The Energon Pub

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Smokescreen twitched slightly at the feeling of the suppressor being attached to his back. It stung a bit, but not too much. It was odd that he felt anything but perhaps Wheeljack’s invention was a bit clunky as it probably hasn’t been utilized in a long while if at all. Just as long as it works, Smokey thought as he felt Tracer’s chevron against his upper back area just above the satchel and then her hand run down onto his back strut. Her whispered words hit him hard.

“You’re not weak, Tracer,” the rallybot tried to assure her as he turned around to face the drug-addicted femme. “You’re just sick, that’s all. And there no need to apologize. You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to do this. It’s what dear friends do, they help one another.” Smokey smiled at her again, a warm and comforting one. He embraced her and gave her a gentle kiss on her chevron.

“We should probably get going. We’ve only got about 2 cycles left to get you to your dealer and the Dinobots were already moving towards the Ark-19 when I passed them in the corridors. Their plan is to steal it, for what reason I don’t know and I don’t really care at this point. Grimlock’s just being his usual stubborn and insubordinate self, I suppose, wanting to do things his way. And that’s fine for us. Between the Dinobots and the cloaking device in my satchel, we should have no problem getting down to the surface in the shuttle.”

Smokescreen finished speaking and pulled back from Tracer, rubbing both of her shoulders in order to keep her calm. He then looked down and tightened the straps on his backpack before returning his gaze to an obviously nervous femme. “Time to go. Grab whatever you need and follow me. Lean on me if you need to.” The red and blue racer said as he moved away from her and towards the door where he waited for Tracer to join him.

Medical Bay

Hardhead watched as Sprints and Ratchet to wrestle with Hex, the young mech exhibiting incredible strength as he let out a energon-curdling scream before buckling in lower body up off the floor and knocking the CMO off of him. The war veteran balled up his his free hand into a tight fist with the intention of punching Hex square in his faceplate in order to knock him out. Hardhead paused his swing when Rodimus moved in and and straddled the silver Autobot, grabbing his head and twisting it to the right. The motion exposed an energon line which First Aid quickly took advantage of and finally injected the sedative.

Within a few astroseconds, Hex had calmed down and grown still, allowing Hardhead to release his hold on him and stand back up. The green soldier ignored the small Autobot’s demand to see the field medic, Axle, and looked over at Rodimus, giving him a nod of approval. “Nice job. You showed initiative and took control of the situation. I like that.” Hardhead then walked around the now subdued Hex and stood beside the flame-covered mech. “I’m curious, you said before that your name is Rodimus, but you look and sound a bit like the cavalier Hot Rod, only your appearance is changed. Are you one and the same or are you related to him somehow?”

Medical Bay

It took a while for the CMO to get to his feet. Ratchet raised one hand to his face, a cracked cheek plate and a considerable amount of energon, nothing that can’t be fixed. As he finally stood back up to his full height he ran his hand over his nose, a light stream of energon dripping from there as well.

“Frag. That’s gonna leave a scar,” the medic grumbled.

Ratchet took a look down at the now sedated Hex and shook his head. It seemed that the youngling was not doing as well as he thought. The outburst, however, was something Ratchet hadn’t expected. It only proved that there was some kind of glitch affecting his processor.

Letting out a heavy sigh Ratchet bent down and began to scoop up the young mech, but he was quickly stopped by Rodimus, or was it Hot Rod, Ratchet still wasn’t sure. Needless to say, the red and orange mech placed a gentle hand on the medic’s forearm causing him to pause.

“It’s alright, Ratchet, I’ve got him.”

A small smile grew on Rodimus’ face as he slipped his arms under Hex and carefully lifted his weakened, limp, form and cradled him close. He looked back to Ratchet.

“He said he wanted to see Axle, perhaps he can be placed on one of the berths here in the surgery suite.”

The CMO was about to deny the request but the intense look from Rodimus caused him to quickly change his mind. The smile grew on the larger mech’s face, but he was stopped quickly when Hardhead gave him a nod of approval and followed it up with a vocal compliment and a question.

Rodimus motioned for the green warrior to follow him to an available berth while he obliged him with an answer to his query.

“Actually, Hardhead,” Rodimus paused but only long enough to place Hex down on the nearest berth to Axle’s

“…we are one in the same. So in a way, I suppose I am related to him.”

Ratchet made his way right behind Hot Rod and Hardhead. The two seemed to be involved in some kind of discussion, but he needed them out. Clearing his vocalizer Ratchet caught the attention of the flamed covered mech.

“I apologize, Ratchet. We’ll leave you to finish up with Axle.”

Before he turned to leave, Rodimus placed a hand on Hex’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I think, Hardhead, we should take our conversation back out into the med bay proper.”

Once Rodimus and the warrior had exited the suite, First Aid headed back to the center of the suite, albeit, tentatively.

“Are you alright, Aid?”

The doctor nodded as he walked past the berth Hex was now resting on.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you know what caused him to lash out at me?”

Ratchet stepped in close to the groggy youngling and just stared for a moment before he finally offered his assessment.

“I wish I knew. Did he say anything before he attacked you?”

First Aid went back to Axle’s side as he gave the question some thought. He didn’t feel it was necessary to stop the repairs due to an inconvenient outburst.

“The only thing he said to me was ‘You fragger. I’ll kill you.’ It was almost like he thought, or saw, I was someone else.”

Ratchet rubbed his chin as he gave what the doctor had said some thought. Without responding to First Aid, the CMO bent down and stared into Hex’s dim optics.

“Who did you see?” His question was but a mere whisper as he did not expect an answer.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Tracer looked up as Smokescreen turned to face her. He tried to reassure her that she was not weak and was simply sick. Sick enough to need the help of someone else. The scout’s thoughts returned to the time she was a patient in the asylum. The psychiatrist assigned to her tried to convince her of the same thing; that she needed to confide in him and her physicians. Rung had always been kind to her. He tried his best to help, but it was the physicians who kept her the way she was. She dared not mention it to Rung, and she certainly would not say anything about it to Smokescreen.

At his stern statement that he wanted to help her, Tracer lifted her head to look him directly in the optics. She knew, she had always known, that he would do everything in his power to help her, and if that meant discharge from the Autobot ranks, so be it. The thought only made her feel guiltier for involving him in her own mess.

She had just opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t want him to jeopardize his future for her when he smiled down at her and brought her in closer for an embrace. She offlined her optics at the feel of the kiss he placed on her chevron. At that moment all of her fears and doubts simply melted away, leaving her with a sense of calm. He had always been there for her when she needed him the most and now was no different.

He kept her in his arms for a while longer as he explained just what would be happening in the coming breems. The diversion expert had found out just what Grimlock was planning on doing. The Dinobots’ actions would thoroughly cover their plans, it was almost fool proof. But she still had a lingering dread in the back of her processor. Something was going to go wrong.

Her thoughts were soon brought back to Smokescreen when he pulled away from her and gently rubbed her shoulders. After a moment he finally announced that they needed to leave if they were going to make it on time. She nodded and moved back to her desk where she removed a small handheld data slug and stored it away in a storage compartment. From there she moved to the door. She stopped in front of him, giving the diversion expert a small smile, but it faded just as quickly as it came.

“Razr. Come on. We have to go.”

From beneath the desk the turbofox got to his feet and padded up to the two Cybertronians.

“I can’t leave him here alone.”

With that Tracer stepped through the door followed closely by her two dearest friends.

Corridors

Sludge followed as Snarl led the way- he was glad he had a smarter bot to show him where to go, so long as it was another strong, tough Dinobot, and not one of those puny little know-it-alls like Prowl. As the two made the corner, Sludge watched as Smokescreen literally ran into the desert warrior, getting knocked down to the floor. The large jungle warrior couldn't help but chuckle as the little weakling apologized and ran around the two larger mechs.

"Dumb little Autobot.", Sludge replied to Snarl with a laugh, "We show him!"

With Smokescreen out of the way, the two Dinobots continued down the hall, with Snarl still leading the way. As they walked Sludge noticed some windows every so often along the walls. He slowed his pace as he became more and more distracted by the view outside the ship, falling behind Snarl more and more until eventually he came to a stop.

With Snarl no longer in Sludge's sight, he took a nice long look at the scenery outside, the planet Earth. Gazing at the planet's beauty, a part of the large mech that had been hidden for a long time started to come out.

"Pretty.", Sludge said to himself in awe.

Despite having spent so much time in the Sol system, Sludge had never really gotten a good view of Earth, probably because he was more focused on Grimlock's orders and all the Decepticons he would stomp under his feet. He had enjoyed just looking at pretty pictures and scenery like this long ago, before the war. He never told this to any of the other Dinobots, never even gave any hint that this was something he once enjoyed long before he became an instrument of massive destruction. Only in these rare moments when he was alone could the gentle giant of a mech deep inside him come out, and appreciate the simple pleasures he once enjoyed.

The moment was over all too quickly, as Sludge heard Snarl call for him.

"Huh?", Sludge was startled, as if woken from a dream.

He didn't want to upset the other Dinobots by being late, especially Grimlock. Sludge began running toward where he heard Snarl's voice from, tromping and stomping through the halls.


--------------------

Med Bay

Warpath listened to Dustspark's small talk as the old medic worked his magic on the warrior's chest. To be honest Warpath preferred talking about battles and action, and his superior marksmanship with his cannon. Still, it was better than silence.

"BLAMO, Groove's just tryin' to calm things down between those two.", the warrior remarked, "You ask me, they should ZAM, just let Slingshot and Blades fight it out and get it over with. Let the two bots POW settle things out and blow off some steam."

As Dustspark continued, Warpath looked over at the tall, flamed mech that was being mentioned.

"Rodimus? ZOWEY, looks like that punk Hot Rod went and got taller. How the slag did he ZOOM do that?"

It was then that Hex began attacking the medical staff. As much as Warpath wanted to get in there and help, he couldn't just get up while he was being treated. It didn't seem to matter anyway, as several faster bots had already made their way to help. Warpath just sat there and watched as Dustspark continued his work.

---------------

As all hell broke loose in the surgical suite, Saferoute could do nothing but stand there as everyone else acted. It wasn't like there was much she could do anyway. With her bulky size and slow movement she would have been in more the way then helpful.

The ordeal reminded her of some of the animals she used to take care of. The ones that were the most hurt and the most scared, they were the ones who would lash out out of instinct without really knowing what was happening. It was another shameful reminder to her about just how vulnerable her own kind could be.

That poor, poor bot....

---------------

Groove waited for a reply from Slingshot or Silverbolt, hoping for some sense of understanding. The Aerialbots and Protectobots may not have been the closest teams, but Groove preferred to keep relations between them on good terms anyway.

It was then that Streetwise entered the room, asking what was happening. Although Groove wasn't as close to the interceptor as he was to First Aid, he was certainly on much better terms than with Blades. Groove had no real desire to describe the series of events that had happened in Kansas, but he would certainly answere the fellow Protectobot as best he could.

"Oh, it was just a horrible mess down there, Streetwise.", the scout reluctantly answered, "The Decepticons had already killed so many humans and had taken hostages. Axle tried to get Motormaster to release them, and he got his chest ripped open for his troubles. First Aid has been working on the poor mech for the past few breems and-"

It was then that Groove heard the commotion from the surgical suite- Hex had apparently attacked First Aid. Things happened so fast as several bots came to try to subdue the crazed young bot. Groove sighed and shook his head and the whole ordeal, there were already so many bots that one more would just complicate things.

"In a war like this there are scars that can't be seen, and wounds that even a medic can't heal.", Groove sadly said.

----------------

Docking Ring to Ark-19

Sludge's stomps echoed throughout the corridors as he hurried toward Snarl, his steps occasionally leaving imprints in the flood. Luckily for the slow witted Dinobot it had been mostly a straight line to get to the docking ring. As he caught sight of the desert warrior, Sludge began to slow down to a walk as best he could, just barely able to keep from tripping over himself. Before long he was standing next to his fellow Dinobot.

"Me Sludge not get lost. Me Sludge....... um......", Sludge scratched his head as he thought long and hard to come up with some excuse. He couldn't let any of them know that he lost track of Snarl because he was enjoying the view of Earth. That was something one of those weak little Autobots would do.

Infirmary

Slingshot spun around as Blades continued to rib him on. His fists tightened and balled as he was pushed close to his own personal breaking point. How much did he have to tolerate before not even Silverbolt would be able to hold him back. The sharpshooter knew full well that he was not the strongest of the Aerialbots, nor was he the fastest. Heck he knew he could even accurately claim he was the bravest. No matter how it shaped up, he felt as if he was the weakest link in the entire Autobot ranks.

But he sure as slag didn't have to let other slag sucking con lovers like Blades repeat his own uncertainties. And he sure as scrap didn't need ole Silverbolt to keep him from beating the lubricants out of the street fighter. Not like Blades could use some of those mysterious organic moves like Haddoken or that Sonic Boom thingy. Organics were strange things.

Finally his tolerance was surpassed. Blades pushed too far. "Alright ya damn loud mouth arrogant exhaust port. That's IT." He pushed passed the Aerialbot commander, regulations or consequences be damned, he was going to put that slow copter into stasis, even if it killed him.

He pushed forward and was almost tackled by Groove, one of the Protectobot Pacifists. Slingshot had little patience for pacifists. The were almost as worthless as he was on the battlefield. He chided himself for thinking that way, briefly. Groove immediately tried to bring the Aerialbot down from the combat stance he had adopted.

"Bah," Slingshot spat as Groove tried desperately to explain what had happened and what could possibly fuel Blade's constant venting on himself. He really didn't want to hear it. But he forced himself to at least give the scout the benefit of the doubt. As much as he didn't need pacifists around, he had learned that the two in the Protectobot team were at least honest.

"Alright Groove, you win. Blades ain't worth the spent exhaust or energon anyways." He released his tension with an audible exhalation. His fists were released and his fingers wiggled briefly before he quickly poked Groove in the chest plate. "Just keep that loud mouth idiot out of my way. He can count his lucky charms that you intervened, but if he gets in my way again he may not be so lucky." With that Slingshot pivoted and disappeared into a small secured room to allow the droids to replace the damaged flap on his injured wing.

Med Bay

A perfect time to look like a fool had never presented itself any better than it did just then. Hearing Slingshot’s threat told the Aerialbot leader how well his latest tactic worked and the exclamation point came when he was shoved by, he assumed, an irate Slingshot. With his optics choosing then to malfunction, he stumbled over another mech dragging a repair droid to the floor with him.

Primus help me. Silverbolt struggled to free himself from the droid until he heard the scuffle between Slingshot and another mech. What now?

"Just keep that loud mouth idiot out of my way. He can count his lucky charms that you intervened, but if he gets in my way again he may not be so lucky."

Silverbolt’s optics flared on in time to see his subordinate disappear into another room. Sighing and apologizing to the mech he tripped over, he stood and waited for his internal systems to finish repairing his latest glitch. It’d be best to let the tempermental mech the time to calm down before he approached him but was that best for the team?

When his internal readouts showed his optics shouldn’t give him any more problems for a while (or so he hoped) he paused by the secured door debating how best to proceed. After a minute he entered his access code to override the lock and stepped inside where he watched Slingshot fume under the droid’s care.

“When you finish your repairs take some down time.” His orders given, he turned to leave when his optics flared out again causing him to bump into the door frame. Perfect timing as always.

Medical Bay

Hardhead watched as Rodimus lifted the now subdued Hex up in his arms and then carried him over to a medical berth. The green warrior followed and listened as the flame-covered mech explained that he and Hot Rod were one and the same. It was an amazing transformation, both physically and mentally. It was like the cavalier had become a completely new Autobot with a stature and voice all his own. His level of maturity certainly appeared to have gone up as he now seemed wiser beyond his cycles.

“Agreed,” Hardhead replied with a nod as Rodimus suggested that they leave Ratchet to do his job and take their conversation out of the surgical suite. The war veteran walked beside the former cavalier until they were once again out in the common area of the med bay. Hardhead then stopped and turned to look at Rodimus once more, still amazed at the dramatic change. He had not known Hot Rod all that well, but the young mech’s reputation preceded him. Roddy was a daredevil who plunged headlong into any situation, no matter how dangerous, without thinking first. This ‘Bot that now stood before the green soldier did not appear to be the same one that fit that description.

“I must admit, Rodimus, your new appearance is remarkable,” Hardhead commented, folding his arms across his chestplate in a serious manner. “You seem almost leader-like, capable of acting when it is necessary the way you did back there with Hex. Now, I have no idea how you got like this, and I don’t really care. What matters is you did what you had to and got the job done instead of just standing around and watching as the young one attacked the medics.”

Hardhead sighed and looked away briefly before returning his gaze to Rodimus. “Prowl likes to wait and watch instead of acting first. He waited too long last time and the Decepticons got what they wanted in those fuel raids while we were left to look the fools. Rodimus, the way you spoke before suggested that you support a preemptive strike against the ‘Cons and hoped that Prowl would see the error of his ways. Am I correct in assuming that? Because if that’s the case, then you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Tracer’s Quarters / Corridors

Smokescreen waited at the doorway of Tracer’s quarters as the femme approached him, flashing the diversion expert a brief smile before calling for Razr to join her. “Of course you can’t leave him. I never thought you would,” Smokey replied to her before glancing down at her pet turbofox. In all reality, what he had just said was not true. The rallybot never considered the presence of Razr during their excursion to the surface, assuming the little fella would simply remain in recharge mode in Tracer’s room during the entirety of the trip. Of course, Smokey didn’t want to object to Razr coming along for fear of upsetting Tracer. She was already suffering enough so if her pet made the pain more bearable, then the red and blue mech would not deny her the relief she needed.

Just as long as the little guy keeps quiet and doesn’t draw attention to us, Smokescreen thought as he followed Tracer into the corridor outside her quarters. He swiftly moved by her and took the lead, trying to walk as quickly as he could through the halls of the Protectobot frigate, but not so fast that the drug-addicted femme could not keep up with him. The concerned rallybot glanced over his shoulder several times to make sure she and Razr were still with him. “You two doing okay back there, Trace? If you need me to slow down, just say so.”

Smokescreen continued onward, taking a slightly longer route through the ship that would avoid both the command deck and the medical bay. He knew those areas were currently the most crowded with high-level and injured mechs that had been involved with the two most recent missions to Earth. As it were, he and Tracer had only passed a few, non-suspecting ‘Bots along the way. A polite smile and nod were all that was necessary in order to keep going before they arrived at their initial destination.

Docking Ring to Ark-22

“Okay, Tracer, we’re about to cross over to the Ark-22,” Smokescreen whispered to her as he stopped at the docking ring. “Keep Razr close to you. Once we’re over there, we should have no problems moving about freely since there’s only a skeleton crew on duty and our signature suppressors will prevent our detection. Just follow me to the hangar bay where a shuttle craft will be waiting for us. I’ve already downloaded the schematics of the 22, so we won’t get lost.”

The diversion expert then moved in closer to Tracer and held her hands in his. “Don’t worry, this is going to work. The Dinobots have made that an almost certainty. Leave it to Grimlock and his thugs to inadvertently help us.” Smokescreen smiled as he then gently caressed the femme's cheek with his right hand before turning and leading her towards the docking ring. The rallybot was still holding on to her quivering actuators with his left hand as he crossed the threshold and started down the tunnel with the Ark-22 in his sights.

Bridge

Kup grunted at Prowl’s answer to his question. Magnus was certainly capable, but bringing him on would present a whole new set of problems as well. Magnus was certainly a capable leader in his own right. He was well trained and powerful, but he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. When Optimus had become leader Magnus had taken it a bit personally. It wasn’t something that lead him to sabotaging Optimus or anything, but it was something he internalized. It had pretty much developed into a sort of inferiority complex.

The old timer shook his head at Prowl. “He ain’t gonna take it lad. Last thing in the universe he wants to do is follow right after Optimus like that. You might get him to lead a mission here or there, but I’m guessing he was on your list of leadership candidates back there. No way he is going to go for that. Too many thoughts of ‘not being worthy.’” Kup chomped on his cy-gar for a moment in thought. “You tell him what happened to Prime yet?” he asked Prowl.

Shortly after asking his question Kup glanced at the bridge doors as they slid open. Ironhide stepped into the room, eliciting a frown from Kup as he pulled the cy-gar from his mouth. “You sent this rust bucket down there? Pfh. You know why he’s red right? He got painted that way so nobody would notice the rust spots.”

Ironhide glared back at Kup. “Where did you dig up this old pile ‘a parts? Must have been in the bottom of a junkyard pile, or in a museum.”

Kup bit down hard as he glared back at Ironhide. Suddenly the glare turned into a grin as he slapped the other Autobot on the back, ushering him further into the bridge. “Ironhide ya old rust bucket, how are ya? I’d darn near forgot you were stuck on this planet. What have you been up to?”

Ironhide smiled back at Kup. “Aww, just the usual, hittin’ Cons and getting’ hit by Cons. You have a nice little vacation back to Cybertron?”

Kup snickered. “Oh it was great, took a moonlit cruise on the Rust Sea. The toxic atmosphere reflects so lovely off of it.” The two of them proceeded to let out hearty chuckles as they slapped each other on the back.

*

Docking Ring to Ark-22

Grimlock arrived in the corridor at the same time Slag and Swoop joined Snarl and Sludge there. The Dinobot leader nodded at his team. “Alright, here the plan. We going on board, say we have been put in charge of ship, going to take it in for repairs that need to be done somewhere else. Dinobots taking it there so we can get caught up on new Autobot tech since we been in stasis too long. Anyone ask too many questions just tell them Prowl anxious for us to go. They believe that since he so big of ‘efficiency.’”

Grimlock paused to let all of that sink in before continuing. “Me hoping that be enough to get them all off ship. Just have to make sure they not contact Prowl or anyone on other ships. Try and stall them from that, not want to have to beat up fellow Autobots. Things look bad call me and me tell you what to do. Only resort to violence as last option.”

Slag frowned and let out an angry sigh. Grimlock knew this went against Slag’s nature. He was going to make a point out of keeping an optic on him. He really didn’t want to beat up his fellow Autobots, but this mission was going to be important. “Snarl, you and Swoop will head to engine room and get everyone out of there. Me, Slag and Sludge go to bridge and clear that out. Any questions or we ready to move out?”

Med Bay

Fresh energon travelled through his vital systems, replenishing his strength physically and mentally. Filth, dents and scratches previously residing on his armour-plating had been evicted, his form now smooth, flawless. The CR chamber had completed its duties.

The door opened, a gentle hiss escorting the movement, and Blades exited the CR chamber. He stood, posture erect. He extended his arms, raising them above his helm and stretched, ridding himself of the relative stiffness settled into his joints. Once his joints felt as though they had returned to their usual state, Blades strode over to Groove and Streetwise, one of the various small clusters of Autobots still occupying the med bay.

He also observed Slingshot walking away from his team-mates. The Aerialbot then entered a small room, removing himself from sight.

Good. Blades didn't believe he could have looked at the paper plane for another astrosecond without descending upon him with all of his considerable rage and aggression.

Approaching Groove and Streetwise, he aimed his thumb in the general direction of the room Slingshot retreated to. “So what did that loser want?”

Medical Bay – Surgical Suite

Ratchet hovered over Hex until his scans were complete, but found nothing unusual in the yougling’s cerebral cortex that could explain why he lashed out. The CMO looked over his shoulder as he heard a slight grumble from the usually calm and collected Protectobot doctor. Turning fully, Ratchet moved in to stand just behind and off to the side of First Aid. Gently, the white and red mech placed his hand on First Aid’s shoulder causing the smaller mech to nearly jump out of his armor.

The tool tray that stood next to Axle’s inert form crashed to the floor scattering equipment over the floor.

“Whoa! Aid, calm down! Are you sure you’re alright?”

The air cycling through First Aid’s intakes had increased considerably before he realized that it was only Ratchet who had put his hand on his shoulder and not the crazed Hex. A moment passed before he was able to calm down enough to actually articulate a response.

“Um, yeah, sure, Ratchet. I’m fine.”

As quickly as he could manage the doctor went down on his knees and began to gather the tools that were now strewn along the smooth floor plating of the surgical suite. Ratchet watched closely noting the slight tremble still running through his frame. Shaking his head the CMO moved to help First Aid.

“Aid, I need you to take a look at Silverbolt’s optics. They seem to be fritzing in and out on him. Get him fix him up before he walks out of an airlock. Primus only knows if he’s already done so.”

Ratchet flashed his subordinate a slight smile before he gently urged First Aid back to his feet. The Protectobot’s only response was a slight nod.

Medical Bay Proper

From the surgical area First Aid finally emerged and let out a sigh of relief. The whole dramatic ordeal with Hex did not only drain the doctor physically, but mentally as well. He shook his head in order to clear the memory from his processor and made his way to where he saw Silverbolt disappear to.

When he finally arrived the Aerialbot Commander was just leaving, but it seemed that his optics had cut off once again as he bumped into the door frame. Moving in closely, First Aid took a hold of Silverbolt’s forearm gently.

“Come on Bolt. Let me take a look at your optics to see what the matter is.”

From there the doctor guided the larger mech to an available medical slab.
____

Rodimus moved from the surgical suite and back out into the medical bay with Hardhead by his side, the green warrior taking a close look at the flame emblazoned mech carefully. Rodimus chuckled to himself as he looked to the warrior.

“I must agree that my change has been remarkable, but essentially I am the same mech, just not in attitude or action. Hot Rod was rash, he acted before thinking.”

Rodimus nodded when Hardhead’s concern switched from his appearance to what he had said before concerning Prowl.

“Yes. I believe if we wait, as Prowl would have us do, it will only result in the Decepticons gaining an upper hand. They’ve already raided two refineries thus boosting their energon supply significantly.”

The cavalier stepped pass Hardhead only to stop next to one of the windows that lined the far wall. He stared out into the distance for a moment before he continued with his explanation.

“I believe, Hardhead, that Prowl is putting, not only us, but the Earth at risk as well. He wishes only to see what is and what will be. He fails to see what might be. I don’t blame him really; after all he is a mech who runs solely on logic, much like Shockwave.”

Rodimus looked over his shoulder at the warrior.

“I only hope that our strategist realizes the error of his ways before this,” he gestured to the mechs in the med bay and the surgical suite, “becomes the norm, or possibly worse.”

Corridor

Tracer had followed behind Smokescreen when the red and blue mech left the security of her quarters. Close next to her was Razr. The turbofox padded pass her and caught up easily with the rallybot, only to slow his pace in order for Tracer to catch up. The withdraw symptoms were becoming almost unbearable….almost. She made sure to focus on the present and keep the pain at bay for just a few more minutes, but it was so difficult to concentrate on anything else.

When he questioned her on her progress Tracer remained quiet. She did not want to break her focus to simply answer a question. Instead the scout just kept moving.
Docking Ring to Ark – 22

Seeing that Smokescreen had finally came to a stop at the docking ring Tracer moved in close beside him, her body nearly giving way to the trembling now raking over her entire frame. She placed her hand heavily on the wall in an attempt to keep herself from toppling over in a heap at her guide’s feet.

Tracer concentrated on nothing else but Smokescreen’s voice. At his insistence she motioned for Razr to stay by her side, something the turbofox quickly obliged to. When he proceeded to explain the rest of his plan she simply nodded in understanding.

Tracer kept her optics locked on Smokescreen’s own cerulean orbs as he took her hands in his. She offered him a brief smile before it faded into a pained frown. She only hoped the Dinobots’ departure actually did divert attention from their escape. If it didn’t then they would both be in serious trouble. Her thoughts were brought back to present when she felt his hand gently caress her cheek. She gently pressed into his palm wishing that it was occurring under different circumstances. With his actuators still entwined with hers, he led her into the docking ring and on toward their intended destination; Razr still padding right beside his master.

Medical Bay

Streetwise listened to Groove quietly and let a grimace show when Groove recounted Axle's fate. Streetwise found himself wishing that he'd been called off on this assignment, if only to help protect his comrades. Motormaster was not a 'Con to be bargained with. Streetwise offered Groove a firm, reassuring shake on the shoulder. "Yeah, that's true," Streetwise conceded, "Must've been rough down there. Sorry you guys got dented up."

Streetwise stood back a bit as Slingshot interjected. He rubbed the back of his cranium absently. It looked like he'd interrupted something. He watched the exchange and shook his head. Blades was always getting into it.

“So what did that loser want?”

Speak of the...

Streetwise turned to face Blades and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Ah, nothing important. So did you give those Decepticons hell or what, bud? And where's the boss bot?" Streetwise relaxed marginally. It felt good to be among his teammates again. Streetwise glanced around for the two missing members of their team. Hot Spot was no where to be found, so he was probably in a CR chamber. But First Aid...

A crash made Streetwise jump and look in the direction of the Surgical Suite. What had that been? Axle had to be in the suite. Getting your chest ripped open was not something Streetwise would say was easy to get up and walk away from. First Aid was probably inside with him. "Huh. I wonder what happened."

Bridge

Prowl listened as Kup laid out all of the reasons why Ultra Magnus would not accept the position of Autobot Leader. It was nothing the military strategist didn’t already know regarding the city commander. His self-doubt would certainly be an issue, but not an insurmountable one. Prowl hoped that Prime’s apparent death would help spurn Magnus into action and force him to take charge of the Earth fleet at the very least, if not the entirety of the Autobot forces around the galaxy. It would be a tough sell, but the black and white mech was confident that he could make Magnus see that he was the right choice for the job.

This was not to say that Prowl had no confidence in himself. Quite the contrary. The fact of the matter was that the military analyst was more than aware of how the other Autobots perceived him. The next leader needed to be loved, not loathed by his peers, in order to be an effective commander. This was not to mention that Prowl was more akin to manipulating things behind the scenes instead of being up front and center. He planned the strategies that would be used both on and even off the battlefield. Then his superiors executed them according to his recommendations. That was Prowl’s comfort zone, not sitting in a command chair in the middle of a bridge. He’d rather be in an office somewhere, plotting the next move that would take the Autobot cause closer to victory. With the arrival of Ultra Magnus, the black and white hoped to get back to doing what he did best while at the same time maintain some level of influence over his top choice.

“Let me worry about Magnus, Kup,” Prowl responded plainly. “It may take a bit of time, but I think I can get him to come around to reason.” The strategist then sighed as the old timer asked if Magnus already knew about what had happened to Prime. “Yes, he knows. It’s the whole reason why he’s coming here. I sent the communique shortly after the one I sent you.”

Prowl then watched as Kup and Ironhide exchanged pleasantries, ribbing one another first before finally patting each other on the back. The black and white mech waited as patiently as he could, knowing that the friendly exchange was good for morale while at the same time wanting to get down to business. Clearing his vocalizer after a few more astroseconds, the military analyst stepped closer to the pair of old ‘Bots. “I don’t mean to interrupt this little love fest between you guys, but we should probably start the debriefing sooner rather than later. The ‘Cons are likely planning their next move as we speak and so should we.”

Prowl tried not to sound dispassionate or condescending in his tone. He just wanted to learn what he could from Ironhide and eventually Hot Spot so that he could plan their next move. “We can use the adjoining briefing room to discuss our options. We need not wait for Hot Spot. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.” The strategist then moved away from the two old timers and walked towards and quickly entered the briefing room.

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead listened closely as Rodimus confirmed his belief that Prowl’s insistence on waiting before acting was putting the Autobots and the people of Earth at great risk. The Decepticons were not going to simple wait around as evidenced by their recent pair of attacks planet side. With all of the fuel they had gathered, the ‘Cons were clearly preparing for something, possibly something big. Meanwhile, all Prowl and the other top mechs can do is sit around and talk about what to do instead of just doing it.

“I agree wholeheartedly, Rodimus,” Hardhead replied as he approached the window and stood side by side with the flame-covered Autobot. The war veteran continued speaking in a whispered tone so that no one else could hear him. “Perhaps, though, we should not wait for this to become the norm or worse. Maybe it’s time for you and I to do what Prowl is incapable of doing or seeing beyond his own warped sense of logic.”

Hardhead understood that he was suggesting going against the interim commander of the Autobot Earth fleet, but he didn’t care. The green warrior was a stubborn mech that often wanted things done his way or no way at all. There were occasions when his way coincided with his superiors, but that did not happen too often. Here, however, he sensed an alignment of thinking with Rodimus, a ‘Bot he never expected to get along with let alone agree with. Of course, Hot Rod was now gone so to speak, replaced with the tall and seemingly more power and mature Rodimus, one that the war veteran was comfortable talking to about such things. “Maybe, between the two of us, we could convince others of Prowl’s mistake and then together demand that he take a more proactive stance against the enemy. If he still refuses to see reason, then we should preemptively strike the ‘Cons ourselves and prevent them from gaining an upper hand against us.”

Docking Ring to Ark-19

Snarl watched as Grimlock and the other Dinobots arrived at the docking ring moments after Sludge had finally caught up to him. Grimlock wasted no time in laying out his plan for getting the repair team off the Ark-19 without the need for violence. The excuses he gave his team to use might work in a perfect universe, but there would always be someone that asked too many follow-up questions or tried to contact Prowl for a confirmation. Of course, if the Autobots over there didn’t want to ultimately cooperate then perhaps violence would be necessary, but only as an absolute last resort.

The Desert Warrior nodded when the Dinobot Commander gave him and Swoop orders to clear out the engineering section of any mechs that were occupying the area. “Me doubt we need too much violence to get them off ship,” Snarl responded once Grimlock has finished speaking. “These ‘Bots not warriors like us. They repair ‘Bots, they fix not destroy. But, me can always pick them up and carry out if need be. No problem.” The plated Dinobot brushed both hands together before turning to look over at Swoop. “Come on, Swoop, we got job to do.”

With that said, Snarl stepped by Grimlock and began walking across the docking tunnel towards the Ark-19 as the Dinobot flier followed close behind him. “Once we get to engine room, let me do all talking. Things go better that way. Got it?”

Medical Bay Proper

Rodimus’ attention was pulled back to the window and the stars that lie beyond. So small at this distance. Yet they each play a part in this universe. It would seem that Prowl has outlived his part in this time. The strategist would have to be dealt with, but in what manner, Rodimus did not know.

The mech’s musings were interrupted by Hardhead’s assessment of just what he thought should happen. It was an interesting thought – not waiting for Prowl to make another mistake – to take things into their own hands. Hardhead was already proving to be a promising asset as a herald. And he had not even been called yet. The corners of Rodimus’ lips curled into a cruel smile, but only the stars were privy to it.

With a slight nod of his head, the tall, more mature mech turned to finally face the green warrior. Rodimus placed a hand on Hardhead’s shoulder and emphasized his agreement with a vocal response, one he was sure to bring a smile to his comrade’s face.

“I am in agreement my friend. Perhaps it is time to take things into our own hands. Perhaps it is time to prove to Prowl that we are Autobots and the Decepticon atrocity plaguing this universe has to be stopped. No matter the cost.”

Docking Ring to Ark-19

Just after Sludge arrived the rest of the Dinobots made it. Much to his relief, Snarl didn't ask where the jungle warrior was or why he lagged behind. It was a part of him that Sludge didn't want the other Dinobots to know, and he tried as best he could not to share it with anyone.

Sludge nodded his head as Grimlock explained the plan. Unlike Slag, Sludge wasn't nearly as disappointed at not trying to use violence on their fellow Autobots. He may have enjoyed destruction and smashing Decepticons, but Autobots were another matter. As long as they respected his and Grimlock's strength, and they didn't try to boss them all around, he didn't mind them too much.

"Me Sludge like plan.", he gladly agreed with his commander, "Me Sludge ready."

Obediently, Sludge followed his leader.

-----------------------

Medical Bay

Groove grimaced as Blades came out of the CR Chamber. His fellow Protectobot probably wouldn't like his answer.

"That 'loser' is a fellow Autobot, and I was just trying to make peace with him.", Groove explained, "Just because you didn't get all the action you wanted down there doesn't mean you should take it out on your allies and friends."

Groove tried to get back to talking to Streetwise, but now that he was confronted with Blades something came back to him. Something that had bothered him down in Kansas that he had forgot about.

"Tell me something, Blades.", Groove said, keeping his calm and trying not to sound accusing, "What did you do to Breakdown after I left to help Saferoute? It was a good 20 or 30 astroseconds before you passed me, and I know your helicopter mode is faster than that. What did you do to him?"

Med Bay

Of all the times to walk into something…who? Silverbolt relaxed when he recognized First Aid’s voice. At least his audio receptors were still functioning. With a nod he allowed himself to be led by the medic. His only hope was that Slingshot didn’t see this. One word from him and he’d make sure the mech would be Ratchet and Kup’s personal assistant for the next vorn.

“Really, First Aid. I can wait. There must be some worse off than I am.” He wouldn’t put up as hard a fight against First Aid. He’d take the soft spoken Protectobot over Ratchet anytime.

Med Bay

“Hot Spot's in a CR chamber, I think. Lucky spawn of a glitch went helm-to-helm with Motormaster.”

Blades wasn't present during his battle with Motormaster but he wished he had been. He would have gladly jumped in and assisted Hot Spot in the Stunticon's destruction. Of course, that was simply his fantasy representing the bulk of his thoughts regarding their struggle; Motormaster hadn't been truly exterminated. Merely brooding over the bitter fact rankled Blades a great deal.

He realised his thoughts had lured his attention elsewhere. He looked at Streetwise once again. “I wish I did. But I actually did next to nothing down there. I fired a rocket at Runabout, but it didn't blow him to pieces.” His facial features turned sour. “Afthole got lucky. It just missed him.”

As if it wasn't enough that Blades' application for combat had been negated, an awful event forever engrafted into his memory banks, Groove had bombarded him with useless remarks, all of which were designed to protect the galaxy's most obnoxious sentient being. And, unsurprisingly, a question he suspected Groove had been tempted to ask for a little while now. He did wonder when that was going to make an appearance.

“What did I do to him? What did I do to him?” Blades gave Groove a particular look, one of a select few he offered him throughout these...talks. “Nothing.” He threw his arms in the air. “Absolutely nothing! I should've taken him out while I had the chance, but I didn't. Are you happy now? Happy that I chose to let a psychotic mass murderer live?”

Exaggeration did not dwell in his question. Breakdown was a psychotic individual, prone to slaughtering whatever life form crossed his path. The El Dorado mission verified the atrocities he committed, the foul acts that had stolen so many human lives. Lives that could never be given back.

Medical Bay

Carefully First Aid had guided Silverbolt to an examination table where he helped the Aerialbot take a seat. Of course the larger mech tried to play off his condition telling the doctor that he could wait while others were attended to. The smile on First Aid’s face was hidden by his face mask - and even if it wasn’t Silverbolt’s condition wouldn’t allow him to see it anyway.

The Protectobot let out a low sigh as he gently directed Silverbolt to lie down. With his patient in position First Aid was able to take a closer look at the mech’s optics. From the tip of his fore finger a medical probe emerged. Slowly he inserted the instrument into the edge of the glass covering and carefully popped it out revealing the orb that was Silverbolt’s eye.

“Don’t worry Silverbolt. You were next on my list anyway. No need for the bravado. Besides, I know you’d rather have me take a look at you instead Ratchet.”

With a hand held scanner First Aid began to take preliminary readings of the circuitry behind the optic.

“Hmm. Well, I’ve got good news and bad news. The damage can be easily repaired. Which means I won’t have to replace your optics and the sensors. The bad news is I’ll have to remove them in order to work on them.”

He placed the scanner back down on the nearby cart before he placed a hand on Silverbolt’s shoulder giving it a gentle pat.

“Well, it would seem that you’re mine for the next few breems. Don’t worry. I’ll have you fixed up as soon as possible.”

Docking Ring

Grimlock nodded at Sludge and Slag before turning and walking towards the Ark-19.

(OOC: All Dinobots should now move to the Ark-19 thread if you haven't already)

Incoming message from Jazz, Special Ops Director

>>Yo! Prowl! Did you send some Dinobots over here? Something is up and I want to clarify with you before I exit the 19.<<

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead’s smile broadened as Rodimus placed a firm hand on the green mech’s shoulder and completely agreed with him that now was the time to act. Waiting for Prowl to do what was needed would only put the Autobots in this system at a greater disadvantage than they already were in. No matter the cost, the ‘Cons needed to be hit and hit hard, but they needed like-minded recruits to help them achieve that goal.

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Rodimus,” Hardhead replied as he glanced around the room at all of the injured Autobots present. He then returned his optics to the flame-covered former cavalier before continuing. “We can begin recruiting supporters here. I’m no politician, but these mechs, like myself, were recently sent on missions that resulted in bitter defeats. They should prove to be easier to convince that Prowl is unfit to hold command than others currently on board.”

The war veteran then turned towards the window and looked out upon the stars that littered the dark blanket of space. He was never one to take a moment to admire a sight of such magnificence in the past, but that was mainly because he was a soldier first and foremost and did not have time for such admiration. However, Hardhead had to admit that the stars were beautiful even if that beauty was simply a shroud of deceit to hide the violence and atrocities of the Great War that had stretched across the galaxy. Space was certainly not a safe place as it appeared to be to the naked optic.

“These stars have been our battlefield for far too long, Rodimus,” Hardhead commented as his gaze returned to the fiery Autobot. “We’ve already lost our homeworld along with countless other planets. If we’re not careful we’ll loose the rest of the galaxy, as well.”

Bridge

Kup frowned at Prowl’s bit of dampening of spirits, but nodded in agreement. “Come on ya old red rust bucket, Prowl’s right. We’ve got some business to get done before we get too carried away with all of this back slapping. I’ll buy ya a round from somewhere when this is all over with.” Kup began leading the way to the briefing room.

“And I’ll make sure to remember that you old junkpile, so don’t think that you’ll get out of it by forgettin’ and blaming your old faulty memory banks.” Ironhide had a small smile on his face as he followed after Kup. With his old pal along the debriefing probably wasn’t going to be too bad.

Briefing Room

Ironhide took a seat on one side of the large table that filled most of the room while Kup sat opposite of him, leaving a spot next to him for Prowl to take up. Kup was the first to speak. “Alright Ironhide, tell us about the mission, what happened and any thoughts you had on it.”

The other Autobot rubbed his chin. “Well all I can tell you is what I saw from my angle. We all got kind of separated once the fighting really kicked off. You know how chaotic things can get in a firefight.” Kup nodded and Ironhide continued. “Well I led my ground pounders in and asked the Aerialbots to draw the Cons down to us so we could slam ‘em with heavy firepower. Didn’t really work out so well since everyone just wanted to dogfight. That was ok though, we eventually got some Cons down on the ground.”

“I think there were about half a dozen cons or so, give or take one or two. I didn’t recognize most of them, although the majority were stinkin’ seekers, as usual. I definitely saw Skywarp and I think I saw one of the coneheads. There was some sort of buggy looking guy, didn’t get a good look at him. I got a better look at some big Con, looks like he turned into a truck. He’s a big one, taller ‘en me, but he doesn’t have the strength or skill to back up his big mouth. He did get a lucky shot in though.” Ironhide rubbed his shoulder.

“Anyway we came up and saw a couple of them draining some fuel from the refinery. We opened up on them and the battle was on. It got pretty brutal as us ground pounders did all we could to lure them down to the ground and up close where we could stomp ‘em good. I think we gave better then we got, although the cons may have gotten away with some of the fuel, was hard to tell in the thick of things.”

The red Autobot paused for a moment. “To be honest they seemed more interested in scrappin’ then in just taking the fuel and runnin’. Starscream even came down himself to help out, although he stuck to the air like the coward he is. Maybe the Cons were just looking for a little payback after losin’ their base.”

Kup leaned back in his chair, chewing on his cy-gar. “And they didn’t retreat until they had taken some hard hits?”

Ironhide nodded. “Yeah, we all came out of it walking, but a couple of their guys had to be flamin’ wrecks at the end of everything. I just wish we could have done more.”

*

Med Bay

The CR chamber slid open with a hiss and a billowing of mist. Hot Spot stepped out, quickly testing his various joints and systems as he came fully back online. He saw it hadn’t taken too long for the repairs, but every minute was one in which the Cons tried to maneuver ahead of them. Offering only a slightly quizzical look at Hot Rod, the Protectobot vaguely recognizing him but not quite with all of his changes, he headed out of the room.

>>”Prowl, this is Hot Spot. My repair cycle is done and I’m on my way to the bridge.”<<

Med Bay

Saferoute watched everthing happening and couldn't help but feel like an outsider. That was the problem with spending most of her life saving animals, she had few friends among her own kind. With everyone else busy or in their own little groups the femme-bus decided to leave the med bay and head to the mess hall. Maybe a drink or two would help her collect her thoughts better.

----------------------

For the first time in a cycle Warpath was feeling like himself again. Thanks to Dustspark he had a brand new cannon, and the crimson warrior felt whole again.

"WHAM, 'tank' you very much, doc!", Warpath laughed as he thrusted his shiny new gun, "BLAM I can't wait to give those 'cons a could slagging again!"

His confidence back, the warrior looked around- there he was! Looking out one of the windows was Hardhead, standing with the now bigger Rodimus. A deal was a deal, and Warpath walked on over to the green mech ready to make good on it.

"POW, hope I'm not interrupting anything, buddies!", Warpath enthusiastically said to the two, "But how about we BOOM head down to the mess hall for that drink we talked about? And, uh, big Hot Rod here, you're more than welcome to join us!"

------------------

Groove a little relief as Blades explained what happened. He had no reason not to believe the street fighter had left Breakdown alone- there may have been a number of personality traits Groove didn't like in him, but lying wasn't one of them. That relief was soon replaced with a sense of guilt; Breakdown had killed many Autobots, humans and other living beings. It was a point that Blades brought up against Groove's own belief of non-violence. But despite what the Decepticons did, the scout still stood by his beliefs.

"Breakdown isn't entirely responsible for his actions.", Groove justified, "If Hot Spot beat and abused us the same way Motormaster does his own team, would we be any different? In fact I'd imagine Breakdown is regretting not accepting my offer now that his supposed leader knows that he was taken down by, no offense, two 'weakling' Protectobots."

Once again it seemed that Groove and the Protectobot aerialist would be engaging in another debate over their beliefs. It was far from the first time, it was unlikely to be the last time. Blades was stubborn in his convictions about taking a more agressive stance against the Decepticons. But Groove believed just as much that there was a less violent solution.

"This war would have ended sooner if we had tried offering a hand in peace and friendship instead of swinging punches and laser fire.", Groove said with conviction, looking Blades straight in the optics, "When we try to take their lives it only shows them that death and destruction are the only necessary actions."

Groove looked away for a moment and turned to the other Protectobot nearby, Streetwise. The scout wished he had First Aid by his side to offer some support to his argument. But with the medic far too busy right now, he would have to look to another teammate and hope he agreed.

"You agree with me, don't you Streetwise?"

Med Bay

Streetwise listened to his teammates’ discussion as Hot Spot walked by. It was good to see their leader all in one piece. Streetwise’s attention went back to his two teammates as their discussion continued. Breakdown had killed numerous Autobots and humans, yet Groove still sought to see the good in him. Sometimes Groove could make Streetwise shake his head in wonder.

Streetwise supposed Groove had a point about Motormaster and Breakdown. He might find himself in a very different attitude if Hot Spot abused their team like that monster, Motormaster, abused his team. However, the time had long passed since the damage done could be undone. With tyrants like Motormaster around, Streetwise wondered if there could ever be peace. Even Megatron’s death hadn’t ended the war as of yet, and he had a legion of ambitious soldiers under his command.

At Groove’s question, Streetwise thought it over a bit more before answering. “Maybe at one time,” Streetwise conceded, “Maybe at one time that was possible, but I don’t think so anymore. Streetwise gave a sort of helpless shrug. “They’ve killed a lot of us, and we’ve killed a lot of them. I think we did try, in the beginning, to stop this war peacefully, but Megatron wasn’t looking for peace and…well…he’s a crazy tyrant. The kind of tyrant that attracts other tyrants. Now that he’s gone, other crazy tyrants will take his place.”

Streetwise shrugged again. “We can be optimistic and hope for a logical leader who will recognize when this war has become too costly…but we’ve lost Cybertron along with countless lives on both sides. I don’t know how much more costly this war can get.”

Streetwise looked at Groove and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Sorry, Groove.”

Med Bay

Did he say take them out? A few breems? Primus help me! Had he been able to Silverbolt would’ve swallowed hard and whined but being the leader of the Aerialbots, as dysfunctional as they could be at times, meant he had to keep his feelings to himself. On the positive side First Aid was right, he preferred him over Ratchet. Lying there, with his hands twitching nervously at his sides, Silverbolt wondered if First Aid had accessed his processor. Mentally shaking his head he decided against that. No one wanted Ratchet to work on them unless they were desperate, it was the way of things.

If he was lucky, Ratchet would drag Slingshot in for a once over. That thought brought a smile to his faceplate. He didn’t wish ill on his subordinate and never would, he just thought it’d be poetic justice for the mech to be handled by a bigger glitch than himself. With his concern melting away, Silverbolt relaxed some. At least he was able to keep from gripping the table.

“No problem doc, I could use some down time.” Did he really feel as confident as he sounded? Suppressing a shudder he concentrated on the image of Slingshot and Ratchet instead of his temporary blindness.

Incoming Message from Jazz, Special Ops Director

>>Prowl! The Dinobots are taking the 19! I just tried to stall them a bit by blowing out a Plasma Manifold, but they got to me and it stays intact! They are getting away! We are in an escape pod in orbit, but get them first and us later!<<

OoC: Why must I be such and IDIOT sometimes!?

Long Range Shuttle - Longevity

Ultra Magnus stretched his arm in a long sweeping arch over towards the lone spartan desk that populated the small bunk chamber towards the center section of the ship's hull. He pressed his palm down upon its meticulously polished surface and allowed the embedded sensors to scan his energy signature through his armor plated gauntlet. A wave of electricity pulsed through the sensors in his finger tips before the flow subsided and access was allowed. "Computer. Access all command files."

The computer AI sported through the myriad of files that were logged within the shuttle mainframe. Once it was finished compiling the lists of the hundreds of officers and literally millions of entries, it asked for clarification in order to whittle down the search results.

"Focus, Location Earth... Correction. Focus Location Sol Sector. Specification, operational status regarding all activities within contested sector. Highlight operation reports, casualty reports." Immediately a cord emerged from the near flawless obsidian desk. Magnus took hold of the wire and plugged it into a receiving port located underneath his right wrist. As soon as both systems calibrated themselves for the transfer of information, Ultra Magnus's optics flared blue before dimming to a dark midnight. Images, sounds, smells even the sense of tactile immersion soon flooded over Magnus's senses. Each engagement logged in the historical archives of this solar system added to his depth and knowledge about what he was about to enter.

A standard post industrialized planet. Barely capable of maintaining the quality of their own world let alone moving beyond their petty differences. While its inhabitants were for the most part, backwards by galactic standards, the world itself was still rich in resources and energy. Definitely enough of a reason to inspire Megatron to deploy his forces to this backwater. Even still, Magnus knew full well the tactical value of this world because of those massive energy reserves.

As the logs concluded their downloads a signal light flickered off of the City Commander's periphery. He disconnected the cable from his wrist data port and allowed it to retract harmlessly into the obsidian desk. With a slow methodical yet fluid turn, Ultra Magnus activated the terminal. "Magnus here."

"Commander, this is Dice." The smaller mechanism on the other end of the line, only two sections down the hull, had a rather annoying tendency to state the obvious. At least he was consistent. "Sir, we have reached the designated system. We are now entering the fringe of the system's Oort Cloud."

Magnus deactivated the computer link to the log mainframe and patched into the sensor feed. "Have you contacted the Guardian yet?"

"I am sorry Commander. But the radiation belt within the Oort Cloud is rather strong. It will take time for our systems to adjust or we pass through it."

The stark image of absolute nothing. Small micro particles of ice, dust and other remains of cosmic junk that had been blown out to the furthest reaches of the system when the star at its heart finally sparked to life as an enormous fusion generator. He knew they were there, even pieces the size of small dwarf planets had been known to inhabit these stellar regions. The Autobot Commander deactivated the data feed and departed the bunk.

A few microns later Magnus was settling into the center command chair. Its previous inhabitant, Dice, was swiftly returned to his station at the helm forcing Squilliam to reclaim tactical and sensors. "Commander, we've located the orbital plane of the third planet. Estimated time to intercept at full impulse, 35 breem."

Magnus reviewed the calculations sent to him by tactical and nodded. "Alright, steady as she goes Dice. Squilliam, maintain full tactical alert. Passive scanners only. We're entering contested territory. Less of a wake we make in the EM bands the less the cons have to work with in locating our entry point. Dice, as soon as we clear the Oort Cloud, open a direct channel to Guardian. I want to get a more up to date appraisal of the situation before we arrive."