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The incessant beeping was a continuous reminder of his failure to account for gravitational pull. Red flashed light across his paint at intervals, turning him monocolored every few moments. It had already been too late when he realized he was being pulled down faster than anticipated. He was doing all he could, but, at the moment, it felt as though the shuttle’s thrusters were firing with no real chance of stopping. Maybe if an ace pilot, like one of the Aerialbots, was the one flying he’d have a better chance. But, he wasn’t a flier, he just knew the basics of piloting. Hot Spot certainly would have done better. And he could practically hear Blades growling in his audios about just how stupid he was being.
"Shut up," he found himself muttering as he flipped a number of switches, trying to stabilize his craft and stop the processor-numbing shaking, "It's not like you could fix a femoral coolant hemorrhage, Blades, so don't expect me to be the hotshot pilot."
Tense but thinking clearly, he dared to lift a hand from the controls long enough to open a channel. He was savvy enough to know it was a gamble, but he couldn’t afford to crash and potentially be damaged without contacting anyone. This was doubly true if there were Decepticons in the area- and, in his experience, there usually were Decepticons wherever there were Autobots. Hopefully, Soundwave wasn't around to intercept the Autobot frequency
“This is First Aid coming in fast. Requesting evac.”
How often had he said that last line? How often had the reply been ‘hold on’ when there was no time to do so? Would that be what happened this time? Or, worse, would this finally be the instance when the Decepticons got to him first? After all, Groove wasn't there to pull him out this time. He hoped this wasn't his last ride, and not just for his own sake. His death would devastate his brothers, and the Autobots could certainly use Defensor.
“Coordinates are as follows,” he listed them in his clipped, clinical tone, keeping his optics focused on the vis screen ahead, "Identification code transmitting."
The shuttle was uncomfortably hot now. His HUD lit up with a temperature warning. He ignored it, his medic's mind dismissing it as non-critical. He could pull through even if it got warm enough to be painful. Within the pod, atmosphere entry might get uncomfortable enough to harm some delicate wiring, but it would be superficial. His most pressing problem was his rapid entry speed.
With a resonating FWOOM, he broke through the atmosphere. A grunt betrayed his discomfort as he was pressed into his seat. The craft seemed to enter a freefall the planet's gravity pulling it down at a less jarring rate. The pod stopped rattling and First Aid immediately took the chance to fire the supporting thrusters to slow his descent. It seemed to work, since his impact into the surface was merely painful and not deadly. As it was, he snapped forward painfully, the harness the only thing keeping him in his seat. The pod rattled and screeched, kibble torn off as it plowed into the ground, leaving a deep gouge in the dirt. Warnings screeched, but all the medic could do was hold on tight and attempt to minimalize damage.
When the pod finally stopped, too dug into the earth to go any further, it settled with a cream of stressed metal and blaring of alarms. First Aid laid slumped in the harness, optics flickering as his HUD reported numerous minor injuries caused by the force of the crash.
Seven signals blipped out of existence only to be immediately followed by roaring thrusters and burning sky. They'd finally caught a break today, what with the Halcyon being out from behind the Moon long enough to intercept a signal. Elita had been tirelessly pouring over the reports Omega-1 had compiled over the past few years, and had been quite quick to notice the trend of "Autobots fall to Earth like rain when no one's looking". Today, Elita and her crew finally had their first catch.
Flanked by six Autotroopers in jet configuration, Elita had descended to the planet herself to handle their newest arrival. A groundbridge or an orbital bounce would've attracted far too much attention than was good for them, so hauling jets beneath a scancloak was their best option, especially since their target had been screaming their ID signature all the way down.
The flight was mercifully short. A small plume of smoke from the pod and steam from the superheated earth rose up from the gash below them, directing the squadron down to the ground.
"Break formation, establish a perimeter around that pod."
"Yes sir!"
In unison, all six of Elita's identical wingmen transformed and hit the ground running. Four of them immediately drew their various weapons and dug into the surrounding area, ready for incoming. Elita and the remaining two Autotroopers landed just a few meters shy of the pod, Elita with her hands planted confidently on her hips, and her two subordinates scanning the vessel.
AT-21867 gave his superior a thumbs up, stowing a small handheld scanner back on his waist. "ID checks out, captain. It's him."
Elita calmly nodded her head in the direction of the pod. "Crack it open then."
*Knock Knock Knock*
"First Aid! Doc, are you alright in there?" the Trooper asked.
Everything hurt. His first inclination was to internally whine about it, but he'd told mechs twice his size to get over injuries caused by whiplash and impact force. They were painful, but not life threatening, as his HUD was telling him. He certainly wasn't happy, but he would live. It took his systems a short time to run diagnostics and initiate self-repairs.
He had just gotten his bearings when a sharp rapping echoed in the small space. First Aid craned his head, wincing as his internal sensors reported that his neck cabling had been on he receiving end of a harsh lurch, which was why it hurt like slag. It took him another moment to register that his name had been called.
"Yeah. I'm alright..." shakily, he pulled his harness loose, clattering out of his seat at an odd angle, "Ow..."
A bit of weird shuffling and wiggling later, he managed to reach the controls for the exit. It hissed open and he fell back with a clang.
"Oh....ow..." he craned his head to look at his 'visitor', "Hi."
His 'visitors' were two identical Autotroopers, with what was probably their commanding officer standing just a short distance behind them. They wasted no time getting to work, reaching into the pod to hook First Aid's arms around their shoulders.
"Alright, we gotcha."
"One, two... three!"
With a relatively gentle heave, the Autotroopers attempted to carefully lift Aid up and out of the pod on his feet. Time was of the essence, of course. If they weren't good and careful, they'd be swimming in Vehicons coming to investigate another Autobot landing. The important bit was getting the poor bot out of a wrecked pod, of course.
After making sure First Aid wasn't about to keel over and offline on them, one of the Autotroopers left him up against his compatriot's side, giving him a once over with what appeared to be a medical scanner.
"How are we looking?" Elita asked into her wrist comm.
"All points green, sir; no incursions."
"Keep it that way," she finished, before turning her attention to her new friend. "I was wondering when I'd ever run into one of the Protectobots. Earth was the last place I would've guessed we'd find one."
Elita lightly smiled, and outstretched her hand. "Welcome to the front lines, First Aid."
First Aid was certainly relieved when the Autotroopers pulled him out. Oh, good. The good guys had found him. That worry was abated. He was also very glad that being pulled from the wreck didn't hurt nearly as much as he thought it would, which meant that his self-repairs had activated and we're already setting in on whatever minor damage he'd sustained.
"Thanks, guys."
It was as one of the troopers retreated to get a scanner that he realized who was there with them. His optics widened slightly. Oh, wow, that was unexpected. He'd met Autobot higher-ups before, but he'd never actually come face-to-face with Elita One. This was definitely one of those really cool moments in his young life.
He glanced at the Autotrooper scanning him, making a mental note to check that his own scanner was undamaged. It should be fine, but was protective of his gear. His attention was drawn back when Elita One addressed him. It was likely a good thing his mask was on, because he was still a bit starstruck. Especially when she mentioned the Protectobots, insinuating even a passing desire to meet them.
"I picked up a signal and followed it. I haven't seen the others since he Exodus, though," he felt an odd need to explain his presence,and why he was the only one of the team to show up.
From what she'd said, none of the others was on Earth. At least not yet. He had to stay positive here. His brothers were fine, he was sure of it. It was only a matter of time before he met up with them again.
"Thanks for coming to get me, sir," he shook her hand, keeping a professional tone. That seemed like the best way to address her, "I hope I can be of help."
While the pair spoke, one of the Autotroopers was going about the business of rigging up a small, square device to the outside of the wrecked pod. They didn't seem concerned with alerting First Aid about it, just yet.
"That's what I like to hear," Elita replied. Having another medic was one thing, but this medic was also one fifth of a gestalt combiner. That alone tripled his value in Elita's eyes, though she didn't deem it necessary to bring up. A universe in which Defensor could be formed was better than a universe in which he couldn't be, as far as she was concerned.
"We've had to step up our search and rescue operations these past few months; Megatron's been getting very wise to the fact that more and more Autobots are turning up on Earth, especially when those Autobots don't arrive through the proper channels." Elita folded her hands behind her back, though not before briefly making a dismissive gesture.
"Not a shot at you, however. There's still very little infrastructure in the way of transporting Autobots to Earth, but we've been looking into rectifying that as of late."
She took a moment to tilt her head a few degrees past First Aid toward the Autotrooper attending to the pod. Upon taking the visual cue, the Trooper gave a solid thumbs up. "Charge is primed, sir. We're ready to exfiltrate."
"Good."
"Now I know you've come all this way to Earth to help, so I can imagine that getting back on board a ship is the last thing you're looking to do today, but I'm not in the business of taking chances."
"We'll be taking a groundbridge back up to the Halcyon, and from there, we can get you sorted on where you need to go. Got everything you need from the pod?"
First Aid's visor shifted, belaying his smile beneath his mask. This was good. There were apparently enough Autobots to give Megatron worry. Or, at least enough that 'proper channels' needed arranged. He wasn't sure exactly what that looked like, but he was glad not to be alone. He didn't do well alone. After his last patient had left the ship, he'd struggled against the oppressiveness of isolation. His journal reflected that in an embarrassingly stark way.
From the way Elita was talking, the Autobots were well established. They would have to be to be talking infrastructure like his. It at least meant that they weren't all driven into hiding or living on the brink of defeat.
"I'm glad to hear it. Are there a lot of us here, then?"
Someone mentioned a charge. First Aid glanced back with a friend, only for his attention to be pulled back to Elita a moment later.
"I'm good with getting back on a ship for a while. Thanks for the help," he paused then, pondering her question, "I think I've got everything."
He'd subspace everything he needed, more than aware what could happen to pods entering high gravitational pulls. Sometimes, there wasn't much left at all. Which seemed to be where this one was headed too...so much for the inklig of pride he felt about his landing.