Ep 1.-Another Day's Work-Open

Over the main communications radio there came a crackle warning of an incoming transmission, loud in the empty and peaceful base. It cut rudely through the melody, while at the same time a tiny window blipped into the corner of one of the monitors, almost apologetically, as if sorry to disturb League's moment of quiet reflection. It displayed a row of numbers, a frequency: an Autobot frequency. Secured.

The crackle resolved into radio static, grainy and crackling. And then, a brisk male voice.

"Base, Base, good afternoon. This is F-35 November Six-Six-Six-Alfa-Romeo... ha! Never gets old. I'm fifty miles out at sixty-thousand feet and freezing my ass off up here. Requesting vectors and permission to begin descent for a landing, which frankly I'm gonna do anyway because I'm like this close to going bingo on fuel. Is anyone down there? Primus, I hope you're down there. If you're not that would... really put a damper on my day."

Steeljaw had been sitting silently in the airduct two stories up above the monitor banks, audials twitching at the low hum of sound coming from the big miner. On the one hand, it wasn't entirely pleasant listening to a mech whose audials were more geared towards synthetic sounds and who remembered the pentaharmonic beats of the Cybertronian equivalent to club music with fondness. On the other hand... League, and there was a note in the symbiont's duty roster, flagged by Jazz before he had gone on a much needed vacation with Rhinox. A note which essentially boiled down to "Hey mech, if ya happen t' see League - I know he's kinda a hard mech to find sometimes, but if ya just happen t' see him - could you pass this message along?"

Steeljaw had vented quietly to himself. Jazz, he had decided, had better be bringing back some very good treats from his road trip. Maybe some polish. And a lava lamp, or whatever it was they made in Berkley. Steeljaw wasn't a messenger service, for Primus' sake.

He has just about resigned himself to going and playing errand cat when the crackle of the signal came in. Slipping through the vent, Steeljaw trotted down the wall towards the monitors, but League apparently had things... in hand? Primus, what?

"BELAY THAT!" Steeljaw yelped both across coms and outloud, bounding onto the top of the monitors. Was the miner glitched? The symbiont had Blaster searing off one comm line about the security check - or lack of time to run one - and he was scrambling on the other comm for someone, anyone, but Primus, Optimus was off base, Arcee was on patrol, Ironhide was off base, Jazz was off base on vacation...

::Help, backup, need an officer!:: League had turned and looked to be in far less than a stellar mood - the miner was big and heavy and high on Steeljaw's lists of "mechs to NOT be stepped on by". Claws scratching over the console, Steeljaw ducked and ran for the groundbridge controls, hitting them with all four pedes to turn them off and then ducking behind the console for safety in case League decided to take offense. ::Unidentified Autobot signal, properly identify yourself!::

There was a good place beneath the consoles where League probably wouldn't be able to reach an interfering symbiont. Steeljaw curled himself there where he had an excellent vantage point to see the CMO's white pedes stomping in, Ratchet's voice raised in sharp tones. "What in Primus' name is going on out here?"

Ratchet took the in tableau in the control room quickly. Steeljaw had been on the comms, but the symbiont was nowhere in sight, not a scrap of gold finish to be seen, and the monitors were scrolling through Autobot codes. Glaring, Ratchet swept past League to get to the monitor controls, narrowed optics flicking quickly over the log on the screens. "Copy that," he replied shortly. "Hold your position."

Blunt servos tapped across the comm board, shutting one line down and opening another. "Blaster? Did you get that?"

"Loud and clear, Doc'!" Ratchet grimaced at the communication specialist's irreverent nick name, a wince that Blaster, by the cheerful tone of his voice, could probably see through the security cameras. "Runnin' the numbers now, gimme half a shake."

Venting in exasperation, Ratchet turned on League, craning his neck back to look up at the miner. "WHAT," he demanded sharply, "in Primus' name, was THAT? Have you lost all sense? Were you just going to - what - open a bridge for a complete unknown? What were you THINKING?"

"Hey Doc, got a match for ya." Blaster's voice crackling across the interbase comm pulled Ratchet away, though he spared a last glare for League. "Lost bird's IDing as Air Raid, everything matches. Coming at us from due north. Think we can go ahead and bring the bird home."

"Well, at least that's something," Ratchet snapped. "Not," he added pointedly, "that some people thought to stop and CHECK that." Grumbling, the only audible bursts of which were 'protocol' and 'glitched', he reopened the exterior comms.

"Air Raid, this is Autobot Outpost Omega One," he told the distant flier. "Transmitting landing vector for your immediate location now. You will land and wait, understood? Base out."

Shutting the comm down, he moved to the ground bridge controls. "I'm going to send you to meet him," he told League. "You will TRY to remember proper procedure - verify who he is, how he got here, mark any non-terrestrial tech or wreckage we need to go mop up, and THEN bridge back here." He fixed the larger miner with a glare. "Do you think you can remember all that, soldier?"

"Don't you take that tone with me," Ratchet snapped back. "You call that thinking? Use your processor, for Pit's sake! Opening a bridge without even an ID - what if he was bigger than you, hmm? What then? The 'Cons don't exactly specialize in small frame types. What if he was Skyquake's size? Or an ambush? Or a combiner? What then?"

Growling, he punched in the coordinates to the bridge controls. "And opening up a bridge in front of a flyer in transit - were you TRYING to plaster the mech across the wall in broken parts? This room isn't big enough for that kind of landing, you glitch! Basic physics!"

One last control - smashed more than touched - and the lever thrown, and the groundbridge portal bloomed open. "YOU," Ratchet said flatly, finger leveled at League, "will follow protocol and bring Air Raid back here. NOW. Are you understanding a single blessed word of this, or am I talking to myself, for Primus' sake?"

The ping rang out into the sky, an invisible call to the clouds building up thick and white overhead.

League did not have long to wait. The sound came first, the distant roar of an aircraft's engine in full flight. A star shone within the blue sky, a twinkle of light between the drifting cumulous. It grew, until it had become a sleek white jet, dragging a contrail behind it.

It descended, it's engine throttling back as its nose dipped low. Vapour trailed from its wingtips when it punched into a cloud and tore through the other side. When it had reached an altitude of two thousand feet the roar cut dramatically as it cycled from its main engine to its more Cybertronian thrusters, allowing it to coast gracefully on anti-grav.

An instant later it backflipped and unfolded into a tall white and red robot. He dropped to the mesa floor and landed deftly on both feet, skidding from his forward momentum.

The robot jogged to a halt in front of League and stopped. He looked back at the skid marks he had left in the dirt and laughed. "Ha ha, nice. Style points. Hey there, Tiny. Whoa."

Upon spotting the mining pick on League's shoulder he raised his hands and grinned. "Don't axe me in the face or anything. I'm Air Raid."

Air Raid held up his hand. He was a rangy mech, broad across the shoulders and where his heels widened to accommodate his thrusters. His compacted wings stuck up from his back, his vertical stabilizers angled downwards. Vents and plating shifted restlessly along his white and grey armour as cooling systems fed air through a high-performance aerial frame.

Looking thoughtful, he began a count on his fingers.

"I've got five good reasons for you, friend," he said, sounding unfussed. He held up one finger. "One: I'm pretty awesome. Two: I shotgun 'Cons in the face. Three: that is awesome. Four: I left four under the seat back in my escape pod. And Five: profit."

The mech grinned again and knucked his fists on his hips, resting back in a casual pose. "How about that? Do I pass the inspection?"

Air Raid certainly did not seem to suspect a thing, though he did cock a curious optic back at League when the big Autobot trudged aside to stand behind him. That was- a bit strange.

He folded his hands behind his back and assumed a loose parade position himself to await the appearance of the groundbridge, his feet slightly spread and his shoulders relaxed. Low-fuel warnings were blinking across his neural net, but he ignored them for the moment. This situation was much more interesting. He eyed League with one optic, bright blue.

"You seem kinda tense," he said, noting with some delight that the mech seemed none too pleased with being assigned pick-up duty. Had to be something like wingman duty in a two-ship patrol. Boring, boring. "Having a bad day, Huge? The mines not keeping you busy?"