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“I can't believe this! Honestly, I can't. Surely a mech can recharge in peace—free from all loathsome intrusion. Wouldn't you say that's true, Silverbolt?”

While on one of his many journeys, Silverbolt has intercepted Blurr as he was manually transporting assorted weapons and ammunition to the Command Center. He informed the rapid-moving Autobot he was occupied with the task of locating those who had failed to receive earlier transmissions to specify their present positions. So far, Silverbolt's meticulous search had generated only a single discovery.

A wonderful outcome—taking into consideration the amount of Autobots that could reside in the Ark.

“Well, apparently it isn't. Of all the times to attack this place, why did it have to occur during my recharge? My optics are going to suffer greatly because of this.”

Or, possibly, a stroke of misfortune.

The sole Autobot Silverbolt had discovered was none other than Tracks. A narcissistic individual whose primary concerns comprised of his image. And hardly anything else. To say Tracks provided excellent competition to Sunstreaker's own egotism would have been a profound understatement.

He threw a vexed glance towards the Aerialbot. “Silverbolt, are you listening to me?”

Silverbolt sustained his progression with speed and determination, disregarding Tracks' demand. “Keep moving, Tracks. We have to reach the Command Center as soon as possible.”

The Command Center offered only a short distance now, but with Tracks accompanying him it might as well have been an eternity. The rest of their travels consisted of much of the same irritable dialogue produced by Tracks when Silverbolt had found him in a deep recharge in his personal quarters. He responded to none of it, however, focused on accomplishing his task.

Command Center

Tracks and Silverbolt entered the Command Center with accelerated motion; the moment to bounce up to the Guardian was drawing near. Having completed his task, Silverbolt was quietly pleased with himself. He always felt it to be rewarding to fulfil any sort of undertaking. He felt as if it validated his responsibilities.

He approached Ratchet and Bumblebee, his usual serious expression maintained on his face-plate. “After conducting a thorough search, I've recovered every Autobot I could find. I assume we are waiting for the Guardian now?”

Command Center

Ratchet continued to work steadily at the command console powering down no-essential systems, and encrypting files in case they could not get back to the Ark in a decent amount of time. He was finishing up on the personnel files when he heard Blurr.

“I don’t think so, Blurr. The Guardian is a pretty fast craft; it has to be.”

Incoming message from the Guardian:

>>”Roger that Ratchet, I’m movin’ the ship to a lower orbit above ya. That should help take care of any problems we might have bouncin’ you out of there.”<< Pause. >>”Ready when you are Ratchet. I’ve got Streetwise on stand by in the bounce chamber. Just give the word and we’ll get you up here. Just make sure everyone is getting repaired and is ok down their in the repair bay Jazz. I’ll let you know if I need ya for anything else.”<<

The CMO turned his head to look at the former racer, a broad smile etched on his faceplate.

“Told ya.”

Ratchet opened a channel to Ironhide and quickly sent out a confirmation and the go ahead to bounce everyone and the weaponry out of the Ark. Once the word was sent the medic looked over at the two new arrivals.

“Good, Silverbolt. We’ll get bounced out of here in a breem.”

Bounce Chamber

The remaining crew of the Ark-19 vanished in a bright light leaving the space craft vacant.


(OOC: go ahead and post on the Guardian)

Off the Shore of Lake Michigan

The shaft of light struck the ground in a deserted section of the lake shore. Once Ironhide had gotten over the slight disorientation of bouncing he began giving orders. “Alright bots, lets transform and get into the lake. The ship is in a deeper part of it so its gonna take a bit of drivin’ to get there.”

With the orders given Ironhide transformed, the armor plates he was hefting ending up in the back of his truck mode. With a quick rev of his engines the Autobt shot forward, diving into the lake with a dramatic splash and quickly sinking to the bottom. It was rough driving, fighting against both the water and the debris on the bottom, but nothing Ironhide couldn’t handle. He just hoped the rest of his team followed his lead as he tried to blaze a clear path.

Off the Shore of Lake Michigan

Jazz appeared with the rest of the repair team with a shaft of light and he immediately felt the disorientation of being Bounced.

"There's that fantastic unforgettable nausea..." Jazz said as he closed his eyes to calm his senses.

Ironhide had already transformed and gone off in the lake, leaving Jazz and the others standing there to go in themselves.

"Last one in's a rotten Cyber-Egg!" Jazz called out as he did a twirling Aerial maneuver over the water before transforming into his Porsche and splashing into the water.

It was still a rough ride to the bottom, but Jazz's maneuverability made it a much easier one than anticipated.

Off the Shore of Lake Michigan

Smokescreen emerged from the intense beam of light as it struck the shoreline and immediately stumbled forward a bit before his gyros recalibrated in order to adjust for the normal disorientation that accompanied travel of this kind. He stood near the rest of the repair team who were all feeling the same bounce effects, as well. Once it wore off, Smokey followed Ironhide onto the beach where the security mech gave out further instructions before converting to his truck mode and heading off into the lake. Jazz then followed, doing his usual aerial maneuver first before splashing into the water.

"Show off," the diversion expert said as he turned to look at the remaining 'Bots on the beach. "Well, see you guys down there." Smokescreen followed up his words by transforming into his 350Z rally car mode and then driving down the sandy embankment into Lake Michigan. After he was completed submerged, Smokey sunk to the bottom and followed closely behind Ironhide and Jazz, doing his best to maintain traction on the uneven bottom. The density of the water didn't help matters as the red and blue racer continued forward through the murky depths.

Shoreline Lake Michigan

"... and when they were done with the salvage operation, they received tell..." Ironfist's voice trailed off as the bounce effect wore off. His optics immediately polarized as the glare of the mid sun struck through a thicket of branches and leaves. He resisted the urge to cover his visor, primarily because he had seen worse, and secondarily he doubted that the great Roadbuster would do even acknowledge the irritation. So instead he carefully reposition himself to best be covered by the shade of the dense grove of trees surrounding their landing zone.

"Well... that was definately a more than unusual form of travel." His voice was low enough to keep the others unawares of his unease at that particular mode of travel... Ironfist wasn't exactly a fan of having every single bond of his atomic structure broken down to the basest of quarks and sub particles, then transfered through a tight beam of energy and reconstituted. Carefully as he watched the others take on their alt forms, Ironfist ran a self dianostic and molecular scan.

Satisfied that everything came down in one piece, the weapons engineer transformed into the all terran vehicle form he had chosen when the Guardian had entered the system some time back. Of course he had never really felt the need to test that particular form given that his assignments or his personal preferences kept him out of early stage infiltrations.

His engines reved with the purified hum of the energon powered core that sat at its center. The intake filters were brought online, removing the oxygen element from the overall combustion process. At least it was satisfactory.

Pushing his throttle down. Ironfist drove off the nearest point along the beach and descended down a relatively gentle incline until his entire chassis was submerged. His windshield was almost instantly sludged by the floating flotsom, perhaps a muck caked plastic transport carrier thing for the planet indigenous life forms. His sensors recorded the information and ran them through various comparisons and simply rejected his initial hypothesis. Instead it was a globule of industrial sludge.

"You would think these flesh creatures would take better care of their waterways." He resisted the urge to transform and begin swatting away the filth that floated at this shallow depth, and instead pressed forward until he hit the edge of the shelf that lead towards the deep.

He adjusted his tired tread to minimize the kick up of sediments in order to prevent those on the surface from getting at least some suspitious notion of what was going on down below, Ironfist pushed forward... falling in line behind Ironhide, Jazz and Smokescreen. "At least this isn't as bad as Omicron Perci 3. I remember the reports of the Wreckers first encounter on that turbulent world. Noxious gases floated in the atmosphere, the liquid seas were of methane and hydro carbon. All potent enough to eat through the strongest armor. And there they were..." To pass the time the weapon engineer proceeded to retell the tales of his most favorite of hobbies... outside of blowing things up or manufacturing new tools to accomplish the first.

Lake Michigan, Shore

Lore-lock landed and grumbled about the shift being rougher than his last bounce. But he decided to have fun with it, and after a quick scan to ensure that there were no natives near by, he ran toward the water. Jumping headlong into the surf and then taking up his Ferrari 559, mode; windows down. He did enough research to know that would be the best way to deal with things. He sank quickly, and effortlessly. Once on the bottom, he sealed off his passenger area, and evacuated the water. As he moved on the lake bed, he fell in line with Ironhide, Jazz and the rest.

At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

Ironhide wasn’t too surprised to hear Ironfist still rambling on about the Wreckers. The kid obviously hadn’t seen a whole lot of action himself. Sometimes these type of things seemed to happen with those younger bots. They start getting all excited about their ‘heroes’ and eager to prove themselves. Those bots usually ended up dead pretty quickly. Fortunately Ironfist seemed to be pretty smart, and you had to figure someone who designed weapons all the time knew how deadly war really was. He was still young and a little Wrecker crazy but Ironhide figured he had some sense in him.

“Just remember Ironfist, the humans ain’t exactly the most advanced race out there. There still pretty primitive by our standards, although they put most of their tech into weapons, so don’t go underestimatin’ ‘em.”

The Autobot convoy continued driving a bit further, Ironhide leading the way with the aid of the Ark’s locator beacon. Finally he pulled to a stop in front of the massive vessel, dirt and sand kicking up into the air from his tires. “Alright, here we are Bots. You know the plan. Get to scannin’ the ship. Ironfist, get the plates unloaded and we’ll start patchin’ up the nearest breech we find.”

Bottom of Lake Michigan

Ironfist shifted his gears to low as he allowed his tires to dig deep into a sediment rich sand bar, the remains of a probable impact site where the sea bed had been shoved aside. His breaks burbled under the intense pressure of the near zero fresh water as he came to a stop at the top of the sand bar peak. Below the convoy was a small trench that stretched several dozen meters north to south, and at its very end where Ironhide had diverted his direction, was the wounded Ark 19.

The engineer reverted to robot form and tucked his tool kit against one of his magnetic hooks that lined his left hip. He looked to either side of his position as the group leader came to a stop at the base of the once mighty vessel, and now apparent wreck. Carbon scores lined the outer hull, connecting large rents of the ship's skin. Large breaches were evident across the ship, as is organic corn had been superheated and popped... except the meat of the material had been plumes of grease, oil and concentrated smoke that had been difused by the vast fresh water sea. Blast craters were rare, probably because of the liquid subcurrents that lined the bottom of the lake or perhaps it was because of specialized clean up teams sent to erase all trace of their presence just in case. Of course the engineer doubted that a team had been dispatched given his current waterlog.

"Sir?" Ironfist's attention was immediately snapped back into focus as he stepped down the embankment and approached one of the massive engine bells. "I don't doubt their abilities technologically. From what I have researched upon arrival in this system, they have developed some interesting countermeasures that I would not mind having added to my personal collection... for research purposes."

Sand and silt wafted up from each foot step as he approached Ironhide's open hatch. Swiftly he unloaded the group commander. He set the large steel panels up against the hull and closed Ironhide's rear door. "The worst series of breaches are most likely on the dorsal region of vessel." Not really one to waste time when work was to be done, Ironfist grabbed one of the larger pieces of plate and slung it over his shoulder.

Pressing off the soft ground, Ironfist's reinforced hydraulics boosted his jump power by a multitude factors, propelling him up to the first level just mid range of the main engineer bell. Carefully crossing over a large divit, probably caused by falling matter from above, he made his way over to the first breach he had seen as he made his final approach to the downed vessel. Leaning the piece of metal patchwork against the solid portion of the hull, Ironfist drew his underwater modified cutting torch. "If we're going to have to patch this vessel, we may as well do a full clean and cut routine while we are at it." Giving an affirmative nod to Ironhide as Smokescreen, Jazz and Roulette went to work doing their own tasks, Ironfist began the tedious work of repair.

At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

Making his way across the bottom of the lake was a challenge, especially being behind Ironhide, the silt he sent up from his tires was getting in the way of his view. He turned on his headlights, helping his vision with the cloudy water. With the orders given, Jazz transformed and leaped to the side of the Ark-19 and he began to take his scans.

"Man, the Decepticreeps did a good job on crackin' the hull!" Jazz exclaimed as he looked at the crack in the side of the Ark.

At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

The red and blue rally car pulled up behind Ironhide as the security mech came to a halt near the base of the Ark-19. Immediately, Smokescreen could see several big cracks along the left side of the ship from where the seekers' missiles had hit their intended target. No scanning was really necessary for the larger breaches as they were going to be very visible to the naked optic. It was the smaller, less noticeable ones that needed exposure from something more than merely looking at the hull.

At Ironhide’s command, the diversion expert transformed into his robot mode and moved towards the Autobot vessel as quickly as the murky water would allow. Smokey had almost forgotten how hard it was to maneuver underwater, but he managed without too much trouble just as he had done on previous occasions. With Jazz already scanning the left side of the ship, Smokescreen made his way towards the rear of the vessel.

Once the diversion specialist had arrived at the dorsal section, he pulled out the small portable device he had been given and began scanning the engines to ensure they had not been damaged. Aside from a few minor stress cracks that could easily be sealed, the engines appeared to be intact. The red and blue racer then pointed his scanner towards the top of the Ark in an attempt to get additional readings from up above. Unfortunately, it was difficult to register anything from his position on the lake floor and he therefore knew what had to be done.

Attaching the scanner to his hip, Smokescreen leapt from the bottom and began swimming up the side of their underwater base. As he reached the top, the diversion expert grabbed a hold of the scan unit again and pointed it straight down at the top of the hull. There it detected one major breach near the aft section where another rocket had clearly made its impact as well as two other smaller fissures located further ahead. The Decepticons had hit the ship hard, but thankfully it was repairable. It would just take some time to accomplish the difficult task ahead.

Settling his feet down on top of the Ark-19, Smokescreen opened a comm line to Ironhide: >>”Sir, the scans I’ve run so far have shown some stress fractures around the engines but nothing too serious. The top of the vessel has a fairly large crack near the dorsal area with two smaller ones closer to the middle. I’m heading to the right side of the Ark now to continue my scanning.”<<

Smokescreen then switched off his comm and walked across the top towards the edge where he then jumped and allowed himself to slide down the right side of the ship. Once at the bottom, Smokey continued scanning for breaches along the hull, hoping that the starboard side had been spared the brunt of the attack.

At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

Ironhide transformed and nodded at Ironfist as he went to work. He knew it was a good idea bringing one of the tech types like him along. While he was sure they were all capable of doing the work it was nice to have someone who was really certified to do this type of thing professionally. It also meant that he was going to have to check up his work personally later on. His presence was definitely a stroke of good luck that he had been in desperate need of.

>>”Sounds good Ironfist, just keep patching as you see fit. I’ll head off to another section and get started.”<<

>>”Alright Smokescreen, I’m headin’ to the top of the vessel. Might as well and get the biggest cracks patched up first. The smaller ones can always wait if they have to, but make sure to catalog ‘em either way.”<<

The security mech scooped up an armful of the armor plates and began making his way to the top of the ship. It was an awkward process, Ironhide not being particularly buoyant or agile. He got to the top of the vessel through a combination of climbing, scrambling and jumping. Once there it didn’t take too long to find the sizeable crack Smokescreen had described. The old Autobot quickly went to work, first filling the crack in with some molten metal from his chemical emitters before welding the plates on top of it.

Bottom of Lake Michigan

Jazz pushed off from his position at one of the cracks and swam with ease further aft and landed with a skid on the hull. Jazz looked around at the seemingly endless darkness that seemed to consume the entirety of the vessel, and some fish swam away when he placed his foot on the Ark. He looked down to his scanner and waved it in the vicinity looking for signs of cracks in the hull. His scanner flickered for a second and came back with results, there was no signs of stress that was down here, only near the front of the vessel was where the cracks were. Suddenly, a long string of green fell from above and draped itself around his shoulder. Seaweed, naturally this deep there was no way any sort of plant life could grow, but this looked to have been cut, hmm, yes this was from a prop on a boat. Plants grow all the time in the harbors where the boats dock, especially in Lake Michigan. Jazz took it off of his shoulder and tossed it off to the side where is lay on the ground and a crab began to mess with the new material.

>>Ironhide, there are no cracks in the hull in the aft part, it looks like that the damage is frontal only! Good news, huh?<< Jazz said through a comm link to Ironhide.

Jazz did an underwater back flip and pushed off spinning, sending him soaring back to where Smokescreen was. Jazz landed, kicking up silt that lay on the top, obscuring vision.

"Oops," Jazz said, "My bad."

Shoreline-Lake Michigan

Skydive and Firelfight both rematerialize on the ground with unstable feet.

"You would think that they would have gotten that to be a bit more steady of a landing."

"Fireflight, be glad they have it or we would have troubles getting back down here. I wouldn't be too surprised if Wheeljack and Perceptor would take a look at it when they get a chance."

After they shook the remaining effects off, both transform into their jet modes.

"Skydive to Ironhide, Commander Prowl sent myself and Fireflight down here to give a surface presence and to make sure you and your team didn't get trapped down there by some Cons. We'll try to stay in the vicinity but not too close or we'll draw some human attention."

{ooc. real life sucks, and takes up too much time.]

Bottom of Lake Michigan

Lore-lock came to a gentle stop. "By the matrix, the old bird got the slag knocked outta her!" He declared, but he didn't waste time gawking. He made his way to one of the cargo doors, and let himself in.

>>"Ironhide, I'll get started on the interior repairs. I'll erect force shields at the hull breaches so we can at least get this ship watertight again. Then I'll start pumping out all this water. Lore-lock out."

Bottom of Lake Michigan - Outside Ark-19

>>”Understood.”<< Smokescreen responded to Ironhide over his comm line as he continued scanning the right side of the Ark. As he had hoped and expected there was far less damage to be found here. Only some minor surface cracks and weakened areas, but nothing more serious. The seekers’ attack had been mainly limited to the left side and front portion of the ship. Regardless, the diversion expert cataloged each breach no matter how minor before moving on to the next one.

As he plodded through the thick muck of the lake bed, Smokescreen was startled by the sudden appearance of Jazz, who had just performed one of his extravagant back flips. Landing in front of the red and blue racer, the white mech accidently kicked up some silt into Smokey’s faceplate and immediately acknowledged that it was his fault. “Yeah, I know it’s your bad, Jazz ol’ buddy,” the diversion specialist replied as he waved his hand in front of his optics to disperse the silt. “Instead of dancing around, how about you help me catalog some of these cracks in the hull for Ironhide? Maybe you can focus on the front left side of the Ark while I handle the front right? Sound good?”

Without waiting for Jazz to respond, Smokescreen made his way past the Earth-loving ‘Bot and continued his scanning and cataloging near the front of the ship. The cracks were becoming more numerous as he approached the forward sections, but they were still not as severe as the full-on breaches he had detected earlier on the opposite side and top of the Ark. Here some were just on the surface while others went a bit deeper. He opened a new comm line to Ironhide to give him a further update:

>>”Ironhide, I’ve continued my scans of the right side of the ship. There are numerous minor cracks and stressed areas, but nothing major to worry about. I am cataloging each as ordered. Once I’m done, would you like me to start sealing the less serious breaches, sir? I did bring a standard welding torch with me. It should be adequate to fix the smaller fissures.”<<

Lake Bottom

Ironfist dove down from the top of one of the larger wounds in the flank of the vessel. Slowly and deliberately he entered into a dramatic flip just before the sediment filled bottom of sand... kicking up a large billow of dust. He turned and allowed his optical filters to break through the clouds and readjust to the marker he had placed upon the hull surface. His internal computer began to run swift comparisons to the ship's current structural integrity as well as its current designs and modifications, and the original specifications of that particular Ship Classification. It had become apparent to him that overall the vessel had changed fairly little since being removed from drydock some time in eons past.

Within a subscreen located inside his optical visor, Ironfist began to recalibrate the design and play with potential modification points. Several of the ship's hard points had been damaged, but given the effect of repairs being made, such damage would be dealt with in time. His focus swiftly turned towards the bridge where the bulk of the heavy hard points were located. Warped weapon implacements or destroyed stubs of turret bases were exposed to the corrosive effects of the abrasive sands.

Flexing his fingers, the weapons engineer palmed a large pack of armor plates. He tucked them under his left arm. Pressing down to the sand, he pushed off with his powerful leg acuators. In a near instant he was landing just above the bridge with his renewed collection of replacement plates.

He had already managed to patch the damage above the engineering sections, damage wasn't as deep as he had initially estimated. The breaches were superficial, at least most of them were. One had been large enough to collapse a pair of the interior decks and weaken several interior bulkheads, repairs that could be made once the water was pumped out. From his own cursory scans and comparisons, the largest concentration of damage had been the bridge... which made sense given its importance and overall vulnerabilities. Weakened armor cover due to the forward viewer and the overall complexity of electronics that coursed through its veins. Though he did remember to tag the hard points for weapon placements and shield emitters which were used to compensate for those tactical lackings.

Taking that in mind, Ironfist set to work. He pressed a couple of commands on his wrist computer terminal and then pointed his hand towards the apex of the bridge. A few microns later several tons of water was forcibly pushed aside as subspace opened and spat forth a large free standing tripod. The next instant the spacial rift was sealed again leaving behind Ironfist's free standing weapons and equipment platform.

Placing the plates down in a neat pile, Ironfist pushed off towards his platform. Once there he grab hold of the targetting emitter of the device and began to fine tune the system to fit his purpose. First he activated the protocol to place the live ammunition into a storage clip leaving the firing mechanism to function as a laser. He then narrowed the focus of the emitter until it was a narrow cutting beam. Once satisfied with the modifications he programmed in the complex cutting patterns he desired. To remove the broken and warped metal hull fragments. Activating the programmed protocols, Ironfist pushed back and allowed the cutting torch to do its work.

As the platform cut through the hull to remove the broken and damaged components of the outer hull, Ironfist made his way over to one of the damaged weapon turrets. He knelt down and pulled off the electronics panel, allowing the burble of trapped gases and fuel to escape into the dilluting environment. His left arm retracted to reveal a multi tool as his right hand began to clear the damaged circuitry and wiring that had been fused or damaged. He carefully placed the damaged components upon the deck while the destroyed or useless ones he placed within an internal storage component for future recycling procedures.

Once he was finished clearing the turret of damage, he began to restore broken connections with new lengths of wire and ressurrected circuitry. He returned them to their proper compartments... removing outdated materials and components. Once the power supply was reconnected he closed the panel and returned his attention back to his own cutting platform. It had just deactivated, completing its preprogrammed cuts.

The engineer plugged in a diagnostic patch into the terminal into the turret data port and then proceeded back to the cut site. The edges of the freshly cut surfaces were clean and crisp as they cooled rapidly in the chilled water. The metal fragments fell into the interior, refuse for future cleaning duties. He proceeded to grab hold of his stack of plates and set them into the predetermined cut lines... after a few personal cutes of his own to each sheet. The added material was dropped into the interior pile for future recycling.

Carefully his left multitool retracted again and out emerged an adhesive gun. Swiftly he began to pour the powerful glue over the cuts and patches, sealing them in their new homes. Retracting the glue gun, Ironfist jumped back to his tripod to admire his work. Satsified that his region of the bridge had been repaired, Ironfist popped the communicator. "Ironhide," he began but then paused as the line crackled briefly before securing once more. As he adjusted his position the engineer peered into the abandoned bridge of the vessel through one of the observation ports. "I've got visual on the bridge. Appears the main bulkhead doors and hatches were shut during evacuation. If you're up for it we can start clearing out the command deck for occupation."

At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

Ironhide continued to patch the largest cracks in the top of the ship’s hull. While his work wasn’t as precise as Ironfist’s, he was capable of doing an adequate, workman like job of patching the vessel up. It would be enough to get her up and moving. He would save the more precise work and the job of making her look good for someone else. The old bot didn’t have the time, skill or precision to worry about that.

As he kept working he began fielding the seemingly endless calls that came in from his team.

>>”That is good news Jazz, but keep scanning. Even if we don’t need to fix everything now I still want all the damaged catalogued for future repair teams.”<<

Ironhide sighed in annoyance as he got the signal from the Aerialbot. Seemed like Prowl thought they needed an escort. He tried not to take offense, but it seemed like the flyboys were just liable to draw more attention to them then anything else. >>”Alright Skydive, just do your best to keep a low profile. Not sure how many aircraft buzz around this area and don’t want to give the humans any suspicions.”<<

The Autobot was a bit annoyed at Lore-lock’s sudden initiative. He wanted all of the major breaches sealed before they started working on the inside. It would be easier to pump out the water when it was sealed up and out of the water. He didn’t feel like arguing and so he let the other Autobot go about his business.

He nodded to himself as he got the message from Smokescreen. >>”Go ahead and do that Smokey, but don’t worry about getting every single one. I want this baby flight worthy as soon as possible. The little stuff can mostly wait until later.”<<

Ironhide had just finished up patching the major tears on the top of the hull when he got the signal from Ironfist. >>”Sounds good Ironfist. I think we’ve got most of the major breeches. Lore-lock is already on his way inside. If you want to meet up with him and start clearing the water out of the bridge that would be great. Once we can get her moving we’ll get her out of the water and dump out what’s left before moving her to a new location.”<<

Bottom of Lake Michigan

>>”No problem, Ironhide. I’ll just focus on the larger cracks for now.”<< Smokescreen commed back to his unit commander before turning his attention back to his portable scanner. With everything on the right side of the Ark-19 marked and catalogued as ordered, the diversion expert placed the device away into subspace storage and then pulled out a small welding torch. He quickly ignited the flame and drew closer to the hull of the huge Autobot vessel. He placed his free hand against the side of the ship in order to brace himself and then brought the intense beam of heat and light into contact with one of the bigger cracks near where he stood. Smokey slowly and methodically moved the torch across the fissure to ensure a proper seal. He wasn’t about to do a rush job and risk opening the crack up to a full blown breach. Patience was a virtue in cases such as this.

As he worked Smokescreen’s processor wandered as he thought about the multitude of things that had been weighing heavily on him over the past several cycles. The loss of Prime, who would lead them now and, of course, the Decepticons’ next move were all concerns that Smokey shared with his Autobot comrades. He tried to not let it all get to him, but it was still difficult to place feelings aside with so much at stake. However, there was one thing that worried the street racer more than anything else at the moment, and the source of that anxiety was Hex.

The young mech was clearly not right in the cranial unit. From everything Smokescreen had seen him do to Drag Strip during the previous battle, it was clear that Hex was unstable. The fact that he had been tortured by Darkride, as well, had brought everything into focus, but it still didn't make Smokey feel any better. He had out right punched Hex in the face plate, which was not a smart thing to do against someone with more than a few screws loose. It had been an uncharacteristic action for the red and blue racer to take, but it was one born from emotion and not logic or even common sense. Logic was something Prowl excelled at, but common sense was something that Smokey usually exhibited. Unfortunately, all sense of control had left him in a brief instant and now he may end up paying a dire price for it. If the severed optic was any indication, Hex was not going to forget about what had happened between them. The ‘gift’ had been a carefully concealed threat, and the diversion expert now had to watch his back for at least the foreseeable future. Hopefully, it would all blow over, but in the meantime he had to keep his guard up.

Like I don’t have enough to worry about, Smokescreen thought as he finished the first weld and then moved on to another crack closer to the front of the Ark. At least Axle knows about what happened. Maybe he’ll talk some sense into that crazy ward of his. Or perhaps Hex's apparent new friendship with Bumblebee will help to stabilize him some. I can hope, anyway. The rally bot’s torch lit up again as it was brought in touch with the next hull laceration. He kept his concentration on the task at hand, knowing that Hex was not amongst the mechs on this particular mission, and thus he really had nothing to be concerned about at the present time. Eventually, however, he would encounter the young Autobot again, whether it be within the corridors of their base or fighting alongside him on the battlefield. Either way, it was something Smokey was not looking forward to. It wasn’t that he was necessarily scared as the diversion specialist’s courage was unquestionable, especially when it came to fighting ‘Cons. However, this situation was all together different. Having seen the extreme, uncontrollable bursts of rage that Hex was capable of unleashing, the red and blue racer was more than a bit apprehensive about being close to him again. Unfortunately, it was something that was going to be unavoidable as they were technically on the same side and couldn’t stay out of each other’s way forever.

Just forget about him. He’s really not worth it, Smokescreen convinced himself, finally putting Hex out of his processor just as he finished with the second weld. Happy with his work, the diversion expert then kicked off from the lake bottom and swam up the side of the Ark to where another decent sized crack was located. Stopping his ascent with his free arm, he held on to the side of the ship as his torch went to work on sealing the third fissure.

OoC: Hey guys! I'm back!

[At the Bottom of Lake Michigan

Jazz lifted up his foot and looked at the muck that has stuck to it, he sighed and put his foot down, gently this time. Ironhide then responded to his signal, he didn't sound like he took that for great news, judging from his lack of enthusiasm, but he's Ironhide, what're you going to do?

"Thanks Smokey, I'll do so!" Jazz said with a smile, "I got nothin' from the 'Peanut Gallery' over there, maybe he needs to be drunk to have a good time!"

Jazz nudged Smokescreen in the shoulder and laughed, he then pulled out his scanner and began to catalog some cracks. There were some places where fish had taken roost and Jazz had to scare them off, however he was loathe to do so and he just waved his hand in a harmless way, causing the fish to swim off and away.

Jazz hummed a tune from the '80s and scanned some more near the front of the vessel. He stopped humming at a sight of an Auto-Turret that looked as if it was still activated.

>>Say, Ironhide, are the functions of Auto-Turrets still activated? That might prove a drain on power in the Ark.<< Jazz radioed Ironhide while still keeping his optics trained at the Turret.

Ark-19 - Bridge

Ironfist covered his face as a burble of oil laced gases emerged from the gaping hole in the side of the vessel as he pulled the airlock hatch open. His sensors immediately painted the problems and cataloged them in order of priority... none of them reaching the level of critical survival of the ship thus he relegated them to the cosmetic files. The technician pulled the airlock doors closed and secured the seals, using the chemical sealants he had brought from the Guardian. Once satisfied, he tugged on the door to ensure it was fastened securely before immediately dropping down the tilted cooridor to the main flooded hallway.

It took him a few moments before he reached the damaged threshold to the bridge. He peered inside to absorb how smashed many of the controls, fixtures and gages had been. Flicking open his hip tool kit, Ironfist pulled out a pair of wire cutters, underwater plasma wielders and of course small durotronic power packs.

The first console the engineer targeted was that of the emergency engineering terminal. He pulled off the broken cover and set it on the pile that had once been the tactical display. Driving his fist into the broken terminal, he wrapped is fingers around a thick bundle of fused wiring. A grunt and a groan, the engineer tore the bundle from the cracked box and flung it over his head. He then turned to another broken terminal, what had once been that of the the auto guns control, and removed wiring of equal lengths and make. He stripped them down and connected them back to the emergency engineering control console.

Again the wire cutters came out as he tore through damaged circuitry and wires. He pulled out damaged components and cannibalized the two weapon control stations. Soon he was satisfied with his makeshift terminal, and he attached his small power pack to the system to complete the circuit. "Let there be light." He spoke to the empty bridge as he replaced the patchwork control panel back upon the console surface and flipped the power switch.

Emergency lights across the bridge flickered and struggled to life. The alert klaxon's immediately burbled to life warning the ghosts of incoming bombardment that had already come and gone. He cut the power to those sections, as well as the power to navigation, helm and general weapons.

Pushing off from the restored terminal, he ordered an immediate scan of the interior... and frowned disappointedly under his face mask. Power was insufficient, and the main reactor needed to be restored. It just meant his work was not quite complete. He turned his attention to helm control and began rerouting commands through to the emergency engineering console, turning it into an all purpose utility station.

Confident that the connections between helm and engineering terminals were complete and secured, Ironfist pressed his communique badge on his wrist. "Ironfist to all Autobot Repair Party. I have restored minimal battery power to bridge controls. Rerouting that power to thrusters won't take much time. Unfortunately control isn't as percise as I would like. I recommend you all get inside. Once connections are remade, we may be on our way up to the great beyond."

He left the link open as he abandoned the bridge and made his way down through the jefferies tubes to the engineering deck. His optics narrowed at the gutted region of the engineering core. Few terminals remained standing, the bulk of the batteries and engine connections were reduced to frozen slag under the intense pressure of the lake bottom. A shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulder, Ironfist spun around his hyperspanner and multitool in each of his hands.

This was going to take a few moments longer than he had initially antisipated. But at least the others would have time to get the bellows and the inertial dampeners back online. All he needed to do was to restore the backup generator and rig the thrusters for the emergency lift off procedures.

Message from Prowl:

>>”Ironhide, we have a possible Decepticon attack in the nation of Iran. High activity and energy discharges have been detected. Drop what you are doing and return to the Guardian immediately. I have already chosen your team and they will rendezvous with you in the bounce chamber. I’m sending you all of the data we currently have of the region along with the appropriate coordinates for orbital bounce. Primus-speed, old friend.”<<

Bottom of Lake Michigan

Smokescreen had just finished welding a fifth crack on top of the Ark when he received Ironfist's transmission from within the ship, itself. Minimal power had been successfully restored to bridge controls and hopefully thruster power would soon follow. The Wrecker-obsessed Autobot then suggested that everyone get inside and be prepared for possible take-off. While the diversion expert thought it was a bit too soon to be thinking about moving the ship considering there was still much to be done to ensure the vessel didn’t just fall a part at the seams while in flight, it certainly didn’t hurt anything to be optimistic. Of course, there was also the question as to where to move the Autobots’ Earth-bound headquarters. That decision rested with Ironhide and Prowl and until that was determined the Ark-19 wouldn’t be going anywhere.

>>”Copy that, Ironfist. I’m on my way inside now.”<< Smokescreen commed back to the weapons engineer before extinguishing his torch and placing it away into subspace. The red and blue racer had done all that he could along the Ark's hull by his estimation, having sealed all of the minor cracks while cataloging other more serious ones. Smokey then carefully climbed down the side of the ship until he reached the external hatch. Using every ounce of strength he could muster, the rallybot pulled the airlock doors open and quickly swam into the Autobot vessel. Once inside, he sealed the doors shut behind him and allowed the water to drain form the tiny space before opening the inner hatch and entering into the already partially flooded hallways. He then opened another comm link to his team leader to give an update:

>>"Ironhide, I'm currently inside the Ark. I've done all I could outside, so I'm going to make my way to the bridge and see if I can direct power to and activate the automated internal pumps in order to get some of the water out of the areas where the hull breaches have been repaired. Not sure if there will be enough power to do so, but I'm going to try. If I'm not successful, I may have to resort to using smaller, portable pumps from storage, which would take longer. Regardless, I'll be sure to update you accordingly."<< Smokescreen switched off his comm as he began to trudge down the corridor through the knee-high water, heading for the command deck.

[ooc: Sorry guys, school is taking up a good chunk of my thoughts. However, you should see improvement in my writing, as frequency declines.]

Inside Ark 19

Lore-lock worked his way through the corridors, scanning as he went. His first concern was to actually verify the integrity of the energon that had rather recently been stowed in one of the cargo bays. He let a sigh of relief when he laid optics on the many glowing cubes of pure energon. The scout knew that this vital stuff would be needed badly in the coming kilks. With a few cubes on a push cart the mech made his way toward engineering.

Corridors

As Lore-lock wound his way through the labyrinthine network of passageways, half lost he wandered into the bride and Ironfist.

"I know this isn't engineering. However, I think this old bird might benefit from a cube of the good stuff to help dry her circuits out." The scout stated in a flat tone. "Don't you think it would make more sense to activate the shield generator, to help maintaining internal pressure before pumping out the water?" He added with a little more excitement in his voice.

Ark-19: Main Engineering Deck

The murk began to bubble from the open hatch of the reserve power generator turbine. Lubricants and synthetic oils slowly burbled up in a swath of darkness from the damaged machinery. Ironfist shunted power from his internal weapon systems to his chest lamps and flooded the area with crimson light. "Scrap." He commented to no one in particular as he waved his hand to at least attempt to dilute the cloud of muck that lingered in the vicinity.

He dove his head and arms deep into the bowels of the generator, the crimson light fading and eventually disappearing into the confines of the cylindrical squat box located at the far end of the bridge near the primary fusion generator. Every so often a closed fist would emerge from the top of the bin and open shaking out bits of broken circuitry and charred wire. It would then disappear back into the incased sea of crimson and muttered curses.

Then Lore-Lock appeared at the edge of the bay. His voice caused Ironfist to jump, figuratively, and bang his head on the top of the hatch plate. The engineer rubbed the top of his helm as he pulled himself back to standing, barely noticing the cloud of soot that encompassed the entire bay due to his work. "The shield generator?" He muttered to himself as he scanned the room.

He had thought of it before he began working on the reserve power generation matrix, but had disregarded it as a secondary objective. Without power, shields were a nice frilly option for a carsales mechanism. Of course there was no real gaurantee that with the power plant repaired, it would be able to generate enough power to run both the shields and the emergency lift off rockets at the same time. Of course by his calculations, it was exceedingly likely that they would only have one system aside from structural integrity fields. Shields, Engines or pumps.

His optics finally finished their scan of the crimson flooded chamber, on a small cylinder that was plugged into the primary warp engine matrix. "I doubt we even have that option."

Ironfist dove back into the reserve power generator, taking the crimson lamps with him, leaving Lore-Lock in the dark once again. "Shield generator needs to be replaced." His thumb jerked out to indicate the damage had left a gaping hole in the side of the cannister. Cooled materials remained from the formerly molten bulkhead that had dripped down onto the cylinder, breaking the casing and damaging the interior. Without even giving it a secondary look, Ironfist could determine that the damage was irrepairable... add to that, it would need to be cut free from that mess in order to have a new one installed.

"I bet you this. If the Ultra Magnus or even Springer were hear, this vessel wouldn't even be in the condition its in now."

His fist retracted to reveal his multi-tool. He began snapping good wires and pulling out the damage wings to the power turbine. Bent or soddered into place, it was all in all a mess. With a grumble about how lucky his friends, well maybe loose collection of individuals he had gotten to know, were out on the frontlines... while he was stuck here repairing a bulk cruiser. "Lore-Lock," he finally broke his silence as he pulled himself deeper into the terminal. "If you can bring me that rotating stool, I would be most appreciative."