Alien: Not Over Yet 2 part 2
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The town wasn’t just little, Irene realized. A fair number of the few buildings were empty, abandoned-some possibly just for winter, others definitely longer than that. There was a general store and gas station, a liquor store, a few houses and not much else. She thought, vaguely, about ducking inside the store to ask about Coldfront, but decided against it-there was no way to say ‘I’m looking for a car that drives around on its own’ without sounding crazy. It wasn’t like she’d have a large area to check, anyways.
Irene turned off the main road and down the secondary one, fidgeting nervously with one edge of her scarf with fingers made clumsy by gloves and cold.
Her heart stopped when she recognized Coldfront, parked in front of a boarded-up fishing store and she broke into a run, awkwardly trying to hug the vehicle when she reached him, incredibly happy.
“Irene?” Coldfront asked, sounding shocked.
“Coldfront! I found you! You’re okay!”
“Yes, clearly: I’m always truthful in my reports, you know. …What are you doing here? Is everything correct?” The mech shrugged his driver’s-seat door open and Irene slipped inside, wrapping the steering wheel in another awkward, impromptu hug.
“It’s so good to hear from you!” Irene was grinning ear-to-ear, beaming.
“From you, too,” Coldfront said, voice softening momentarily. “Still-why are you here? Is there something wrong?”
“With me? No!” Irene was obviously surprised. “I was worried-I hadn’t heard from you even though you’d said you’d were going to be back, and you weren’t answering my calls-”
“-You hadn’t gotten the messages I sent?”
“Well, yes, but I got worried when they stopped on the fifth day without the slightest warning!”
“I continued sending them,” Coldfront said quietly. “Get in-I need to report this.”
“To who?”
“My unit leader.” His voice was stiff. “A coincidence. I believe my signal is being blocked by Decepticons, and his as well. You say you weren’t aware of our presence here?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Irene said. “I just knew you were going to Montana until Skywarp and Thundercracker spotted you in Alaska. I think they’re kind of put out about how you ignored them-but they were nice enough to fly up here, with me, even, to look for you. I’m pretty sure their theory was that you had a broken comm. system or something like that. But, of course, it can never be that simple or unthreatening, with us…”
“No, I received their messages,” Coldfront said quietly. “I was under orders not to reply. My unit leader was suspicious of their claimed faction switch.”
“Wait,” Irene said suddenly. “Didn’t you tell him what happened when they joined us? And that it’s good enough for Optimus Prime and his officers-all of them? And almost all the regular soldiers, even if you count Landslide? I mean, fuck-Optimus and Prowl sent them up here to look for you!”
“My opinion was not asked,” Coldfront said, retreating behind the unexpected formality suddenly present in his voice. “And it would have been inappropriate of me to offer it. You are only accustomed to the informal methods the Prime insists upon.”
“But Optimus is even more your leader than this guy is. His orders take precedent over this guys’, right?”
“When Optimus Prime is not present, Hardline’s orders take first priority. I also assume he’s been in contact with the Prime when it comes to these matters, as he spoke with him shortly after I contacted with him.”
Irene stilled. “Nobody else has heard from you, or him, or anybody else,” she said slowly.
There was a long silence.
“Something’s fishy,” Irene announced. “I’m calling Thundercracker and Skywarp. If nothing else, they’ll want to know I found you.”
“Please… Offer an explanation for my actions, an apology. I-I hadn’t expected them to care.”
“No.”
“Irene?”
“No! You are going to apologize for yourself, and you are going to do it in person. Now shut up while I do this. -Good, I’m getting through-Thundercracker! Guess who I found! …Yeah. No. It’s not that-he-No. His unit leader’s here, though-bad news, he hates you. -Hah! …And the worse news is that we think there’s something wrong: comms won’t go through over long distance, at the least, and-shit. Okay, I’ll tell him. But apparently Coldfront’s old commander says that he got through to Prowl or Optimus. Yeah, I know, sound a titch suspicious to me, too-but I guess it could have been a faked reply or something? …Yeah. Yeah, sounds great. See you.”
Irene flipped her phone shut. “Thundercracker says there’s a Decepticon who could probably do what’s going on up here-with the comms and all. And a damn scary fucker at that. They’re going to follow overhead. …And maybe you could speed up?”
Coldfront did, wordlessly, and Irene sat back, trying to relax. After all, fretting didn’t get anything done.
Irene woke with a jolt as Coldfront stopped. “We’ve arrived,” he said, unnecessarily.
She didn’t get out of the car, but she did gather her winter things together, laying them at her feet: coat, scarf, gloves, hat. It was Alaska, moving towards the northern part of it, in the middle of winter, speaking as she moved. “Where is he? Your boss-guy, I mean.”
“He’ll be arriving in five minutes,” Coldfront said, voice flat. Irene thought it sounded like he was trying-trying too hard-to keep it neutral.
They waited in silence. Once, Irene thought she caught a glimpse of a plane-possibly Skywarp or Thundercracker-but she wasn’t sure she’d seen anything at all, let alone one of them. And they’d said that they were going to wait close, in case of emergency, but that didn’t mean too much when it came to Skywarp, certainly, seeing as he could teleport within an unknown but presumably impressive range.
“It’s good to see you again,” Irene repeated after a while, her mouth hidden by her coat and scarf but her smile obvious in her eyes. “I’ve missed having you around. -I mean, I need someone to do the heavy lifting, right?”
“I’m sorry for worrying you. I thought I was getting through-” The Autobot sounded frustrated, upset.
“Hey-it’s not a problem, okay? You didn’t know-I ended up going a little out of my way to track you down, sure, but you have back-up ’cause it turns out there’s a problem! Think of it as payback for all the help you’ve given me, starting with saving my life a time or two.”
Coldfront sounded even more upset. “I didn’t-I don’t-help you because I expect you to-to even the debt. There is no debt-”
“I know,” Irene said softly. “That’s part of why I want to help you. You’re my best friend-I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay; it’s something friends do. You’d do the same for me, right?”
“Of course. But-”
“If you say ‘but that’s different,’ I’m just going to laugh,” Irene informed him. “Or possibly swear you out. Just let it go. I’d do this-and a lot more-all over again.”
Coldfront hesitated before he spoke again. “-That’s him, on the road. My commanding officer-Hardline.”
Irene turned to watch the approaching-was that a tank? “Subtle alt form,” she muttered, highly unimpressed.”
“It is difficult to find alternate forms above a certain mass if you’re not flight capable,” Coldfront murmured. “Regulation states that I am expected to meet my officer at attention in situations where it is secure to do so. Would you… Will you be alright if you wait outside for a while? It’s extreme conditions for someone of your make…”
Irene thought about arguing-if this was the mech responsible for all Coldfront’s issues with authority, she had a strong dislike for him already-but decided against it, and stepped back out into the snow and cold. She didn’t want to make him choose between his duty and her friendship-he felt obligated, driven, to follow through with the former, and he hoped he wanted ‑to support the latter, that it wasn’t an obligation, something he only followed through with because he couldn’t imagine doing otherwise.
The tank transformed a hundred feet away from them, stepping forward once or twice before stopping a fair distance aways.
“Coldfront,” Hardline said shortly.
“Sir. Permission to speak?”
“Permission denied. I’ve noticed an increase in your bad habits, Coldfront-shameful. Clearly, your time under lax commanders and, even more so, your time spent with no officer at all, has allowed your lazy, incompetent, anarchistic tendencies to-”
Irene had heard enough. “That is absolute bullshit.” She didn’t so much as flinch under the sudden intense stare that earned her from Hardline, glaring fearless back instead: her face was scrunched into a fierce scowl and her arms were belligerently crossed.
Hardline turned to face Coldfront again. “This isn’t a secure location,” he said, voice quiet but not soft. “This level of carelessness is just not acceptable, Coldfront. Terminate the security breach and then report to me for your punishment.”
“Sir. May I-”
“Don’t dig your hole any deeper, soldier. Your behavior’s almost worse than it was when you were a green recruit-”
“May I have permission to explain the situation, sir?”
“No.”
“Sir-Irene, Irene Lisselle Grey, is authorized to-”
Hardline stalked forward and Coldfront silenced himself, frame tense and motionless. He didn’t so much as flinch when one of the larger mech’s hands snapped out, slapping him across the face. Irene screamed, shortly, although she was entirely unhurt.
“Don’t you dare disobey a direct order. Barely-functional tool-that’s what you are, Coldfront, when you work. If you can’t even follow through with simple orders, all you’re designed to do, then you’ll be discarded, like any other broken thing with no remaining usefulness-”
“Don’t you dare listen to him,” Irene hissed at Coldfront. “Not for one second-you’re your own person, and a damned great one at that-you’re my best friend, one of the few people on this planet or any other that I’m at all close to. Optimus Prime thinks of you as more than some kind of-of thoughtless drone! And-”
Hardline’s voice was easily strong enough to drown her out. “The Prime is a delusional over-lenient fool. Why do you think I was blocking signals out of this area? And it’s a pity such a pushy, infantile carbon structure had the temerity to attach itself to you, of all the mechs-”
“Her,” Coldfront interrupted, voice quiet but unyielding. “Herself. Irene is-”
“Shut up,” Hardline said casually. “Maybe it’s this planet that’s been the bad influence on you.” He raised a foot and stepped down, casually and carelessly, without effort. Irene didn’t have time to scream.
Seconds later she realized that, miraculously, she wasn’t dead. Coldfront was pinning his commanding officer-ex commanding officer-a short distance away, expression set and cannon pointed dead center at his head.
Irene stood, shakily. She was privately ashamed at her equally-private surprise that Coldfront had saved her, hadn’t gone against his rules-attacking officers was certainly against Autobot law.
A larger part of her was happy, for Coldfront and for herself.
“-and for those stated reasons you are under arrest for treason and-” Coldfront was saying.
“You-This is what happens when a grunt like you tries to think! You’re too simple to understand-this Prime is as unsuited for leadership as you, it’s only right that he’s replaced by-”
“Shut up,” Irene said loudly. Then, voice thankful, happy, “Thank you, Coldfront. -I’m going to call in Thundercracker and Skywarp, ’kay? And then Optimus and/or Prowl. They should hear about what’s going on-”
She dialed, wincing when she just got what sounded like dial-up Internet connecting instead of a ring tone.
“I can’t get through.”
Hardline giggled. “How long can you wait for back-up, Coldfront? With the human here?”
“They’ll start looking-and sooner rather than later. Skywarp doesn’t like waiting.” Irene’s voice was steady, dauntless.
Silence fell. Irene started pacing, to keep herself from cooling too much. The shadows were starting to lengthen.
“I’ve been thinking about chickens,” Irene said, after a short while. “I’m going to need a whole lot of both fertilized and unfertilized organic eggs for an upcoming experiment, and it’ll probably ‑
be cheaper in the long run. Especially if I fed them a lot of kitchen scraps and garden waste. And then chicken manure is some of the best stuff out there for gardens…”
“It sounds like a good idea,” Coldfront said, sounding happy, content. “Do you have the time?”
“I will soon. I- Did you see something move?”
“What?-”
Irene screamed as a silver figure maybe half her height leaped for her, misleadingly spindly fingers wrapping around her throat and pressing just hard enough to threaten, just hard enough to send the first waves of panic washing through her body.
“Got her, sir,” the new mech said, in a deep voice entirely out of place with his tiny, light frame. Irene was dizzy with panic, having trouble concentrating: it took her almost thirty seconds to realize that she was staring at a strip of what looked like computer screen, or a new TV, and to make out the words forming on it.
Don’t panic. I’m on your side.
She tried to thrash out of his grip but stopped when her movements made his unmoving fingers press into her neck, sharp strips of metal cutting into her throat, drawing blood and stinging sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Please. I don’t want to hurt you. And the big guy on our side needs to get out of this alive, too.
“Good, Blaster,” Hardline said, voice cold and predatory under the satisfaction. “Now, Coldfront-I’d recommend letting me go. I’ll probably have that mouthy organic you’re so unnaturally fond of killed either way, but it will be slow, painful and in front of you if you don’t.”
“Just shoot him now,” Irene growled through the pain, trying to kick Blaster.
Hardline frowned. Blaster looked at him in silent question, and he nodded. Blaster squeezed-not quite hard enough to break anything, but close. Blood was dripping down Irene’s neck from the mostly-superficial cuts, matting her hair and tacking down her shirt, turning the collar of her green coat black.
Sorry. Irene wanted to reply-if you’re so sorry, don’t do it!-but couldn’t, not through the pain and the hands still clenched around her.
Coldfront stood up abruptly, backing away, his hands raised inoffensively. Hardline was on his feet seconds later, nasty-looking cannons replacing his hands and a slow, warning hum starting to build.
“Good choice,” purred Hardline. “You’ve always been good at listening-it’s one of the strong points in my training regime. Now. As a reward, I’ll give you a choice: you kill it quickly, or I’ll do it slowly. Do you want to see it suffer, Coldfront?”
He hesitated, swaying slightly on his feet, looking broken. “No.” He turned to face Irene; Blaster dropped her, backing away, and she lay where she fell, hand on her throat. She looked at Coldfront. He fired.
Hardline fell to his feet with a mechanical whine of pain, his gaping wound crackling with electricity and billowing smoke. Irene smiled, weakly. Coldfront hesitated momentarily, then shot the traitor once more at point-blank range before hurrying to Irene’s side, one huge hand reaching out to hover, unsure whether or not touching her would make things worse, but wanting to. The woman made a wheezing sound that wanted to be an amused, familiar, exasperated sigh, and reached out. She ended up hugging part of his hand as the other wrapped protectively and gently around her.
After a brief minute, she realized Coldfront was shaking, fine tremors running through his body.
“He always underestimated me,” he said finally.
“Stupid thing to do,” Irene said, sniffling a little-she wasn’t actually crying, just close to it. “Can we go home now?”
“Not yet.” Coldfront’s voice was reluctant. “There’s still-”
“There’s still me,” Blaster said, voice grim, walking out of the darkness now surrounding them. His hands were out in front of him-and they were still hands, not guns.
Irene flinched. Before she could react any further, Coldfront had one of his cannons pointed straight at the tiny mech.
“Uh… How to say this. Please don’t shoot me, man. I’m on your side! Hardline had me in a bad spot-I’ve got dependants, right? He’s got one too, and if I messed around, one of ’em was going to get shot. I couldn’t risk it. That slagger-”
“It’s hard to convince someone you’re on their side when you’ve just almost killed them.” Irene rasped. “Actions and words-I think you’re just trying to throw your chips in with whoever looks like the safest bet.”
“I played my part! Why do you think your calls got through sometimes? Couldn’t do it often, what with Hardline watching, but it was enough! I radioed those Decepticons y’were talking about-I just got a hold of ’em, right before Coldfront went after that fucker Hardline. Should be here-”
There was a low, building rumble and Thundercracker shot overhead, followed by Skywarp. They turned, coming in to land.
“-any second now.”
“That could be coincidence,” Irene said flatly. Her hands and lower face were smeared with her drying blood.
“Well-ask them, then! Here they come.”
Coldfront didn’t so much as blink-not that Transformers did blink, Irene knew-as they drew closer, fixated on the tiny Blaster. He did mutter a quiet hello as they approached, though, sounding subdued-embarrassed? Ashamed? Or was it that he still wasn’t willing to trust the Decepticons?
Skywarp kicked carelessly at the fallen traitorous Autobot. “What’s this?” he asked, clearly amused.
Irene explained, since Coldfront wasn’t speaking, and Blaster certainly wasn’t going to, whether he tried to or not. “He was trying to throw Optimus Prime, messing around with Coldfront’s head and ordered me killed by the little one over there, which almost actually happened-hence my voice. And the blood. This is going to be hard to explain at the dry cleaners… Our friend Blaster there claims he sent for you for help because he’s really on our side, but I am disbelieving. Probably because he nearly choked me to death and is the reason I currently have a bruised, bleeding throat-”
“Look, I’m sorry-I needed to put on a good act, ’cause he had one of my dependants with a knife at his throat-so hard feeling?”
“‘No hard feelings?!’ You nearly killed me! I-Just-Aaagh!”
Thundercracker leaned down, edging in on Coldfront, and grabbed Blaster, holding him dangling by one spindly arm. “I’d shut up if I were you,” he growled. “See, you did call us-but that doesn’t mean you’re on our side. It could just mean you’re a pathetic survivor, buddying up to whoever’s in power. More to the point, Autobot, you almost killed Irene-and she’s one of the few beings on this pit-spawned planet we do like. You-”
“Wait, you like me? I thought you were just being remarkably tolerant-I mean, when you weren’t being grumpy-”
“You talk to us,” Thundercracker said with a shrug. “You’re not too stupid-for an organic.”
“You get my sense of humor,” Skywarp added, with a dangerous-looking smirk that showed off rows of predatory-looking teeth.
Irene blinked. “Now that’s a scary thought.”
“Whatever,” Thundercracker muttered. “The point is, we might make exceptions for the occasional Autobot, but we are not predisposed to like them. Quite the opposite, in fact. And then when you hurt one of our few friends on this miserable slime-covered ball of mud-”
“Seriously: I didn’t hurt her that bad-”
“Jesus frikking Christ! Yes, you did! This hurts! And I may not be dead but I could feel important things like my esophagus creaking with the pressure, which means I was panicking, too! Because breathing is really, really important!”
“I- I’m sorry, then.”
“Fine. Just-fine. Damn, I need food and a full night’s sleep. And a chance to get blood out of my hair. This is revolting.”
“Yeah-we can take the dead guy and this little waste of space down to base, and give a report for you. Want a ride home?”
Irene hesitated before responding. “Coldfront?” she asked, looking at him.
“Alright,” he said tiredly. “I’ll meet you at home in a few days.”
Irene couldn’t help but smile: he didn’t call her house home very often, but she loved it when he did-because that was what it was, even if he usually didn’t seem to realize that, or even that people, Autobot or human, needed a home, not just a place to stay.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Thundercracker.
“What the slag are you thinking? You’re coming too. I’ve got space, and Irene should have someone looking out for her. Anyway, she wants to have you there.”
“Yeah,” Irene said, a remarkably peaceful smile spreading across her face. “C’mon-let’s go home.”
Chester started barking loudly as the two planes landed, relatively gently, in a maneuver Irene was pretty sure they weren’t actually supposed to be capable of.
“Stupid animal,” Skywarp muttered. “Should shoot it.” Irene just shook her head and grinned.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye,” she said. “Drop by soon, okay? Or whenever you have time-odds are I’ll be here. And happy to see you! Even if you are obnoxious and have a fucked-up sense of humor. …Come to think of it, why do I like you?”
“Hah. We’ll see-we might show up some time. Maybe. -You should go sleep now.”
“…What?”
“You’re injured. Sleep.”
For once in her life, Irene held her tongue, partly because of the sheer shock value of Skywarp-Skywarp-mothering her, even if it was probably because of Thundercracker’s encouragement-and having Thundercracker mother her wasn’t all that much more normal. Let alone Skywarp going along with it if it was the larger Decepticon’s idea….
“Uh, okay, I’ll get right to that. See you. -On the off chance Blaster isn’t just a creepy little opportunist, don’t beat him up too much.”
Stepping to the ground sent a small wave of water washing into her shoes. It was still raining. Irene couldn’t find it within herself to be upset, even knowing that it might have finally done in her latest sage plant. A distance away, Thundercracker was letting out Coldfront, who transformed. The Autobot said something to the other, too quietly for the woman to even make out individual words, then turned to walk over to her.
They watched the planes take off in silence, partly out of necessity: it wasn’t eay for the human of the pair to talk or hear over the noise. Slowly, Chester’s barking stopped.
“It’s good to have you back,” Irene said one last time.
“I’m glad.”
And that was that. Irene went to bed.
Irene:
This is Thundercracker. I got your email from the base, and thought I’d fill you in.
Blaster’s story checks out, so he’s under probation. Damn the Prime-he’s far too trusting. He let us stay, though, so maybe it has merit. Maybe.
The one loose end is that there’s still his dependant running around. There’s a picture attached, so watch out. Other than that, though, it looks like things are over.
See you around.
Idly, she clicked on the picture: it seemed oddly familiar-a small silver-gray truck…
Realization struck, and she frowned. A car remarkably similar, quite possibly the same one, had almost run her over in Alaska. Well. That would explain something.
“So you’ve heard,” Coldfront said, shifting to look over her shoulder. “Blaster’s been given a probationary period.”
Irene shrugged, feeling the motion tug on the slowly-healing scabs on her neck. (At least it was December: it didn’t look odd for her to wear turtlenecks or scarves, on the rare days she did leave the house.) “It’s for the best. As long as it’s not that ratbastard son of a Gila monster and a tapeworm who served as your commanding officer who’s getting a second chance, the Autobots need all the help they can get.”
Coldfront looked as if he almost wanted to protest her description of HARDLINE, but he didn’t.
“You’re right,” he said instead. “I am better off without him. Even if he hadn’t been a traitor.”
Irene’s heart felt big enough to burst, and she knew she was grinning a huge, happy, stupid grin. “Damn straight!”
Coldfront made a strange staticky noise, something she’d come to recognize as laugher. Irene laughed with him, the two strikingly different noises rising to fill the room.
Irene woke up, fumbling to turn off her alarm, at eight o’clock exactly. It was a chilly morning, and she pulled on an oversized flannel shirt and thick socks after she slipped out of the pocket of warmth. She stumbled down the stairs, almost slipping on the slick wood in her socks, and turned on the tea kettle, putting toast in the toaster automatically. She just barely remembered to plug it in, first.
Then, more awake by the moment, she wandered into the garage (now modified to fit Coldfront in root mode, and to be a pleasant place for Irene-and the Autobot-to spend time in) and gave him a good-morning. She weathered Chester’s frantically, hysterically happy greeting.
She left again to reclaim her toast before it got cold and pour her tea. When she returned with her breakfast, Coldfront had let the dog out. She ate in peace, without any begging, and Coldfront went over the news with her.
Irene didn’t let herself linger long. One of her projects was finishing up, which meant even more work than she usually had.
She paused in the doorway. “So, I guess things really are back to normal.”
“Yes.”
“…It’s kind of boring, honestly. Want to see if we can find some trouble? In a few days, when I finish up the last bit to this experiment.”
“…If you want to. I’m happy here. I’d also be happy to go on a trip.”
“-Good. I’m glad! Hmm. Maybe I could just start the next project… Ask Skywarp and Thundercracker down for a visit. Or Kristine. Or both-she’d like them, I think.”
“You should warn her,” Coldfront told her, sounding slightly recriminatory.
“Oh, you’re no fun! Seriously, though, what do you think?”
“It sounds… Good.”
And that was that. Irene smiled. Everything was perfect.
--end chapter 2--
Author's Notes: Which of these four possible Alien oneshots would you rather see next?
A) Nimbus and Mikaela getting to know each other or
B) Bluestreak, Keats and finally getting to the reason why Wheeljack and the twins are still MIA or
C) Solarity in Brazil (…with the addition of some actual plot, which I need to finish working out) or
D) Bluestreak and Thundercracker dealing with their interpersonal issues and the fact that Bluestreak was babbling at Thundercracker kind of on accident.
The town wasn’t just little, Irene realized. A fair number of the few buildings were empty, abandoned-some possibly just for winter, others definitely longer than that. There was a general store and gas station, a liquor store, a few houses and not much else. She thought, vaguely, about ducking inside the store to ask about Coldfront, but decided against it-there was no way to say ‘I’m looking for a car that drives around on its own’ without sounding crazy. It wasn’t like she’d have a large area to check, anyways.
Irene turned off the main road and down the secondary one, fidgeting nervously with one edge of her scarf with fingers made clumsy by gloves and cold.
Her heart stopped when she recognized Coldfront, parked in front of a boarded-up fishing store and she broke into a run, awkwardly trying to hug the vehicle when she reached him, incredibly happy.
“Irene?” Coldfront asked, sounding shocked.
“Coldfront! I found you! You’re okay!”
“Yes, clearly: I’m always truthful in my reports, you know. …What are you doing here? Is everything correct?” The mech shrugged his driver’s-seat door open and Irene slipped inside, wrapping the steering wheel in another awkward, impromptu hug.
“It’s so good to hear from you!” Irene was grinning ear-to-ear, beaming.
“From you, too,” Coldfront said, voice softening momentarily. “Still-why are you here? Is there something wrong?”
“With me? No!” Irene was obviously surprised. “I was worried-I hadn’t heard from you even though you’d said you’d were going to be back, and you weren’t answering my calls-”
“-You hadn’t gotten the messages I sent?”
“Well, yes, but I got worried when they stopped on the fifth day without the slightest warning!”
“I continued sending them,” Coldfront said quietly. “Get in-I need to report this.”
“To who?”
“My unit leader.” His voice was stiff. “A coincidence. I believe my signal is being blocked by Decepticons, and his as well. You say you weren’t aware of our presence here?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Irene said. “I just knew you were going to Montana until Skywarp and Thundercracker spotted you in Alaska. I think they’re kind of put out about how you ignored them-but they were nice enough to fly up here, with me, even, to look for you. I’m pretty sure their theory was that you had a broken comm. system or something like that. But, of course, it can never be that simple or unthreatening, with us…”
“No, I received their messages,” Coldfront said quietly. “I was under orders not to reply. My unit leader was suspicious of their claimed faction switch.”
“Wait,” Irene said suddenly. “Didn’t you tell him what happened when they joined us? And that it’s good enough for Optimus Prime and his officers-all of them? And almost all the regular soldiers, even if you count Landslide? I mean, fuck-Optimus and Prowl sent them up here to look for you!”
“My opinion was not asked,” Coldfront said, retreating behind the unexpected formality suddenly present in his voice. “And it would have been inappropriate of me to offer it. You are only accustomed to the informal methods the Prime insists upon.”
“But Optimus is even more your leader than this guy is. His orders take precedent over this guys’, right?”
“When Optimus Prime is not present, Hardline’s orders take first priority. I also assume he’s been in contact with the Prime when it comes to these matters, as he spoke with him shortly after I contacted with him.”
Irene stilled. “Nobody else has heard from you, or him, or anybody else,” she said slowly.
There was a long silence.
“Something’s fishy,” Irene announced. “I’m calling Thundercracker and Skywarp. If nothing else, they’ll want to know I found you.”
“Please… Offer an explanation for my actions, an apology. I-I hadn’t expected them to care.”
“No.”
“Irene?”
“No! You are going to apologize for yourself, and you are going to do it in person. Now shut up while I do this. -Good, I’m getting through-Thundercracker! Guess who I found! …Yeah. No. It’s not that-he-No. His unit leader’s here, though-bad news, he hates you. -Hah! …And the worse news is that we think there’s something wrong: comms won’t go through over long distance, at the least, and-shit. Okay, I’ll tell him. But apparently Coldfront’s old commander says that he got through to Prowl or Optimus. Yeah, I know, sound a titch suspicious to me, too-but I guess it could have been a faked reply or something? …Yeah. Yeah, sounds great. See you.”
Irene flipped her phone shut. “Thundercracker says there’s a Decepticon who could probably do what’s going on up here-with the comms and all. And a damn scary fucker at that. They’re going to follow overhead. …And maybe you could speed up?”
Coldfront did, wordlessly, and Irene sat back, trying to relax. After all, fretting didn’t get anything done.
Irene woke with a jolt as Coldfront stopped. “We’ve arrived,” he said, unnecessarily.
She didn’t get out of the car, but she did gather her winter things together, laying them at her feet: coat, scarf, gloves, hat. It was Alaska, moving towards the northern part of it, in the middle of winter, speaking as she moved. “Where is he? Your boss-guy, I mean.”
“He’ll be arriving in five minutes,” Coldfront said, voice flat. Irene thought it sounded like he was trying-trying too hard-to keep it neutral.
They waited in silence. Once, Irene thought she caught a glimpse of a plane-possibly Skywarp or Thundercracker-but she wasn’t sure she’d seen anything at all, let alone one of them. And they’d said that they were going to wait close, in case of emergency, but that didn’t mean too much when it came to Skywarp, certainly, seeing as he could teleport within an unknown but presumably impressive range.
“It’s good to see you again,” Irene repeated after a while, her mouth hidden by her coat and scarf but her smile obvious in her eyes. “I’ve missed having you around. -I mean, I need someone to do the heavy lifting, right?”
“I’m sorry for worrying you. I thought I was getting through-” The Autobot sounded frustrated, upset.
“Hey-it’s not a problem, okay? You didn’t know-I ended up going a little out of my way to track you down, sure, but you have back-up ’cause it turns out there’s a problem! Think of it as payback for all the help you’ve given me, starting with saving my life a time or two.”
Coldfront sounded even more upset. “I didn’t-I don’t-help you because I expect you to-to even the debt. There is no debt-”
“I know,” Irene said softly. “That’s part of why I want to help you. You’re my best friend-I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay; it’s something friends do. You’d do the same for me, right?”
“Of course. But-”
“If you say ‘but that’s different,’ I’m just going to laugh,” Irene informed him. “Or possibly swear you out. Just let it go. I’d do this-and a lot more-all over again.”
Coldfront hesitated before he spoke again. “-That’s him, on the road. My commanding officer-Hardline.”
Irene turned to watch the approaching-was that a tank? “Subtle alt form,” she muttered, highly unimpressed.”
“It is difficult to find alternate forms above a certain mass if you’re not flight capable,” Coldfront murmured. “Regulation states that I am expected to meet my officer at attention in situations where it is secure to do so. Would you… Will you be alright if you wait outside for a while? It’s extreme conditions for someone of your make…”
Irene thought about arguing-if this was the mech responsible for all Coldfront’s issues with authority, she had a strong dislike for him already-but decided against it, and stepped back out into the snow and cold. She didn’t want to make him choose between his duty and her friendship-he felt obligated, driven, to follow through with the former, and he hoped he wanted ‑to support the latter, that it wasn’t an obligation, something he only followed through with because he couldn’t imagine doing otherwise.
The tank transformed a hundred feet away from them, stepping forward once or twice before stopping a fair distance aways.
“Coldfront,” Hardline said shortly.
“Sir. Permission to speak?”
“Permission denied. I’ve noticed an increase in your bad habits, Coldfront-shameful. Clearly, your time under lax commanders and, even more so, your time spent with no officer at all, has allowed your lazy, incompetent, anarchistic tendencies to-”
Irene had heard enough. “That is absolute bullshit.” She didn’t so much as flinch under the sudden intense stare that earned her from Hardline, glaring fearless back instead: her face was scrunched into a fierce scowl and her arms were belligerently crossed.
Hardline turned to face Coldfront again. “This isn’t a secure location,” he said, voice quiet but not soft. “This level of carelessness is just not acceptable, Coldfront. Terminate the security breach and then report to me for your punishment.”
“Sir. May I-”
“Don’t dig your hole any deeper, soldier. Your behavior’s almost worse than it was when you were a green recruit-”
“May I have permission to explain the situation, sir?”
“No.”
“Sir-Irene, Irene Lisselle Grey, is authorized to-”
Hardline stalked forward and Coldfront silenced himself, frame tense and motionless. He didn’t so much as flinch when one of the larger mech’s hands snapped out, slapping him across the face. Irene screamed, shortly, although she was entirely unhurt.
“Don’t you dare disobey a direct order. Barely-functional tool-that’s what you are, Coldfront, when you work. If you can’t even follow through with simple orders, all you’re designed to do, then you’ll be discarded, like any other broken thing with no remaining usefulness-”
“Don’t you dare listen to him,” Irene hissed at Coldfront. “Not for one second-you’re your own person, and a damned great one at that-you’re my best friend, one of the few people on this planet or any other that I’m at all close to. Optimus Prime thinks of you as more than some kind of-of thoughtless drone! And-”
Hardline’s voice was easily strong enough to drown her out. “The Prime is a delusional over-lenient fool. Why do you think I was blocking signals out of this area? And it’s a pity such a pushy, infantile carbon structure had the temerity to attach itself to you, of all the mechs-”
“Her,” Coldfront interrupted, voice quiet but unyielding. “Herself. Irene is-”
“Shut up,” Hardline said casually. “Maybe it’s this planet that’s been the bad influence on you.” He raised a foot and stepped down, casually and carelessly, without effort. Irene didn’t have time to scream.
Seconds later she realized that, miraculously, she wasn’t dead. Coldfront was pinning his commanding officer-ex commanding officer-a short distance away, expression set and cannon pointed dead center at his head.
Irene stood, shakily. She was privately ashamed at her equally-private surprise that Coldfront had saved her, hadn’t gone against his rules-attacking officers was certainly against Autobot law.
A larger part of her was happy, for Coldfront and for herself.
“-and for those stated reasons you are under arrest for treason and-” Coldfront was saying.
“You-This is what happens when a grunt like you tries to think! You’re too simple to understand-this Prime is as unsuited for leadership as you, it’s only right that he’s replaced by-”
“Shut up,” Irene said loudly. Then, voice thankful, happy, “Thank you, Coldfront. -I’m going to call in Thundercracker and Skywarp, ’kay? And then Optimus and/or Prowl. They should hear about what’s going on-”
She dialed, wincing when she just got what sounded like dial-up Internet connecting instead of a ring tone.
“I can’t get through.”
Hardline giggled. “How long can you wait for back-up, Coldfront? With the human here?”
“They’ll start looking-and sooner rather than later. Skywarp doesn’t like waiting.” Irene’s voice was steady, dauntless.
Silence fell. Irene started pacing, to keep herself from cooling too much. The shadows were starting to lengthen.
“I’ve been thinking about chickens,” Irene said, after a short while. “I’m going to need a whole lot of both fertilized and unfertilized organic eggs for an upcoming experiment, and it’ll probably ‑
be cheaper in the long run. Especially if I fed them a lot of kitchen scraps and garden waste. And then chicken manure is some of the best stuff out there for gardens…”
“It sounds like a good idea,” Coldfront said, sounding happy, content. “Do you have the time?”
“I will soon. I- Did you see something move?”
“What?-”
Irene screamed as a silver figure maybe half her height leaped for her, misleadingly spindly fingers wrapping around her throat and pressing just hard enough to threaten, just hard enough to send the first waves of panic washing through her body.
“Got her, sir,” the new mech said, in a deep voice entirely out of place with his tiny, light frame. Irene was dizzy with panic, having trouble concentrating: it took her almost thirty seconds to realize that she was staring at a strip of what looked like computer screen, or a new TV, and to make out the words forming on it.
Don’t panic. I’m on your side.
She tried to thrash out of his grip but stopped when her movements made his unmoving fingers press into her neck, sharp strips of metal cutting into her throat, drawing blood and stinging sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Please. I don’t want to hurt you. And the big guy on our side needs to get out of this alive, too.
“Good, Blaster,” Hardline said, voice cold and predatory under the satisfaction. “Now, Coldfront-I’d recommend letting me go. I’ll probably have that mouthy organic you’re so unnaturally fond of killed either way, but it will be slow, painful and in front of you if you don’t.”
“Just shoot him now,” Irene growled through the pain, trying to kick Blaster.
Hardline frowned. Blaster looked at him in silent question, and he nodded. Blaster squeezed-not quite hard enough to break anything, but close. Blood was dripping down Irene’s neck from the mostly-superficial cuts, matting her hair and tacking down her shirt, turning the collar of her green coat black.
Sorry. Irene wanted to reply-if you’re so sorry, don’t do it!-but couldn’t, not through the pain and the hands still clenched around her.
Coldfront stood up abruptly, backing away, his hands raised inoffensively. Hardline was on his feet seconds later, nasty-looking cannons replacing his hands and a slow, warning hum starting to build.
“Good choice,” purred Hardline. “You’ve always been good at listening-it’s one of the strong points in my training regime. Now. As a reward, I’ll give you a choice: you kill it quickly, or I’ll do it slowly. Do you want to see it suffer, Coldfront?”
He hesitated, swaying slightly on his feet, looking broken. “No.” He turned to face Irene; Blaster dropped her, backing away, and she lay where she fell, hand on her throat. She looked at Coldfront. He fired.
Hardline fell to his feet with a mechanical whine of pain, his gaping wound crackling with electricity and billowing smoke. Irene smiled, weakly. Coldfront hesitated momentarily, then shot the traitor once more at point-blank range before hurrying to Irene’s side, one huge hand reaching out to hover, unsure whether or not touching her would make things worse, but wanting to. The woman made a wheezing sound that wanted to be an amused, familiar, exasperated sigh, and reached out. She ended up hugging part of his hand as the other wrapped protectively and gently around her.
After a brief minute, she realized Coldfront was shaking, fine tremors running through his body.
“He always underestimated me,” he said finally.
“Stupid thing to do,” Irene said, sniffling a little-she wasn’t actually crying, just close to it. “Can we go home now?”
“Not yet.” Coldfront’s voice was reluctant. “There’s still-”
“There’s still me,” Blaster said, voice grim, walking out of the darkness now surrounding them. His hands were out in front of him-and they were still hands, not guns.
Irene flinched. Before she could react any further, Coldfront had one of his cannons pointed straight at the tiny mech.
“Uh… How to say this. Please don’t shoot me, man. I’m on your side! Hardline had me in a bad spot-I’ve got dependants, right? He’s got one too, and if I messed around, one of ’em was going to get shot. I couldn’t risk it. That slagger-”
“It’s hard to convince someone you’re on their side when you’ve just almost killed them.” Irene rasped. “Actions and words-I think you’re just trying to throw your chips in with whoever looks like the safest bet.”
“I played my part! Why do you think your calls got through sometimes? Couldn’t do it often, what with Hardline watching, but it was enough! I radioed those Decepticons y’were talking about-I just got a hold of ’em, right before Coldfront went after that fucker Hardline. Should be here-”
There was a low, building rumble and Thundercracker shot overhead, followed by Skywarp. They turned, coming in to land.
“-any second now.”
“That could be coincidence,” Irene said flatly. Her hands and lower face were smeared with her drying blood.
“Well-ask them, then! Here they come.”
Coldfront didn’t so much as blink-not that Transformers did blink, Irene knew-as they drew closer, fixated on the tiny Blaster. He did mutter a quiet hello as they approached, though, sounding subdued-embarrassed? Ashamed? Or was it that he still wasn’t willing to trust the Decepticons?
Skywarp kicked carelessly at the fallen traitorous Autobot. “What’s this?” he asked, clearly amused.
Irene explained, since Coldfront wasn’t speaking, and Blaster certainly wasn’t going to, whether he tried to or not. “He was trying to throw Optimus Prime, messing around with Coldfront’s head and ordered me killed by the little one over there, which almost actually happened-hence my voice. And the blood. This is going to be hard to explain at the dry cleaners… Our friend Blaster there claims he sent for you for help because he’s really on our side, but I am disbelieving. Probably because he nearly choked me to death and is the reason I currently have a bruised, bleeding throat-”
“Look, I’m sorry-I needed to put on a good act, ’cause he had one of my dependants with a knife at his throat-so hard feeling?”
“‘No hard feelings?!’ You nearly killed me! I-Just-Aaagh!”
Thundercracker leaned down, edging in on Coldfront, and grabbed Blaster, holding him dangling by one spindly arm. “I’d shut up if I were you,” he growled. “See, you did call us-but that doesn’t mean you’re on our side. It could just mean you’re a pathetic survivor, buddying up to whoever’s in power. More to the point, Autobot, you almost killed Irene-and she’s one of the few beings on this pit-spawned planet we do like. You-”
“Wait, you like me? I thought you were just being remarkably tolerant-I mean, when you weren’t being grumpy-”
“You talk to us,” Thundercracker said with a shrug. “You’re not too stupid-for an organic.”
“You get my sense of humor,” Skywarp added, with a dangerous-looking smirk that showed off rows of predatory-looking teeth.
Irene blinked. “Now that’s a scary thought.”
“Whatever,” Thundercracker muttered. “The point is, we might make exceptions for the occasional Autobot, but we are not predisposed to like them. Quite the opposite, in fact. And then when you hurt one of our few friends on this miserable slime-covered ball of mud-”
“Seriously: I didn’t hurt her that bad-”
“Jesus frikking Christ! Yes, you did! This hurts! And I may not be dead but I could feel important things like my esophagus creaking with the pressure, which means I was panicking, too! Because breathing is really, really important!”
“I- I’m sorry, then.”
“Fine. Just-fine. Damn, I need food and a full night’s sleep. And a chance to get blood out of my hair. This is revolting.”
“Yeah-we can take the dead guy and this little waste of space down to base, and give a report for you. Want a ride home?”
Irene hesitated before responding. “Coldfront?” she asked, looking at him.
“Alright,” he said tiredly. “I’ll meet you at home in a few days.”
Irene couldn’t help but smile: he didn’t call her house home very often, but she loved it when he did-because that was what it was, even if he usually didn’t seem to realize that, or even that people, Autobot or human, needed a home, not just a place to stay.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Thundercracker.
“What the slag are you thinking? You’re coming too. I’ve got space, and Irene should have someone looking out for her. Anyway, she wants to have you there.”
“Yeah,” Irene said, a remarkably peaceful smile spreading across her face. “C’mon-let’s go home.”
Chester started barking loudly as the two planes landed, relatively gently, in a maneuver Irene was pretty sure they weren’t actually supposed to be capable of.
“Stupid animal,” Skywarp muttered. “Should shoot it.” Irene just shook her head and grinned.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye,” she said. “Drop by soon, okay? Or whenever you have time-odds are I’ll be here. And happy to see you! Even if you are obnoxious and have a fucked-up sense of humor. …Come to think of it, why do I like you?”
“Hah. We’ll see-we might show up some time. Maybe. -You should go sleep now.”
“…What?”
“You’re injured. Sleep.”
For once in her life, Irene held her tongue, partly because of the sheer shock value of Skywarp-Skywarp-mothering her, even if it was probably because of Thundercracker’s encouragement-and having Thundercracker mother her wasn’t all that much more normal. Let alone Skywarp going along with it if it was the larger Decepticon’s idea….
“Uh, okay, I’ll get right to that. See you. -On the off chance Blaster isn’t just a creepy little opportunist, don’t beat him up too much.”
Stepping to the ground sent a small wave of water washing into her shoes. It was still raining. Irene couldn’t find it within herself to be upset, even knowing that it might have finally done in her latest sage plant. A distance away, Thundercracker was letting out Coldfront, who transformed. The Autobot said something to the other, too quietly for the woman to even make out individual words, then turned to walk over to her.
They watched the planes take off in silence, partly out of necessity: it wasn’t eay for the human of the pair to talk or hear over the noise. Slowly, Chester’s barking stopped.
“It’s good to have you back,” Irene said one last time.
“I’m glad.”
And that was that. Irene went to bed.
Irene:
This is Thundercracker. I got your email from the base, and thought I’d fill you in.
Blaster’s story checks out, so he’s under probation. Damn the Prime-he’s far too trusting. He let us stay, though, so maybe it has merit. Maybe.
The one loose end is that there’s still his dependant running around. There’s a picture attached, so watch out. Other than that, though, it looks like things are over.
See you around.
Idly, she clicked on the picture: it seemed oddly familiar-a small silver-gray truck…
Realization struck, and she frowned. A car remarkably similar, quite possibly the same one, had almost run her over in Alaska. Well. That would explain something.
“So you’ve heard,” Coldfront said, shifting to look over her shoulder. “Blaster’s been given a probationary period.”
Irene shrugged, feeling the motion tug on the slowly-healing scabs on her neck. (At least it was December: it didn’t look odd for her to wear turtlenecks or scarves, on the rare days she did leave the house.) “It’s for the best. As long as it’s not that ratbastard son of a Gila monster and a tapeworm who served as your commanding officer who’s getting a second chance, the Autobots need all the help they can get.”
Coldfront looked as if he almost wanted to protest her description of HARDLINE, but he didn’t.
“You’re right,” he said instead. “I am better off without him. Even if he hadn’t been a traitor.”
Irene’s heart felt big enough to burst, and she knew she was grinning a huge, happy, stupid grin. “Damn straight!”
Coldfront made a strange staticky noise, something she’d come to recognize as laugher. Irene laughed with him, the two strikingly different noises rising to fill the room.
Irene woke up, fumbling to turn off her alarm, at eight o’clock exactly. It was a chilly morning, and she pulled on an oversized flannel shirt and thick socks after she slipped out of the pocket of warmth. She stumbled down the stairs, almost slipping on the slick wood in her socks, and turned on the tea kettle, putting toast in the toaster automatically. She just barely remembered to plug it in, first.
Then, more awake by the moment, she wandered into the garage (now modified to fit Coldfront in root mode, and to be a pleasant place for Irene-and the Autobot-to spend time in) and gave him a good-morning. She weathered Chester’s frantically, hysterically happy greeting.
She left again to reclaim her toast before it got cold and pour her tea. When she returned with her breakfast, Coldfront had let the dog out. She ate in peace, without any begging, and Coldfront went over the news with her.
Irene didn’t let herself linger long. One of her projects was finishing up, which meant even more work than she usually had.
She paused in the doorway. “So, I guess things really are back to normal.”
“Yes.”
“…It’s kind of boring, honestly. Want to see if we can find some trouble? In a few days, when I finish up the last bit to this experiment.”
“…If you want to. I’m happy here. I’d also be happy to go on a trip.”
“-Good. I’m glad! Hmm. Maybe I could just start the next project… Ask Skywarp and Thundercracker down for a visit. Or Kristine. Or both-she’d like them, I think.”
“You should warn her,” Coldfront told her, sounding slightly recriminatory.
“Oh, you’re no fun! Seriously, though, what do you think?”
“It sounds… Good.”
And that was that. Irene smiled. Everything was perfect.
--end chapter 2--
Author's Notes: Which of these four possible Alien oneshots would you rather see next?
A) Nimbus and Mikaela getting to know each other or
B) Bluestreak, Keats and finally getting to the reason why Wheeljack and the twins are still MIA or
C) Solarity in Brazil (…with the addition of some actual plot, which I need to finish working out) or
D) Bluestreak and Thundercracker dealing with their interpersonal issues and the fact that Bluestreak was babbling at Thundercracker kind of on accident.