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Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

The local Solar System. From the Sun to Earth's orbit and the Moon. And from there all the way into the outer regions of the system beyond Neptune and the dwarf planets beyond it.

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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Insidious » Tue Dec 17, 2013 9:21 am

Weapon: Oxidating Laser
Untraceable message from the Thanatos to the Ark-22

>>"It's good that you realize that. As you have selected the location, you will send the coordinates as well as a roster of Autobots who will be in attendance. Any deviation from this will be taken as an act of aggression. We will tailor our response accordingly. Onslaught out."<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Ember » Tue Dec 17, 2013 1:31 pm

Motto: "I'm not psycho...I just like psychotic things."
Engine Room

“I am so sick of this slag," The lone mech swiveled in his chair as he looked at the series of monitors before him. “Those damn lazy pistonheads never do what they’re told!" With a huff the mech shot up from his chair and made his way out of his little protective hole.

Feet stomping heavily so as to announce his angry approach, the ‘Bot stopped at his first destination; quantum generators 1 and 2.

From first glance everything seemed to be operating properly, but the two mechs who were supposed to be assigned to the area were nowhere in sight. The supervising mech took a quick look around his immediate location and when he found nothing out of the ordinary he decided to expand his search.

While nosing around he called both mechs names but got no response. Odd that those two would up and leave their post. He knew them and knew their work habits; neither was known as a shirker.

An unusual feeling swept over him and he decided to check in with the others scattered throughout the engine room.

He stopped at the terminal just across from both generators and accessed the video feeds to the other generators. To his utter surprise the other members of the other teams were nowhere to be seen. At least nowhere near the surveillance cameras.

“The slag is going on here?" the mech questioned lowly. Where could all these mechs have gone? He rubbed at his chin debating whether to call security or just investigate on his own. “Aw slag it. The last thing I need is a buncha security creeps traipsing through my sector telling me I’ve got a few screws loose." He rose from his chair and took a quick look in both directions. “Well, might as well get this over with," he grumbled before taking off to his left. “If I find those fools hiding out somewhere shoving circuit boosters into their craniums I’ll tear their sparks out." He knew that wasn’t what was happening. No, there was something else going on and he really wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

He had just rounded the corner to generators 3 and 4. It was dark. But the sound of liquid beneath his boot told him more than he wanted to know. He stopped and removed a phosphorous torch and quickly lit it.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at the large pool of energon and fluids he was standing in. His head shot up as he looked for its source. It took very little time to notice the slumped mech, his back turned, in the corner. Slowly, almost painfully so, the supervising ‘Bot made his way over to his subordinate and placed a shaky hand on his cold shoulder. “Dead Stick? Hey, you okay?" he kept his vocal synthesizer low just in case…just in case what? For all he knew these idiots could have turned on one another. Oh who was he kidding, someone else did this.

It took him a moment to steady himself before he finally tugged on Dead Stick’s shoulder. The limp Autobot easily turned and dropped the rest of the way to the floor. A gasp escaped the mech’s throat as he stared down into the faceless ‘Bot. His optics wandered further down and stopped at the gaping hole in his chest. The spark chamber and spark were gone. Torn out forcibly. “By the Primes," he whispered. His hand shot to his mouth before he backed away.

He took in one last look at the dead mech and ran to the last set of generators. There were two other mechs located here. With any luck they would be okay and they would be able to help him find the others. There were still three other mechs missing.

The frantic gait at which he was running slowed to a more reasonable pace once he arrived at the last of the generators. He stopped suddenly and took a quick and careful look around. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary save for the two missing Autobots. This did not bode well.

With a hard swallow he stepped forward. As he moved in close his optics caught sight of some marks embedded deep in the metal floor. He knelt down and ran his hand lightly over the marks. “Gouge marks." The statement was followed up by a growl. “They got dragged off. But where?" He rose to his full height and drew his weapon.

He searched the area but saved the small space next to the furthest generator for last. With his gun in his hand he took a deep breath and jumped around the corner. He reared back when he saw the two Autobots strung up by their hands. Both were missing their spark chambers and their sparks. “Oh Primus. It’s gotta be a Sparkeater." He edged his way back away from the space and took off back toward the surveillance room. On the way he’d look for the last two members of his team. If they were alive then the three of them could warn the rest of the ship.

He hadn’t realized that he took a wrong turn putting him directly on the path to a dead end. He nearly collided with the wall when he noticed his mistake. “Slag! Slag! Slag!" He slammed a fist into the wall but stopped when he felt a presence at his back.

His breaths were ragged as he stared at the wall before him. The smooth surface of the metal reflected perfectly the dark form that was now at his back.

Very slowly he looked over his shoulder. It was a mech. From what he could tell it was purple and slim and scary as hell. He decided to turn fully…if he was going to die he would face his killer like an Autobot.

Clenching his jaw he began to turn. A surprised gasp escaped his vocal synthesizer when he was slammed against the wall by another mech. The gun in his hand dropped to the floor and out of reach. He looked intently into the bright blue optics of a small silver mech. A broad bloodthirsty smile was etched on his young face. The trapped Autobot dared a wary peek to both his left and his right. To his horror he noticed the bodies of the last two members of his crew he had been searching for.

“Crossfire."

He was pressed further back against the wall. With a grunt he slowly lifted his head. Whoever the speaker was he knew him. “How…how do you know my name?" He wanted to sound strong, confident, but he only came across as weak and frightened. He finally got a good look at the two unknown mechanoids standing before him.

“I now you because I need to know you," the purple one said in a smooth almost comforting voice. That alone was cause for alarm.

“Wha…what do you want?" It was strange; the slim one brandished a set of dangerous looking claws still dripping with energon. And the smile on his face sent a shiver down Crossfire’s spinal strut. Whoever it was didn’t look familiar but the smaller mech pressing into him looked like someone he had seen floating around the ship on occasion. But it can’t be a ‘Bot. A ‘Bot would never do something like this.

The purple mech stepped in closer making Crossfire press further into the wall without help from the smaller bot. The purple one stopped right in front of him; his face before Crossfire’s. The heat from his breath made Crossfire feel as if his very spark was melting. Crossfire groaned in discomfort.

The mech lifted a clawed hand and traced a finger down the frightened Autobot’s cheek. “My dear Crossfire…I want you to run. Tell the others that the Apocalypse is nigh. Tell them, Crossfire, that it is time for them to die." The bot smiled a fang filled smile. “Let them know that my Master will see them at this location." Crossfire froze as a set of coordinates were beamed into his brain.

The creature removed his hand, a long deep slice left on his cheek, and stepped aside. With a gentle touch to the younger mech’s shoulder Crossfire was released. The purple one then nodded to Crossfire who carefully slipped past him and the silver mech and backed away. When he thought he was finally far enough away he turned around and took off at his top speed. While making his getaway he could hear the groan of metal and the sound of several low explosions. The generators. Those two… things…were destroying them.

Crossfire transformed and shot out of the engine room at full speed. He opened a line to the bridge.

>> “This is Crossfire! Supervising engineer assigned to the engine room! We’ve had…we’ve…damnit I’m just gonna say it like I saw it! These things…these bots…they killed all my men and took out the generators! They gave me a message! I’m on my way up to deliver it!"<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Smokescreen85 » Wed Dec 18, 2013 1:12 pm

Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Message from Howlstrike:

>>"Kup, Commander Magnus, this is Howlstrike over on the Guardian! Hardhead and Drag Strip were just here in the engine room. They’ve killed the entire engineering crew and taken out all four of the generators! I tried to stop them, but I failed and now we’re dead in space! I’ve initiated the fire suppression system inside the engine room. That should put the flames out soon, but the damage has already been done. Hardhead also gave me coordinates before him and Drag Strip disappeared. Not sure what they are, but I'm transmitting them to you now."<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby MasterSoundBlaster » Thu Dec 19, 2013 1:52 am

Motto: "You can run,you'll just die trying"
Weapon: Fusion Cannon
Jazz's Hab Suite

Jazz's optics began to flicker themselves back online with a steady glow. Soon his signature blue visor lit back up to its usual sky-blue glow and his motors began to whirl back up to proper functioning order.

"What in'the dust trails of Cybertron is going on? Could've sworn I set the recharge cycle to account for another breem or so." Jazz then popped open the access panel on his forearm again and noted that the timer was still running and that he had about 7 Earth minutes still counting down. He looked around his empty room and noticed that the lights were turned down lower than what he had remembered having them set at when he walked in. "Someone come by and turn the lights off on me again?" He activated his emergency search lights and faced the wall where the light switch-board was at, still set to active. "Huh...Weird." He rose from his slab and walked over to the control panel to get a closer examination of it. Nope, still said that the lights were active.

"Something weird's happening round here," The specialist began as he stepped into the dimly lit corridor, "Time to get my Nightbeat on and get to the bottom of this!"

Corridor

Jazz walked along the dimly lit corridor of Ark-22 cautiously. He felt that something was up, he just couldn't put an actuator on it. As he walked down the empty corridor, he noticed a faint light coming from behind him. He turned and was blinded as the light source began to take shape. It looked like...Headlights...They were headlights! Someone was barreling down the corridors! Jazz didn't think they could see him judging by how fast they were approaching his location. With quick thinking and lighting reflexes, the black and white specialist leaped over the speedster and smoothly shifted into his Porsche alt mode.

"Man I did not wake up to get ran over today!" He hollered at the car that nearly ran him down as his tires screeched off after him. Judging by the route he was taking, Jazz would have to assume they were off towards the bridge. "Ey! Slow down baby! No need for anyone getting in a wreck this evening!"
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Ember » Sat Dec 21, 2013 9:24 pm

Motto: "I'm not psycho...I just like psychotic things."
Bridge

It was simple, and it went off without a hitch. Of course First Aid’s being called off by Hot Spot helped a bit. Well, it helped a lot.

After the Protectobot doctor excused himself and run off; Tracer just had to leave Remington behind. Tracer regretted leaving the femme, but she really had to get to the bridge. After the recent happenings, not to mention the address from Ultra Magnus…Tracer had to speak to Smokescreen.

She go away but only by convincing Remington that since First Aid was going to be busy on the planet that maybe whoever was left in the med bay could use her help. It had worked.
Tracer let out a relieved sigh as she watched Remington head back to the med bay leaving her alone in the corridor.

Her back pressed firmly into the wall behind her Tracer leaned her head back and raised her optics to the ceiling. She could already detect the telltale signs that the synthetic Syk was being absorbed into her systems much faster than any of the verities Oil Slick had provided her.

She quickly pushed off the wall and made her way to the bridge. In all likelihood Smokescreen would be there. He liked being involved and if what Magnus said was true than the bridge was the main hub of activity.

The scout composed herself just as the doors slid open revealing a hive of movement before her. Tracer stopped in the threshold and just took everything in.

As she looked around the bridge her optics caught sight of the one Autobot she had come here to find. "Smokescreen," she breathed lowly.

The blue and white femme stopped into the room but stopped when she also noticed Axle at work at a terminal with Ratchet. Tracer swallowed hard. If the field medic saw her he’d likely stop her from speaking with Smokey, but also confine her to the med bay. Well maybe. But she didn’t want to take that chance.

As swiftly, and stealthily as she could, Tracer glided through the bridge until she was standing behind the former racer. She didn’t give him any warning that she was there, instead she just spoke.

“I saw the address by Ultra Magnus. And if you’re considering helping by going back down to that planet then I’m coming with you."

Tracer crossed her arms over her chest signifying her absolute unwillingness to discuss the possibility of being dissuaded. A smug smile formed but quickly vanished as she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

“I don’t think so," Axle growled.

She let her hands slowly fall to her sides before she turned around to face the angry medic. “Axle, you don’t…" tracer began but was quickly cut off. “I don’t understand. You know what, you’re right; I don’t understand." Axle crossed his arms over his chest as he stated the femme down.

Tracer’s optics and head lowered. “I don’t want to be stuck up here wondering if everyone’s all right…if he’s all right." Tracer took a quick look at Smokescreen. Axle followed her optics and let out a low groan. “He’s big mech, he can take of himself. You on the other hand," he placed a hand under her chin and gently lifted until she was looking at him. “Tracer, with what happened recently concerning you and Smokey, I just don’t think it’s a good idea to have you down there." Axle shook his head and removed his hand.

“But," Axle raised his hand silencing her. “The answer’s no. As your physician I’m not going to risk your life or the lives of any of the other ‘Bots down there. I’m sorry." The former surgeon cast Tracer a stern glare before she submitted.

Of course he knew she’d try to make it down to Earth, but that’s what Smokescreen was for. If anyone could talk her out of being stupid it was Smokescreen. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay." Tracer said with a huff.

“Sure you will." Axle glared back at her before turning to Smokescreen and tugging him off to one side. “You want her to stay alive then I suggest you convince her that remaining up here is her only option." Axle took a quick glance in Tracer’s direction. “That synthesized Syk…I have no idea what would happen to her in a combat situation. Not to mention what would happen to those around her should something go wrong." Axle patted Smokescreen on the arm.

“AXLE! Get your aft down here!" The black and green medic peered over the diversion expert’s shoulder and caught Ratchet’s angry glare. He offered the irate CMO a curt nod before looking back to Smokey. “Talk to her. I’ve got to go." With another pat Axle moved passed the former racer.

Science Lab

After making his announcement to Wheeljack his concerns about the drone in the storage locker, Perceptor placed his burden onto the workbench. The response he got from the other scientist only earned him a quizzical look. “No. I know it mustn’t have been you." Perceptor turned his attention to the armature Wheeljack was assembling. While poking around trying to find the best location for the wire harness assembly he spoke. “I know it wasn’t you since the drone did not explode in my face."

Perceptor took a brief moment and looked over at his comrade. “I believe the harness would work best in this location. Unfortunately these parts are not an exact copy of our own internal structures but they’ll have to do."

He nodded at Wheeljack when he asked if he had gotten everything he needed. And just as he was going to add to his answer the message from Ultra Magnus filtered throughout the lab. Perceptor lifted his head and looked to the monitor. This announcement was unfortunate. The arrival of this ancient creature would put a pause in their war only to have it start anew. Perceptor let out a low sigh. It seemed their plight would never cease. It almost made him ask whether it was even worth it.

At Wheeljack’s exclamation Perceptor turned and looked.“Most certainly. This work could make the difference. Not only in the war but also defeating this abomination that has arrived."

Without another word the scientist turned sniper went back to his work. Since the wire harness had already been placed Perceptor moved to help Jetfire and Wheeljack with the circulatory system. “I cannot help but worry that this may not turn out the way we hope," he said quietly. “The Fallen is, or was, just a myth. How does one destroy a myth?"
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Smokescreen85 » Sun Dec 22, 2013 4:45 pm

Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Bridge

Smokescreen stood patiently off to one side of the bridge as Ultra Magnus conversed with the Combaticon Commander, Onslaught, who was stationed over on the Thanatos. The conversation was tense to say the least but respectful. Still, if Razorclaw was the one in charge over there now then why was Onslaught doing all of the talking? Perhaps the Predacon leader was injured and resting in a CR chamber. There was a strong likelihood that there had been some sort of fight for the Decepticon throne once Megatron was gone and Razorclaw had come out the ultimate victor. That would explain the lion-former’s absence. It was either that or Razorclaw had no idea what he was doing and left things up to Onslaught to sort out.

Regardless of the situation, the rallybot knew better than to interrupt Ultra Magnus while he was deep in the bowls of diplomacy. If they were to fight the Fallen and win, both factions would have to set aside their differences and work together for the betterment of the Cybertronian race. Smokescreen had previously offered his help to Magnus and that would suffice for the time being. If the City Commander required Smokey’s deployment somewhere, he would most certainly give the former street racer new orders. Until then, the rallybot would bide his time. It’s not like he had anything else to do.

Even Bluestreak was remaining silent, and for more than just a few astroseconds at that. In fact, the chatterbot seemed dutifully focused on listening to every syllable uttered by both Magnus and Onslaught. Blue had his own job to do, after all, one that required helping the new Autobot leader devise a plan to successfully deal with the 'Cons in a diplomatic manner. The end result was simple: make a lasting ceasefire that would allow a mutual co-existence between the factions. It didn’t have to last forever, although that would be nice. No, the ceasefire just needed to last long enough to defeat the Fallen and his heralds and prevent the coming of Unicron. As a result of all that thinking, Bluestreak’s vocal processor was on the quiet side for a change which meant everyone else’s audio receptors benefited tremendously.

There was so much going on around the bridge that Smokescreen didn’t even notice when the doors slid open and Tracer stepped inside. It was her voice that drew his attention away from the proceedings with Ultra Magnus and Onslaught, insisting that she go with the rallybot down to the planet’s surface or wherever his intended destination was going to be. Smokey turned around and looked at the drug-addicted femme, a bit surprised to see her. "Tracer! What are you doing here? I thought you’d be..."

The red and blue mech was cut off mid sentence by Axle who had overheard Tracer’s demand to accompany Smokey to wherever he was going. Of course, the field medic would strongly object to the femme leaving the confines of the ship, especially in her present condition. Smokescreen grew silent as the two argued in hushed tones so they would not draw unwanted attention or interrupt the nearby attempt at diplomacy with the ‘Cons. Ultimately, Tracer reluctantly agreed to remain behind on the Ark-22, but neither Axle nor Smokescreen believed her words. She would almost certainly try to follow the rallybot wherever he went if for no other reason but to make sure he was okay.

Pulling Smokescreen aside, Axle told him that he was the only one who could convince the stubborn femme to remain here as it was for her own good. The former street racer nodded in agreement. “Okay, Axle, I’ll do my best," Smokey whispered just before the former doctor was called away by an unhappy Ratchet. The rallybot’s attention then fell back on the troubled femme, motioning for her to follow him to a far off corner where they could talk in absolute private.

Once they were away from prying optics and audios, Smokescreen took hold of the blue scout’s hands and caressed them gently between his actuators. "Tracer, I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to be. Like Axle said, I’m a big mech. I’ll be all right. I have offered my services to Ultra Magnus, but he hasn’t given me a new assignment yet. Although, I’m sure he will soon. When that happens you need to promise me that you’ll stay up here on board the Ark and not try to follow me anywhere. This Fallen business is serious stuff and in your current condition you wouldn’t last very long. The replicated Syk could have adverse affects on you when in battle. It hasn’t been tested in that kind of environment yet and if it wears off you’ll be in the middle of withdrawals before you know what happened. You could be captured, tortured or even killed, and I cannot allow that to happen. Not to mention the risks of others finding out what's going on. Do you understand, Trace? Please please just stay here for both our sakes. This is where the replicator is and by the looks of things you may need another dose soon. Okay?"

Smokescreen finished speaking and looked deeply into the troubled femme’s optics, a reassuring smile forming on his faceplate. “Everything will be all right, Tracer. I promise."

Science Lab

Wheeljack chuckled when Perceptor told him that he knew the malfunctioning drone wasn’t his fault since it hadn’t exploded. “That’s right! My slag blows up in your face! If it doesn’t then it lacks my seal of approval! Ha ha!" The mad scientist knew how to joke around at his own expense. How could he not? After all, the white mech had blown up more labs and more gizmos than any other Autobot scientist in Cybertronian history. Yet, he was still considered to be one of the best by most and was the goto mech to get the job done if something needed to be invented or even re-invented.

With the armature supported by the wire harness Perceptor had brought back with him, Wheeljack moved into position on one side of the exo-skeleton. “Okay, let’s get this circulatory system installed before the Fallen burns us all into a cinder." Without another word uttered, the mechanical engineer went to work alongside Perceptor and Jetfire, attaching the various tubes and hoses into the appropriate connection points while also threading them through the armature’s four limbs and main body. ‘Jack let the sniper/scientist handle the more complicated areas while sticking to the simpler regions of the body.

Wheeljack paused for a moment when Perceptor asked the question of the cycle: How does one destroy a myth? “I don’t know, Percy," the engineer responded. “But all myths are grounded in some sort of reality. Supernatural is just a word we use to describe something we don’t yet understand. Now, I’m no expert in mythology, but the Fallen was beaten before, right? So, if he can be defeated once then he can be defeated again."

The mad scientist took a step back after he finished with his part of the the circulatory system. Everything was coming together nicely. Soon they would have a workable armature that would serve as an adequate test subject. “Looks good on my end, guys. Now, let’s get started on the nervous system. Then we can finally test this new ore that will hopefully give us an edge when fighting the Fallen."
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Marcus Rush » Fri Dec 27, 2013 9:57 pm

Weapon: Automatic Acid-Pellet Gun
Bridge

Ultra Magnus nodded briefly before the vacant viewer screen. His reflection only gave him the image that he already knew hung heavily upon his shoulders. The weight of the entire universe bore down on him like the mass of existence gathered to a single focal point. How does one fight a demonic servant of the god of destruction? The humans had a saying from one of their older audio visual historical records… ‘Who are you going to call?' The answer was always followed by a group of comic relief rejects known as the Ghostbusters. Shame those records were more for entertainment value rather than accurate telling of history itself.

Magnus shrugged his massive shoulders, the large multiple missile pods slowly rose to lightly tap the bottom of the ceiling above him. He pressed the toggle once more to restore the connection to the Thanatos. "Understood Onslaught, coordinates are to be contained within data burst…" a burst of instant and intense static flooded the transmitter and receiver just before the activity light flickered briefly before extinguishing completely.

“Scrap!" he muttered to himself as he drove his fist straight across a metal bar just as power across the bridge faded to nothing. An inky black abyss consumed the command deck, only a few flashes of light from the nearby stellar body of Sol gave any sense of detail in the potentially eternal night. He pulled his fist free from the warped metal and toggled the communication transmitter again. It was dead, no static, no burst of cosmic radiation, and no power.

He did not demand a report; it was fairly obvious that without power there was no way to determine what had just happened. Instead he waited patiently, his optics practically transfixed on the outlined eastern shore of the island continent of Australia. The momentum of their orbit caused the planet to retrograde towards the South American continent’s western shore. What he wouldn’t give right now to have Prowl’s hard advice with how best to deal with the devolving situation.

Seconds ticked away before the emergency red lights flashed to life, casting a ghastly crimson glow across the majority of the surfaces. A few screens flickered to life, though it would take time for them to go through their reboot check lists before reactivation could be truly achieved. To bypass them wouldn’t be too difficult, but he still had little cause as to what had truly happened to cut the primary power to the Ark. Thought it went without saying, that the link between the Autobots and the Decepticons had been summarily terminated. “I expected them to move sooner than they did." His voice was low and barely above the whir of the environmental life support fan.

Over the internal speaker a burst of static detonated the stunned silence in a millisecond, split to its very foundation. A frantic voice echoed through it, a voice in sheer terror and panic as if its owner had witnessed a ghost or some other traumatic event. “Calm down Chief. Come to the bridge as soon as you are able." Magnus ordered through the internal communications network… at least that was still functional.

"Blaster, I need you run a level 1 diagnostic on the communications systems immediately. I want a live feed to Prowl as soon you are able to establish a link." Magnus stepped down to the cast of unique individuals comprising Bluestreak and Smokescreen. His façade was of stone and concern as the news flowed over from the Guardian.

“It would appear our current predicament is not an isolated one. I want you two to prepare for immediate deployment. Find any functional combat ready Autobots as you can and have them battle ready in two breems." He looked down at Bluestreak and gave a small nod of confidence. “It would appear you’re debut as a diplomat will be put to the test under fire my friend."

Science Lab

It had become the never ending quest for the holiest of grails in weapons design. How does one build a weapon that was practically perfect? Ammunitions that would never miss its target, never risk residual damage to surroundings, never risk collateral damage? It constantly gnawed at designers, the never ending computation, and the legendary signal that every transformer emitted yet none could possibly detect. Not yet anyways. Ironfist, however, had taken on that ambitious task to fabricate the perfect bullet… and he was close.

The weapons engineer saved his work and logged it into the portable memory cartridge. He detached it from the terminal and brought it up to optic level. “Trust me Chromedome. There is a frequency that each of us emits. Be it good or ill, call it the conscience equation. If I can unlock that equation, this shell can lock onto any target emitting it. No survivors, without fail."
He set the data stick into his satchel and sealed the flap. His fingers rested peacefully on the synthetic material fabric before he returned the satchel to the edge of the bench. “And once that happens, once that comes to the battlefield, I will have created a masterpiece in ammunition technology. This bullet is such a simple device that could bring about an end to this war, if installed properly and in mass."

The lights flickered briefly as the a large divergence of power robbed man of the terminals of their lifeblood before the secondary sectional power generator kicked on to take up the slack. Quietly Ironfist retuned his terminal to the security network and began a scan of the ship. Such power losses were not common on any ship, particularly with the new Quantum Energy Power Generators that most held in their cores. They were nigh impossible to over tax, unless of course one forgot to fuel them. "Wheeljack…" His voice stuttered briefly before he spun around in his bench chair. “You may want to check feed 252 of the Quantum Drive."
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Foxfire13795 » Mon Dec 30, 2013 10:49 pm

Motto: "Broken Autobots never mend."
Weapon: Magnetic Repellor-Attractor
Bridge

Blaster was monitoring the Earth teams as Ultra Magnus spoke with Onslaught, keeping a watchful optic on all of the proceedings with his characteristic nonchalance and ease. He received word from Prowl in the form of a massively detailed report, which the communications officer forwarded to the console Ultra Magnus was standing at. He would not interrupt the new Autobot Commander in the middle of his talks with the Decepticons. All in all, things seemed to be groovy.

Jazz even stopped by his post to request some new jams to blast. Blaster gave the special operative a friendly salute and turned back to his work, a few tunes in mind. The good times, however, never seemed to keep rolling forever. The power to his terminal flickered and faded into blackness as the bridge soon followed suit. Everything was dead.

"By the Primes and Rolling Stones, what is going on?" Blaster muttered incredulously as he waited impatiently for the emergency power to kick in.

After what seemed like an eternity, the red emergency lights flickered dimly into being, coating the bridge in a red haze. A few screens at Blaster's terminal blinked on as all the essential systems were rebooted. Blaster immediately set upon the control, his fingers dancing over panels bypassing the automated reboot checks, doing them faster than the on board computer could.

"Blaster, I need you run a level 1 diagnostic on the communications systems immediately. I want a live feed to Prowl as soon you are able to establish a link."

"Yo, on it, Mags," Blaster quipped back at the commander as he did just that. No damage to the communications modules. Not enough juice for long range...but planet side communications wouldn't be an issue. Blaster rerouted some power to the communications grid and opened up a link to Prowl down below.

"Looks like there's minimal to negligible damage to the comms systems. Ringing up Prowl now," Blaster said reporting his progress.

>>"Yo, Prowl! We got a situation up here! Patchin' you through to the boss,"<< Blaster said, his usual cool affected by the sudden occurrence of events. Blaster redirected the communication to Ultra Magnus's terminal and then began to run diagnostics on the ship to discover the source of their troubles. Red flashed on the screens as Blaster gazed helplessly on at them.

"Frag! It looks like our main generators are gone..." Blaster growled out.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Insidious » Tue Dec 31, 2013 7:04 pm

Weapon: Oxidating Laser
Med Bay

As the CR chamber doors opened, Sandstorm onlined his optics and looked around. Smiling, he stretched his arms and pushed himself all the way out of the chamber, stepping out onto the floor and hopping a couple times just to make sure his joints were fluid. Well, as fluid as you could get when you were effectively a walking piece of steel.

Sandstorm looked over at the CR chamber next to him. It, too, appeared to be releasing its contents. What in Primus was going on with this ship? Something serious had to have happened. He had been pulled out of stasis way too early. He was pretty sure Broadside was too.

"Hey Broady, wake up! Looks like the Big Bots want us for something."
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Phaze » Wed Jan 01, 2014 9:51 am

Motto: ""All's Fair in Life and Death""
Weapon: Nuclear Charged Fusion Cannon
Med Bay

The view from within the CR chamber was murky but the occupant noted that the fluid level was dropping as his optics started to come online. It usually preceded one thing, his suspicions where confirmed seconds later as the door to the CR chamber opened with a hiss the remaining fluid that hadn’t been expelled was released onto the medical bay floor, running away into small storage tanks underneath the plating to be recycled and reused.

A large Red foot appeared from the larger than average CR chamber as a voice spoke

"Hey Broady, wake up! Looks like the Big Bots want us for something."

Broadside hauled himself from the CR chamber shaking his head he turned to his smaller compatriot

“Don’t you have a rotor assembly to retrofit or summit Sandy” Broadside said playfully as he raised upright and stood beside Sandstorm

“What happened did you throw another party?"
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Longshot » Wed Jan 01, 2014 12:21 pm

Motto: "Feed them to the Sharkticons!"
Mess Hall

When one thought about it, a public refueling facility wasn’t a particularly essential feature, strictly speaking. Any port providing access to the ship’s power supply would be sufficient to the task, and the Ark possessed such ports in abundance. It was an amenity, one that required resources of space and structure that could more efficiently be dedicated to other tasks: research laboratories, communications access and analysis, munitions storage, power generation, even additional sub-structural armor that could increase the durability of the vessel overall—to name but a few.

An amenity, indeed. A luxury, perhaps, this place where mechanoids could visit for no other reason than to share the camaraderie that inevitably developed after sharing long vorns of hardship and discovery, triumph and loss. Few Decepticon ships featured mess halls, especially on this scale. Most smaller Autobot craft lacked them, as well, and they tended to be significantly more compact and less comfortable on the larger ones of newer design. An illustration, maybe, of how far they’d come over the course of their long civil war. And in what direction.

These thoughts sped along the charged circuits of Skids’ cerebro-processors even as he mulled over the contents of the data-pad in his manual actuator, the latest intelligence brief on the planet Sol-4, colloquially designated Earth. Well, the latest brief sanctioned for general dissemination; who knew what was being held back, for the good of the cause, the good of morale, the good of any number of external considerations that had nothing to do with the free exchange of knowledge. Skids was so involved in his own increasingly tangled thoughts that he had utterly forgotten why he was in the Mess Hall at all, rather than his own bunk in the barracks: spending a bit of leisure time with his friend and most typical partner in the field, Getaway.

And when main power flickered and died, leaving the cavernous space bathed in the faint glow of emergency illumination, well, Skids didn’t really notice that, either, except as a reason to turn up the illumination contrast on his pad.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Ember » Wed Jan 01, 2014 11:50 pm

Motto: "I'm not psycho...I just like psychotic things."
Bridge

Tracer watched while Smokescreen and Axle discussed her wellbeing. She knew going down to the planet would not be the wisest decisions she’s made, but then again all of her decisions have been nothing but bad. She let out a little sigh.

But at the sight of Smokescreen returning sans Axle, Tracer perked up slightly.

The scout let the rallybot take her hands in his. She smiled up at him as he caressed then between his actuators. Tracer listened. She listened to everything he had to say. The smile on her face faulted a bit as she finally relented. She would do him no good down there if he had to, not only look after himself but her as well.

“I understand, Smokescreen. Doesn’t mean I like it, but I do understand." She squeezed both of his hands, but she kept her optics focused on the floor between them. It was the mention of her possibly needing another dose that caused her to look up and into his optics. “I guess it’s obvious. To you at least." Tracer looked around the bridge at all the other bots. “No one else would know what to look for." She turned back to Smokescreen and flashed him a small embarrassed smile. “I know you’ll be okay. You did promise me that you’d never leave me again." She stepped in closer and rested her forehead lightly against his. “I’m going to hold you to that promise."

She remained for a breem and then pulled back but only so far so as to look Smokescreen in the optics. “I’m coming to the bounce chamber to see you off. And that’s non-negotiable," Tracer said with a smirk.

Corridor

The incident was still in Crossfire’s mind as he barreled down the corridors on his way to the bridge. He had cleared the last deck when he nearly ran into some-bot. Crossfire attempted to swerve out of the way but the mech had already leaped over him and switched to alt mode. Crossfire considered stopping but instead accelerated.

He checked his scanners and was relieved to see that the Autobot behind him was Jazz. No wonder he was able to move so fast. The guy had mad skills. “I’m sorry, sir!" he called to the white and black mech. “But I have to get to the bridge! I’ve got information to deliver to Ultra Magnus courtesy of two mechs that just slaughtered my crew!"

Bridge

Crossfire flew through the doors as soon as they were opened wide enough to accommodate his alt mode. Once inside he screeched to a halt and quickly transformed back to his root mode.

"Ultra Mgnus! Sir!" The Supervising engineer jogged toward the Commander and offered a hasty salute. “It’s Crossfire, sir. I have a message." He gestured to one of the nearby terminals that still functioned. A thin data line snaked from his right wrist and was inserted into one of the ports alongside the keyboard.

The screen came to life with the image of a set of coordinates. “They beemed these into my brain. Then one of them said that the Apocalypse is nigh and that his master will see us soon at that location." He pointed to the screen.

Not far from the new arrival Ratchet and Axle stood and made their way to either side of Ultra Magnus.

The field medic looked from Crossfire to the terminal and the coordinates still fixed on the screen. “I know where that is. Bluestreak and I found them." Ratchet looked at him quizzically. “They’re coordinates. Australia, Uluru. It’s the location The Fallen chose." Axle looked from Ratchet and up to Ultra Magnus.

The confused Crossfire simply stared back at the black and green mech. “Wait. Hold on a minute. Are you talking about The Fallen? The guy who was a Prime and then became some sort of myth?" It was Ratchet’s turn to respond. “Yes, you stupid slagger. That Fallen." The CMO stared hard at the shaken bot. He began to open his mouth but he was cut off by Axle. “Hang on. You said they. Did you recognize them? How many were there?"

Axle stepped from beside Ultra Magnus to stand in front of Crossfire. “Uh. Well there were two of them. A skinny scary one. And a smaller one." He looked at Axle and nodded as he recalled one detail. “One of them was a ‘Con. I remember because I noticed the insignia on his purple chest. The other one didn’t have an insignia. At least I didn’t see one." Axle grew more concerned. “The one without an insignia, what did he look like? Was he short and silver? Was he young?"

Ratchet made his way to his subordinate’s side and took a hold of Axle’s arm. “Don’t do this to yourself, Axle." But before he could get a response from the medic Crossfire answered. “Yeah. He was short and silver and definitely young. He’s the one who had me pinned against the wall. He was a strong little slagger that’s for sure."

“Hex," Axle breathed. He sent them. Hardhead and Drag Strip. Hex and Darkride. He sent them to cripple us. All of us. “Those two killed my crew." Crossfire looked from Axle to Ultra Magnus. “Each one of my men was mutilated. If one of those...things was an Autobot; he’s not anymore. He’s a killer."
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby MasterSoundBlaster » Thu Jan 02, 2014 2:24 pm

Motto: "You can run,you'll just die trying"
Weapon: Fusion Cannon
Science Lab

As Ironfist seemed to be packing up his things, Chromedome gazed down at his actuators as they rested on the metallic table top he sat at. He turned his left hand over so that his "palms" were facing him. Visions of former mnemosurgery operations flashed in his processor as he began to think more and more about this specialized frequency Ironfist kept mentioning.

"I understand your point about the frequency thing," Chromedome began as he shifted his attention back to the weapons engineer, "But until we have a Decepticon here who's brain module we can poke at, we've got nothing to start wi-"

The mnemosurgeon was cut off by the flickering lights of the lab and the red alert bar that stretched across the screen of the terminal he had been working at just a while ago. He rose from his seat to examine the terminal's assessment of the current situation while Ironfist seemed to also be the same.

"Power outage? Is something up with the generators?" Chromedome asked aloud to all the other scientific minds in the room as he turned away from his terminal.

Bridge

Jazz followed closely behind the speeding mech as he seemed to have bolted into the bridge. With a screech of his tires, the special operations director smoothly rolled out of his alt mode and walked over to where the little road hog was addressing Ultra Magnus.

"Aye, no need to apologize Crossfire my man, just take it easy next time. No need to cripple our own team now." The black and white mech stated as he patted the shoulder platting of the engineer. "Now what's so important that you nearly had to run me over in order to tell Magnus here?"

Jazz stepped back and stood in between Blaster and Ultra Magnus as Crossfire began uploading what seemed to have been coordinates into the terminal across from him. Then he mentioned The Fallen and his lackeys.

"Damn...Guess that WAS important..." Jazz muttered under his breath as he folded his arms across his chest. He quietly observed Ratchet and Axle question the engineer as he began processing the new information. "Guess it would also explain why it's so dark 'round here, and why I woke up from my recharge cycle earlier than expected..."

The black and white mech turned to face Magnus to see how he would react to this same information. He began to wonder how the armored mech would handle the situation and what course of action he would shape the Autobots to perform.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Foxfire13795 » Thu Jan 02, 2014 7:06 pm

Motto: "Broken Autobots never mend."
Weapon: Magnetic Repellor-Attractor
Mess Hall

Blue. No, no. Maybe...turquoise? Hrm...it could also be considered azure. Perhaps a shade of indigo? No, no. There was no purple in there. But a touch of green? Maybe...Although in the right light it could just be a royal blue. Maybe more navy than royal. Yes. Navy blue. That was it. Definitely. For now anyway. Getaway leaned back in the seat of the booth that he found himself in and took a large swig of synthetic energon, taking a break from the intense scrutiny of his companion's exact paint hue.

The synthetic energon was some rather nasty swill too. It had a very odd pink hue. The exact hue the escapologist could not be bothered to take the time to delineate. Maybe fuchsia though. Getaway gave his friend, Skids, another stare as he had been doing for the last breem or so. As his friend and most often partner in the field often was, Skids was lost within the deep contemplations of...something. Getaway could not even begin to venture a guess because anything could set his comrade off into his own little world.

Everytime the escapologist asked, he was baffled at the response. Skids always took the mundane and considered its workings so deeply and in ways that few would even bother to think of. And there he was again. Completely lost in his own mind. Getaway had been making a game of how long that he could stare at Skids before the navy blue mech noticed. He had done this before. Usually, Skids didn't notice until about the fourth or fifth breem.

Getaway settled in for another few breems worth of staring when the main power flickered and died. The shock trooper's optics flicked up to the dead lights in the abysmal, obsidian darkness. "Hm. That's unusual," Getaway said, thinking aloud. The red emergency lights kicked in, bathing the enormous cavernous space in an eerie crimson glow. Getaway adjusted his optics to optimize his sight in the dimmed illumination. And now for the million chit question...

Getaway cast his optics back to Skids. Nope. Hadn't noticed. Leaning forward across the table, the white Autobot balled his hand into a fist and tapped the underside of his friend's chin.

"Bomp. Hey, let's go see what happened to the lights. What do ya say?"
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Longshot » Thu Jan 02, 2014 7:40 pm

Motto: "Feed them to the Sharkticons!"
Mess Hall

Optics flickering as they adjusted, then readjusted, to the unexpected lack of illumination, Skids gave his partner a faintly irritated look. “I’ve asked you before not to ‘bomp’ me. You could try tapping my rotator. Or waving. Or even just calling my name. Why you feel the need to resort to something as sophomoric as ‘bomp’-ing completely escapes me."

Then, he actually turned his cranial unit to consider the rest of the Mess Hall, which, as Getaway had observed, was indeed suffering from a severe shortage of interior lighting just then. Which was itself unusual, as the power core of a ship of this size and configuration should have been capable of sustaining continuous energy flow for at list thirteen thousand vorns, given its current crew complement, assorted passengers, and the miscellaneous expenditures of various specialized sections like communications, astrometrics, the medical bays, the laboratory—

Unless they had sustained damage somehow. Which Skids doubted, since he hadn’t noted any of the telltale listing that would usually have accompanied an external strike on the Ark capable of knocking out its engineering deck. There was also a notable lack of alert klaxons blaring, or panicked mechanoids hurrying in all directions in an effort to assess or repair the damage, or initiate an evacuation if the ship were beyond saving. This suggested that whatever had occurred was an internal problem, and not the result of their having wandered into a combat situation unexpectedly.

Skids set aside his pad and rose to his feet. “Ship’s security does not exactly fall within the bounds of our current mandate, Getaway," he reminded the other Autobot. “However, as long as we restrict ourselves to a purely investigative function, I do not imagine we will breach any of the protocols of inter-departmental etiquette." Probably. Although one never could tell; innocuous situations like this were most often the ones that tended to get most out of hand.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Phaze » Fri Jan 03, 2014 5:50 pm

Motto: ""All's Fair in Life and Death""
Weapon: Nuclear Charged Fusion Cannon
Med Bay
The gloom was interminable as the huge wrecker looked about switching through his various vision settings every monitor was shut down and it looked recent. Most of the equipment without its own energon back up supply was down. “The lighting is least of the problems with this tub” muttered Broadside as he stretched his limbs out after the long CR rest. Leaning down broadside prodded at a screen seeing if any of the security feeds where still live being a wrecker he had this feeling that either a fight was going on or was about to kick off.

He looked back at sandstorm who he was surprised hadn’t gotten bored yet, but broadside was getting irritated at the lack of information. “This ship is gloomier than one of Huffer’s speeches about how things are never going to work” broadside growled as he drew himself back to his full height. “We’d better find out who is about on this tub”

Turning Broadside moved for the exit “Hey sandstorm I’m gonna go see what in the pit is going on in engineering I’m pretty sure the power is supposed to be on” from within one of his considerable leg lockers he drew his Pulse Cannon and his Vibro Axe.

“Just in case it don’t hurt to go prepared”
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby MasterSoundBlaster » Fri Jan 03, 2014 9:33 pm

Motto: "You can run,you'll just die trying"
Weapon: Fusion Cannon
Communication from Springer to Blaster

>>"Springer to Blaster, I have a field report for Magnus. Mind patching me to him or you can just tell him that we got our little meeting place all up to at least a halfway decent state of repair, whatever you feel like doing."<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Smokescreen85 » Sat Jan 04, 2014 1:23 pm

Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Bridge

Smokescreen was relieved when Tracer said that she understood why he wanted her to stay behind. Of course, she didn’t like it, but at least she seemed agreeable in accepting the reality of her condition and the situation they now all found themselves in regarding the Fallen. The rallybot felt her chevron against his own as she told him that she would be holding him to his promise. “I knew you would," Smokey replied softly, a slight grin spreading across his faceplate.

The troubled femme then pulled back and insisted that she would accompany him down to the bounce chamber to see him off. The red and blue racer paused for a moment, unsure if this would be a good idea. It was true that she promised to stay behind, but Smokey also wouldn’t put it past her to suddenly jump onto the bounce pad at the last second and thus be transported with the rallybot anyway. Still, he couldn’t say no to her. He would simply have to keep a close optic on the drug-addicted scout when he disembarked. “Okay, Tracer."

Smokescreen’s own smirk to the femme quickly disappeared when he heard the sound of Ultra Magnus’ voice coming from behind him. Letting go of Tracer’s hands, the diversion expert immediately turned around and approached the City Commander, standing alongside Bluestreak. The two almost identical Autobots listened carefully to their leader’s newest set of orders. It seemed that battle would be coming sooner rather than later and they were to not only get ready for it but also find every available ‘Bot on board and get them combat ready, as well.

“Understood, sir," Bluestreak responded to Ultra Magnus, feeling another verbal tirade coming on. “I won’t let you down! However, if Razorclaw is the one now in charge of the Decepticons then we will need to talk to the only one around here that knows the Predacon Commander better than anybody. And judging by the latest communication received from the Guardian, that someone is now finally back online."

“You’re talking about Howlstrike, aren’t you?" Smokescreen interjected, sparing a glance over at the silver and black gunner. “I thought you didn’t trust him."

“I don’t," Bluestreak responded, locking his optics with that of the rallybot. “But he’s the best chance we have at understanding the mindset of the new Predacon leadership. Conversing with Onslaught would have been much easier than making any kind of deal with Razorclaw, who is much more violent and animalistic than the Combaticon Commander." The gunner looked back at Magnus, trying to hide a worried expression. “Whatever happens, we will have to tread cautiously, even more so now than before."

“Okay, well, just as long as you two don’t blast each other into oblivion," the diversion expert said with a wry smile. “I mean you and Howl don’t exactly have a loving relationship from what I’ve heard."

“We’ll be fine, Smokey. Now, let’s get moving. We have our orders."

Bluestreak and Smokescreen both gave a respectful salute to Ultra Magnus before turning towards the exit. As the chatterbot approached the door, the rallybot hung back near Tracer. “I’ll catch up to you in a minute, Blue. This won’t take long."

“No problem, Smokes. I’ll see you down in the armory. I figured we can get rearmed and loaded up with as much ammo as possible before heading off to face the Fallen. Can’t be too prepared to fight a myth hellbent on destroying the universe, after all," Bluestreak responded, cutting himself off before he fell into another non-stop chatter fest.

Smokescreen nodded as the gunner finally left the bridge. The diversion expert then returned his attention to Tracer and smiled. “Well, seems I’m going to be deployed very soon. Walk with me to the armory?" The red and blue racer reached out his right arm and took the troubled femme’s hand into his own. He then led her towards the exit just as Crossfire and Jazz rushed passed them. Sidestepping the two ‘Bots, Smokescreen left the bridge with Tracer in tow and entered the corridor beyond.

Corridors near Bridge

With Smokescreen not far behind him, Bluestreak opened a ship-wide channel to any Autobots who were currently online and ready for some action:

>>”To all able-bodied Autobots not currently assigned to anything important, this is Bluestreak. I assume you have all heard the recent message from Ultra Magnus regarding the Fallen and his heralds and the threat that they pose to all of us. Our new commander has instructed Smokescreen and I to gather as many of you as possible for deployment within the next two breems. Meet us down in the Ark-22’s armory ASAP in order to get combat ready. Howlstrike, wherever you are now, drop what you’re doing and meet us over here. We’re going to need you on this assignment. We’ll brief you more once you arrive. Bluestreak out."<<

“Spoken like a true mission commander," Smokescreen commented as he caught up to his doppelganger.

“I wouldn’t say that, Smokey," Bluestreak replied in an unsure manner. “We were both given the same orders. We’re in this together."

“Ha ha, okay, Blue," the rallybot responded as he patted the gunner on the back with his left hand, while still holding on to Tracer with his right. “Only, if you don’t mind, you can brief Howlstrike by yourself. I mean, once he finds out that Razorclaw is in charge of the Decepticons, he’s going to be none too happy, and I’d rather not get ripped apart so soon after being put back together from my cosmic rust debacle. You know?" Smokey cast a glance over to Tracer, a knowing look creeping across his facade.

“No problem," Bluestreak said in agreement. “I was going to do all of the talking anyway."

Science Lab

As Wheeljack began to gather up the necessary parts to begin installation of the armature’s nervous system, the lights in the labs began to flicker before going out entirely. Moments later, emergency power kicked on, filling the room with a reddish glow but still leaving a lot less light than they initially had available to them. “Well, that’s very strange," the engineer commented as he placed the parts he had accumulated onto a nearby workbench. “A power failure on an Ark class ship? Not impossible, but highly unlikely with all of the failsafes these vessels have."

The loss of primary power had not gone unnoticed by the other scientific minds in the room. Chromedome questioned whether something was wrong with the generator while Ironfist suggested checking on feed 252 of the Quantum Drive. “Good idea," Wheeljack responded as he swiftly moved over to a nearby terminal that seemed to be functioning well enough on back-up power. With the proper codes inputted, the feed slowly came up, showing the main generators down on the engineering deck. ‘Jack did a double take as the image revealed the total extent of the damage. “Um, it seems that the generators are down. No, scratch that, they're completely destroyed!" The white mech leaned back in his chair with a look of disbelief plastered across his faceplate. “I can’t imagine what did that! I mean, could that have been the Fallen’s doing? Slaggit!"

Wheeljack’s statement was cut short when he received Bluestreak’s call to arms over his comm line. Unsure on how to proceed further under these unusual circumstances, the mechanical engineer opened a direct channel to the new Autobot leader:

>>”Commander Magnus, this is Wheeljack down in the Science Lab. We’ve suffered a loss of power here. I took the liberty of checking the generators on the feeds and they appear to have suffered severe damage that will take many cycles to repair. The labs are still functioning on auxiliary power which should provide us enough lighting to finish with our experiments. However, the risk of failure is now much higher until primary power is restored. I can continue working on the armature but given my engineering background, perhaps I should take charge of repairing the generators, instead? Or should I and the rest of us down here prepare for battle? Please advise, sir."<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Insidious » Sat Jan 04, 2014 2:29 pm

Weapon: Oxidating Laser
“Don’t you have a rotor assembly to retrofit or summit Sandy”

"Yeah, don't you have a shallow pool to jump into?" Sandstorm had jabbed back, smirking as he looked around.

“What happened did you throw another party?"

A growing expression of confusion was slowly itching itself across Sandstorm's youthful, metallic features.

"Heh. Not this time. This is something big, if it's doing all this ruckus. Ruckus...Ruckus...haven't trashed that little glitch in an age..."

“Hey sandstorm I’m gonna go see what in the pit is going on in engineering I’m pretty sure the power is supposed to be on. Just in case it don’t hurt to go prepared."

Sandstorm nodded absently. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"Ah, yeah. You...you go ahead and do that," Sandstorm said as he followed Broadside out into the corridors. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid a fight. Primus knows he was spoiling for one just as soon as his optics onlined. But he wanted to know just what in the Pit was going on around here too.

"True that. Lemme know if you need backup or somethin'," Sandstorm said as Broadside went one direction and he headed in another.

>>”To all able-bodied Autobots not currently assigned to anything important, this is Bluestreak. I assume you have all heard the recent message from Ultra Magnus regarding the Fallen and his heralds and the threat that they pose to all of us. Our new commander has instructed Smokescreen and I to gather as many of you as possible for deployment within the next two breems. Meet us down in the Ark-22’s armory ASAP in order to get combat ready. Howlstrike, wherever you are now, drop what you’re doing and meet us over here. We’re going to need you on this assignment. We’ll brief you more once you arrive. Bluestreak out."<<

The wha?

The Fallen wha?

Were they getting together to tell ghost stories now?

Slag it. To the armory then.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Smokescreen85 » Sat Jan 04, 2014 2:54 pm

Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Transmission from Prowl to Ark-22:

>>”I read you, barely. Commander Magnus, this is Prowl. Can you hear me? Our connection appears to be fragile at best. What seems to be the problem, sir?"<<
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Longshot » Sat Jan 04, 2014 7:24 pm

Motto: "Feed them to the Sharkticons!"
Hangar

He tended to spend most of his time in the Ark-22’s hangar, between missions. It boasted fueling ports and rearming stations, though to a much lesser extent than the mess hall or the armory, respectively. Still, it was sufficient to Gunrunner’s needs, and minimized the possibility of his incidentally associating with subordinates, superiors, or anyone at all, other than the maintenance drones. And it was all but impossible to form any kind of attachment to them.

Gunrunner was in vehicle mode when the call came through from Bluestreak. While a general call to arms like this tended to make the onetime squadron commander uncomfortable, he was hardly about to shirk his duty in the face of a clear and present threat. Transforming into robot mode, he broadcast a general acknowledgement and moved toward the access port that would eventually lead to the armory.

The Fallen. If stories were to be believed, he was a mechanoid even more terrifying than Megatron, or Scoponok, or any of the worst the Decepticons had to offer. If he really were active on Earth, Gunrunner wondered if the forces currently available to them would be equal to the task now before them. Even if the Decepticon infiltration team intervened on their side—and Gunrunner didn’t feel there was any reason to take for granted that they would—this was bound to be a battle with no guarantee of victory, and far less survival.

But it was his duty. He wasn’t about to shy away, no matter how bad the odds. He just hoped Primus, or fortune, or any interested external power at all saw fit to see a few of them through. >>Gunrunner acknowledging. Proceeding to rendezvous point at Armory,<< he transmitted as he stepped into the dark corridor outside the hangar.
Last edited by Longshot on Mon Jan 06, 2014 6:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Phaze » Sun Jan 05, 2014 5:49 am

Motto: ""All's Fair in Life and Death""
Weapon: Nuclear Charged Fusion Cannon
Corridors outside med bay

Broadside had taken literally 2 steps when the message from Bluestreak came through “great certain death in the stars to certain death on a mud ball of a planet, I should of stayed in the CR pod” Grumbled the huge autobot as he turned and strode after Sandstorm his huge strides easily eating up the corridor between him and his smaller comrade.

As he moved he replaced his axe into his locker not seeing the potential for close combat, if this Fallen was as terrible as the legends say, that would be near suicide to try and get close to the mechanoid. As he strode toward the armoury he looked at Sandstorm “bet you didn’t think your first fight after waking up was against the mech from under the CR chamber” he rumbled as the doors to the armoury loomed before them even thou broadside had to duck to enter as usual.

“Would it kill them to make the doors a couple feet taller” the huge autobot muttered as he entered the armoury.
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Insidious » Sun Jan 05, 2014 2:02 pm

Weapon: Oxidating Laser
Armory

Sandstorm chuckled at Broadside's initial comment. No, fighting some sort of mythical Cybertronian was not exactly what he had been expecting. Maybe some random incursion by the Mayhems or Squadron X or the Predators? Maybe. But the Fallen? He couldn't say it enough times in his mind for it to start making sense. But he was up for it anyway.

"Yeah, Gargantua, geez. Share the space a little. Some of the rest of us would like to have a place to stand," Sandstorm joked as he entered into the armory and headed towards one of the lockers.

"Huh. I wonder what I left in this room before I offlined."
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Foxfire13795 » Mon Jan 06, 2014 2:06 am

Motto: "Broken Autobots never mend."
Weapon: Magnetic Repellor-Attractor
Mess Hall

“I’ve asked you before not to ‘bomp’ me. You could try tapping my rotator. Or waving. Or even just calling my name. Why you feel the need to resort to something as sophomoric as ‘bomp’-ing completely escapes me."

A grin slowly spread across Getaway's faceplate behind his mouthplate as his long-time friend and partner complained for the umpteenth time about the escapologist's favorite type of entertainment. As Skids turned his head away to observe the condition of the mess hall, Getaway lifted his fist up again very slowly and deliberately and tapped the underside of Skid's chin with his knuckles again.

"Bomp."

So satisfying. Getaway stood and stretched out his stiff gears, folding his arms over his chest as his partner got to his feet as well. Those two bomps were almost enough to make up for the breem he had wasted deciding on Skids' exact hue, which happened to definitely be navy blue. Indubitably and without a doubt.

“Ship’s security does not exactly fall within the bounds of our current mandate, Getaway. However, as long as we restrict ourselves to a purely investigative function, I do not imagine we will breach any of the protocols of inter-departmental etiquette."

Getaway gave Skids a look. It was a look that he had given his partner many times before. The dreaded 'Are you serious?' look, which was usually followed by another 'bomp'. A power outage on an ark type craft such as this was highly unusual. One might even go so far as to say unprecedented. Getaway almost wondered if Skids had any curiosity or sense of adventure in him at all. The former he knew Skids had plenty of - about the most mundane and trivial of things mostly. The latter had always been a questionable.

"Since when do we restrict ourselves to a purely investigative function, Skids? You-"

>>”To all able-bodied Autobots not currently assigned to anything important, this is Bluestreak. I assume you have all heard the recent message from Ultra Magnus regarding the Fallen and his heralds and the threat that they pose to all of us. Our new commander has instructed Smokescreen and I to gather as many of you as possible for deployment within the next two breems. Meet us down in the Ark-22’s armory ASAP in order to get combat ready. Howlstrike, wherever you are now, drop what you’re doing and meet us over here. We’re going to need you on this assignment. We’ll brief you more once you arrive. Bluestreak out."<<

...Fallen?

"...Fallen?" Getaway said aloud, echoing his internalized thought. The escapologist looked at his indubitably navy blue partner. "The Fallen?" he asked, unsure if he had heard Bluestreak correctly. His audio receptors weren't malfunctioning, so he could only assume that he had heard Bluestreak correctly. Well that was interesting. Where most mechs might panic, Getaway shrugged and walked toward the exit of the mess hall, looking back at Skids.

"Well, come on then. We've got the Fallen to fight. Should be interesting. You think its the Fallen as in one of the Thirteen or one of the Guiding Hand? I suppose it depends on what you believe, huh?"
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Re: Autobot Vessel Ark-22 - Far From Home

Postby Longshot » Mon Jan 06, 2014 12:11 pm

Motto: "Feed them to the Sharkticons!"
En Route to Armory

The Fallen. That was a name that hadn’t been current in … well, vorns really, an aspect of a set of myths surrounding the creation of Cybertron so ancient that any history that have once lain beneath the legends was long forgotten. The appearance of such a figure on Earth—light years from their homeworld, or any world known to Cybertronians when their great exodus had begun—and at a time when both Autobots and Decepticons were reeling from sudden, seriously destabilizing power vacuums, well … It was definitely quite the coincidence. Unfortunately, coincidence was the only explanation supported by the data currently at Skids’ disposal.

Interesting.

“What I believe is immaterial, Getaway," he said, following his partner into the black corridors beyond the Mess Hall. “In the absence of empirical evidence with which to formulate a solid hypothesis, the question becomes moot. The Fallen’s existence, of course, is manifest in the fact that he attacked or engineered an attack upon this Ark. One may also conclude that it is a being possessed of considerable resources to have done so successfully without provoking any serious defensive response. To theorize beyond the scope of what we know through observable phenomena is to enter into realms of fantasy, and that will certainly be of very limited usefulness to us in the coming conflict."

Skids glowered a bit at Getaway’s back. “And don’t you dare ‘bomp’ me. I’m simply answering the question you posed, to the best of my ability."
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Return to The Solar System - When Earth Is Not Enough

Transformers Podcast: Twincast / Podcast #90 - Dark Scorponok
Twincast / Podcast #90:
"Dark Scorponok"
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