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Hangar Bay-Docking of Shuttle Serenity

"...and that one 'Con on Ceti-Alpha-Seven. He was a crank. God, I thought he'd never die," Sandstorm joked, continuing one of the random conversations from the corridors as he stepped into the hangar bay and searched out the location of the Serenity. Heading over to the ship, he stepped through the rear doorway into the cargo area of the craft and headed for the secondary seating. Now that he had a hold of his weapons he really didn't want to let them go. They felt so good. It'd been so long since he'd been authorized to just grab anything he wanted.

"Let's get this party started, glitches!" Sandstorm said as he set his rifles to one side and took a seat. This felt just like old times. Well, as old a times as the young recon expert was aware of, anyway.

Hangar Bay – Docking bay of Shuttle Serenity

"...and that one 'Con on Ceti-Alpha-Seven. He was a crank. God, I thought he'd never die,"

Broadside chuckled at the comment as he followed Sandstorm into the hangar bay.

“yeah but what you forgot to mention was you where down to using harsh language on him”

The triplechanger hunted for the shuttle he was due to be boarding thou Sandstorm had found it first and disappeared within its hull. The far larger broadside got to the outside of the Shuttle narrowly avoiding the tiny Eject “Easy there Chief you could injure someone” Chuckled Broadside as he ducked into the serenity.

“Dibs on the door seat I need the leg room and sandstorm if you release any of your exhaust fumes on this trip, I’m hanging you from the undercarriage” joked broadside as he settled into his seat.

Hangar Bay - Shuttle Serenity Interior

"So Chromedome, long time no see. How you been? Score any touchdowns lately? Oh! By the way, you manage to get in touch with Rewind? I wonder if he's coming along for the away game..."

"I umm...don't think so?" Chromedome replied to the sports fanatic Cassettebot, puzzled by the Earth lingo he seemed to have picked up listening to sports broadcasts. "And no I didn't get in contact with Rewind, I heard he was on a mission and didn't wanna distract him. I know he'd do the same for me."

Chromedome hid his true emotions behind his nearly expressionless mouthplating. He didn't wanna admit it but he worried about the archivist's current condition down on the surface of the blue marble. Eject hopped out of seat and returned to helping Blaster load up the ship before the mnemosurgeon could carry on the conversation. Oh well, there'll be plenty of time to chat once this bucket was off the ground.

"How's it looking in here, Chromedome?" Blaster asked as he brought in more supplies.

"I got the engines warming up now actually. Well be flight capable in half a breem, if not sooner." Chromedome stated as he spun his chair around to address the communications officer. "Wanna inform Magnus?"

"Let's get this party started, glitches!" Sandstorm hollered as he made his appearance obvious to everyone aboard the shuttle. Chromedome gave a polite wave to the recon expert as he took his seat.

"Soon as get everyone here we can launch this turbopuppy and get the show on the road!" Chromedome replied trying to keep up with Sandstorm's same level of energy. Soon Broadside was ducking his way into hull of the Serenity and starting making quips with his fellow triple changer, something about "exhaust fumes being blown towards him."

"Oh this is gonna a fun trip..."

Hangar Bay--Shuttle Serenity Interior

"Hey, it woulda worked too if you hadn't come along and stepped on his hand. And then his head," Sandstorm said with a smirk as he nodded a friendly greeting at their pilot. Always nice to be on good terms with the pilots. The more at ease they were the more likely it was that you wouldn't crash on the way to a battle.

He then looked over at Broadside as he said something about releasing exhaust fumes.

"Really? You're kidding me right? Have you smelled yourself? What's your alt mode? One of the oil pits that the Horrorcons bathe in? Go easy on the Engex next time there before you talk to me about my emissions, big fella."

Corridors

"A sedative?" Ultra Magnus allowed his optics to trace over the curves of the proposed ampule that was locked fast in the syringe. His fingers closed tightly into a balled fist, hidden from view as his mind pondered the extent of the few options that were being laid before him. He did not doubt the effectiveness of their concoction, on the contrary it coincided with a great many tactics he had considered employing on the field itself. Like any powerful foe, the best way to neutralize their advantage was to split it up and bring it down piece meal. Unfortunately, the initial options left a lot of less than desirable variables on the table and unaccounted for.

Particularly given that most of the Autobots traversing to Australia were not heavy hitters in terms of firepower, but there were enough of them that the potential for permanent injury to those who had been subsumed was still present. Adding that new piece to the arsenal gave Magnus and his tactical advisors that much more to bring to bear. There was also the very facts on the table that those whom he was about to commit a large facet of his forces against were, not just imbued with incredible powers from ancient reservoirs, but they were also all living members of respective factions. Which meant they knew a great deal of the capabilities of those who would be on the battlefield. There would be a handful in which they had never seen or had been so deeply buried in misdirection and covers upon covers, that their true abilities were never displayed before the infected. And some were truly off the wall in their employment of their skills and features, that they were simply unreadable.

Ultra Magnus read each etched crease in the face of the Chief Medical Officer, searching for some trace of more to be added on to their stockpile. He found none for the present. "To divide them will be a challenge in itself. Requiring speed, agility and guile to survive long enough to draw them into a suspected trap." He nodded briefly before he turned his attention to a figure dash across the hall and disappear through the docking bridge.

"I suppose these ampules are our only chance to at least limit the effectiveness of the Fallen's heralds... though I am unsure that they will be of much use against our primary target." He returned his attention back to the two doctors. "Very well, I will build a stratagem around sedation of our two wayward friends. I expect recommendations for your assault teams to be prepared for submission by the time we link up with Prowl's scouting party."

A slight echo of the life support system reverberated through the hall as the power link between the Longevity and the two vessels began to slowly fade as Jazz and Scoop began to turn the shuttle back to its independent status. "To think such times would arrive within our spark functions." His voice was low as he muttered to himself, again facing back towards the boon as Getaway and Skids, Smokescreen and the others assigned to his combat team, made their way to the shuttle.

This time he did not return his gaze back to the two doctors. "Replicate your requisite supply Doctor. In the meantime, I also hope that we will be able to devise a method for driving out the fallen prime's spirit from Hot Rod."

Hangar Bay - Shuttle Serenity Interior

Bluestreak strode into the hangar and immediately made a bee line over to the docking boon where the Serenity was waiting. It’s engines were already warming up, and it appeared to be ready for departure. The chatterbot broke into a slight sprint and hurried up the entrance ramp, entering into the passenger compartment of the shuttle craft where the occupants were there waiting for his arrival. The gunner was seemingly the last one to appear, holding everybody up in the process.

“Sorry, guys!” Bluestreak apologized as he took a seat and peered around at Broadside, Sandstorm, Gunrunner, Blaster, Eject and Chromedome. “I was held up a bit. I wanted to stop by the armory and reload on ammunition. Can’t have enough ammo especially when dealing with a demigod like the Fallen. Of course, I also had to run a diagnostic on my weapons to make sure they were all functioning properly. Don’t need one of them failing down there or blowing up in my faceplate when I'm trying to fight. That would be rather embarrassing. I’d rather get taken out by the Fallen, himself, then end up taking myself out. At least, then it would be a warrior’s death, you know? Of course, I’d rather not die at all, but who knows what’s going to happen once we get down planet side. Even if we beat the Fallen and his heralds, there’s still the stupid ‘Cons to worry about. I fully expect them to attack us once the Fallen is defeated, or hopefully defeated. Heh.”

The chatterbot was clearly very nervous as his vocal processor was going into overdrive. He kept talking in the hopes of forgetting what a dire situation they were all in. The apocalypse was almost upon them and they had not yet found a way to defeat a demigod not to mention rescue their possessed friends. One way or another, things would likely end badly for many of them, if not for most or even all of them. Now, if only one of the shuttle’s occupants would cut Bluestreak off before he completely wore out his vocals.....

Engine Room

Wheeljack cautiously entered the engine room and gazed around in astonishment at the sheer level of destruction left in the heralds’ wake. Each of the four generators were completely disabled and would require a lot of work to get them up to operational status again. It was hard to believe that one of the mechs that caused all this devastation was an Autobot. It boggled the processor to no end. In fact, everything about this situation boggled the processor. The Fallen, his heralds, Unicron, the apocalypse, working with the ‘Cons - it was almost too much to handle. The engineer could only imagine how Prowl’s logic circuits would react once he learned the details about all this. The black and white would likely shut down due to the sheer absurdity of the circumstances.

“I’m glad I don’t have a logic center,” Wheeljack muttered to himself and he careful walked amongst the debris that was strewn across the floor. The mad scientist made his way to the nearest terminal where he activated a group of clean-up drones that quickly appeared from a hidden hatchway across the room. As the droids went about their automated work, the mechanical engineer headed towards the back of the chamber where the transwarp drive was located. While Perceptor worked on fixing the generators, Wheeljack needed to get power restored to the emitters so that Magnus‘ last resort could be initiated if needed. Hopefully, it would not be required and a way to defeat the Fallen without taking out half a planet could be found. ‘Jack had no idea where to start on that front. Instead, he decided to focus on the transwarp drive and perhaps something would just come to him while he worked.

“If only it could be that easy,” Wheeljack mused as he accessed the control panel for the warp core. He ran a quick diagnostic which indicated that the drive, itself, was not heavily damaged. Apparently, the Fallen’s heralds focused more on the generators then they did the transwarp drive. However, that didn’t mean there still wasn’t damage done. According to the results of the diagnostic program, the transwarp coil was cracked, likely due to the intense vibrations from the explosions, and would need to be either repaired for replaced entirely. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to go in there and take a look up close.”

The mechanical engineer then deactivated the door locks before entering the transwarp chamber. Once inside, Wheeljack approached the warp drive and quickly removed an access panel that revealed the primary coil within. He could immediately see the crack in question as he carefully removed the coil from its connection nodes. Wasting no time, ‘Jack withdrew is right hand into his forearm and revealed a soldering tool in its place. Well, here goes nothing, Wheeljack thought as he attempted to seal the crack without making matters worse.

Corridors

Axle followed along slightly behind and to the right of the CMO. Ratchet had quickly, and expectedly taken the lead speaking to the now Commander of the Autobot army. The idea of separating into small teams in order to remove the Heralds from the bigger picture was something he and Ratchet realized together.

"Very well, I will build a stratagem around sedation of our two wayward friends. I expect recommendations for your assault teams to be prepared for submission by the time we link up with Prowl's scouting party."

Ratchet took a quick glance back at Axle who gave the CMO a small nod. With Axle’s response Ratchet looked back up at Ultra Magnus. “That won’t be a problem. In fact I could probably use a few of Prowl’s mechs in these teams,” he said while rubbing his chin. He already had an idea of who he wanted to accompany who.

"Replicate your requisite supply Doctor. In the meantime, I also hope that we will be able to devise a method for driving out the fallen prime's spirit from Hot Rod."

Axle shook his head but refrained speaking aloud. Ratchet, on the other hand was not one to keep from speaking his mind. “I can tell you now; this sedative won’t work on that…thing. If it’s capable of keeping a mental hold on Hot Rod and four other mechs while simultaneously fighting an army of Autobot and Decepticon forces….” he trailed off leaving the rest to the imagination.

The frown that was nearly permanently etched on Ratchet’s face seemed to deepen. The thought of losing just one of these mechs was weighing hard on the CMO’s spark. His musings were interrupted when he felt a light touch on his arm.

The field medic gave Ratchet’s arm a gently squeeze catching his full attention. “Ratchet, we should get on board. We’ll need to complete the medical bay’s set up.” With a stiff nod Ratchet moved past Magnus and stalked off in the direction of the Longevity.

Axle cast his gaze down to the floor before addressing Magnus in a low tone. “We’ll get them back. Ratchet won’t have it any other way.” That said the field medic took his leave quickly falling in step with his superior.

((OOC: Moving these two to the Guardian thread and onto the Longevity))

Shuttle Serenity

Fitting in the average chair was a struggle for Broadside so he took up two the middle arm rest was wrenched out the way. Placing the additional weaponry he had into a storage rack nearby the triplechanger sat down and stretched his legs. It was then that he heard the response from Sandstorm.

"Really? You're kidding me right? Have you smelled yourself? What's your alt mode? One of the oil pits that the Horrorcon’s bathe in? Go easy on the Engex next time there before you talk to me about my emissions, big fella."

Broadside looked at his comrade a glint in his optic as he responded “Oh really and I suppose you use your rotor assemblies for something other than to buff Metroplex’s aft plating, and it is better than your stink I saw you with the expired energon cubes” it was then that Bluestreak started to motor mouth his nerves getting the better of him.

“Bluestreak SHADDAP before we strap you to the nose of the shuttle and use you as a mascot” chuckled Broadside.

Hangar Bay - Shuttle Serenity Interior

Eject grunted as he loaded up the last of the supply crates into the shuttle, securing it in the back. The tiny blue cassettobot stretched his servos and tuned into the chattering in the shuttle. It was mostly Sandstorm and Broadside going back and forth, chatting about old plays in games long since past.

The blue sports fan hopped back into the seat near the pilot's chair and glanced up at Chromedome. Resuming their prior conversation without missing a beat, Eject continued, "Huh. I think Rewind wouldn't mind getting a hello from you. Though it's weird that he left without saying anything to ya. You guys are pretty much attached at the hip..." Eject paused wondering if that particular metaphor was appropriate, having the mental image of Rewind dangling from Chromedome's hip, "Er...well you know what I mean. Anyway! Looks like the team's ready! Let's kickoff!"




"I got the engines warming up now actually. Well be flight capable in half a breem, if not sooner." Chromedome stated as he spun his chair around to address the communications officer. "Wanna inform Magnus?"

Blaster nodded as he finished loading and watched the new arrivals load up into the shuttle. "Send him a shout, Dome man," Blaster said. Glancing around at those boarded, the communications officer did a quick head count. They were short one Bluestreak. The red mech swept his optics over the occupants of the shuttle to double-check. "Yo Blue-"

“Sorry, guys!"

Turning to face their latest arrival, Blaster smiled and gave Chromedome a thumbs up to get them underway. And then...Bluestreak started talking. His very special brand of speech. The nervous kind where a virtual metric ton of diction were fired out at top speed. Blaster had seen it before. Pit, they all had seen it before. Blue wouldn't stop until either someone stopped him, his vocals wore out, or everyone else's audios wore out.

"Bluestreak SHADDAP before we strap you to the nose of the shuttle and use you as a mascot” chuckled Broadside.

Blaster grinned at Broadside's taunt and gave Bluestreak a firm clap on his shoulder plating. "Don't worry, Blue," the communications officer said with his characteristic charismatic grin, "We'll get the Fallen. Don't sweat it. We can't let despair and defeat seep into our lexicon. For Optimus. He's looking after us, so let's send this Fallen back to the Maker!" Blaster's tone grew a bit more serious, but no less earnest, "We will get Hot Rod and the others back. Let the Decepticons try something. They'll learn that the Autobots are not to be trifled with."

Patting Bluestreak on the shoulder once more for good measure, Blaster moved away and sat down next to Chromedome, Eject moving out of the larger mech's way. The blue cassettobot jogged over to the passenger seating and strapped himself into the seat. Blaster nodded to Chromedome, ready to get underway.

Hangar Bay - Shuttle Serenity Interior

With everyone in there seats and Blaster giving him an approving nod, the mnemosurgeon-turned-pilot ran his actuators over the ship's comm relay and opened a line to Ultra Magnus' comm frequency.

>>"Commander Magnus, this is Chromedome aboard Shuttle Serenity. We are kicking the landing gear up now and moving out to the rally point Blaster provided. Once we pick up the 'Bots stationed in Africa, we'll meet up with you guys in Australia. Chromedome, over and out."<<

Closing the line, Chromedome ignited the main engines and took a grip of the Shuttle's controls. He flicked a series of switches above his processor and closed the air-locked compartment door as he began to start up the preliminary flight routine.

"Primus, it's been awhile since I've had to fly one of these things..." The mnemosurgeon recalled with a nervous chuckle. "Hey Blaster, you know what'd be funny? Check this out.."

>>"Afternoon Femmes and Gentlebots, this is your pilot speaking."<< Chromedome announced over the onboard speaker system in a fashion similar to human pilot would address their passengers on a standard plane trip, >>"Please keep all weapons, excess limbs, and spare parts inside the shuttle while it is in motion. Please fasten your safety harnesses now as entry into the Earth's atmosphere will be quite the bumpy ride to our first location. In the event of an emergency, cling to the nearest Broadside and pray he breaks the fall for you. We hope you enjoy your flight and would like to thank you for flying Air Serenity."<<

Chromedome snickered a little as he closed the comm line with the rest of the rest of the ship. That ought to get a good laugh out of the troops and hopefully lighten their mood a little before this whole ordeal with The Fallen.

The docking platform the Serenity was parked on slowly began to slide out from against the docking scaffolding and out the opened Hangar bay door way out into the vastness of space. Once outside the hull of the ship, Chromedome disengaged the onboard Magnalocks located on the landing gear of the shuttle. Lighting the engines to full power, the Autobot Shuttle transcended off its docking platform and turned towards the Blue-marble of a planet as Chromedome yawed at the controls.

Next Stop: Africa

Hangar Bay - Shuttle Serenity Interior

Bluestreak’s non-stop ranting was finally interrupted by Broadside, who jokingly threatened to strap him to the shuttle’s nosecone and make him their mascot. “Sorry, Broadside! My vocal processor got the better of me again. You know how it is. Well, maybe you don’t since you're not me, but trust me it’s easy to ramble on and on. Heh. I'll still be your mascot, though, if you want.”

The Autobot gunner’s attention was then drawn to Blaster as he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder plate. The communications specialist proceeded to give him a hearty pep talk to help calm his nerve receptors. It was one that not only Bluestreak needed to hear but likely the rest of the shuttle’s occupants, as well. The chatterbot smiled as the Voice of the Autobots finished with his mini speech. “You’re right, Blaster. We can’t let fear govern our actions. Optimus wouldn’t want that. We’ll beat ‘em and get our friends back somehow, some way. The Fallen will lose. He has to. Evil never wins in the end. It can’t win. I guess I just wish we had a real plan of attack, you know? At least with the ‘Cons we can hurt them. They all have weaknesses to one extent or another. But a demigod? What kind of weakness does the Fallen have? He must have one, but we unfortunately don’t know it yet. Hopefully, we’ll find it out before it’s too late. I’m sure we will, though!”

Bluestreak grew silent on his own this time before anyone could yell at him again. The shuttle was about to depart and the pilot and co-pilot needed to concentrate so they didn’t burn up in the Earth’s atmosphere before they even had a chance to fight the Fallen and his heralds. That would definitely not be good. Instead, the gunner listened to Chromedome’s rather humorous message to all of those on board in the passenger section. “I’m sure Broadside appreciates that, Chromedome! I know I would! Ha ha!” Bluestreak called up to the craft’s designated pilot as the Serenity slowly disengaged from its moorings and left the shuttle bay, heading down towards the planet below.

To say broadside was having a blast was an understatement his regular accompanying bot sandstorm was on top form giving him verbal jabs. As he awaited the latest reply from sandstorm the intercom burst to life with a message from Chromedome.

>>"Please keep all weapons, excess limbs, and spare parts inside the shuttle while it is in motion. Please fasten your safety harnesses now as entry into the Earth's atmosphere will be quite the bumpy ride to our first location. In the event of an emergency, cling to the nearest Broadside and pray he breaks the fall for you. We hope you enjoy your flight and would like to thank you for flying Air Serenity."<<

“Let’s hope his flying is better than his jokes” muttered Broadside with a mischievous glint in his optic as he turned around to the rest. “He almost lost got his head replaced by a bio organic after losing a hand of cards to brainstorm, he doesn’t know that brainy is a card shark in his spare time” Broadside chucked to himself at the many times he’d lost a card game to Brainstorm in before the Bio Mechanic headed for Maximus’s command. He started to feel the shuttle start is long lazy turn to head into the atmosphere.

“Express Elevator to Hell GOING DOWN”

Hangar Bay--Shuttle Serenity Interior

"The only thing that's expired are your melee skills," Sandstorm chuckled. "What are you gonna do if the Fallen picks you to smash first? Body bump him? Heheheheh."

Sandstorm leaned back in his seat and got comfortable. His weapons were close by. His teammates were close by. He was as ready for battle as he was gonna get. He just needed to get there now.

Snickering quietly to himself as Broadside got on the walking chatterbox's case, Sandstorm partially offlined his optics and started to think about the upcoming battle. This was really going to be something. But it was an even louder voice that brought Sandstorm's optics back online almost as soon as he had started to get relaxed--the ship's pilot giving them something of a pre-flight rundown. He burst out with an audible laugh as Chromedome finished his spiel.

"Broady here would break Omega Supreme's fall, hahahahah! Ahhhh, god, I kill me," Sandstorm said, winking an optic in Broadside's direction before leaning back again, optics offlining for good this time. Focus. Demigod to kill.

“Express Elevator to Hell GOING DOWN!”

"About time," Sandstorm said, optics still offlined, tucking his arms behind his head as he felt the shuttle's takeoff procedures kick into gear.

Shuttle Serenity

Though he took note of the banter between the various Autobots now aboard the Earthbound ship, Gunrunner made no attempt to engage in it himself. This was an all-too-familiar scene, one he’d played out dozens, maybe hundreds of times, back when he’d been a dedicated squad leader instead of a rotating one. He had probably once even probably found it as comforting as these mechs did, however reluctant they might be to admit it. Now, it just sounded hollow to him. And it would be bitter, in retrospect, when they returned to the Ark and a few of those familiar voices had been silenced forever. That was the reality of war he had come to know.

The only defense he’d been able to devise against that pain was to armor himself in indifference. He’d fight with everything he had to make sure these Autobots made it through the mission online and as intact as possible, but he had no personal stake in their continued functioning, only a professional one. A pragmatic one. Perhaps when the fighting was finally over, Gunrunner would be able to let himself re-learn all those things about camaraderie and fellowship he’d buried on the battlefield a long time ago. For now, it was just too dangerous a proposition.

Once they breached the atmosphere, he would launch from one of the shuttle’s airlocks and fly escort. That would be the best use of his abilities. It was just a happy coincidence that it also kept him working—and fighting—pretty much entirely on his own.

Engine Room - Transwarp Chamber

Wheeljack had no idea just how many cycles had gone by while he toiled away in the transwarp chamber at the back of the Ark-22’s engine room. The mad scientist had been so focused on his work that he had lost all sense of time. He had a very important job to do, and he needed to get it done ASAP. Of course, ‘Jack knew the potential ramifications once he succeeded. The possibility of warping a huge chunk of Earth into a star in order to defeat the Fallen was inconceivable in his processor. What was Ultra Magnus thinking? Well, he was thinking that it was either sacrifice a portion of the planet or sacrifice the entire universe. When one looked at it in that way the decision was actually quite easy. However, it was no less appealing as Autobots were charged with saving lives, not taking them.

Still, Wheeljack did as he was told while the construction drones, or construct-bots as he liked to call them, worked tirelessly to get the generators back online. Emergency power kept the ship going, but barely. Full power needed to be restored and soon. Otherwise, getting the transwarp emitters back online would be a futile effort. Yes, the warp drive could conceivably transport the ship maybe once utilizing back-up reserves, but if Magnus wanted to move part of a planet, well, that would require more than just emergency power. Although, it would make for a good excuse not to go through with Magnus’ idea, the mechanical engineer thought as he set the damaged warp coil to one side. You can’t very well teleport anything if the device charged with doing so doesn’t have enough power. Of course, that very notion would not go over well with the City Commander as there was really no reason for the generators to not eventually be repaired.

“Just a thought,” Wheeljack muttered aloud as he glanced down at the cracked coil next to him. He had previously tried to repair the crack using a soldering tool, but it had not worked out the way he thought it would. Placing the “fixed” coil back into the warp drive only succeeded in causing a brief overload that almost lead to an explosion. Thankfully, the engineer’s quick reflexes prevented a catastrophe, cutting emergency power before the situation was made even worse. There had been some smoke damage but nothing he wasn’t able to quickly clean up. No, a soldered-together warp coil was not going to work. He needed a brand new one, and he needed it last cycle.

A few astroseconds later, the doors to the warp chamber opened behind him as a construct-bot entered with the replacement part Wheeljack needed. “Well, it’s about time,” the mad scientist commented, looking back over his shoulder. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for at least three breems. Did you get lost?” The construct-bot replied with a series of beeps and gestures, shaking it’s cranial unit. “Sigh. Nevermind. Just give me the coil.” The drone complied and handed the part over to the engineer who quickly motioned for the bot to leave. “Get back to work on the generators. I need them repaired as soon as possible.” The construct-bot nodded and swiftly exited the chamber, returning to the main engine room.

Wheeljack returned his attention to the transwarp drive. He studied the new coil for a moment to ensure that it was in tip top condition. There didn’t appear to be any defects that would hamper its usefulness. Looks good to me, the mechanical engineer thought as he began to install the warp coil within the main drive. After half a breem, all of the connections had been made. With the access panel replaced and secured, the inventor stood to his full height and approached the nearby control console. He entered a series of commands and before he knew it the transwarp drive was powering up. Wheeljack studied the various readings on the monitor. Everything was coming back in the green. The transwarp drive, and thus the emitters, were fully functioning once more.

“I don’t know if I should celebrate or be worried,” Wheeljack said aloud, letting out a deep sigh of despair. The mechanical engineer then entered additional commands and the drive powered down again. There was no sense in wasting back-up power on the transwarp engine when it was not yet needed.

With his job here done, Wheeljack picked up his toolkit and exited the chamber, re-entering the main engine room where the construct-bots were busy repairing the four primary generators. Work was progressing nicely. In fact, two of the generators appeared to be almost fully restored. “Good work, everyone! Keep it up!” The mad scientist said as he made his way to a nearby workbench. Placing his toolkit down, Wheeljack opened a secured comm line to the planet below:

>>”Commander Magnus, this is Wheeljack. I have a status update for you here on the Ark-22. I have succeeded in repairing the transwarp drive. It is fully functional, and the emitters are at your disposal should you need them. As far as the generators are concerned, the construct-bots have been working diligently on them while I was busy with the warp core. 1 and 2 will be up and running within one cycle by my estimation. 3 and 4 not long afterwards.”>”Sir, I just want to say that I hope that using the warp emitters won’t be necessary to defeat the Fallen. However, if all other options have been exhausted, I can promise you that I will go through with your plan. Primus forgive me.”<<

Wheeljack then cut his comm line and opened his toolkit back up. After pulling out a couple of implements, the mechanical engineer walked over and joined the construct-bots at generator 1. The white mech wasn’t about to just stand around and watch a bunch of drones do all of the grunt work. Besides, he needed to keep his processor on something else. Not to mention his expertise could only serve to expedite the repair work and get the entire ship back online at full capacity all the sooner.

Personal Quarters

Solitude and energon. Mirage appreciated both. When they were of the highest quality, that was. Seated on the edge of his cot and sequestered away in his quarters, Mirage enjoyed a rare bout of privacy, which was lovely. It gave him a moment to think, to reflect on a few personal thoughts that coaxed a small smile out of him, despite his dreadful situation of being trapped on a vessel packed with Autobots he didn't really understand.

So things were going pleasantly enough.

However, the energon... Not so lovely. More like awful. The fool who deemed this foulness safe for consumption obviously had the palate of a starving Mecannibal.

As he ingested it, his features contorted, despising the energon that entered his internal systems. The faint smile resting on his lip components vanished, a sneer gradually replacing it.

It seemed things were not going pleasantly enough anymore. The liquid garbage had managed to wound the good humour he was in, and that slowly bled the satisfaction from him.

Oh well. Unless the war came to an end—that was a good joke—happiness would continue to dwell in the realm of myths, unobtainable until, well, the impossible happened. In Mirage's estimation, the war showed no evidence of ceasing yet, not now, not in foreseeable future. There went happiness.

He scowled, ruminating over the vorns he'd probably still be here, on this ship, fighting this war with the same Autobots he'd still have no idea about. Illogically, Mirage briefly wondered if he should've responded to Arcee's transmission and accepted the role in the assignment she had told him about.

“No.” The scowl deepened and he shook his cranial unit, his voice soft but tinged with condescension as he spoke to himself. “I highly doubt my talents were required for such a simple assignment. Let somebody else assume my position and get it over with.”

Mirage sipped his low-grade energon again, attempting not to sneer because refined individuals like him did not conduct themselves in such a barbaric way. No, he was better than that, above that.

So there he sat, comforted by the soothing silence.

And there he sat, his internal systems offended by the foulness filling them.

What else would this day bring?

Security Office

Nightmarish.

That was the only word that Red Alert could possibly think of as he frantically rewrote every security protocol and replaced them with new ones. New codes. New locks. New encryptions. Everything new. All of the old stuff had to be burned. Destroyed. This was. Disastrous. How did this even. Primus.

Red Alert was forced to stop for a split astrosecond and clutch at his chest as - not for the first time - his spark felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Another astrosecond and the panic had passed. Red Alert was back to work scrubbing the current security protocols and writing new ones.

Ridiculous. We're so compromised. Compromised on levels that I can't even begin to fathom. Hex and Hardhead were traitors! Hardhead! Traitor! Anyone could be! And that little debacle earlier with the unusual scent and Wheeljack and Smokescreen. The missing shuttle. The Dinobot's theft of the Ark-19! All of this happening at the same time. Couldn't be a coincidence. No. What if the Fallen's challenge was a TRICK?! THE REAL EVIL COULD BE TAKING PLACE RIGHT NOW! HERE! UNDER MY NOSE! By Vector Prime, not on my slagging watch.

Red Alert paused again as his spark felt like it was blowing a gasket and tried to calm himself.

Calm down, Red. Think about this calmly. Ok. The Dinobot's theft of the Ark-19...could have been a clever ruse to weaken their forces. After all. The Fallen is making a grand attack against the combined forces of the Autobots and the Decepticons. Only makes sense for him to try to weaken us...first...No. NO! Optimus and Megatron's disappearance, the theft of the Ark-19! It's all connected!

Alright. How do the missing shuttle and Wheeljack's and Smokescreen's suspicious activities add into the equation? The Fallen had influence over other Autobots...who really knew how far that extended?! Primus. More traitors in their midst. Everyone had to be screened. No one could be trusted.

Red Alert brought up the display of the battlefield on earth and scanned to see who was down there. Smokescreen had found his way down...but Wheeljack...was not down there. Of course not! He would be left here to tend to the ship's repairs. But if he was...a traitor then...Primus.

"It's a trap."

Red Alert could scarcely believe it, but an entity like the Fallen...what if this was a fail safe? Another way to ensure the destruction of their race?! Oh no. It was all coming together.

"IT'S A TRAP!"

Red Alert stopped his work - the rest of it could wait. They had a serious problem on their hands! The security director rushed out of his office and transformed as the door closed behind him. He peeled out toward Wheeljack's lab to begin his search. He may not find Wheeljack there, but he might at least find a lead.

Wheeljack's Lab

Screeching to a halt outside of the lab, Red Alert transformed back from his Lamborghini alternate mode and into his robot mode, punching the control to open the doors. They slid apart with a hiss as the exponentially increasingly paranoid security director stepped inside to see that - as he had expected - Wheeljack was nowhere to be found.

However!

Someone was indeed here. A femme. Likely another conspirator. Red Alert couldn't trust her. Couldn't trust anyone. Anyone could be a traitor! Corrupted by the Fallen's influence.

"You! Where is Wheeljack?!" Red Alert demanded. Not waiting for an answer, Red Alert drew out his particle beam rifle and pointed it squarely at Tracer's chest. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"

Engine Room

With the assistance of the multitude of Construct-bots on board the Ark-22, Wheeljack had managed to bring the first three generators back online to full operational status. With three down there was now only one left to go. His talents of inventing new technologies had a lot to be desired sometimes, leaving his lab in a shamble more often than not. However, one fact was undeniable, when it came to repairing pre-existing tech, the mechanical engineer was the best the Autobots had to offer. He could fix anything given the time and proper tools.

“Okay, just one more connection and...” Wheeljack muttered to himself as he thrust his upper body deeper into the bowels of Generator 4. “...there, I got it! Pull me out!” The inventor called back to the drone that was holding on to his legs. The Construct-bot let out a series of beeps, confirming that it understood the instructions, before it carefully pulled ‘Jack out of the tight confines of the engine block. The engineer was covered with grease and dirty energon, but that was par for the course when working within the guts of a ship’s turbine. The muck didn’t bother him, not like it would with Sunstreaker or even the Decepticon mechanic, Knockout. Instead, ‘Jack simply ignored his filthy appearance and went about his business.

Now that the last generator was repaired, it was time to activate it. Wheeljack pulled himself up to his feet and patted the Construct-bot who had assisted him on the cranium. The inventor then made his way to the generator’s control console and entered the appropriate activation codes. Within astroseconds, Gen-4 had revved to life filling the far corner of the chamber with a soft, bluish glow. “Excellent!” Wheeljack exclaimed as he clapped his hands together once while looking around at the Construct-bots in the room. “Excellent work, everyone! Power to the Ark-22 is fully restored. I couldn’t have done it without all of your help. Thank you!”

A series of beeps echoed throughout the chamber as the Construct-bots waved their appendages in the air and in some cases high-fived each other. Wheeljack chuckled, holding his hands up to his audio receptors to shield them for the deafening noise that filled the room. “Okay, guys, okay! You’re all dismissed. Go relax and get a recharge.” The drones then quieted down and nodded to the mechanical engineer before they began to leave the chamber in a single file line. “Construct-bots, gotta love ‘em. Heh.”

Wheeljack checked each of the generators power output one last time and found that everything was operating at optimal levels. Finally, things on board the Ark would get back to normal. Now, all that remained was for everyone currently fighting the Fallen down on the Earth’s surface to return alive and well. Hopefully, that would happen without the need to implement Ultra Magnus’ final solution, an option that would find a good chunk of the planet teleported into the nearest star. Speaking of the new Autobot leader, the inventor needed to provide him with an updated status report ASAP.

>>”Commander Magnus, this is Wheeljack. I have good news. All four of the Ark’s primary generators are fully restored and functioning at optimal levels. Power output to the entire ship is normal. How goes the battle down there, sir? You guys having any luck against the Fallen?”<<

The engineer left his comm line open for the eventual response as he grabbed a clean rag from his toolkit and began to wipe the grime off of his chassis. Wheeljack wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear an update from the battle as he likely knew what the answer to his query would be. Even though it was counterproductive, the inventor would sometimes rather receive no news than bad news especially if said bad news ultimately led to the deaths of a good portion of a planet’s indigenous population.

With the majority his framework cleaned off, Wheeljack tossed the now grease-covered rag into a trash receptacle as he picked up his toolkit and walked steadily towards the exit. Once he had squeezed by a couple of remaining Construct-bots who were still making their way through the doorway, the inventor entered the corridor and headed for his lab to check on Tracer. She had been left behind and alone while Smokescreen went down to partake in the battle against the Fallen. I hope she's doing okay, Wheeljack thought as he entered a turbo lift and ascended through the Ark-22.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Exiting the turbo lift, Wheeljack traversed the corridors leading to his laboratory. As the mechanical engineer rounded one last corner before his destination, he immediately noticed that something was amiss. Why is my door open? Wheeljack thought to himself as he slowed down his advance and cautiously approached his lab. Pressing his back against the wall next to the open doorway, the inventor could hear someone shouting inside, presumably at Tracer. At first, he couldn’t ascertain whose voice it was, forcing him to peak around the edge of the entranceway to see the mech for himself. Red?

Yes, it was none other than Red Alert, the ship’s security director and resident paranoid Autobot. Apparently, his overly suspicious nature had gotten the better of him once again and he was taking it out on poor Tracer. From what Wheeljack could overhear, Red was demanding to know the inventor’s current location, and he was doing so in a very belligerent manner against a femme whose mental stability was in serious question. This will not end well. She’s going to freak out! I’ve got to do something and fast!

Wasting no further time, Wheeljack carefully stepped out into view and crossed the threshold into his lab. “Hey, Red,” the engineer spoke in a friendly manner, placing his toolkit down on a workbench before raising his hands into the air to show that he was unarmed and not a threat. “I’m right here, buddy. What seems to be the problem?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Astroseconds ticked away like individual eternities for Red Alert as he waited not so patiently for Tracer to answer him. It felt like all of his circuits were firing all at once. He could practically feel his spark trying to burn out of his chest. Traitors. Spies. Fiends. So compromised. Fallen. Extinction. Have to stop.

“Hey, Red."

Red Alert whirled around suddenly with wide optics, his gun now pointed at Wheeljack. The engineer spoke in a calm, friendly manner, putting his toolbox down onto a workbench before raising his hands up. Red Alert’s optics darted from the toolbox to Wheeljack uncertainly.

“I’m right here, buddy. What seems to be the problem?"

“Step away from the toolbox,” Red Alert ordered, his voice barely holding steady. “Slowly.” Red Alert drew out an inhibitor claw that he carried on his person for just such an occasion. “No sudden moves…” Red Alert continued, his optics firmly locked on Wheeljack. Until he remembered Tracer. He whirled while keeping his gun pointed at Wheeljack to look at the femme. “EITHER OF YOU!”

Red Alert’s optics hastily darted back to Wheeljack now that he had his acute sense of hearing primed on the femme. “Wheeljack! Turn around and put your hands behind you where I can see them! If I don’t see them the entire time…I will shoot you. Walk backwards toward the sound of my voice slowly. I’m bringing you in for questioning.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack listened to Red Alert’s response to his query and quickly realized that the security director had allowed his extreme paranoia to overtake his logic circuits once again. It was times like these that the mechanical engineer wished Rung was not currently stationed on Garrus-9 as the psychiatrist's expertise with Red’s affliction would've come in handy right about now. Unfortunately, that was not the case and it was up to ‘Jack to try and reason with his disillusioned comrade.

“It’s just a toolkit, Red, nothing more,” Wheeljack replied as he moved away from the faux threat, keeping his hands up and visible the entire time. Red Alert’s assertion that the inventor be questioned wasn’t an issue for the engineer. What was an issue was the fact that the paranoid mech wanted to place an inhibitor claw on ‘Jack, which would limit his movements and prevent him from carrying out Ultra Magnus’ final solution if things went bad down planet side. While that would be a good reason why he couldn’t follow through with the Autobot leader’s plan, the universe was still at stake and the engineer couldn’t risk the sparks of all Cybertronians just for the sake of one delusional Autobot.

“I’m sorry, Red, but I’m afraid I can’t let you put that on me,” Wheeljack added, keeping his arms in the air. “If you want to ask me questions, that’s fine. However, I’m under strict orders from Ultra Magnus, himself. Thus, I cannot be restrained or inhibited from carrying them out. In case you aren’t aware, and I’m sure that you are, we’re in a life and death struggle against a demigod who wants to bring about the apocalypse. Magnus has tasked me with his final solution if things take a turn for the worse down on Earth. It’s a top secret assignment that I can’t allow to be compromised, not even by you. Everyone’s lives would be in jeopardy if I fail. Contact Magnus, yourself, if you want confirmation of what I’m saying.”

Wheeljack allowed his faceshield to slide away, revealing a friendly smile underneath. “Come on, Red, you know me. We’ve been friends for how many vorns? Do I really look like a threat to you? Does she? I mean, if I wanted to hurt you in any way I could’ve easily blasted you from behind the moment I had entered the lab, but I didn’t. If I'm such a threat do you think I would've wasted time helping to repair the Ark-22's generators? No, I would've left them to rust. Instead, they're fully operational and ship's power is now restored. Check their status and see for yourself.

"Red, your paranoia is getting the better of you again, and I can’t really blame you. With the Fallen having corrupted three of our own, I’ve been a little on edge, as well. But, we can’t allow ourselves to turn on each other. That’s what the Fallen wants. I mean, what would Rung say if he were here right now? Hmm? Think about it, Red. I’m not your enemy. The Fallen is and we need to work together in order to stop him.”

The mechanical engineer fell silent, hoping that his reasoning would somehow resonate within Red Alert’s cranial unit. It was a long shot even though everything Wheeljack had told him just now was true. Of course, that didn’t mean the security director would believe him and overcome his acute paranoia. Unfortunately, if things escalated any further, ‘Jack would have no choice but to do what was necessary in order to subdue his long time comrade and bring the situation under control.

Wheeljack's Lab

Red Alert twitched visibly when Wheeljack did not comply orders. It seemed like Wheeljack had some extreme aversion to the inhibitor claw. It was a sign of his guilt. The security director could not be fooled. What was he talking about though? Secret missions from Ultra Magnus...He didn't need Wheeljack lecturing him that the apocolypse was raining down on top of them. HE KNEW! He was the one trying to prevent any schemes or failsafes from triggering! He...he...

Growing a bit conflicted, Red Alert lowered his arms slightly as he looked down at the ground mulling it over in his mind. Confirmation...would a possessed Wheeljack suggest that? What if Ultra Magnus was possessed too?! What if he was the only one left...But...No. No, he couldn't be. But he couldn't very well trust anyone could he?

Red Alert's optics hastily darted back up to Wheeljack as the security director heard the engineer's faceshield slide away to reveal a smiling Wheeljack. The engineer was trying to reassure him. Could be that Wheeljack just wanted him to calm down...could also be that possession thing. He didn't know what to believe anymore. However, Red Alert did do as Wheeljack suggested and checked the status of the ship hastily, opening up a read-out on his forearm. Operational.

Red Alert looked back at Wheeljack and opened up a communication channel to Ultra Magnus. >>Ultra Magnus, this is Red Alert. As the Autobot's security director, I feel that I need to know the 'secret' mission that Wheeljack has been assigned. There was one assigned to him, correct?”<<

"Red, your paranoia is getting the better of you again, and I can’t really blame you. With the Fallen having corrupted three of our own, I’ve been a little on edge, as well. But, we can’t allow ourselves to turn on each other. That’s what the Fallen wants. I mean, what would Rung say if he were here right now? Hmm? Think about it, Red. I’m not your enemy. The Fallen is and we need to work together in order to stop him."

Red Alert held still for a long moment, contemplating. The Fallen would want them to turn on themselves. He would. It would be a lot easier. He'd have to expend less effort. Red Alert wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe Wheeljack....Wanted to talk to Rung...

…

Red Alert put his gun away and set the inhibitor claw back into its subspace storage. His shoulders hung low, defeated. The security director gestured for Wheeljack to put his hands down with a sad little wave of his hand. “I would still like to question you about a few things. What does your mission from Magnus entail exactly? We can move to a more secure location to discuss it if you like.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack breathed a sigh of relief when Red Alert appeared to calm down from his paranoid delusion and see reason. How long this would last was anyone’s guess, but the mechanical engineer would need to tread lightly from here on out to ensure that the security director did not have a relapse that could thereby jeopardize his top secret mission. Even though it was still a task that ‘Jack did not want to complete, he knew it would have to be done no matter the cost to the planet below. Primus forgive him for what the white mech may have to do.

“Of course, Red, ask away,” Wheeljack responded to Red Alert’s insistence on questioning him about a few things, including his mission that Magnus had given him. “Well, my assignment was given to me in the form of a top secret data slug that only I could access, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t know about it.”

The inventor paused for a moment as he motioned for Red Alert to follow him to far corner of the lab where Tracer could not overhear. Then he spoke to the security director in a quiet tone. “Ultra Magnus wanted me to mainly focus on repairing the transwarp drive, which I did before helping to bring the generators back online. Magnus has a last resort option by which I will activate the transwarp drive and basically teleport a chunk of the planet, with the Fallen on it, into the nearest star. This is only if all other options at trying to defeat the Fallen and rescue Hot Rod have failed. It’s not something I’m happy about, but if it’s the only way to save the universe then I’ll have no choice.”

Wheeljack paused to allow his words to sink in to Red Alert’s processor. He then let out a sigh before continuing. “Although, I do hope to direct the transwarp beam enough to isolate only Ayers Rock, itself, which will hopefully avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Of course, our Autobot comrades will need to retreat from the area before the transwarp can be activated, but there’s no guarantee that we might not lose some of them.”

The engineer’s attention was then drawn away to an internal communique from Prowl on the surface. A new set of orders were coming through that required Wheeljack to get to the bounce chamber at once. The inventor sent a non-verbal response back to the military strategist before returning his gaze to Red Alert. “Prowl just contacted me. I have new orders. I’ve got to get to the bounce chamber immediately. You’re more than welcome to come along if you want, Red.”

Wheeljack then opened a private comm line to the troubled femme who was still in the lab: >>”Tracer, you should probably follow us down to the bounce chamber, as well. I might need your assistance if Red decides to go off the deep end again. If you’re feeling up to it, of course.”<<

The white mech then cut his comm channel and headed out of his lab, entering the corridor beyond.

Bounce Chamber

Wheeljack had hurried through the corridors of the Ark-22, undoubtedly with Red Alert close on his heels. Hopefully, Tracer wouldn’t be too far behind as the mechanical engineer did not want to have to deal with a paranoid security director all by himself. Still, ‘Jack prayed to Primus that Red understood the importance of his mission, along with his new orders, and leave him be to do his job without much interference.

Entering the bounce chamber just over a breem after he had left his lab, Wheeljack quickly approached the control console and accessed the system with his security clearance codes. Immediately, the engineer set the sensors to Ayers Rock where the fiery anomalies that Prowl had mentioned were clear as day. “Fire tornadoes, huh? This Fallen is just full of tricks, isn’t he?” The inventor then tried to lock on to Ultra Magnus, the Autobot triplechangers, Jazz and Scoop, but found the endeavor to be increasingly difficult.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. Why can’t I lock on to them?” Wheeljack questioned out loud as a strange interference began clouding the sensors. Making the appropriate adjustments, ‘Jack quickly realized that some kind of intense sand storm had suddenly popped up and was making a bounce lock near impossible. “Dammit!” The mad scientist cursed as he opened another comm line down to the surface:

>>”Ultra Magnus, Prowl, this is Wheeljack. I’m having a problem locking on to the designated signatures. The sand storm, or whatever’s going on down there, is interfering with the bounce sensors. Ayers Rock appears to be in the eye of the storm, but you need to tell the others to get clear of the disturbance so that I may get a secured lock on them. Otherwise, I can't bounce anyone to the mountain. Do you read me? Magnus, Prowl, can you hear me?!”<<

Engine Room

With Wheeljack having finished up the last of the major and more necessary repair work on the generators, Perceptor decided to stay behind and continue running diagnostics and checking for any power fluctuations while the famed inventor room his leave back to his lab.

The scientist-turned-sniper looked up from his data pad and studied the information displayed at one of the access terminals while a construct-bot was fiddling with repairs to the structure of said terminal.

"Alright, everything seems good here. I take it you all are capable of finishing the patch work and cosmetic repairs?" The crimson and cyan Autobot asked to the peach-colored engineer.

"Yeah, we've got this place under control now Percy, thanks to Wheeljack and all. Don't worry we can handle it here!"

"Excellent!" Exclaimed Perceptor as he tucked his data pad under his shoulder joint for a semi-storage area, "I shall head back to the science labs and continued research then. Oh, and before we decide to begin moving the ship about, I'd like to reevaluate the status of our repair work on the engines. Determine if further calibrations are needed before we reignite the primary engines."

The engineer repairing the terminal gave the senior scientific officer a understanding nod while she continued to socket it some bolts to the terminal. Spinning on his heel, Perceptor exited the Engine Room and made his way back towards the Science labs he was stationed in before the '22 came under attack from the inside.