The Energon Pub

Armory

Arriving at the armory, Ricochet was almost startled as the hydraulic door leading into the space opened before he could even reach the access panel to gain entry. Noticing Ironfist leaning on the other side of the portal, the autobot gunner stepped into the nearly vacant armory, making his way toward the nearest work bench as if unaffected by the presence of his fellow bot. He was really just grateful to find a peaceful place to work.

"Well it comes as a surprise that I find You here."
Ricochet quipped casually. At least it was a fellow weapons expert in his midst as opposed to another random bot hiding away from all the mechs on board with nothing better to do than lament over recent events. With all the disarray and confusion it was a welcome sight to see another bot with as much if not more vested interest in weaponry as himself. One thing about weapons specialists that has always been true is that even in a time of crisis, we could always depend on our weapons.

"Don't worry about me though. I'll be the last bot on this ship to, as the humans say- "kick a dead horse" with all this talk of the lose of Prime. It's a waste of precious energon if you ask me."
He added, simultaneously breaking down his plasma rifle for a routine cleaning and inspection.

In all honesty, there wasn't anything else he would rather be doing aside from maybe scrapping a few cons. This war had seen no shortage of great leaders lost, and any bot in his right processor would be stupid to think that Prime could be some sort of glorious exception. The only thing to do now was pick up what was left and be ready for the coming storm. Even those who were hurt most by the loss of Prime should know that's what he would have wanted.

Armory

Ironfist shrugged his shoulders as he moved to one side, allowing the new admittant further access to the workshop. Breaking his own respite, the engineer pressed a few commands into the access panel located on the breach of the turbo blaster muzzle. From his hip he rapidly retrieved a small simulation screen and plugged it into the UV Data Port. The fingers of his right hand soon entered a magnificently chorographed dance across the data slate's command keys. He programmed in several simulation commands and activated the unit's primary dianostic protocols.

It was only when the terminal acknowledged the large amount of tasks it had been given that Ironfist abandoned the slate and the weapon to their union and made his way to the bench where Ricochet had taken up temporary residence. "It is not the first time Optimus has disappeared. It will not be the last. The Decepticons have not yet managed to devise a weapon perfect enough to extinguish that stubborn spark."

A short comment that spoke volumes. The weapons tech was not interested in rumors or false claims. He had been around long enough to know that unless there was a body or an official announcement from Megatron himself, no Prime could ever be considered dead. After all the egotistical Megatron would jump for joy had he slain Prime, and his image would be broadcast throughout the Galaxy... even before his spark chamber was cold.

Brushing the thought from his mind, Ironfist took up a stool under a solitary desk lamp situated over a graphing table and model kit. Picking up a mark node from one of the cable hangers located just behind the lamp, he began to retrace the design that had been carefully laid out upon the desk in graphite and charcoal. When he was done he set the node to rest at the top of the table. Something about his contemporaries weapon had caught his notice. Perhaps his optical scanners were not entirely focused on the job at hand, or perhaps they were overly sensitive to the surroundings he found himself. Either way it was not as if he could finish his current designs until this particular incident was at least addressed. "Your weapon Rocochet... It appears to be out of allignment by point seven three zero two nanomicrons." He left the option there for the mechanism to take. It was rare that he offered to adjust his fellow Autobot weaponry on the fly. Normally he found himself totally engrossed in testing and designing and sometimes repairing of larger arms located through out Autobot territory.

Med Bay

After Ratchet had left the conference room he made his way to the Med Bay to help Axle out with Perceptor’s repairs. He bore witness to Hex’s little conversation with his guardian, but he did not interfere. Once the young mech had wandered off to the far side of the facility Ratchet approached the field medic.

“So, how is our resident scientist doing?”

Without looking Axle let out a low sigh. “He’ll be just fine. Once I make this last connection you can get a patch on him.”

The CMO nodded as he watched over Axle’s shoulder at his soldering work. “So, uhh, what about you? How’re you holdin’ up with…”

“Hex? Could be better, but I can handle him.”

Both medics’ attention were drawn to the door as Smokescreen and Jazz entered the former of which was carrying an unconscious Bumblebee. Axle put down his tools and made his way around Perceptor’s exam table to have a look at the yellow minibot.

While Axle looked at Bumblebee, Ratchet picked up some tools and took over Perceptor’ repairs; although he kept his audios on what was occurring near him.

Axle carefully took Bumblebee in his arms and laid the small mech on one of the other available exam tables. He quickly assessed the damage to Bee’s cranial unit, and thankfully it was just minor, nothing he couldn’t repair. What bothered the medic was what Jazz offered to him. Axle held out his hand as Jazz placed the optic in his palm. The medic glanced over his shoulder to look at the young silver mech across the room.

“Thank you, Jazz. I’ll take care of it.”

Axle turned to Ratchet. The CMO never mentioned anything about suppressing Bumblebee’s memory.

“Ratchet, why would you try and suppress his memory?”

The white and red mech looked up at his subordinate, a frown etched on his face. “I didn’t think I needed permission to help a mech out.”

While Axle and Ratchet continued their discussion on ho was right, Hex quietly made his way to Bumblebee’s side. He gently placed his hand on his shoulder as he opened up a panel on the side of the minibot’s head. From there he was able to initiate a reboot of Bee’s systems and bring him back online. Blue optics met blue optics as the little yellow Autobot finally came back online. Hex flashed him a warm smile before he began to speak.

“You can’t block the memory of the rancid stench, the constant sound of ripping metal. The taste of the energon he gave you that you knew he drained from one of his previous prisoners. But you had to drink it because you never knew when or if he’d come back in time to feed you again. And when he did come back and speek to you in that silky, velvet tone he made you believe that nothing bad was going to happen to you. Until it does.”

Hex broke optic contact with Bumblebee to look up at the assembled Autobots. Bee let out a soft whimper and physically shuddered.

“How…how did you know?”

The young mech looked back down at the prone minobot. “Because, it happened to me too. Only I was there a lot longer than you were.” He looked up at Ratchet before he went on. “Memories like those…they never go away. There’s no way to erase something like that; they always come back…always.”

Axle looked away from his ward and back to his superior. Ratchet gave Axle a slight nod and then continued with Perceptor’s repairs. At that moment both medics received a message from Prowl. The field medic regarded the CMO who promptly sent a response.

>>”Prowl, this is Ratchet. Perceptor will be out of here within the next cycle.”<<

Axle placed his hand on Hex’s shoulder as he stood by Bumblebee’s table. “I’m going to need to help Ratchet repair Percy. Are you going to be okay?”

Hex nodded, “I’ll be fine. I think me and Bee have some stuff to talk about.”

Axle patted Hex’s shoulder before returning to help Ratchet.

Armory

As he laid his rifle across the well equipped work station, Ricochet received and processed Ironfist's statement concerning Prime's stubbornness. He had to restrain himself when voicing his thoughts on their leader's disappearance.

"Even so, every bot must face the day when his spark is finally extinguished."

Ricochet had broken down and reassembled his precision plasma dart rifle an innumerable amount of times over the course of his life cycle. It had been with him since just before the war. Every part, down to the micro transistor modules was special to the battle hardened bot. Upon close observation an attentive bot might notice a tight row of carefully etched lines on the left side of the barrel, indicating the number of noteworthy kills made with the rifle. As odd as it seemed, he valued that weapon as much as any bot he served alongside.

For Ironfist to even hint at a flaw in it's operational capability threatened to invoke an almost involuntary sort of rage in the Autobot Gunner. However, to act on such an impulse would have left him behaving no differently than the insipid cons' that he despised. This bot was only attempting to offer his expertise in weapons calibration, and in Ricochet's experience with the weapons engineer that was not a common occurrence. Taking a klik to subdue his more primitive subroutines, the troubled bot nodded decisively. Ricochet still had a lot of self-calibration to do if he was to operate efficiently with other bots, but at least he was improving.

Giving in to Ironfist's generosity, Ricochet effortlessly reassembled the rifle in what seemed like nanokliks to the untrained optic, and relinquished his prized possession to his slightly shorter autobot comrade.

"I hadn't noticed the deficiency myself Ironfist, but I trust your optic for matters such as this."
He explained, taking a step back to allow Ironfist room to work.

Medical Bay

Smokescreen watched as a concerned Axle took the severed optic from Jazz before thanking the white mech and saying that he’d take care of it. However, the diversion expert wasn’t entirely convinced that Axle would be able to get through to Hex. Perhaps no one could. The silver mech seemed to be a lost cause with no way out of the deep dark abyss he was stuck in. Unfortunately, the medic’s answer would have to be good enough for now since both Smokey and Jazz had to rendezvous with Ironhide down in the bounce chamber for their next mission.

“Come on, Jazz, let’s go,” Smokescreen said as he began to move towards the door. The diversion expert quickly stopped, however, and turned back around when he noticed Hex move from his secluded spot across the room and make his way over to Bumblebee’s inert form on the berth. The red and blue racer watched nervously as the young mech accessed the minibot’s cranial unit and rebooted his systems with ease. If Axle’s young ward made one false move, Smokey was literally ready to jump into action to protect his tiny friend.

Fortunately, that was not necessary as once ‘Bee was fully awake again, Hex spoke to him in a surprisingly calm and compassionate manner. It was hard for Smokescreen to believe that this was the same crazy ‘Bot that had ripped Drag Strip apart so mercilessly and then left a severed optic in the mess hall as a sick scare tactic against one of his own comrades. The revelation that Hex had also been tortured by Darkride was something of a shock, as well. Although, it did explain a lot regarding his recent, unbalanced behavior even though it was still not an excuse for his violent actions by any means.

Perhaps I misjudged him a bit, Smokescreen thought, watching as Hex continued to comfort Bumblebee. I still don’t trust him, but perhaps there’s a glimmer of hope for him after all. The diversion specialist then looked back over at Jazz and smiled. “Well, seems like things are fine here. Let’s get down to the bounce chamber shall we? We got a ship to repair.” Smokey then patted the white mech on the shoulder before walking towards the door and exiting the med bay.

Corridors

As Smokescreen walked through the halls of the frigate, he opened a comm line to his mission commander:

>>”Ironhide, Jazz and I are on our way to the bounce chamber now. However, I’m afraid Bumblebee can’t join us as he’s going to be recuperating in the med bay for a while. I’m not sure who to suggest for a replacement member of the team, but I’m confident we’ll get the job done regardless of who we work with.”<<

Armory

Ironfist accepted the weapon with a gracious if not reserved nod of his head. His highly trained optical scanner, as well as his incredibly sensititve tactile sensors, began to examine the elder weapon. Each nook of the barrel, each curve of the internal matrix... right down to the artistic designs on the custome forged stock of the weapon itself, each detail was recorded and filed away for future admiration. It was obviously a magnificent piece of work, and by the fact that the entire matrix was well polished and well maintained, dispite the eons of battle and centuries of firing.

Still even under his expert examination, it was clear that the weapon he now held was starting to show signs of desperate need for a long overdue recalibration. Keeping that bit to himself, primarily due to the pride Ricochet obviously held for his weapon and another part because he really did not want to delve into much of a discussion that did not have anything to do with his own little side projects... both militaristic and of those of a more fanatical nature. Ironfist set the weapon down on the work bench and pulled the light over to illuminate the instrument of destruction.

Tapping on a small key pad that lined up along the vertical surface of the wall, he entered a personal code to his work station. A small hiss and a pop soon revealed a small panel section that began to slowly draw open. As it reached its apex, a small tray emerged and descended down to the workbench. Carefully, but without sparing a glance, Ironfist counted three rows down and two spaces to the left and grabbed hold of a small calibration meter. Setting it to the side, he grabbed hold of one of the smaller tube shaped photon emitters located one level above. Toggling a small ruby colored stud along its long silver cylindrical body, Ironfist pressed the devise down against the occular sight. A brief puff of smoke soon rose from the cutting took before the head of the torch switched to a laser calibrator.

Setting the device down next to the meter, Ironfist picked up the weapon and gave it a swift blow to remove a small bit of time worn corrosion that had begun to occur... even with proper cleaning molecular bonds tended to degrade if left to their own devices. Again without offering a second glance to his tools, the engineer grabbed hold of the calibration meter and fired the concentrated light into the occular sight and took a baseline reading. "This is good workmanship." He finally announced as he repeated the process of grinding and repairing and alligning the sights to his comrade in arm's weapon.

It took only a pair of moments before he had completed his task. Reattaching the sights to the weapon as a whole, Ironfist proceeded to give a cursory examination. He popped the hatch on the ventral side and resoddered a few loose connections from the firing mechanism to the primary battery. He then proceeded to do the unexpected but from his personal view, absolutely necessary, Ironfist pressed a small stud inside the weapon and bent it down to one hundredth of a micron closer towards the main board of the firing program matrix. He reached for a small bit of copper wire from his tool rack and proceeded to wrap it around the transistor shaped device and reinforced the connection with a brief electro sodder.

He closed the cover to the weapon's interior and flipped it over to examine the final connections and the wires inside that generated the line of sight. "There." He finally offered the weapon back to its owner. "If you so wish, I could modify your firearm's output by a factor of point seven five seven percent... without sacrificing heat sync optimalization."

Medical Bay

Jazz let the Optic go with much ease, but he still felt that Axle wasn't taking it as seriously as Jazz thought he would. Nevertheless, Hex did seem to be talking to Bumblebee very considerately and that was fine with Jazz.

"Right," Jazz acknowledged Smokescreen's statement on having to leave, "Race 'ya to the Bounce chamber!"

Jazz laughed as he ran through the doorway and grabbed onto the side of the frame to turn on a dime and not crash onto the wall. He did a somersault, transformed and sped off through the corridors. He slammed the brake and spun the wheel to turn a tight right, and did the same with the left turns, squealing his tires.

He Transformed again, launching himself in an aerial maneuver and onto the ground in the Bounce Chamber.

Bounce Chamber

Jazz found that he was the only one there. Of course he was, naturally Ironhide was going to walk slowly to the Bounce Chamber, and Jazz had just left Smokescreen in the dust! Well, this was going to be a while.

Bridge

Silverbolt walks up to the command console and stops a few feet away.

"Commander Prowl, I apologize for being so quiet in our last meeting. With everything happening within the last few decacycles, it was something that I had to contemplate. I want to correct my mental absense and offer myself and the Aerialbots in support of Ironhide on the repairs of the Ark-19. We will do what is needed. Another option, if you so choose, is that we could do a little more indepth scouting from the air of what is left of the Con base."

Bridge

Blaster smirked as his orders from Prowl were received. Allowing the Autobot Commander to leave his station, Blaster immediately took his place at the communications station and began punching in a few commands with a cold familiarity. Although it had been a while since he had been at the controls of an Autobot frigate, the Communications Officer was an old enough hand to adapt sufficiently enough so that most of Earth's communications were now streaming through the Guardian's consoles and automatically being analysed.

The data now streaming through the multitude of panels in front of him could be translated by only a select few Autobots, Blaster being one of them. Narrowing his optics in concentration, the Cassette Commander broadened the range of wavelengths that the Guardian's computers were now monitoring. As the communications station whirred in efficiency, Blaster turned round to Prowl.

"No signs of Decepticon activity as of yet, buddy. I've set the Guardian to monitor all known frequencies on Earth." He punched a couple more commands into the console. "Nothin' and I mean zip so far... but I'm keeping my optics and audio receivers pinned to the ground. Everything, all wavelengths right down through the range to sub-sonic is being fed through to me." He smirked at his own brilliance. "Don't you worry ol' buddy, any shenanigans that go on down there will be patched straight through to me!" Transforming into his boom box mode and nestling comfortably into his chair, Blaster connected to his station to ensure maximum concentration. Although he did allow the pleasant tunes of a favourite terran rock radio station to come through more often than others.

Corridors

Ironhide was pushing a hovercart of armor plates down the corridor. He was trying to figure out how he was going to get them all underwater. Loading them inside his alternate mode was looking like the best option, although then he would have to just dump them on the lake bed. He was going to have to mention to Prowl about maybe moving the ship to some place not underwater once they got it all fixed. It certainly made hiding easier but it certainly was a pain in the aft to travel to or repair.

He stopped and let out a sigh as he got the signal in from Smokescreen. Bumblebee was the one bot on board who had anything close to specialties in underwater operations. Losing him was going to hurt the whole mission. He was definitely going to need a replacement, maybe even a couple of them. He grabbed his data pad from the top of the sled and scrolled through it again for suitable candidates.

>>”Ironfist, Lore-lock, you two are joining the Ark 19 recovery team. Report to the bounce chamber pronto and be ready to get yer feet wet.”<<

*

Bridge

The situation with Hardhead defused the Protectobot went back to his work trying to locate the Decepticon vessel. He was fairly familiar with the Ultrax. The Stunticons weren’t exactly mechanics so their vessel was often fairly easy to detect thanks to bleed off radiation readings, fluid leaks or even debris trails. Unfortunately finding her would be far easier then fighting her. She was a tough vessel, with the weapons being one of the few things on board known to be well maintained.

Before Hot Spot could delve very far into his assignment he was interrupted by Groove. He stifled a sigh at being taken from his assignment by one of his, well, less enthusiastic team members. He had tried his best over the years to motivate Groove into being more aggressive in battle, that the Decepticons weren’t going to want to talk it out or anything like that, to little avail. The Protectobot leader considered it more a failing on his part then anything else, so he wouldn’t give up in trying to motivate Groove.

He turned in his chair to face the other Autobot. “What’s on your mind Groove?”

Armory

Ironfist paused briefly as regarded the offer he had made to optimize Ricochet's weapon. It was a rare offer, he mused to himself quietly, it was not as if he went out of his way offering to optimize antique weaponry when he was in the process of designing new technologies that were vital to the war effort as a whole. Perhaps he was affected by the reports from the surface more than he realized, or perhaps it was because whether or not he cared to addmit it, he was stuck. The development of the Fragmentary Regeneration Missile or FRM had stalled to the point of maddening. This effort was probably best considered a reprieve from that insanity and possibly offer him a fresh perspective on the problems he was facing.

Unfortunately those in command, or at least higher rankings than himself, had decided to abruptly eliminate this brief respite. Over the loud speaker of the Armory the voice of Ironhide broke the silence. It was an official summoning to operational duty. "It appears I will have to postpone my initial offer Ricochet."

The weapons designer pushed himself off the stool that wobbled briefly at the sudden unbalancing loss of weight that held it in place before the drafting bench. Ironfist replaced his design tools and nano calibrator onto the rack returning the set into the wall recess. He pulled back on the drawer to his bench and extracted a small trinket wrapped in a prestine cleaning fiber cloth. Carefully he unwrapped the small collectable and glared at it briefly. As quickly as he extracted it, he replaced in his chest compartment just above his fuel pump and grabbed hold of the multi elemental tool kit located towards the far end of the Armory.

Tapping his chest communicator he sent a quick response back to Ironhide. He then exitted the Armory and entered into a brisk paced walk towards the deck's primary bounce chamber.

Bounce Chamber

Given he was only a few sections away from the Bounce Chamber, Ironfist made relatively good time in arriving before the operations officer that had summoned him. He gave a cursory glance to the operator of the Bounce System and took his place against one of the walls opposite the platform. He set his tool kit on the floor and allowed it to open its magnetized locks. Carefully he extracted the underwater torch and cold focus plasma tools and began checking power levels. There was no sense in going after the downed Ark with tools that were not properly powered.

As he tinkered and toggled through the various settings of the powered tools, Ironfist noticed finally he was not entirely alone inside the grid. He probably never was truly alone, but he sure never noticed the company. The officer in question was Jazz... Pausing on his task, the weapons designer offered a brisk salute to the operative. Inwardly however he could not help but feel disappointment. "Why couldn't have been a Wrecker?" he muttered absently to himself as he returned to work.

Bridge

Groove wasn't surprised by his Hot Spot's quick response- that was his nature, after all. The scout could see a hint of annoyance from the Protectobot commander, so Groove didn't hesitate.

"Hot Spot, I think there is a chance there may be some Decepticons still down on the planet. And I think that it stands to reason that they may either be unaware of the destruction of their base, or that they may be investigating the area to find out what exactly happened."

Groove paused for a moment, mostly from hesitation. Despite his complete disgust about the war, he didn't feel right just to abandon his responsibilities to the Protectobots or the Autobots. This, he thought, was his best chance to get away without shirking on his duties. He would honestly look for any Decepticon activity in that area- but it seemed unlikely there would be any. Groove really expected just a nice drive around the Pacific Northwest, enjoying the Cascade mountains, the many forested areas, and the beautiful coastline. What he really wondered, though, was if Hot Spot would see through him, or if he would think that all their talks had finally sunk into the scout about taking more initiaitive as a soldier.

"Hot Spot, I would like to volunteer to go down to the planet and scout around the area surrounding the enemies former base of operation for any possible enemy activity."

Armory

Before Ricochet could even decide whether to accept or decline further assistance from Ironfist, Ironhide's announcement transmitted over the internal communications system. The strangely grateful gunner could only nod and smirk as Ironfist left the armory, undoubtedly en route to the Bounce chamber.

"Heh, even I would have taken up on orders for a salvage mission when the only real alternative seems to be playing the waiting game." He thought.

Without another klik processing the thought, Ricochet stowed his rifle and departed the armory, giving a quick glance back at his favored location to relax before the hydraulic hatch closed behind him.

Bounce Chamber

The gunner entered the chamber rather casually, in an attempt to mask the onset of tension at being left behind for the first mission since the disappearance of Prime. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to afford Ironfist some level of verbalized gratitude for the fine work on his rifle, and he thought it might be a solid display of character to show support for his fellow bots. All of this was simply in an attempt to improve upon his standing with the other bots of course. He never personally cared for such trivialities, but if an opportunity to extinguish decepticon sparks wouldn't be presenting itself soon he might as well attempt to partake in traditional autobot behavior. After all, if the war ended tomorrow what else would there be? Ricochet shuddered at the thought, but carried on regardless.

Recognizing Jazz as he surveyed the room for Ironfist, Ricochet offered a less than professional salute, barely reaching a limp hand to his visor. Frankly, that was the best salute any ranking bot would be able to get out of such an unorthodox bot as Ricochet. His regard for protocol and military regulation were limited at best.

"I don't suppose you'll be planning any slightly more violent missions in the near future, would you sir? I wouldn't mind feeling more useful around here if you catch my drift." Ricochet asked Jazz.

Bounce Chamber

Jazz stood alone in the chamber for several minutes just looking about the Bounce Chamber, until Ricochet and Ironfist walked in briskly, and the latter offered a formal salute and mumbled something about being a Wrecker.

Jazz quickly offered Ironfist a salute, but quickly said, "Look, you don't have to do that. Believe it or not, I'm the one who should be saluting you!"

Jazz laughed, "Oh, and what was that thing about the Wreckers?"

Jazz turned to Ricochet and listened to his wanting to smash some Decepticons, and it sounded like that he really didn't want to be doing a salvage mission.

"Well, after this, I wanted to team up with Warpath and Lore-Lock and take the fight to the 'Cons, you're welcome to join. If, however, Ironhide says we can."

"Speaking of which, where is Ironhide?" Jazz asked openly.

Bridge

>>”Understood, Ratchet.”<< Prowl commed down to the repair bay without taking his optics off the energy readings in front of him. He spent the next half-breem studying them, attempting to better understand their composition and consider possible origins. Although, with Shockwave’s discovery on Earth in the not-so-distant past, it was conceivable that the Decepticon scientist had something to do with this new energon growth. It was only a theory at present, but it was one that needed to be looked into nevertheless.

Prowl’s attention was drawn back to Blaster who informed him that there were currently no signs of ‘Con activity down on the planet. That was good news, but how long would it last? Surely, the Decepticons won’t just sit idly by after the loss of their own leader. Starscream would have something up his circuits. It was just a matter of playing the waiting game or finding the Ultrax first. “That’s what I like to hear, Blaster. Keep up the good work.”

Just as he finished speaking with the communications specialist, Silverbolt emerged from the conference room and approached the military strategist. Prowl listened and looked up at the apologetic Aerialbot leader. “I understand, Silverbolt. You don’t have to explain yourself. I could tell that things were bothering you just by analyzing your overall body language and facial expressions during the meeting. The loss of Prime is tough on us all and each mech handles it differently.

“As for going back down to the blast site, I’m afraid it’s far too dangerous. Perceptor has already suffered damage while investigating these strange energy readings down there. Even the skies are too risky as the immense ash cloud from the volcano would most certainly clog your jet thrusters. No, it’s out of the question.”

Prowl then considered Silverbolt’s secondary request of providing air support to Ironhide’s repair efforts down at the Ark-19. “Ironhide’s in charge of the repair mission and he’s already picked a team. Air support over Lake Michigan wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea. However, it is unlikely the Decepticons would strike the Ark a second time as it doesn’t make strategic sense at this point. It is more likely that they would send their seekers on some kind of salvage mission or fuel run since they lost at lot of materials and energon in the destruction of their base. That is why I need you to prep your team for deployment at a moment’s notice. Your talents would be better served engaging the Decepticons’ seeker elite than in mere patrols that would only result in wasted energy.”

Prowl smiled up at Silverbolt, understanding that the Aerialbot Commander just needed something to take his mind off of everything. “I wish I had more for you at this point. Just ready your team. I have a gut feeling in my circuits that something’s going to happen sooner rather than later, and that’s when I’ll need your aerial expertise in the field. If there’s nothing else then you’re dismissed.”

With his orders given, Prowl returned his gaze to the view screen ahead just as he noticed a strange sound coming from somewhere on the bridge. The black and white mech looked around, trying to ascertain the source of the weird music. “What in the frag is that noise?” Prowl asked aloud as his optics finally fell on the communications station where Blaster had apparently tapped into an Earth-bound radio station. “Oh, I should have guessed. Nevermind.”

Bounce Chamber

Smokescreen finally entered the room to find Jazz already there talking with Ironfist and Ricochet. The speed at which the white mech had rushed by Smokey back in the corridors had startled him a bit, causing the diversion expert to almost lose his balance and fall against a wall. Fortunately, there was no harm done and Smokey understood that Jazz was just doing what came naturally to him.

“I'm sure Ironhide will be here soon,” Smokey commented, as he approached Jazz with a grin. “That was some fancy moves back there, buddy. I wish I was as agile as you. Although, I’d save your strength. Working underwater is a tough job. It’s no joy ride that’s for sure. I know because I had to do it before when Bumblebee’s original body exploded. I’ll tell you one thing, you certainly won’t be able to perform those stunts of yours while submerged.”

The diversion expert patted Jazz on the back before turning to look at both Ricochet and Ironfist. “So, are you guys joining us on the repair mission? We could certainly use the help.” Smokescreen knew the two replacement mechs by reputation only as he had never served with either of them before. However, Smokey was aware of Ironfist’s specialty in weapons engineering and of Ricochet’s penchant for having a very short temper. That was something the red and blue racer would have to be careful with as he was already on Hex’s bad side. He didn’t need to tick off the black and gold gunner, as well.

Mess Hall

Hardhead entered the room in a foul mood. His conversation with Prowl had not gone as planned, resulting in a reprimand and orders to get a recharge just in case his strength was needed. However, instead of going to the med bay and sitting in the usual recharge station, the seasoned veteran decided to drown his anger with some synthetic energon. He knew it wouldn’t taste too good, but at least he’d still get a power boost and he would do so his own way.

Ignoring the other mechs in the room, Hardhead approached the energon dispenser where he grabbed a tall glass. He then filled it three quarters of the way up before taking a seat at a far off table. Grumbling under his breath, he sat back and drank a small amount of the substitute. The green soldier’s reaction was immediate and harsh as he spit the glowing purple substance out of his mouth piece and all over the table top. “That’s disgusting!” Hardhead bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the vast room. “It’s worse than the crap I had to endure down in the Ark!”

Knowing that he still needed a recharge, the green warrior managed to force the remainder of the energon down, almost choking on the awful taste as it entered his fuel tanks. “Yuck!” The war veteran muttered before throwing the empty glass aside. It broke as it bounced off the seat next to him and then struck the floor, sending shards sliding in all directions. Hardhead didn’t care about the mess, instead only focusing on digesting the sickening brew as he tried to keep his annoyance in check.

Bridge

"Very well, Commander Prowl."

Silverbolt gives a solid salute to Prowl as he turns to walk off. He makes it to the lift and takes it down to the practice range.

Practice Range
"Sorry to report but Prowl doesn't have anything for us at the moment. It is too dangerous for us to examine the remains of the Con's former base. The salavage of our own base is underway and there isn't much of a need for us there. Right now we are on call."

"Just great, they let the likes of Ironhide to head back down to Earth without any protection. What are we supposed to do, sit up here and let our wings get cramped?"

"I know, Air Raid, we feel more relax when we can fly. Being up here in orbit is definitely not something we are used to but we have to conserve what energy we have."

"Well, Silverbolt, I guess someone is content on staying on board. Too bad we can't bounce ourselves back down just to see if there is anything at all to scrounge up."

"Calm donw, Air Raid, being antsy won't help anything. We've been through a lot with the attacks and everything else. You know as well as I that it wasn't easy giving up the Ark-19 but at least it is salvageable."

Rec Room

Lore-lock was just about to remind Ironhide about the energon stores on the Ark, when that old war horse called him to the bounce chamber. Not wanting to be late, he gave a smirk to Warpath and made tracks.

"Looks Like I'm needed else where, I'll check on those stores if I get time."

Corridors
Lore-lock moved as quickly as he could. Fortunately he had taken a nano-click to synch the ships computer with his own guidance and navigation system. No more getting lost.

Bounce Chamber
Lore-lock walked in to see Jazz and a few other mechs.
"I suppose we just need Ironhide to finish us off?" he inquired, as he got positioned on the pad.

Bounce Chamber

Processing all that Jazz has to say, Ricochet simply smirked a little as he offered his reply.
"Now Jazz, you know that I am never more at peace with myself or any of you for that matter when I am given the opportunity to perforate a cadre of cons'. And despite the lack of real action taking place on this most current expedition, the task is still looking rather inviting even for a war monger such as myself."

It wasn't a klik later than Smokescreen entered the chamber, addressing Jazz and then Ricochet and Ironfist in general conversation. It became clear to Ricochet that he was correct in deciding to visit the Bounce Chamber prior to the selected team's deployment. Though there was a time when this sort of exercise of social interaction with other bots seemed less appealing than open spark surgery while conscious, Ricochet could at least appreciate that partaking in such activity seemed to keep those horrible recurring visions from the recharge station at bay.

Returning from such deep thought, Ricochet quickly replied to Smokescreens inquiry, doing well not to appear as though he had disengaged from his surroundings.

"No Smokescreen, it would appear as though I was not selected for this endeavor. My skill set is unfortunately unrelated and thus does not meet the necessary parameters. Unless of course the unexpected should occur down there as it often does." The Gunner responded.

Bridge

Hot Spot quietly listened as Groove shared his concerns with him. There was a good possibility that there were Decepticons still down on the planet, possibly even cut off from any sort of command structure. It was even possible they were wandering around the area of their former base trying to find out what had happened. It might be worth investigating.

On the other hand though, the area was liable to be teeming with human investigators and emergency officials. The area of the actual explosion seemed to still be rather unstable as well since Hardhead and Perceptor had been pulled out shortly after arriving down there. He wasn’t entirely sure another mission down to that particular area would be approved, nor was he sure he agreed with it either.

Of course, there was an ulterior motive to the whole request coming from Groove. This mission was going to get him off of the ship and likely further out of the way of immediate combat. While he disagreed with his teammate’s pacifistic nature he did respect the fact that he continued to contribute as best he could. Unfortunately this idea just didn’t seem quite worthwhile in the end. At the very least it might be better suited to Streetwise.

“There might be some Cons still down there Groove, but there is no guarantee they will be near the base, especially with all of the human’s attention on that area. And if they are fliers I’m not sure how well you would be able to track or follow them. We can bring the idea to Prowl but I’m not sure what kind of endorsement I can give it.

*

Bounce Chamber

Ironhide stepped into the room still pushing the cart of replacement armor plates for the Ark. He took a quick glance around the room, noting that all of the assigned Autobots were there, along with Ricochet for some reason. Maybe the gunner was itching for something to do? He could certainly understand that feeling.

“Alright Bots, here’s the plan. We’re gonna bounce down just off the shore of the body a water the Ark is layin’ in. Transform to alternate mode as soon as you can and we’ll all take the plunge in the water. I’ll be carryin’ these armor plates in my alternate mode,” he tapped the top of the pile on the cart. “When we get to the Ark I want Lore-lock, Jazz and Smokescreen to perform a quick scan of the ship’s exterior with these,” he handed each of them a portable scanning unit. “Ironfist and I’ll will head towards the bridge and set up the plates and tools outside the ship. Fer now we’ll just worry about patching the outside up and then we’ll head inside and see how bad things are. Any questions?”

The old bot glanced over at his team before settling his optics on Ricochet. “You got any business here Ricochet or is this yer way of volunteerin’ for the team? Ain’t gonna be much shootin’ involved but I won’t turn down another pair of strong hands to do some work.

(OOC: Unless anyone objects, I'm going to assume the Rec Room and Mess Hall are the same room)

Mess Hall

"BANG, sure thing buddy," Warpath said to Lore-Lock as he left, "Just save a BOOM, glass for me!"

With all of the Autobots that Warpath had been talking to now gone, the tank-bot wondered what he was going to do. It was then that he heard someone yell in disgust about the available energy, followed by the sound of glass breaking. It was the third time now that the warrior had heard that noise- the first two being his own doing.

"Well, at least I'm not the only one who's BLAM, taking out his anger on the Protectobot's glassware, heh heh." Warpath hollered as he looked around to find the source of the racket.

At one of the tables at the far end of the room he noticed Hardhead. The green mech looked like he was in no mood to see anyone, which was probably why Warpath hadn't noticed him enter in the first place. But despite that, plus the fact that he was probably the only Autobot on the Guardian who was bigger, stronger and tougher than Warpath, the Autobot warrior felt the need to approach him to cheer him up.

"Yeah that POW, slaggin' excuse for energon sure doesn't hit the spot." Warpath said to Hardhead as he walked toward him, "But my buddy Lore-lock who just left said he'll try to ZOOM, get us some of the good stuff."

When Warpath got to Hardhead's table he stood next to the large green Autobot and gave him a hardy pat on the back.

"So what's BAM, troubling you pal? Are you feeling stuck like me, waiting for a chance to KAPOW, slag some Decepti-bums?"

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

Bridge

Groove could see that, although he had clearly put some thought into the scout's request, Hot Spot wasn't fully on board with it. As much as Groove wanted to go down to the planet, to bring it up to the strategist without his commander's full support would just be a waste of time.

"No, you're right. There's no need to bring this up with Prowl.", the scout gave a disappointed reply.

As upset as he was about not going down to Earth, Groove couldn't help but feel bad for taking up his commander's time. Despite his distaste for war and combat, the scout often tried his best to live up to his commander's expectations. And although his pacifist beliefs frequently clashed with Hot Spot's orders, the Protectobot commander had been somewhat understanding of their difference of opinion- at least outside of battle situations.

"I'm sorry Hot Spot, I've clearly distracted you from an important assignment.", the scout apologized, "Is there anything that I can do to help?"

Bounce Chamber

Ironfist recorded the orders right down to the subtext and clarifications brought on by the others present. However he resisted the non urge to join in, and instead made his way over to a storage locker lining the far side of the bounce chamber. Pressing in a series of three step codes into the access lock, Ironfist activated the terminal to open the locker. He reached in and pulled out a rack to its apex and allowed it to cycle through its contents until it reached the three devices he required.

The engineer took hold of a secondary underwater arch wielder and compression cutter and slid them both into his tool kit. He moved its contents around so they would fit along its bottom clamps before he finally returned his attention to the final piece in the locker. His fingers danced across the surface of three cylinders before he finally found the barrel modification he had placed within the secondary rack some time prior. It was a simple modification for plasma or laser energy tools and weapons, making them more focused in more liquid environments. Of course it was still a prototype and he really had not had an oportunity to test it fully. Given his current assignment, he was afforded such a chance and he figured it was a now or never moment.

He tucked the Focuser, he really needed to find a better name for this, into his kit and closed the locker. Once he was finished with the final check of his hand tools, Ironfist made his way back to the Bounce pad. He stepped up onto a position furthest from the bounce controls, but closest to Jazz. Finally he spoke. "An underwater salvage and repair mission... This is just like the time when Impactor lead the Wreckers to the water world of Govaki. They had discovered an old time battle cruiser dating back from the Quintesson days..." He began to go into depth about a the mission he had uncovered from the archieves years ago. Each detail he gave brought him closer with actually being there... "And then Impactor reached the..." He let the bounce effect take him in mid sentence.

Mess Hall

Hardhead was consumed with his own inner anger, anger at himself for not finding Prime, anger at Prowl for not giving him more time and anger at the Decepticons for putting them all in this dreadful situation in the first place. There was very little that could cheer him up at this point. Even an energon drink couldn’t suffice since it was that disgusting replicated variety. The old war veteran didn’t perk up until he heard the sound of a familiar voice booming at him from across the mess hall. He slowly lifted his head to see a crimson tank-former walking towards him.

“Warpath!” Hardhead exclaimed as he stood up and rounded the table. “You old goon! I didn’t know you were on board! How have ya been, buddy?” The green mech playfully punched the red ‘Bot on the arm and actually managed to crack a bit of a smile in the process. “Yeah, this crap they call energon is just plain nasty. I hope they bring up some of the pure stuff from the Ark. That would really hit the spot right about now.”

Hardhead began to frown again when Warpath asked him what was wrong. Where would he begin to explain what was troubling him? “Well, ‘Path, I’ve already slagged some ‘Cons during the recent battle, although I certainly wouldn’t mind slagging some more. I already got payback against Blitzwing for what he did to me during a prior encounter and now it’s time to get some payback against all those other Decepti-creeps for what happened to Prime.”

The green warrior sat back down and rested his hands on the table in front of him. “But what’s really bothering me is Prowl. What an auto-prick! He’s lucky he’s in charge because if he wasn’t…” Hardhead’s words trailed off before he said something he would later regret. “I went back down to what was left of the ‘Con base to look for Prime. I had only searched one side of the mountain before Prowl bounced me back up. He said it was too dangerous. Maybe for him it’s too dangerous but not for me. Then he lectures me in front of everyone and orders me to get a recharge, talkin’ to me like I’m some kind of protoform. It really sizzled my circuits, ya know?” The war veteran let out an aggravated sigh before pounding one of his fists down onto the table top, leaving a deep dent behind. He then looked back up at Warpath, his frown unchanged. “Other than that I’m just peachy. How you doin’?”

Bounce Chamber

“Well, I’m sure if you wanted to volunteer Ironhide would accept the extra help,” Smokescreen responded to Ricochet in an attempt to reassure him that his presence on the repair mission would be a welcome one regardless of his skills as a gunner. “The more assistance we have the quicker the job gets done, right?”

As the diversion expert finished speaking, Ironhide entered the room, pushing a cart full of armor plates in front of him. The plates in question were clearly going to be used to replace what had been damaged along the outer hull of the Ark-19. They were not just simple patches, either, as they would serve as the Ark’s new skin in the necessary areas. His curiosity getting the better of him, Smokey walked over to the cart and picked up one of the plates in his hand, inspecting it closely. It was thick and heavy, made of a strong material that would definitely do the job well. It was an excellent choice if not the only option currently at their disposal.

Placing the plate back into the cart, Smokescreen then looked up and listened as the security chief laid out his plan to get their former base up and operational again. The red and blue racer took the scanning unit from Ironhide and briefly switched it on to make sure it would function properly. Once he was satisfied the device was in good working order, Smokey shut it off again to save on power. After the red mech was finished speaking, the diversion expert gave him a nod. “No questions, sir. I’ve done underwater repairs like this before so I know what to expect. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Smokescreen then positioned himself on the bounce pad alongside the others and waited to be transported down to the surface.

OoC: Don't leave without me!

Bounce Chamber

Jazz watched as Smokescreen walked in and stated how good Jazz's moves were, but he couldn't use them underwater.

"You'd be surprised Smokey." Jazz winked with a smile.

Ironhide finally walked in and issued orders for the mission and handed Jazz a portable scanning device. Jazz flipped it in the air, only to catch it seconds later with a smile. He nodded to Ironhide when the orders were finished. It was then when Ironfist walked over and began to explain a long and seemingly dismal story about the Wreckers finding a ship that belonged to the Quintessions, Jazz's eyes glazed over to Smokescreen where he shot him a desperate look and turned his head to where Ironfist couldn't see his faceplate and mouthed out 'Help Me' to Smokescreen. Soon after he felt the relief of the fact that Ironfist was cut off when they were bounced down to Earth.

Bounce Chamber

Ricochet was surprised to see another autobot, aside from the calculating and efficient Ironfist addressing him outside of common courtesy. Yet, here Smokescreen stood happily inviting a bot whose identifiying trait was his difficulty working with others on a mission that would normally have no place for him. If anything Ricochet might think that this would be the sort of mission other bots would volunteer for if it meant deploying without the ill tempered gunner. The black and gold bot quickly dismissed the analysis however. "I must have Ratchet take a scan thorough of my processor. There is surely a malfunction of sorts that seems to be effecting my ability to suppress such unnecessary self-observation" He thought. Quickly gathering himself, he smartly offered Smokescreen a nod in agreement.

Just then, Ironhide entered the room, wasting no time in briefing his team on the task at hand. Ricochet took to the back of the group, remaining receptive to the large red bot's briefing. It should have come to no surprise that Ironhide would address Ricochet after issuing orders, the black and gold gunner seemed to be uncharacteristically approachable today.

"Though I never intended to volunteer for this less than appealing reclamation mission, I do suppose I could offer an assist. When given the extra thought, I don't suppose I really have anything better to do. I might as well help out instead of rusting up here." Ricochet responded openly.

With that, the gunner turned and made his way to the bounce pad with the other bots, still surprised at himself for suddenly being so cooperative with his allies.

Med Bay

It had been some time since Smokescreen and Jazz had brought an unconscious Bumblebee in, and who they said displayed severe symptoms of PTSD. Ratchet, with the help of Axle had finally completed Perceptor’s repairs while Hex stayed by the traumatized minibot’s side. After closing off one of the acess ports on the scientist’s helmet Ratchet glanced over at the young silver mech and the yellow ‘Bot.

“I should have consulted with you before I tried to erase his memory.”

Ratchet kept his optics glued on the scene in front of him.

Surprised Axle looked over at the CMO and slowly nodded, even though he knew Ratchet wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“You know, I had a really hard time convincing myself that doing it for Hex would be the best thing. When I told him that I planned on erasing that portion of his memory he told me not to. He said he wanted to remember.”

At that revelation Ratchet finally looked at Axle.

“Heh. The kid has guts to want to deal with those memories every day.”

Axle turned his gaze back to the two survivors and cracked a small smile.

“He’s tough. But now I’m wondering if those memories are affecting him in other ways. Hex has led a hard life. After he was rescued and in recovery I did some background checks on him. He was actually the last mech created before the process was lost to us. Once he gained his armor he was put on the battlefield.”

The field medic kept his optics on his ward while he continued to speak.

“I found out after he was rescued that he had been on his very first mission when he and his team was captured. He never had a chance to know what it was like to live without war. I became his guardian to make sure he’d live long enough to know what living in peace is like.”

Ratchet had stopped watching Hex and Bumblebee and simply stared at Axle. After a moment of silence the field medic looked back to Ratchet and smiled awkwardly.

“We should wake Percy up, sir. Prowl is waiting.”

“Uh, yeah, right.”

Ratchet quickly rebooted the scientist and within a few moments Perceptor’s dark blue optics came back online. He sat up slowly and slung his legs over the side of the exam berth. Taking time to run a self-diagnostic, Perceptor looked up at the two medics and nodded his approval.

“The scans I acquired from the remains of the Decepticon base, has anyone looked them over?”

Ratchet placed a hand on the sniper’s shoulder and shook his head.

“Sorry, Percy. I haven’t looked at them, but Prowl wants to see you right away. He’s seen the scans and needs your expertise in deciphering them.”

Perceptor hopped off the berth completely and began to make his way to the door. He stopped before he exited the room entirely and looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you both. I’m in debt to you.”

****

A low hiss sounded in the back of the Med Bay where the CR chambers were housed. The cycle on one of the chambers had finally ended and the nanite rich fluid was finally draining out. The door opened up and the bright crimson mech stepped out. Sideswipe stretched and moved his joints to loosen them up. He stopped suddenly when he spotted the little surprise Sunstreaker had left for him.

"Oh you're a regular riot, Sunny."

Sideswipe moved to the chamber next to his own and took a look inside. When he saw his brother was the one occupying it a broad smile formed on his face. Right away he began trying to reset the chamber but found that his twin had entered a security code. Sideswipe let out a defeated groan and kicked the chamber.

"I guess I'll have to stoop to some of those age old pranks."

The red warrior rubbed his hands together before leaning against the wall opposite of his brother's chamber.

Bridge

Perceptor had swiftly traversed the corridors of the Guardian and stopped in front of the doors to the bridge. He typed in his personal security code and the doors slid open revealing Prowl stationed at one of the many terminals and Blaster monitoring all frequencies to and from the planet below.

The scientist stepped through the threshold and made his way next to the black and white mech.

“Have you been able to decipher the scans Prowl?”