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Office of the Chief Engineer: Ironfist's Laboratory

The double orange doors slid open with a staggered groan, evidence that there had been minor damage done to the tracks during the destruction of the original core a few hours prior. Ironfist recorded the grinding audio frequency and made a mental note as to where the disruption was and how best to address it when time came available. Though as it stood presently, the weapons engineer and chief engineering officer of the Autobot Medical Frigate Guardian, had absolutely no spare time to address minor technical difficulties. It was a fact that irked the engineer, but he made no qualms or complaints as the lights flickered online once the doors finally locked into their opened positions within the deck walls.

He pressed through the opened doors and slid carefully passed a mound of deactivated data slates and technical manuals, toppled during the attack on the ship's generator. To the right of the door a fully equipped chemical distillation assembly continued to circulate away, removing impurities of a particular rare acid and further refining the substance for use in future ammunition shells. Through other tubes of the set, red liquids flowed up through curved transparent aluminum corkscrews before dripping slowly into heated beakers of amber fluids. At the bottom of the beakers spinning magnets worked to stir the mixture. Ironfist spared only a moment to take brief scans of the adhesive mixture within the first beaker. He reached under the assembly and pulled out a small bottle of liquefied Corbite. A few squirts of the silver blue liquid caused the adhesive to bubble and then resume simmering as the mixture took on a greenish silver tint. Satisfied with the readings, Ironfist returned the bottle to the compartment and then pivoted away from the chemical set. "All that is needed now is to test that." He muttered to himself as he walked to a set of devices spread out on a large work bench.

The engineer stepped over two power cables that were connected to a portable generator, for more stable results during testing of the massive oblong device that sat on the very center of the bench. Ironfist sat down on the opposite side of the bench and placed his palms down onto the onyx colored bench and allowed the hidden scanners to begin reading his bio-metrics.

Scanners hummed quietly before blinking offline. Two locks, hidden from view, clicked as they released their magnetic holds on the storage compartments located to his left. The deck plating raised up from the floor with a muted hiss before pulling back into a slot underneath the work bench. A few moments ticked passed as a large storage locker emerged from the deck.

Without preamble, Ironfist pulled open the doors and turned two dials... unlocking yet another measure of security. The triad of doors pealed back into hidden slots located in the primary doors of the locker. An automated roller slowly drove out a tray containing four circular rings forged in the strongest ceramics and alloys available.

At the opening of his laboratory a large shadow disrupted Ironfist's quite admiration of his latest inventions. The engineer looked up over the exposed doors of the locker and gave a nod of acknowledgement to Jetfire and the figure behind him, Warpath. "You have impeccable timing Jetfire."

Engine Room

Having found who he was looking for, nestled within his own personal workstation just to the side of the main engineering hub of the ship, Jetfire steadily closed the distance between himself and Ironfist.

"You have impeccable timing Jetfire."

A slightly confused expression crossed Jetfire's metallic features. Was that an earnest remark or some derivative of sarcasm? He could honestly not be sure. He would assume the former until more evidence substantiated a reevaluation. No, actually he would not. It was a trivial thing to spend any mental effort exploring. He would address the statement as presented and move on.

"Less so than I would have preferred," Jetfire said pleasantly. "I presume the Guardian has been successfully returned to your high standards of operation?"

Jetfire looked casually over Ironfist's shoulder at some of the equipment and screens that held his attention.

"What's our next step from here? Have you received any word from the ground?"

Engine Room

Warpath peered from around Jetfire's broad shoulders and stared into Ironfist's lab. He took a step around the two mechs while they discussed more "sciency things" and stepped inside and gazed upon Ironfist's workbench. KAPOW was this little engineer loaded! He had halfway constructed guns stacked atop various blueprint sheets. There were a few doohickies and whatchama-callsits sitting around his workshop too.

"POW! This is some fancy scrap!" The crimson tank former marveled as he picked up a small ballistic-shaped cartridge from the table top. "OH I bet that makes a nice KABOOM! Or maybe a definite, KAPLOW!" Setting the cartridge back in its original location, Warpath turned to face Ironfist.

"Hey! Got anything that makes a nice *BOOM* I could take?"

Sanitation Room

Sunstreaker snarled as the automated buffer connected with his back. It wasn't painful, least not to him, but the fact that Ironfist had the bearings to slather gunk on his fresh paint job after he volunteered to help repair the ship's engines left a rather sour taste in his mouth. So to speak.

"Geeyah! Easy!" Sunstreaker spoke up to the automated system as he pushed himself forward and away from its buffing brush. He peered over his shoulder to check for the spot but didn't have the flexibility to turn his head that far and see. "Ghuh... C'mon then, keep scrubbing." The blazing yellow warrior sat with his elbows resting against his knee joints while the buffing machine continue its job at scrubbing the spot away.

"Once you're done, I'll just another run through the steam washer and we should be good and on our way."

Office of the Chief Engineer: Ironfist's Laboratory

"That, Warpath, is a very sensitive and absolutely delicate experimental prototype." Ironfist typed in a series of codes into the locker's security mechanisms. The independent computers began their emergency diagnostic protocols as the engineer stepped further into the light. "That device, can indeed make things go 'Boom,' as you so eloquently put it. It is my latest invention, the Transphasic Torpedo Warhead. And one misalignment could scatter our subatomic particles across an infinity's worth of phased dimensional frequencies."

The weapons engineer reached over to the device and quickly pulled open one of the maintenance hatches for the incomplete weapon. His optical sensors gave it a quick scan in order to determine nothing had been knocked ajar... the results came back positive and he secured the hatch.

"Before you ask Warpath, no I do not have any ready prototypes for transphasic weaponry. Much to my chagrin to be sure. As you can see, I have had my actuators full since the departure of the 19... which has hindered its development or at least completion." Ironfist locked the panel and made his way back to the opened locker. He took a quick glance at the security terminal embedded in the back of the compartment and gave a small almost imperceptible nod.

The security terminal flashed a series of red glyphs across the screen before it fell silent and blank. Two pairs of connecting cables popped out from where they held two small black rhombus shamed devices in place at the bottom of the sliding tray. Each rhombus shape flickered gold along its perimeters before the light flowed into the central holographic node. Slowly small circles began to form, constructed by gold and silver light streams emitted by each box. Two boxes, each forming two circles, with each circle engraved with the distinct runes and symbols as each of the four rings that laid to either side of the control boxes.

Finally Ironfist released the last of the holding latches that secured the rings to the locker's tray. Slowly the four rings began to levitate under their own power, using micronized repulsion technology. They were each half a meter in diameter, trimmed in black gold, each a different color embedded in the filaments of light. Invisible commands swept from the primary control boxes into each of their commanded rings and the rings began to turn from vertical blades to horizontal spinning discs.

"So far as I can attest to, Jetfire, the Guardian's operational standards are currently lacking in a grave many departments. But as it stands presently, her functionality is perfectly suited for the reason as to why I am grateful for your timely arrival." Ironfist lifted the two command boxes from the locker tray and ordered the storage locker to retract into the deck. The four rings hovered silently behind him as he walked forward, over the exposed power conduits and diagnostic cables currently running thousands of simulations of his prized experimental warheads.

"I have not heard back from the ground teams directly, though their communications chatter is quite telling. Things have not been very progressive on the surface. Perhaps its to the over all power levels of the enemy they are currently facing or the shields that the enemy brought to bear." Ironfist flicked his thumbs over the edge of one of the rhombus shaped boxes and brought up the schematics of its interior. "These may help even the odds a touch, with the assistance of the Guardian's and Ark 22's main ion batteries."

He handed over the holographic display to the scientist for his inspection. "These discs can create small gravitational fields around them... Small, but intense. Unfortunately, their range individually would not make much of a difference against a semi mythological being of forgotten epochs." With the other box Ironfist began to enter a series of final programming lines into the transmission codes. "But... together they have a secondary and possibly much more useful ability."

"When the four fields are combined, they can form a gravitational lens effect underneath within space that is enclosed between them." He handed the box over to Jetfire and watched as the four rings levitated over to the towering scientist. They collapsed their size and gently landed into the waiting palms of the giant. "That lens is the critical piece of my idea. In closed with the primary boxes is a set of frequencies, modulations and other dimensions that must be maintained in order to achieve the primary objective of their deployment."

He spun around a secondary terminal monitor and showed it to Jetfire and Warpath. "Once they are deployed at these four coordinates, and all conditions are met or at least within the acceptable margins of less that point zero zero two seven four one percent, a combined barrage from the Ark and the Guardian will hit the gravitational lens. If everything is focused properly, the target will be hit with an even more narrowly concentrated burst of super charged ionic energies. By my calculations such a blast will disable any level of shield or energy barrier up to and including a Starbase... at least in terms of scale and location." The simulation quickly illustrated the example as a cone of withering fire fell down from off screen and slammed into the representation of the artificial gravity lens. A micro second later and the beam narrowed to a fine point and shredded through its target.

"In order to achieve the desired out come, these rings must be placed at the enclosed coordinates. In addition to that, accuracy will be difficult to maintain with the constant changes of battle... as will maintaining the requisite frequencies and depth of the lens. That is why there are two control boxes. One will adjust the angles and aim of the lens rings and the other will be used to compensate."

Ironfist looked up again at the taller scientist. "If you have any question, now is the time to ask. The theory is sound, and the mathematics have been checked at least two thousand and fifty five times for errors... I got bored. I recommend bouncing to the surface with Sunstreaker and Warpath immediately and locating Prowl. I will coordinate with Wheeljack and Red Alert on the Ark to finish our preparations."

Office of the Chief Engineer: Ironfist's Laboratory

Jetfire paid no heed to whatever had attracted Warpath's attention for the time being: he was a warrior, it would only be natural for his attention to be drawn to anything in this room that might amplify an individual's combat capabilities. Ironfist did not appear to be much put off by the other mech's curiosity either, explaining rather calmly the basic functioning and principles behind said devices. Jetfire was not certain he could be as patient within the confines of his own laboratory.

When Ironfist turned his attention away from the developmental, transphasic technology, Jetfire's curiosity increased. Ah yes, a different kind of amplification technology that Ironfist had been working on. Jetfire had read cursory briefings regarding the progress of said technology, the kind of formalities that were expected of the Autobot science division both for the sake of keeping their peers apprised of their work as well as Autobot High Command. Concentration and amplification of various energies were old concepts, but there was never any harm in attempting to "build a better mousetrap".

"So far as I can attest to, Jetfire, the Guardian's operational standards are currently lacking in a grave many departments. But as it stands presently, her functionality is perfectly suited for the reason as to why I am grateful for your timely arrival," Ironfist began, addressing Jetfire's initial query before continuing on. "I have not heard back from the ground teams directly, though their communications chatter is quite telling. Things have not been very progressive on the surface. Perhaps its to the over all power levels of the enemy they are currently facing or the shields that the enemy brought to bear. These may help even the odds a touch, with the assistance of the Guardian's and Ark 22's main ion batteries."

"Hmm, I suppose that is to be expected. If they are dealing with whatever everybody believes they are dealing with, traditional science will be of a much reduced value than it would otherwise be. They are probably using everything they have at their disposal. Fortunately that still includes us, even in our diminished capacities."

Jetfire took possession of the holographic display that Ironfist had offered as the engineer continued with his explanation. Ironfist already seemed to readily accept the potential ineffectiveness of this new tool against a threat such as the Fallen.

"When the four fields are combined, they can form a gravitational lens effect underneath within space that is enclosed between them. That lens is the critical piece of my idea. In closed with the primary boxes is a set of frequencies, modulations and other dimensions that must be maintained in order to achieve the primary objective of their deployment. Once they are deployed at these four coordinates, and all conditions are met or at least within the acceptable margins of less that point zero zero two seven four one percent, a combined barrage from the Ark and the Guardian will hit the gravitational lens. If everything is focused properly, the target will be hit with an even more narrowly concentrated burst of super charged ionic energies. By my calculations such a blast will disable any level of shield or energy barrier up to and including a Starbase... at least in terms of scale and location."

Jetfire shifted his gaze between the device and the engineer. It was not hard to understand the principles and potential applications at work behind Ironfist's gravitational lenses, but he had to wonder if he himself was possessed of this tendency to belabor an explanation to the point of increasing confusion rather than eliminating it. If so, it was no wonder then that Optimus Prime had told him to get to the point on more than one occasion. He was tempted to say that very thing.

"In order to achieve the desired out come, these rings must be placed at the enclosed coordinates..."

Ironfist had continued his explanation but it was unnecessary and the scientist had tuned the engineer out and allowed his thoughts to turn to the battle itself. Jetfire understood what he was currently holding in his hands and how best to deploy it, given the technology in question.

"...I recommend bouncing to the surface with Sunstreaker and Warpath immediately and locating Prowl. I will coordinate with Wheeljack and Red Alert on the Ark to finish our preparations."

"There are a significant number of variables that could render this technology inoperative, as you yourself said. Conditions will have to be nigh perfect. The margin for error is painfully slim. But...it's better than nothing. I'll get word to Prowl. He'll want to be aware of this option at the very least."

Giving a slight nod to Ironfist, Jetfire looked to Warpath and then proceeded to exit the engineering area of the ship, en route to the bounce chamber.

Bridge

The single wide door of the turbo lift slid into the wall with a spark filled ruckus, evidence that the gears had suffered damage and been warped due to the intense electrical surge that had pervaded the vessel when its primary generator had been destroyed. Though the doors had been a minor inconvenience, Ironfist had decided that the fact the lift had stopped a meter before the bridge level was a touch higher on the irritation scale. Still, while elevating the repairs to the lift system of the Guardian to a manageable level, Ironfist chose to focus on the situation at hand.

He pulled himself out of the car and pushed the final partially opened door back into its own recess granting him access to the cramped confines of the medical frigate's bridge. The engineer paused just before the threshold and allowed himself a brief moment to slowly pan his optical sensors over the five tactical positions that made up the bulk of the bridge's command consoles. At the head of the chamber, just beneath the massive view screen... a screen that at present displayed a false color image of the Ayers Rock Battle that included bursts of scarlet laser fire, was the Navigation and Helm stations. Traditionally they were the realms of Groove and Blades, but with their deployment to the surface a larger and less nimble mechanism had taken over their shared controls.

Gridlock toggled the forward thrusters to stabilize their orbit that had begun to decay during the repairs of the generator and the fires that had proceeded it. While a tough member of the engineering team, Ironfist was confident enough in the green mechanism's brilliance in navigation and piloting skills in addition to his combat and construction experience. To his left Wedge maintained vigilance over the engineering monitors and scanners, Ironfist's traditional station when not hiding in his laboratory, workshop or working on the engines themselves. Wedge was his second, young and impetuous with a real need for temperance, he was still a very capable engineer and had a very lively imagination when it came to solving problems. To Gridlock's right sat Heavy Load manning the communications array. It was a job that Ironfist loathed with a passion, to discern what information was vital and what was nothing more than idle chatter... he could tell just by the sideways glance and the mouthed expression of 'Kill me now,' that Heavy Load wished for nothing more than to have Blaster or Hubcap back on board ship.

Behind them and at the most important station, the tactical station typically reserved for Streetwise, High Tower had taken residence. Ironfist marveled quietly as the large red engineer redirected weapons functions from the other consoles and rerouted their control to his own station. Furthermore boosting their targeting capacity by point zero five percent by simply entering an as of then experimental targeting algorithm. The chief engineer opted to keep that information confined to those present in the bridge, he really did not want Hot Spot to promote the four most promising engineers out of his command structure before they were ready.

Ironfist made his way to the throne like command chair that settled in behind the tactical station, giving him an unfettered view of High Tower's sensor readouts as well as the forward viewer. "Heavy Load, any word from Prowl or the others regarding the Gravity Well Lens?"

"Negative. Hard to make anything out with all this chatter, but so far I haven't heard squat from Captain Monotone." Heavy Load chuckled to himself as he leaned back in his temporary chair. His fingers reached up and toggled a few frequency nodules.

Ironfist rubbed his chin. He knew well that if things persisted beyond the limits he had initially calculated, particularly the time of deployment. The longer it took to deploy the gravity lens, the less likely it would be effective. While Ironfist was going solely on the absorbed information that was being shared across opened frequencies, he was not going to delude himself into believing that the his recommendation was a cure all. Far from it, he knew well the difficulties that were present, but it gave those on the planet an option they did not have previously. "High Tower... bring up schematics on the Transwarp Projectors."

"The Projectors?" The marksman looked back over his shoulder briefly before completing the unusual order. It was rare for anyone to occupy themselves to study of technical data while in the middle of combat operations. "Sending the data to your monitor."

"Thank you." Ironfist activated the files and quickly spread them across multiple screens across his holographic display. Slowly he began to manipulate the schematics, turning them in various degrees as he absorbed the notations and mathematical calculations that were scrolled around each component.

"Chief!" Heavy Load's voice pierced the engineer's detailed study. "We've got a change in the commotion on that rock down there."

"Acknowledged." Ironfist shrank the schematics but did not collapse them, he turned his attention to Gridlock. "Can you bring it up on viewer?"

The helmsman's hands flew over the sensor's controls at his station, fine tuning the beam while boosting the gain. "Working on it now. Feed is pretty poor right now. Got a lot of interference from that storm down there. Hey Wedge, think you can boost the gain on receiver seven delta."

"No good, the power surge shorted that section out."

Ironfist shook his head, "It would not matter either way, that section was gutted during the plasma fire. Reroute the feed to subsection Gamma twenty seven Epsilon."

The youngster immediately went to work to reroute the necessary data reception from the damaged nodes to the functional apparatuses. It was slow going and on the main view screen the grainy image only showed small bits of improvement. Red chevrons slowly emerged in three small groups spread out across the topographical map. Purple orbs soon followed though their concentration was divided into brighter violets of living and the dull lavenders of the dead, which far out numbered the former. Their concentration was near the larger Autobot cluster and clearly dead set against moving to engage the black glyph that hovered on the center of the red rock in the heart of the smallest of the concentrated Autobot numbers.

"How much do you want to bet that is where Magnus is?" Heavy Load chuckled as he set the communications jack down on the console keypad. His visor darted back and forth to his brethren before shrugging his shoulders in exasperation, "Nobody?"

The chief engineer couldn't help but chuckle. "No bet, Ultra Magnus is too much like Optimus and Grimlock."

"That's a scary thought. A smart ignorant braggart." Wedge quipped as he continued his work, only pausing briefly to enjoy the brief mood lifting pulse of laughter that followed. "Alright, reroute completed and powering up modifications." A final click to activate the modifications was made in triumph. Wedge turned around and engrossed himself in the new images that began to clarify themselves. The symbols flickered briefly before the boosted sensors were able to consolidate the new flood of information being pulled from the surface. False renderings were created, colors were added to approximate known palates and soon the bridge of the Guardian was graced with a scene straight from the slag pits.

"Scrap." Heavy Load cursed as the feed took shape. A green monstrosity exploded from a wall of flame.

"What the slag was that thing?" Wedge blurted, unable to maintain his composure for that brief moment.

Hightower immediately shunted power away from the ion batteries and reinforced firing solutions on the summit. Weapons indicators were slowly building power in their primary batteries.

"Interesting." Was the one word Gridlock muttered as he absorbed the scene that transpired on the surface below.

Ironfist's optics narrowed on the grizzly scene. A monster clad in green, poorly rendered by the still incomplete data. The Guardian's computer was only now returning to functionality, and many systems were going through their own diagnostics. The damage to the sensor grid due to power surge only compounded matters. "Get me the Ark 22... Immediately."

Communique from Ark-22 to Bridge:

>>”Ironfist, come in, this is Wheeljack. I’m currently in the bounce chamber over here. I’m manning the controls for Commander Magnus and Prowl, helping them bounce past the Fallen’s various obstacles down there. I was able to reroute everything you sent me from the bridge down to my location as well as the visual data from the 22’s sensor array. The sand storm around Ayers Rock seems to have suddenly subsided. Therefore, I was able to get a clearer picture of what you are talking about. I’m sending the refined image to you now. From what I can tell it appears to be the Constructicons combined into one giant gestalt and it looks to be attacking the Fallen. I haven’t heard of anything like this since the days of Jhiaxus and that abomination he created Monstructor. I hope this doesn’t complicate things down there more than they already are.”<<

Transmission from Prowl:

>>”Ironfist, this is Prowl. Magnus has given the go ahead to ready the gravitational lens for deployment. However, it is important not to fire the ion burst until you receive further orders. The Fallen’s shielding is absorbing the power of energy weapons and will only grow stronger if it is hit with an ion blast. The barrier must be brought down first before any kind of orbital strike can even be considered. Am I clearly understood?”<<

Mess Hall

♫ "Well, since everybody left me... *CLUNK*
"I’ve found a new place to dwell... *CLUNKCLUNK*

"It's down at the end of lonely street at... whatever this bar is called.
"You, you make me so lonely baby, I get so lonelyyyyyy-ah.. *CLUNK*

"I get so lonely I could rust..." ♫

*CLUNK*

The rest of the song played on inside Beachcombers head as he continued to flick his playing cards into the bucket in front of him. *clunk* *clunk*. He was sat alone at the bar on the Guardian and he was bored. The Ark had gone and along with it were al the ‘big boys’ as they called themselves. The fighters, the jocks, the medics, the talkers, the ‘real’ scientists... everyone, and here he was, bottle of sour mash energex, with just a deck of playing cards left behind by one of the warriors and a bucket of Sol-3 rock samples further down the bar to keep him company.
Uh, make that an empty bottle of energex.

He flicked another card.

*ting*

It struck the service droid lightly on the back of it’s head, and it turned and looked at him irritatedly, but it's expression was totally lost on the geologist.

“Uh huh huh. Hey there buddy... how’s about you slide me over another bottle of that there sippin’ juice and I can go back to my troubles?"

He caught the large bottle as it slid along the bar to him and grabbed a glass and moved over to a table, leaving his bucket behind. “4 chairs huh? Who else's gonna be riding round this old yacht with all that fun goin' on down there..?" he mused. "Sure, fighting isn't my style baby, but a whole planet made of millions of minerals and they didn't need the only geologist on the ship there? You'd just get in the way..." he mocked. "We'll send some samples back for you, just wait here..."
My buggy mode is even specially equipped for the desert! He had pleaded.

He poured a measure out from the bottle, looked at it, then filled it to the top and retuned to his singing.

♫ "And although it's always crowded, you still can find some room,
Where broken hearted lovers do cry away their gloom...! ♫

He had been on this frigate for longer than he could remember and he’d never seen it this empty. He had searched all the hab-suite rooms for any kind of life and found no one. He lit a cy-gar, no one here to tell him off now he chuckled to himself. He went to flick another card and stopped the look at it, the Ace of Spades. He was pretty sure Blaster gave him song about that too but it wasn't to his style, too aggressive and loud. He preferred something a bit quieter and... 'older' he had called it. He had been listening to it non-stop for weeks now though, there was nothing else to do and it was probably staring to have an effect him, but its not like the service droids would notice. Thankyou'ver'much.

♫ "You make me so lonely Prowl'y, I get so lonely..." ♫

The bar was still empty, so he went back to flicking cards. “someone’s gotta get this place shaking soon..."

*thud*

The card hit the outside of the bucket and fell to the floor.

*Sigh*

“I bet this never happened to the ‘the King’”

♫ "And I am so bored here, I could die." ♫

The Guardian-closest thing to a bar


Seaspray was a touch low on energon, and a whole lotta bored. The frigate was desolate and not unsurprisingly devoid of large bodies of water so he couldn't even cruise around in alt mode to entertain himself.

He made his way to the bar, hoping that at least if it was empty, the service droid hadn't locked up at least the low grade energon.

The doors slid open to bar revealing the service droid... and what luck! Beachcomber! And a bucket with cards in and surrounding it... odd...

"Comber!" He shouted happily (in a non gurgling voice because he's not cheesy). " I can't tell you how happy I am to see another Bot, bonus that it's a Bot I like." He plopped down in a chain next to Beachcomber. "Spare a bit of that energon? "

Mess Hall

Flicking a card towards his oft-forgotten comrade, Beachcomber smiled for the first time in what felt like years.

"Seaspray! They marooned you too? I was starting to think I was the only one stuck on this boat. I've only got the one bottle here so you'll have to be quick, but I think ol' rusty over there may have a few hidden away."

He went to flick another card and stopped, holding it up to the aquatic specialist. "Take a pew 'Spray." He indicated the oversized chairs with his cy-gar, clearly designed for much bigger robots than them.

"You ever played poker?"

Guardian - In The Universe's Loneliest Mess Hall

Seaspray grabbed for the card, though missed, picked it up and rounded to the bar first and grabbed a glass, before heading for Beachcomber.

"Another bottle, my good sir." He asked the service bot.

"Poker ya say?" He said as he sat down next to his friend. "Earth game, right? Never played it. But since there is absolutely nothing going on, I'm willing to learn." He flicked the card he had retrieved back at Comber.

Mess Hall

"It's simple enough, I give you some cards, you eventually give me all your money." Beachcomber said with a sly grin as he over-filled Seasprays glass, knowing that the aquabots ability to resist the hard stuff, even with his moderation chip active, was still lower than his.

He indicated to the reluctant service droid to collect the rest of his cards and bring his bucket back over as he settled in with his new drinking buddy. Its irritation, again effectively lost on Beachcomber, led to it slamming the bucket down on the table and storming off behind the bar. Even he noticed that. "You just cant get the staff these days" he muttered.

Deck complete, he turned back to Seaspray and shuffled the cards with an expert hand. "So 'Spray-baby, what's been happenin'? You not in with the cool cats either huh?"

Mess Hall - The Guardian

Pipes walked through the entrance. He stopped and looked around. He wanted to be alone, or at least not around bots he couldn't stand. Which was pretty much everyone. Except those 2. He smiled when he saw Beachcomber and Seaspray sitting down drinking and bantering. he quickly walked over to them, and kicked Seaspray's chair.

"What's shakin' 'round here, scrapheaps?" he said with a grin. "Tired of playing with each other in the sand?"

He kicked out another chair and sat down, looking around the table. Energex, cards, a few other things.

"You got a game goin'? I want in!" he said.

Then he pulled out a cygar he stole from Kup a while ago and fired it up.

"Ech, these things taste like the exhaust of a millennium-old Sharkticon!" he took out the cygar, looked it and then put it back in. "I love it!"

Mess Hall

"Pipes? Grab a pew, lets get this place shakin'. Bubbles here doesn't know how to play Poker, figured we could help him out by relieving him of that there bag of clams he's packing."

The day was definitely getting better. Beachcomber signalled to the Service Droid for another bottle, an extra glass and some playing chips whilst he continued to shuffle the pack. He could hear the slamming of the maintenance drone's objection to being treated as a waiter, but Beachcomber's mind was back at the table and, again, oblivious.

"They not need you dirtside either? Starting to feel better about being left in this junkheap already."

Guardian- Messhall, Bar, Whatever

Seaspray raised the glass to Beachcomber before taking a sip. "Not bad.... "

"So 'Spray-baby, what's been happenin'? You not in with the cool cats either huh?"

"Really, Comber? He said as the door slid open and Pipes entered.
He gave Pipes a rude, but playful, gesture When the Bot kicked his chair, making him slosh around in the big seat like the energon in his glass.

"What's shakin' 'round here, scrapheaps?" he said with a grin. "Tired of playing with each other in the sand?"

"Giant desert..." He began again. "My alt mode is a hover craft. Yeah, I got stupid little wheel that pop out, but they make me even slower." He pulled out his squirt gun and twirled it around. "No water down there to even let me squirt at that slagging thing. No fast movement, no real fire power... I'm as useless as a turbofox."

Mess Hall

"Giant desert... My alt mode is a hover craft."

"Huh, At least you got good reason not being there. I'm a dune buggy. Specifically equipped for desert..." He put the cards down and grabbed his bucket of geological samples, picked out a green one and tossed it to Seaspray. "Aquamarine. You'll never find anything like it anywhere in the universe apart from down there. But I guess a planet full of alien minerals isn't important enough for this is here geologist, so now the only rock I'm studying is from Memphis."

He finished his drink as the Service Droid arrived, slammed down another bottle, a third glass and some metal energon chips and stomped back its duties. "Well, you're just a bundle of sunshine honey!" he called after it. He refilled his glass, poured even more into Seasprays, and filled another for their newest arrival, sliding it in front of a vacant chair for Pipes as well as the sparktray for his cygar. Then he topped up his own glass again.

He picked up the chips. "You kids done ready yet?"

Gonna Make A Mess [Hall]

Seaspray caught and studied the gem Beachcomber tossed. "Beautiful..." He mumbled admiring the depths. He pocketed the gem and moved his gaze to the cards. "Let's do this, make you boys rich, even loosing all my money is far more entertaining than the boredom we've been wading through."

He downed his glass in one gulp... err... sip through his straw inserted through his faceplate. Trouble with a non retractable 'battle' plate, you looked a bit like a sissy doing your heavy drinking through a straw.

Mess Hall

Pipes looked around to the others.

"Well, this is just prime. I'm sittin' here with 2 of the greatest warriors in sandbox history and all I hear is what sounds like a couple of protoforms arguin' about whose toy is better. Deal already!"

Pipes dropped a charred chunk of the cygar next to the sparktray given to him by Beachcomber and grinned at the bot.

Mess(iest) Hall

Seaspray kicked at the larger Bot's chair. "Why you stuck up here on the boat?" He asked Pipes as Beachcomber played around with the cards.

Mess Hall (of Fame)

"Now now, 'Spray. He's just bummed because he's actually of some use down there and they still didn't want him."

With a smile, Beachcomber passed out piles of multi coloured digital chips of various sizes and denominations. "I'm sure it's nothin' that giving me all his credits wouldn't solve" he quipped, and returned to shuffling the cards with the other hand.

He looked up at Pipes, and took a long draw on his cy-gar. "C'mon, sit you down Big-Blue, you making this here room untidy."

Pipes (who was already sitting) looked at Beachcomber.

"Is that supposed to be some sort of joke because I'm short?!" he asked it mocked anger and flicked a chunk of cygar at Beachcomber. "Well you ain' exactly on eye level with Omega Supreme either, sawed-off! And look who's talkin' about being untidy! *coughcough* How does *cough* that old fool keep smokin' these? He oughta be dead by now!"

Mess Hall (Oh Come On, It's a Bar!)

Seaspray squirted Beachcomber with his squirt gun and pushed the bottle of energon in front of Pipes to make sure their buddy always had plenty. "Comber's just mad because he can't play with the rocks..."

Mess Hall

"Small? Pipes, you so tiny your faction badge says 'Tonka'" chuckled 'Comber, pleased to finally be surrounded by friends after having been alone so long. A bottle of energex, a few cygars and some good company would soon get this boulder rolling. "You still ain't said why they left you here, couldn't they find you in all the smoke?"

He shook the water from his sunvisor, and wiped a few drips off the cards after Seasray's mild soaking. "Hey hey! Don't be messin' up the deck now. Rules, baby, there are rules here, and the first is you put your little toy away."

He wafted some more of the fumes away from Pipes' exhaust and turned five cards face up on to the table. "This is how we play 'Spray..." He rattled off the poker rules in the distinctive tone of his new earth-based idol, "...but you ain't gonna learn if you don't take a turn."

He indicated the five cards on the table and picked up his drink, resting back in the giant chair. "Now, if you had that there hand, would you be rockin' or a sinkin'...?"

The getting messier hall


Seaspray put away his squirt gun and looked the cards he was dealt. "Hum..." He muttered. "looks like sinking, need a couple different cards to sure it up."