his big mouth wasn't some angry rant about the Decepticons, but an apology.

I thought I was dreaming at first. Air Raid, apologising to me? I was like, how hard did I hit my head? Am I hallucinating this? Am I dead? So long, Slingshot. You failed at life.

And then I realised that no, this was real. Air Raid had just expressed genuine regret for leaving Dive and me behind.

Wow.

First time for everything.

And now he's in here all the time. All. The. Time. I mean, visitors are cool and god knows I'd be bored stiff in this orange hellhole if somebody didn't make a half-assed effort to drop by and say 'hello' from time to time, but Primus. Every hour of the day: Air Raid. Everywhere I look: Air Raid. No wonder Ratchet always looks two seconds from slapping him out the door. That twit.

I see he came in here with you. What, is he over visiting Skydive?

Ha. Good for him.

I talked to Ratchet while he fixed my arm. He said Skydive is doing good, real good. He's still out of it, but he should come online sometime tonight. If all goes well, Dive might even be out of here in about a week. Pretty cool, eh?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

So anyway, what do you want? You here for the rest of the story?

Yeah, that's what I figured. Heh heh, I gotta say you've got good taste. Although I'm kinda surprised you didn't just squeeze it out of Raider while you had the chance.

Huh?

Air Raid said what?

Holy crap.

Wow. Well, for once he was right. You better believe this is my story! I can't believe he didn't try to horn in on it while he had you cornered in the common room. He really must be feeling guilty. What a dope.

Yeah, sure, I'll tell it to you. No paint off my wings, right? I'm a forgiving guy.

So. Back to business. Might as well make yourself comfortable. Uh, do you remember where I left off? I think I'd gotten to the part where Thundercracker shot me in the back.

Oh, right, the arm. I should have thought of that. Yeah, it's fine now. But back then it was a real mess.

I still don't know how I busted it so bad. I must have hit it on a heavy branch, or maybe it got jammed between some trees on the way down. And although it was bent completely around, it didn't hurt or anything. It just freaked me out to look at it. For a long time I just sat there gaping at it thinking, holy shit! That's not right!

Eventually I climbed to my feet. It wasn't easy, because my head was spinning and I could only use my good arm to pull myself upright. I ended up just leaning against this one big pine tree for a while, trying not to fall over. That crash had scrambled me bad.

I had no idea where I was. I ached all over, like somebody had run over me with a Dinobot. Thundercracker's lasers had shredded my back. I was so sore I didn't want to touch anything. Even leaning hurt. The only thing that didn't hurt was my arm. I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything. I just wanted to sit down and wait for somebody to find me.

Then I remembered Skydive.

Instantly, I felt a hundred times worse. It was like someone had drained the fuel right out of me. I went cold. Skydive! What had happened to him? He had been flying low over the trees the last time I saw him, smoking bad. If his engine flamed out or exploded he couldn't have glided far. He had nowhere to go but down. He would have slammed into the trees just like I did, in which case he was stranded in the woods as well.

Alone. Injured. Maybe dying.

It hit me all at once. I sagged against the tree. I was shot down myself, crippled and weak. I could barely walk, let alone go running off through the woods. And I was lost. The forest stretched out for miles in all directions. Acres of trees without end. Look for Skydive? I didn't even know which way was north!

I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I had no idea where he'd finally gone down. Maybe Thundercracker was finishing him off at that very moment. Ripping him apart, blasting him into slag. Maybe Skydive was already dead, and I was the one who was alone.

That was probably the worst moment of my life. Standing there, not knowing anything - that was the worst. The absolute worst. Rock bottom. You can't know what it's like unless you've been there.

But then it hit me.

The radio!

By god, I could at least say goodbye to my dying wingman!

The haze of misery lifted. I could use my radio. I could! Hell, if I was smart I could even get a steer off his radio signal. I've done it before. If Skydive was still alive to answer my calls, maybe I could do it again. A signal is not that hard to track. If it got stronger, I'd know I was heading in the right direction. If it got weaker, I'd turn around and stagger through the trees until it got strong again. Maybe I could follow it straight to Skydive.

It was like an electric shock to the core. To hell with the woods and to hell with my arm and to hell with the Decepticons. I was going to find Skydive, and the first thing that got in my way would be the first thing to get its ass kicked.

Huh?

Yeah, I know. Try to send a line-of-sight radio transmission through a heavily wooded area? What a shitty plan. My head was all messed up, and I was grasping at crazy ideas because they looked a hell of a lot better than how things really were. Of course, you tell me that and I'll only ask you one thing: do you figure I was thinking clearer when I was ready to give up, or when I took a chance at blind hope?

Well, there you go. Now shut up and let me finish. We're just getting to the good part.

I pushed myself off the pine tree. I didn't want to be leaning against it any more. I was gonna find Skydive on my own two feet.

I fired up my radio. I couldn't believe it was still working. There was some static, but the channel was clear. I could still send and receive. Five by five.

Then, I hesitated. Did I send a private comm just to Skydive, or broadcast over the Aerialbot frequency?

Broadcast. Damn good thing I did, too. The smartest thing I'd done all day, in fact.

Another time, another place, it could have gotten us both killed. You never know who might be listening. Like the Decepticons.

Didn't care.

"Skydive!" I yelled. "Skydive! It's me, Slingshot. Thundercracker shot me down, but I'm coming to get you. Where are you? If you don't know, then talk. Just talk, and keep talking so I can follow your signal. Wherever you are, I'll find you!"

Yeah. Not exactly the world's most profound broadcast. I never said I was some kinda poet.

I repeated my message. I repeated it again and again. Like a real moron I even started shouting it out loud as well. Not my finest moment. I begged for Skydive to reply. I think I even threatened him a few times. I made one hell of a scene. Flocks of screaming birds shot up out of the trees and flew away from me. If Thundercracker was still in the area, he would hear me for sure. I wasn't thinking straight.

But damn it, I was thinking right.

For a long time after that I just stood in the trees and listened. Heard nothing. Just a bunch of birds yelling and some underbrush rustling in the woods. Nothing else.

And then, laughter. Faint and weak-

-and over the radio!

I couldn't believe it. It was Skydive, and he was laughing!

Laughing at me, the bastard!

"I hate it when people tell me to talk," he said. "I never know what to say."

His signal was dim, but it was his and that was all that mattered. I had to grab a tree, I felt so dizzy.

"Skydive?!"

The answer was faint. "Yes."

"You're alive!"

"Yes."

I started to laugh hysterically. "Where are you?"

"I don't know."

"Are you in the trees?"

"Ah. Yes."

Forest. He went down in the forest.

"All right," I said. "Hey, you're in good company, pal. I'm in the stinking trees too. I'm coming to get you, don't worry. Just talk. I'll follow your radio signal straight back to you."

"Yeah?" His voice shook. "What do you want me to say?"

"Are you kidding? You can recite back one of Silverbolt's reports to me for all I care. Heck, you can tell me all about those dead aces of yours if that's what you want. Anything you can think of, buddy. Bore me to tears. Just do it!"

"Dead aces, huh? Ha ha... this is a first. Don't forget you're the one who suggested it."

"And you better believe I never will again, so you might as well get it all out of your system now. Start yapping."

"Ha... okay. I'll be seeing you, Slingshot."

"Real soon," I said. "Now shut up and talk."

So, he talked. What else could he do?

The signal was thready, but I could hone in on it. Good, good. So I started to plough through the forest. The first few steps were agony, plain and simple. I would have just given up right there if it weren't for Skydive. My back ached. Every joint screamed. I blundered into trees like I was blind. I tripped over stumps and smashed through the underbrush. Every time I hit something I staggered back and deliriously cursed out Thundercracker. Thundercrackerrr.

God, it hurt. Once, it got so bad I had to stop and hug a tree. That's how bad it was. I hugged a tree. Skydive kept talking. Sure enough, dead aces. If I hadn't felt so rotten I could have laughed. Him and his history. Oh well, what the hell. If it saved his life I'd never badmouth his obsession again.

His voice wavered. I could only pick up bits and pieces of what he was saying: "Well, there's Douglas Bader... he was British, flew Spitfires... he was amazing, his legs were lost in a crash... but he still flew in the war with artificial replacements... he was captured, he died a couple years ago... is this all right, Slingshot?"

Guilt. Skydive was worse off than I was and he was still talking. Hell, Douglas Badar flew airplanes with tin legs.

"That's great, Dive," I said. "Keep it up. I'm on my way."

He kept talking. So, I kept going. I pushed myself off the tree and lurched into the woods.

I dunno if you've noticed this, but this lousy planet wasn't designed with robots in mind. Those trees were giant old monsters that must have been a hundred feet high, all thick brush and foliage. Branches scraped and snapped across my arms. It must have rained a few days ago, because my feet beat the earth into mud that splattered all over my legs. Nothing but trees and shadows ahead of me, and scratchy thicket.

Skydive's voice was weaker now. "There was George Beurling... he flew a Spitfire. They said he was crazy, people didn't like him, they thought he was arrogant... thirty-one kills to his name..."

Arrogant, huh? Good for him. You show 'em, George. Show them what you're made of. Thirty-one kills, that's what.

"Or Erich Hartmann, who made so many mistakes at first... three hundred fifty two planes shot down by the end of the war..."

"... Richard Bong, the American ace... so many decorations, like the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star... his plane malfunction during takeoff, he bailed out, but he was just too low..."

It was gruesome. It felt like I was following a trail of dead humans straight back to Skydive. Dead humans who had done so much when they were alive than I ever had.

But I still had Skydive's radio signal. I just had to follow it, keep it strong. I almost lost it when the ground abruptly dropped beneath my feet, down a steep valley full of bracken, where a creek flowed swiftly through a bed of rocks and pebbles. At least the trees were a little thinner on the slope. I slid down the bank and splashed clumsily through the cold water, then scrambled into the thicket on the other side. Mud everywhere, grinding in my joints.

A hard climb up a shallow hill. Then the ground flattened out again and the damn trees came back even thicker than before. Blocked out the sky. That was a bad place, a dark place, all rotten branches and wild ferns. A swamp, trees growing up from the misty water, damp and chilly, with this grey moss hanging over their limbs like cobwebs. I struggled through the muck. The radio signal was stronger here, but Skydive's voice was weak. Too weak. He was dying. My wingman was dying, wires pouring out of the holes in his wings.

"...Ivan Kozhedub... one of two Soviet fighter pilots to be awarded the Gold Star of a Hero of the Soviet Union three times during World War II..."

"... Witold Urbanowicz... joined the first group of Polish pilots in the RAF..."

"...'Sailor' Malan... one of the greatest... wrote the classic Ten Rules for Air Fighting..."

He trailed off. The radio went silent. Dead. All dead. Skydive's aces, my arm. Dead. Gone. All gone. I was lost. I was losing it. I ran through the swamp, pursued by horror.

I ran until I hit the trees on the other side. Birds screaming above me. Underbrush below, tangling in my legs. I tripped. I fell, hard.

I laid there in the ferns, exhausted, coated in mud. Couldn't think. Couldn't move.

Then, I smelt it.

Smelt the smoke. The soot and ash. I lifted my head. I saw broken trees, the inner wood pale and fresh where they had been snapped in half.

I looked around wildly. Sure enough, there was a huge gap in the forest, like something had smashed into it at a shallow angle. A red sunset glowed down through the pines. This weird haze lingered in the air, arid, mingled with settling dust. The chemical reek was everywhere. Fuel and burnt electrical wiring.

Metal scrap lay strewn on the ground.

In a frenzy I surged to my feet. I threw branches out of the way, huge clods of dirt, even whole trees, snapped like matchsticks. Deeper in the woods I could see a bit of metal gleaming, and what looked like the tip of a single vertical stabilizer. I opened my mouth to yell-

And saw them.

Figures looming in the trees. Dark ones, as tall as me. They were circling the place where poor Skydive must have finally roared to a halt. Circling his body.

All of my anger came rushing back. My vision went red. I charged them like a berserker. No pain, not any more. Just fury. No filthy Decepticon was going haul away a wingmate of mine like scrap metal for the smelter. I didn't have my gun anymore, but I still had my hands. I would strangle them. I would strangle them all to death.

"He's mine!" I yelled as I lunged for the closet robot. "Mine!"

Together we crashed to the ground. I reached for his throat, but somebody grabbed my wrists. I'm dead, I thought. Sorry, Skydive. I tried. See you in the next life, brother.

The robot dragged me firmly to my feet.

"Don't you mean 'ours'?" laughed Air Raid.

There wasn't really much I could say to that, so I passed out instead.

...

...

Silverbolt told me later that they had no idea where Skydive had crashed either, not until they flew overhead and Air Raid heard us talking over his radio. His busted radio. Talking about dead aces. Bolt and Raider and Fireflight all swooped down to Dive's rescue and stabilized him, then waited for me to come stumbling out of the woods. If I hadn't kept Dive talking, they never would have found him.

Not bad, eh?

Yes, I am a god.

Anyway, Skyfire arrived about an hour after that and flew Dive and me back to base. Prowl strikes again. I guess we caused quite the sensation when they rushed us to Medical. But, we're alive. On the downside, it also looks like all the Decepticons survived the fight as well. Well, shit. Sometimes you can't win them all.

Well, that's it. That's it from me. That's the story. All over. The end. And look, you make sure you don't go 'interviewing' Skydive about any of this while he's trying to recover. He's got enough to worry about as it is. If I hear you've gone behind my back and been bugging him like you've been bugging me, I'll kick your ass.

So, yeah. Thanks.

670378 (08.14.85)
17:00
BOX 01, Message 18 of 18
To: COMM (CO)
From: DIVERSIONARY

Hello, Prime. On Ratchet's advice, I decided to just skip the inter-Ark vocal message system and send you a text memo to let you know that I've finished the August eleventh report. I'll try to get it to your office terminal later this evening, after I put it through a final edit. Don't worry - it should at least be halfway presentable by the time it reaches your end. I've kept Slingshot's saltier language intact because let's admit it, he's earned it.

You should be happy to know that the whole incident seems to have been resolved smoothly. Between Slingshot and Air Raid I've managed to get most of the story. Silverbolt has called for a meeting with the other Aerialbots so that they can get everything out in the open between them. Remarkably, both Air Raid and Slingshot already appear to have gone a long way in doing exactly that. We underestimate them far too often. I don't believe I was invited to attend their discussion, but that's all right. I trust those five to sort things out their own way, without interference. They'll be fine.

Oh, that reminds me. I dropped in to visit Skydive after my last talk with Slingshot. He came online that evening, and now seems to be well on the mend. Ratchet has assured me that he should be up on his feet again in a little under a week. I didn't bother Skydive for details about the attack, as per Slingshot's request, but I did cautiously ask if there was anything he wanted to say. There was. He asked me to thank Slingshot for him.

So, I did. I think it embarrassed Slingshot to hear it, because he told me to get lost. I did. So it goes.

Anyway, I'd better go. Air Raid has invited me down to the medical ward to help him smuggle Skydive some essentials, as he put it. Of course, you didn't hear that word from me. Silverbolt mentioned he would like to deliver into my hands his own report on the incident. He's quite methodical about these sorts of things, I've noticed. And after that it appears I've received a request to find Jazz and go over the inventory with him. Seems Ratchet has had a bit of a problem with the biobeds lately...

Cheers,

Smokescreen