The Energon Pub

Oh yeah, mess hall


Seaspray squirted Pipes with the squirt gun.

Mess Hall?

Seaspray squirted Pipes one more time before stowing away the squirt gun.

Bridge

"Retract the docking boon between the Guardian and the Ark 22." Ironfist ordered to Gridlock as the report communique came flashing back from Wheeljack. The chief engineer of the medical frigate Guardian toggled his own console to supplant original data feed coming from his own ship's damaged sensor array with the signal from the larger tactical utility vessel known as the Ark... well technically it was the twenty second ship of the Ark Class. He truly did not understand why such impressive vessels could be created by individuals who truly lacked enough creativity to instill them with names that matched their designs. The initial grainy figures on the main screen were immediately replaced with a crystal clear feed.

Clearly events had progressed since the initial results of the scans. The large green titan had smashed its way through the twelfth grade shield as if it had been only a minor inconvenience. The other engineers, outside of Gridlock, were silently enthralled by the massive construct and its sheer power as it aggressively pounded at the Fallen. Wedge and Hightower quickly jotted notes from the sensor readings and personal observations as Ironfist committed to memory the visual ques that were present.

Eventually he segmented the feed as the entire ship reverberated. "Docking boon has been retracted. Power levels stable at fifty percent." Gridlock's report came as no surprise. There had been a mutual exchange of power between the two ships since the attack had happened. Since then the Guardian had relied mostly on the Ark's reactors to keep emergency power online. And even though the destroyed generator had been replaced with a newer one, well relatively new, Ironfist had not been afforded the opportunity to calibrate the entire system for maximum efficiency or power generation. "Big, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Almost makes me wish I had invested more time reading holographic novels." Heavy Load jabbed to break the tension. "Damn thing is straight out of..."

Wedge shuddered. "Nightmares. I don't know which is more terrifying, the demi god from mythic lore or the fact that the Decepticons decided it was time to resurrect forbidden technology."

Hightower's fingers darted over the weapons controls as instinct began to take over. "Since it is forbidden, and in violation of every treaty in the book... why don't I simply right the wrong right now?" His fingers quickly set the final locking coordinates onto the summit.

"Don't even think about it Hightower." Ironfist's methodical warning came across like a vibro ax through duranium steel. "Like it or not, there is a truce on the surface." As he spoke a red light began to flash on the arm rest. The weapons engineer pressed it down with his left index finger and leaned back as a small holographic screen flashed before him. As it stabilized the vestige of Prowl took shape. The message was brief and succinct. He relayed Prowl's orders not to open fire with any weapons until a direct link came from the strategist himself. Ironfist sent a response of acknowledgement and maintained the communications line in standby.

Hightower deleted the targeting coordinates of the giant green construct, for the moment. Instead the marksman turned his attention to the energy output readings that would be theoretically required to bring something of that power level to heel. He sent his findings back to Gridlock who ran the numbers with rapid aplomb. "Hey Ironfist, we may have a problem." Ironfist looked up briefly from his recently opened transwarp projector schematics files. "Your plan, as you explained it, was to use our ion batteries in conjunction with the Arks and possibly the Decepticons."

"That is correct... augmented by the gravitational effects of the gravity lenses that will focus the beam into a single point. And the problems are pretty paramount in the level of power necessary and the questionable accuracy that results from a moving target... so beyond that whats the problem."

Hightower nodded and flicked a command to bring up a simulated tactical display to the bisected forward display. The simulator showed the ships firing in unison through the gravity lens, with the appropriate calculations and adjustments to account for the Earth's own gravity well, atmosphere and rotation. "I can give you accuracy, but if we missed, we don't have the power to fire a second time. Also there is this." He threw in the other variables that had not been initially accounted for such as the arrival of the giant Constructicon and its own electromagnetic field that it generated.

Ironfist leaned back as he crunched the numbers. Prowl's own estimates were below average... and these variables served as confirmation to their chances. It was more likely their attempt would fail, a last desperate effort to stave off extinction. Even still Ironfist was confident that with the right elements in place, his weapons could get the job done. But he needed a contingency... Ironfist accessed the ship's computer library and brought up a recent paper on transwarp theory, written a few vorns ago and never truly tested.

"Just means we can't miss, isn't that right Heavy Load?" Wedge's voice shook ever so slightly as he tried to convince himself of the certainty of their next effort.

Before the larger martial arts expert could respond, Ironfist finished reading the theoretical paper and looked back at the forward view screen. "Gridlock, take us into polar orbit over the combat zone. Bring us into the high ionosphere at a fifty two degree down bubble angle."

"What are you planning?" Wedge asked as he refocused the limited shields forward to prepare for atmospheric reentry.

Ironfist simply chuckled, but did not go into details. "Heavy Load, order all hands to brace for immediate turbulence. We're going to be the eye of this coming storm... Hightower, reinforce forward shields by twenty five percent. Wedge, divert all power from unnecessary systems to compensate... establish a containment force field around the transwarp drive systems, level seven."

"Level Seven?" Wedge couldn't help himself but to ask. It was an unusual order. Level seven containment fields were typically used for containing potential breaches or powerful intruders. The fact was that the Guardian only a handful of force field emitters capable of handling that level of power.

"You heard my orders Wedge. Cut power to all decks by fifty percent. Life Support by thirty seven."

Wedge did as he was told. The lights on the bridge dimmed across the board. While not extinguished, the lights of the consoles cast a ghostly hue across the confined walls.

Heavy Load for his efforts opened a channel to the rest of the vessel. "Attention Bridge to all crew. Brace for atmospheric turbulence. Report to all emergency stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, brace for atmospheric turbulence and reentry. Repair crews remain on standby."

Throughout the ship the lights dimmed to emergency levels. Each deck was cast into a dull crimson as alert klaxons began to come to life. Heavy Load looked back from the communications console and gave a firm nod to Ironfist, who in his opinion looked comically too small for the command chair. "Most decks report ready. Colt reports that repairs to the computer mainframe has stabilized the core."

Ironfist's fingers tensed at the edges of the armrests of Hot Spot's center seat. "Acknowledged. Wedge?"

"Containment fields are ready... power transfers are complete. Emergency power is active throughout the ship albeit minimally. I'd like to state for the record, that the damage done to the engines and quantium core makes this maneuver incredibly risky."

"... Not to mention stupid." Ironfist chuckled as he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Believe me, I am all with you on that one. But, desperate times call for. Well you know the rest of that sentiment." He looked back to the forward view screen which was now dominated by the brightening day light side and the small desert like continent below. "Helm... coordinates set... Engage one half thrusters."

Gridlock nodded himself as he pushed the throttle forward. The consoles and indeed the entire bridge began to shake violently as the forward shield plowed through the upper most layer of the gravitational wake of the planet. Slowly their angle began to change and the turbulence began to intensify.

The nose of the Guardian began to dip at a steeper angle into the atmosphere, the friction causing the forward shield to erupt in static and crimson sparks. Heat tore at the exterior of the vessel as the shields held off the worst of the torment. But inside the near immediate rise in temperature was noticeable. Electrical surges caused unmanned consoles to erupt in a shower of sparks before falling dead with coils of acrid smoke hovering above them.

"Steady as she goes."

Ironfist's orders were drowned out as the Guardian was buffeted by suborbital solar winds. The impact caused Hightower to tumble from his tactical station and land face first on the deck. "Shields at thirty one percent, and holding. Structural integrity at..." Wedge called over the roar of the ozone's offensive against the damaged medical frigate.

"She'll hold." Ironfist bellowed as he transferred tactical control to the arm rest controls while Hightower attempted to regain his barring. He entered various codes and coordinates to the shield emitters, transferring available power from the emergency batteries to reinforce weakening fields.

"Fifty thousand clicks from target coordinates." Gridlock called out as he deftly managed to keep the wounded ship steady throughout the risky maneuver.

"Hull breach on deck seven, section five. Force fields active, sensors report the breach as minor."

Ironfist did a quick mental check as to the location of the reported damage. To his dismay he realized that it was near the air lock. Still, it most likely required a quick patch to mend. If this doesn't get the Guardian blown to hell, Hot Spot is so going to give me a processor ache.

Reports throughout the vessel were called out by Heavy Load. The turbulence had caused crew to be thrown about the interior of the small vessel. Thankfully there were no injured in the medical facilities, which alleviated Ironfist's guilt somewhat. Still he knew that if his hypothesis was correct, he would be able to justify at least some of the damages incurred.

"Ten thousand clicks from target." All they needed was a few more moments of good luck. "Activating breaking thrusters in five... four..." Gridlock's voice tailed off as he pulled back on the ship's throttle. It was a moment that nearly caused Ironfist to launch from the command chair into the forward monitor. The deceleration was as violent as the insertion into the atmosphere itself. Several wall panels cracked and vomited their guts of wires and conduit onto the deck, some burying the still stunned marksman.

Ironfist, himself, had been hit in the head by one of the ceiling panels sheering loose after the brief yet violent insertion of the Guardian. The hateful red glow of heat that filled the forward view screen slowly began to dim, but the turbulence of the high altitude continued to rock the vessel as though it were lost at sea in the middle of a lingering storm. The chief engineer decided to by pass Heavy Load's responsibility briefly, as the larger mechanism was busy extinguishing small overloaded fires and tending to his friend who still lay upon the deck.

"Ironfist to all hands. I need a status report and damage report of all stations immediately. We have only suffered the brief introduction of what is to come."

Very Messy Hall

As he was giving Pipes a very dirty look over the ashes, the pitch of the ship took a sudden change. Seaspray first caught his drink as it started to slide when the ship started it's sharp descent. He downed it and caught the bottle as it slid by, refilling his glass. "So, now, what's the ideal hand to have in poker?" He asked oblivious to the angle of the ship, as if the movement was just perfectly natural. He looked at the cards, picking them up before they went off, holding them in the same hand as the glass. "More energon, Comber?" He asked tucking the bottle under his friend's arm just as the service bot slid into him.

Resisting cursing land lubbers, he glared at the service bot. The Bot struggled to get itself adjusted to the new pitch, further slamming into Spray. "Hey hey!" He finally yelled at the bot. "the Doc said to take it easy on that side!" He kind of grinned sheepishly. "Had a little to much too drink one night, went sailing, hit a dock. Ripped up my skirt and some of my gears. Doc has me on restricted duty until the patching dries and what not." He pushed the Bot towards the bar. "Get some sea legs."

Mess Hall

Finally returning to the game, he prepared to furnish his aquatic compatriot with the finer points of playing a straight and respecting the King by draining his glass in a single hit. He eyed the piles of chips on the table, demonstration cards in the centre and the hands that he and Pipes had ready. “Now Bubbles, what you have there is a...”

It was that moment that Ironfist employed his tactical manoeuvre, and out went the lights. Even for a veteran of hundreds of earthquakes throughout his geology career, Beachcomber's reactions were still lightning fast and he grabbed the essentials off the table just as the first jolt hit. By the time the emergency lights kicked in and the last of the shocks subsided he was in a comical pose clutching his bucket of rocks for dear life, now also containing the energex, a refilled glass (unspilt but the umbrella had snapped), his stacks of chips and his cards; the rest of the deck was spread across the table. He was hiding under his chair looking somewhat dishevelled but safe, cy-gar slightly crooked but still in his mouth, and the sparktray upended on his head.

He groaned. "Woah baby, what's a rockin'? Which crazy cat is driving this boat?"

A red lamp had broken free from its mounting in the emergency rig and swung slowly over the table, casting a metronome shadow that ticked the seconds back and forth until the ship became stable again, illuminating the remainder of the mess hall, which was in chaos. A chair had fallen over, there were napkins everywhere and the service droid, en route back to its duties, had bounced off Seaspray and slid to the bar, just in time to save all the bottles by being buried in them.

Ironfist to all hands. I need a status report and damage report of all stations immediately. We have only suffered the brief introduction of what is to come.

"Ironfist? Yeah, I heard’a him. Big brain, no pilots licence. Someone want to tell him we’ve only got three bottles of Big E left and want a refund on our cruise tickets?” he joked from his safe haven.
“And speaking of ‘hands’, don’t think I didn’t see you switchin’ cards there Pipes, you ‘aint no Smokescreen.”

He pulled his hand of cards back out from his bucket, still secure under his chair. “... you wanted to know what a good hand was ‘Spray?” He reached up to the table and laid down a royal flush and pointed a finger at Pipes. “Read ‘em and weep Smokey.”

The Guardian – Mess Hall

Beachcomber, now back in his chair, carefully pushed his hands out in front of him, palms together, and like a glacier tearing through a mountain range split the large stack of chips in front of him down the middle, chuckling to himself. The boat was still ‘quaking but he’d found his bearings, and he was now rock solid.

“Thank you very much gentlemen uh huh huh, I’ll be sure to put these to good use....”

Not that Seaspray was listening, he was slumped over on the table, a few tots too many 'Comber figured. His other more resilient poker buddy, Pipes, was barely visible through his own cloud of cy-gar fumes, but as far as Beachcomber could tell he was leaning back and admiring a sizeable pile of winnings of his own.

“Viva Las Vegas” he quipped as he placed his arm on the battered table and waited for the list of the ship to roll in his favour, which it soon did, and his glass of high-grade slid into his fingers across the ash- and energex-stained surface. He sipped from his glass and thought back over the message Iron Fist had broadcast shortly before attempting to wage his own war on interstellar physics. Beachcomber didn’t technically qualify as a ships ‘hand’, he had no duties and was only along as a specialist consultant, but as the poker was becoming a bit of a stalemate he thought he may as well call upstairs and see what was going on.

He peered down his valley of winnings at the boxy silhouette of Pipes. “Hey, Smokey. You ever think we were destined for more than this?” He rummaged in his box of minreal samples for his comms unit, tossing in his deck of cards for safekeeping. He liked his peace and quiet so avoided radio chatter whenever possible, but having found the device and, plugging it back in his exquisitely-coiffured cranial unit, he tapped it to check that everything was in order still. “See, this just don’t add up. We should have had an update on the battle by now. Figure we go up top, take a look see if they’re holding out on us. Maybe you’ve even got a pilot’s licence hidden away there in that cloud, huh?”

After a few seconds of tuning and static, he found the ship-wide channel, it was eerily quiet, but the ship was almost completely empty.

>>>Hey Iron Fist, this is Beachcomber and Pipes over in mess hall checkin’ in, and there’s a whole lot of shakin’ going on. The mood lighting is a killer, but there’s not much for us to do right now. You got an update on the big show planetside, or anything a pair of ol’ rock and roll’ers like us can be doing up there?<<<

He figured Iron Fist would be busy so had a few moments to spare before fun time officially ended, and breathed a sigh of relief as the service droid finally extracted himself from the avalanche of bottles behind the bar and began setting back in order. He swept his twin-peaks of chips into the box as well, flicking one to Rusty that bounced of his head and onto the bar.

“One for the road there, Big Blue?”

From Ayer's Rock to Guardian Bridge

>>Guardian, this is commander Hot Spot. I want emergency beam outs starting with the Longevity and work you way towards the summit. Get the Ark-22 to help with the more functioning mechs while the more serious will be taken straight to the medical bays. My team and I will be up there shortly.<<

Bridge

For the first time since the rough atmospheric entry the sounds that pervaded the whole of the bridge was no longer the blaring alert klaxons or structural integrity alarms. Streams of smoke still drifted passed the view screens and flickering panels, though at times they small drifts were caught by the freshly revived ventilation systems and were extracted safely to the atmosphere surrounding the medical frigate. "Weapons are still online, and shields have been recharged to forty five point seven zero three percent... Engines stable though I wouldn't recommend another breakneck drop through an M Class atmosphere." Wedge called out from his engineering station. He reached over and turned a dial just below a spinning display to adjust the power feed into the primary console deck. "I also wouldn't recommend tangling with anything bigger than ourselves for a while either. Structural integrity will require some time to adjust and recharge."

"Noted," Ironfist spoke slowly as he finished his third review of the transwarp emitter specifications and blueprints. He carefully entered his own notation into the program before transmitting it into a portable data slug for future reference. It would have been nice to implement the requisite modifications to the emitter as well as to the powerful tractor beams. A simple matter of calculating the curvature of space time in the seventh quantum dimensional shift... well maybe not as simple. Ironfist had been inspired to create a rather effective bombardment weapon in its own right. Unfortunately, through his own calculations and estimates, such a device would be completed far to long for this present predicament. Still a gravitational cannon, capable of distorting space itself to cause a target to either gain or lose mass at the molecular level... it was something worthy of researching at a more opportune time.

"Any word from the surface Heavy Load?"

The large martial artist and typically good humored hauler groused briefly as he pulled a high powered sup particle splicer from his tool belt. He jammed it into a socket and twisted the tool clockwise, sealing damaged circuits and power cables to prevent further damage and clearing pathways that remained intact. "Yeah... But I didn't get enough of it before the panel got frizzed.. again."

Hightower looked over from tactical with a smirk as he pulled a damaged panel off of the entire console. He carefully set the burned out and cracked transparent aluminum panel to the rear of the bridge. "I thought you replaced that motherboard a cycle ago."

"I did."

"I don't recall there being a power surge through the communications system," Hightower prodded in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Maybe you should replace the old motherboard with a new one, rather than returning the old burnt out chunk and throwing out its replacement."

Gridlock winced in visible pain as he tried to make sense of Hightower's attempt at humor. "That didn't make any sense 'Tower."

The marksmech hung his head in shame. "I know."

At that, the others burst into a light chuckle. The tension had been high since the Guardian had made a drastic maneuver and entered Earth's atmosphere. Ironfist had noted in the logs that he had ordered the operation to better situate the Guardian for an orbital assault on the summit of Ayers Rock. With the absorbing shield knocked down by the towering bulk that was the Constructicon amalgamation, the engineer had reasoned that his initial assessment regarding the Ion Bombardment would have seen a full twenty five percent increase in the effective measure. He had also taken a large portion of the atmospheric distortion out of the equation, thus settling the scale at a rather comfortable fifty three point seven seven eight three percent.

The chief engineer was about to direct all available sensors to the summit when the speakers overhead erupted to life with the voice of Prowl booming the most unexpected and perhaps pleasant news. The Fallen had been felled... the battle was over and, at though he didn't say it Ironfist knew that the truce they had brokered would have also come to an end. The engineering crew released a small sigh of relief, at least in part that the biggest threat in their period had been dispatched with relative ease.

Prowl's communique was replaced moments later by the proper captain of the Guardian, Hot Spot. Ironfist's optics squinted briefly as he ordered the primary ion batteries back to standby mode. He reached over to the right of the armrest and activated the communications link with the Protectobot Commander. "Good to hear from you Sir. I am sending the signal to the Bounce Chamber now to bring you on board."

He activated the intraship communications line and acknowledged Beachcomber's apparent resurrection to a functional status. Perhaps it was just as well the geologist had not been active when Ultra Magnus was gathering the landing parties. Ironfist was well aware of Beachcomber's more pacifistic nature. Though unlike the ship's Chief Medical Officer, First Aid, the minibot would defend himself if pushed. "Beachcomber. I need you and Pipes to report to the Bounce Chamber. Bring up Hot Spot and the others as signals allow."

The Guardian – Mess hall to the Bounce Chamber

Iron Fist wrote:Beachcomber. I need you and Pipes to report to the Bounce Chamber. Bring up Hot Spot and the others as signals allow.

”Woah now, Iron Fist was actually listening?” Beachcomber started.

>>You got it Fist! I’ll get on down there and bring these here soldiers home!<< he replied, enthusiastically.

He turned to Pipes, “maybe we can entertain the troops as they arrive back, how are you on the acoustic guitar?” he queried, then took another look who he was talking to. “Guess you’re more of a percussion man, huh?”

He stepped over Rusty and out from behind the bar, loosened his servos up and switched to his so-far unused specialist Beach Buggy altmode, revving his engine. Modified and designed to go planetside, sand and desert regions especially, he paused for a second to consider the irony that the closest this geologist was going to get to this desert was ‘porting this bunch of jocks off it. He shrugged as best he could with no shoulders, and with a squeal of rubber he was off down the empty corridors.

♫ “Gotta do some livin', got the wanderlust, Better clear the highway 'cause I'm gonna move some dust, Oh I got wheels, wheels on my heels...” ♫
He made quick work of the short journey and skidded to a halt in the Bounce Chamber.
♫ “And I gotta keep rollin', rolling along” ♫

He pulled up reverted back to his robot form. “At least the lights are still on in here. All we need now are the cameras, and some action.” He made himself comfortable in the chair opposite the control panel. Everyone knew how to activate the Bounce Chambers remotely, and he reflected that this should be a nice easy job so he placed his bottle on the console, activated the hologramatic display and tilted it forwards so he didn’t have to get up. “Best give ‘Spots the good news” he reasoned to the empty room, waiting to see if Pipes had followed him or not. Smokey had better get here he thought, he's got the Cy-gars.

He activated the chambers comms channel, and opened a broadcast to the Autobots tuned to its frequency.

>>>Good evening Bot’s and Grills, you’re listening to Radio Beachcomber; the sounds of the King. The Guardian transportation chamber is now open for business, so send in those signals, and let’s bounce away those GI Blues and get you back stateside!<<<

All he had to do now was wait and welcome the returning ships Captain.

♫ Hot Spot, you say you're really coming back, Hot Spot, I'm waiting at the bouncing track ,
Hot Spot, you say you're coming home for good, Hot Spot, I'm going to keep knocking on wood,
And baby, I can hardly wait, I'm gonna meet you at the gate, Hot Spot. ♫

The Guardian – Bounce Chamber Blues

Reclining in the finest metallic seating arrangement the Guardian had to offer and inspecting the console for errant geological anomalies, Beachcomber could hear Pipes echoing profanities from back down the corridor. That guy is slower than the service in Rusty's... he muttered, but he liked the pollution-belching veteran; at the very least he helped with the ambiance...

He tapped the holo-panel and opened up a channel to his sluggish drinking companion. time for some travelling tunes...

>>♫ It's now or never,
get here right now.
Smokey my buddy,
you're so damn slow.
Tomorrow... will be too late.
It's now or never,
this beer won't wait!♫<<

>>Guardian, this is Hot Spot. My team and I are returning with most of the injured. I expect First Aid and Ratchet to be taking care of the most severe at this time and be joining us shortly. Please get the medical bays, med drones, and CR Chambers ready.<<

Bounce Chamber

Hot Spot arrived on the pad with the injured Prowl in hand. He noticed a med droid waiting and handed off the military strategist to the droid who took him to the medbay. The message from his fellow Protectobots seemed very urgent and Hot Spot wondered why. He then walked over to one of the computer terminals and brought up the condition of the ship. From what he saw he understood the concern. Many of the systems he thought were repaired were damaged again and the ship being in the middle of the atmosphere was the main culprit. He acknowledged Beach Comber at the controls and then went straight to his ready room.

Ready Room

Once there he open a channel over the ship communication system.

"Iron Fist, report to my ready room and I wanted you in here five cycles ago."

This was one of the few times his anger got the best of him. From what he could tell, Iron Fist had damaged and put the Guardian in danger for no good reason. It takes a great deal for his hot side to come out. Blades is the only one of his team that gets him remotely close due to his zealous nature for battle and getting over his head.

Hot Spot had his back to the door as Iron Fist showed up. He didn't turn around for several minutes wondering how the chief engineer would respond. Right now it didn't really matter. After a cycle, Hot Spot turned around to address his subordinate.

"From what little I've gathered, Iron Fist, you have put this ship and her crew in possible dire danger. Luckily the Cons haven't taken advantage of the predicament possibly due to their own issues on the Thanatos. The damage this ship has taken due to your idea will be yours to fix along with help of the current bridge crew. You will also be removed from any command outside of the engineering bay for the next megacycle. The only other mech who I have commanded to get me this worked up was Blades and this is when he had challenged ten Cons on his own. I'll admit we should have told you about the change of plans but things had developed so quickly at the battle sight it was hard to tell what was going on. You should have tried to contact someone in command if not me directly before you took the Guardian into the atmosphere. Be glad she could take the trauma of being this deep. Last but not least you and your crew will clean the hull from the scorch marks it may have taken on entry and exiting the atmosphere.

While you are working on repairing every system you are allowed to examine them to improve them within our current means. If you come up with a better system design, please feel free to submit them. If you are unable to clean the hull due to your current forms, you may also experiment with exo suit designs in order to get it done. While you are at it, see if you can create some for the most extreme environments we have ever gotten into. The fire tornadoes down there were beyond normal temperatures and I don't want anyone having to fear being melted into a pile of slag. Start first with enhancing current Autobots structures but if it isn't possible, proceed with specialized suits. You might also want to build one for a medical personal in case we need to send Ratchet, First Aid, or even Fixit to a harsh environment. As you know, Cybertronians can with stand quite a bit of things but even we have our limits and need of extra protection. Knowing you the way I do, you may also design them to be weaponized, eventually. I want these suits to be first protective layers. Your relief of command megacycle will coincide with your repair and improvement duties so use your time wisely.

Do you have anything to add which won't be in your reports for me to consider?"

Bridge
Once Iron Fist leaves, Hot Spot walks behind him and back to the bridge. He looks around at the damage and disgust came across his face. He thought Iron Fist was more intelligent than putting the ship in this kind of disrepair.

"All of you under Iron Fist command are now dismissed. My Protectobots will take their positions. Your job will be to fix every single system on this ship no matter what is wrong with it or what caused it. I don't care how long it takes you to get the job done."

He motion over to Streetwise and Groove to take their respective seats.

"Attention crew of the Guardian, prepare for a slow departure of the atmosphere. Hang onto whatever you need to. We will regain our rightful position in orbit."

This mess Iron Fist got the Guardian into was another headache Hot Spot didn't want. At least this would be a quick fix unlike what had happen with the Fallen. There will be answers given and hopefully punishment dispensed to Prowl and Wheeljack for the spark extractor. Then there is the Devestator dilemma. Ultra Magnus better have some good ideas for what is to come.

Guardian: Bridge

It had been nearly a half hour since the succession of hostilities had come across the static laced communique frequencies from Prowl and the hustle and bustle of the bridge of the small medical frigate known as the Guardian had went from a tensed combat influenced atmosphere to an even more tensed and almost confining one of repair and work. Dislodged, burnt or damaged panels had been torn from their respective consoles and were heaped haphazardly into the furthest left corner of the bridge behind the command chair. Various flickers of light and sparks cast eerie shadows across the nearly gutted bridge as the engineers of the Autobot build team worked tirelessly to finish the repairs and modifications that their commanding officer had demanded during their brief meeting after Prowl's transmission.

"Wedge, align the new navigational controls point seven three six zero to the zeta omega axis." Ironfist called from behind the new tactical station console. While Ironfist was dismayed he had been assigned to a medical vessel, he had long understood the necessity of such a vessel having the most advanced weapons to protect those who could not necessarily protect themselves. So during his off time, which itself was few and far between, the weapons engineer had developed a new tactical protocol that would enhance the reaction time of the bridge gunners and tactical officers to an extraordinary degree... at least twenty to twenty five percent. Lag time would be cut and it would allow a greater flexibility to weapons controls. Essentially it enabled a temporary link between the meta processor of the tactical officer with that of the ship's over all combat systems, as if they were an extension of the user. It was a design Ironfist had intended on installing during the next refit operation in Cas Collier, some two more tours from now. But given the recent events, Ironfist had determined that such an upgrade was pertinent given the possible exchange in hostilities between the Guardian and the Thanatos itself.

"Alright, hold it there," The engineer held up his hand as he entered the final connection between two conduits linking the navigational sensors and tactical sensors to more effectively analyze and establish evasive maneuvers. The new tactical panels became awash in bright lights as they came online. Immediately new diagnostics and protocols were initiated and Ironfist set the large curved piece of metal and plastics down upon the new fitted stand. He reached over with his right finger and entered a personalized code to activate several more sophisticated scans of the tactical, security, defensive and offensive systems. "Perfect. Now the Guardian's systems can handle the new torpedo guidance systems."

He pivoted briefly to face Gridlock and Hightower as they finished their installation of brand new consoles that would serve as the science and research stations. While they were not as advanced as the new tactical control center that he had installed himself, the new stations would be linked to newer sensors that were being installed in the lower levels by the Build Team Beta. Colt, a computer programming specialist, had written new codes and programs in nearly a blink of an optical sensor. Thus rendering the older scanners to bring in more refined images and higher resolutions, while maintaining a lower foot print on power and theoretically making active scans a touch more difficult to detect.

To his left, near the confining closet known as the Captain's Ready Room, Heavy Load hefted up a recently recalled set of panels that would serve as the engineering and utility stations. It was a classic design, and when the installation was completed, would give the bridge accurate readings to the status of systems throughout the frigate. From the status of the engines to the functionality of weapons, from the power levels of the sensors and life support, to the basic reports of energon consumption in the mess hall. It was a tried and true piece of technology that Ironfist had yet found the inspiration to tinker with. Perhaps after these events, he would delve into developing better repair and response protocols the minimize damage done when something as critical as the quantum drive is destroyed. Inwardly he scolded himself, he should have anticipated something along those lines.

Ironfist said nothing before he settled behind the newly installed tactical console and studied the readings that were being streamed before him. He barely took note of Hot Spot's appearance on the newly remodeled bridge. The navigation and helm consoles were newer models, featuring newer touch screen panels as well as the traditional analog yolks as a redundancy. It would seat two comfortably, one at each station, and offer greater structural support for the forward bulkheads of the bridge. He also noted that the Protectobot commander was too preoccupied to take note of the intensive repair work already underway before the Guardian's Captain disappeared into his closet office.

"Gridlock, activate reserve protocol Delta Elindi Forty Three. Redirect power to the subsection outlet Alpha Elindi Seventy Seven." Ironfist issued the orders almost simultaneously with the electronic summons from Hot Spot. "Reduce coefficient by two percent and connect the BUS Alpha to BUS Ceti." The red indicator on the tactical terminal that had suddenly flickered on disappeared. He then reached into the last remaining open panel and twisted a final dial, securing the slave connections that linked the console to the central computers. Once that was done he informed Wedge that he was going to hear the eventual dress down from the brash and more often than not ill informed ship's captain.

Guardian: Captain's Ready Room

Ironfist listened to the tirade that erupted from Hot Spot's vocorder the moment the engineering chief entered the office and the doors were sealed behind him. While Ironfist was not entirely confident that the condition of the Guardian nor its location was entirely what Hot Spot expected to find upon his return, the engineer was confident enough to know that the damage done was minor in most rights. All things being equal, the assault by the minions of the Fallen had been a blessing in disguise. It had afforded Ironfist and his team a chance to make modifications that would have not been made. Some of course would be to the weapons systems, including the new delivery systems and more powerful magnetic tracks for the new torpedoes he was developing. But those details were already in his initial report. As were the fact that several bothersome avenues of the ship's flawed construction had been laid bare and were also being addressed with some rather surprising results.

"If you are looking for me to second guess my own judgement Hot Spot, it probably will take a while," Ironfist began slowly. "In my own judgement, given the last available data granted, the movement of the Guardian was necessary to complete a strategic operation. Unfortunately such an event never took place, making the maneuver moot and needless in hindsight. Oh it would have been a beautiful sight to bathe the entire gravitational lens in an ion burst capable of shorting out even the most stringent defensive barrier."

The engineer did not take a seat in the office. He did not pace nor did he back down. He was used to volatile elements, given his purpose and obsessions in life, such was a necessary trait. He also knew Hot Spot from years of serving side by side. While he would not necessarily call either of them friends, Ironfist held a high respect for the Protectobot commander. He also knew him well enough to know when something other than what was on the surface was gnawing at him.

Thus Ironfist prodded, "And while your abrupt and ill reasoned decision is your right as Captain of this vessel Hot Spot, perhaps you should also reconsider what is really biting the back of your processor. You and I have been through more than I care to count, and in that time never have either of us put this vessel into heedless or needless danger without reason." He showed no emotion, but exuded a confidence that invoked respect regardless of rank or position. Few Autobots were as accomplished in the field of weapon design, and fewer still were accomplished in the fusions of technology that made the Guardian itself possible.

"I am unclear as to what happened on the surface, maybe instead of attempting to quell a fire that is already spent, your focus should be on resolving that particular situation Hot Spot." Ironfist accepted the dismissal with aplomb and with only a curt nod of acceptance. As he turned towards the door he looked back over his shoulder. He cocked a half smile under his mouth guard, "As for your pet project... Come back to me in a cycle and I'll show you what I've got in mind." With that he faced forward and exited into the bridge.

As the blinding glare of the newly installed overhead lighting strips illuminated the darkened office, Ironfist made his way towards the exit of the bridge. He only stopped briefly to allow the scene of completeness to overwhelm the brash Protectobot Commander. The new consoles were undergoing their final installations as the last of the damaged panels on the overhead ceilings were being changed out for new replacements. As Heavy Load placed the last self sealing stem bolt into the over head panel, Ironfist activated the lift summon. "Oh and Captain, the ship will be repaired well under a Mega Cycle." The lift arrived and the engineering team entered the car. "Try to think about what I said Captain. And no worries, repairs are already at seventy percent."

Bounce Chamber

Blades' 'heroic' re-entry to the mother ship did not go unnoticed by the reclining Beachcomber who took the opportunity to spin the console round and take a selfie in front of the cocky chopper and the (hopefully) still unconscious Sideswipe that he had 'rescued'.

Unable to keep a straight face any longer, Blades took his foot off the red warrior and gave him a nudge with it, "I know you're awake 'Swipes, I can actually feel your ego getting bigger every second you're lying there. You realise the 'cons fixed you, right? Seems they're not all complete aftholes. Mind you, never met a bunch like them before - kinda liked 'em if I'm honest..."

"Not everyone's middle name is 'Misery'" Beachcomber interjected "but they're still like the green-eyed mountain Jack, and you'd best not be letting Spot's hear you yappin' on like that - he was here a few seconds ago, face like thunder. Turns out ol' Fisty nearly tore off half the yacht when he went showboating."

Blades just stared at the geologist. He barely understood half of what was just said, and the rest was full-on gibberish. He knew Beachcomber in passing, and of his reputation as a scientist, but he had no time for pacifists. This was a war, what use was he here? Are we treating rocks on this ship now?! Slagging autobots...

He took a step towards the console and peered down the corridor with a brief look of amusement. He pulled the console away from 'Comber, who made a brief protest but sensibly let the violent sociopath do whatever he liked, and tapped a few buttons. "What the...?!" Blades exclaimed and his face darkened. The lights still weren't back on this deck and there were malfunctions registering across the display. He radioed up to his team leader.

>>>Hot Spot, half the ship is in darkness, the hull is cracked in multiple places and I can't get any sense out of this idiot in bounce three. Whats Iron Fist done rhis time, and do I need to come up there and slice up some bridge crew?! We were only gone a day!!<<<

"As I told you man, we've had a whole lot of shaking going on."

"..."

Blades had been privately questioning if he was on the correct side in this war for a while now and he wondered yet again if he had made the right choice; but at this point it wasn't due to the stifling autobot war-accords and ridiculous protocols enforced upon them. Now he was now wondering if the 'cons had to deal with idiots like this on their ships as well...

"I have no idea what in the pit you are talking about you nonsensical blue bucket, but when that" he jabbed a razor-sharp rotor in the direction of Sideswipe "wakes up, get him to First-Aid, assuming he hasn't had another crisis of confidence in which case he's probably better off asleep here."

And with that, Blades snatched the bottle 'Comber had been drinking and a handful of the cy-gars from the console and shoved the scientist out of the way, stopping only to glare at Pipes as he left the chamber.

"My quarters had better be intact, or I'll smelt him down into 'Slag Fist'!!"

Captain Ready Room

Hot Spot had spent the next cycle looking over the reports of what had happen on the Guardian while he and most of the Autobots were fighting for their survival. After reading the reasons in the logs Iron Fist had it made some sense to Hot Spot. He still disliked the current position and vulnerability the Guardian was in but knew it would be resolved shortly and hopefully before the Thanatos was the threat he knew it could be. The next thing he read was the updates Iron Fist and team was doing and remembered these were scheduled much later during the next refit of the ship. Thankfully they had a good number of the parts on the ship but some of the much larger upgrades would have to wait for dry dock but if one thing Hot Spot knew of his chief engineering officer is he would be creative with what he had. This is why he gave the exo-suit concept to him. He then got a private message from Blades who wasn't overly happy with the condition of the ship.

>>>Hot Spot, half the ship is in darkness, the hull is cracked in multiple places and I can't get any sense out of this idiot in bounce three. Whats Iron Fist done this time, and do I need to come up there and slice up some bridge crew?! We were only gone a day!!<<<

>>Nice to hear from you as well, Blades. I wasn't overly pleased with the condition of our home either but Iron Fist assured me the repairs are 70% done. His intentions were noble even if his actions were questionable. He has been reprimanded for his actions with the task of his personal team to do most of the repairs and maybe even a deep clean if I am not satisfied. I've also given Iron Fist a pet project which will be up his ally only after he is done with this ship. If you aren't too busy, it will be nice to have you back on the bridge at your station unless you need to repair or recharge real quick.<<

Iron Fist's attitude still needed some adjustment. There are times his arrogance matches a few of the Cons he has fought against and a few Autobots he would rather smack around at times. In some ways though, Iron Fist did remind him of himself in the early years of the war. Hot Spot open up a channel to his chief engineer but with a much calmer tone than earlier.

>>Iron Fist, a word of advice next time you speak to a superior officer. Do not question his mind set or reasoning unless it is totally unjustified. Be glad I wasn't a Con who would have shot your arm off or Grimlock who would have enjoyed ripping you a new hole in your side for your words. Also remember I want you and your team personally to ensure that every single nut, bolt, screw, and weld is in its proper location on this ship before you get to the pet project.<<

Bounce Chamber

Blades paused in the doorway and had to chuckle at Hot Spots quick response.

>>SEVENTY PERCENT?! Have you seen the readouts? I'll show him a crevice he can deep clean if he's damaged any of my tech panels up there. I'll be up shortly. My station had better be vacant, or whichever nerd is in it had better be slash-proof.<<

Bounce Chamber

Pressure on the chest ease but a nudge to his side let him know he was returning to the land of noise and was that Blade's who just nudged him. Sideswipe sat bolt upright and watched as Blades pointed at him with his rotor.

"Oi Exhaust breath where the slag do you think you're going ya Air headed bag of fumes"

Sideswipe clambered to his feet and moved forward his blue eyes blazing as he moved forward.

"So you pastel faced tree chopper what the hell have you been doing scuffing my chest paint and kicking me in the chest plating".

Sideswipe looked at Beachcomber and flickered an optic

"Your quarters where already a wreck before Ironfist got going so if anything has happened to it will be an improvement"

Sliding his piledriver over his right hand he looked directly into Blade's optics

"So my fruit pastel you gonna start something you can't finish or disappear?"

Bounce Chamber

>>Hot Spot, I may be a few minutes late, got some trash to dispose of first.<<

Blades took a good long swig from his freshly procured energex bottle, and belched loudly at Sideswipe's challenge. Then he lit a cy-gar.

"So, the kiddie's awake now. What you planning on doing with that thing then?" He indicated the piledriver attachment the red bot had activated "repair potholes at me?"

Framed by the cy-gar smoke filling the doorway, Blades grinned as he extended his rotors from his wrists with a familiar but marvel-trademarked sound in acceptance of 'Swipes challenge.

"I'll mess your pretty face up so bad it'll make First-Aid cry when he has to fix it."

Bounce Chamber

"So, the kiddie's awake now. What you planning on doing with that thing then?" He indicated the piledriver attachment the red bot had activated "repair potholes at me?"

Sideswipe smirked at Blades as he mocked his piledriver then smirked as he extended his rotor blade in response to his challenge. He eased himself into a fighting stance ready to take on the protectobot's resident idiot.

"Only thing it's going to do is make your face a replica of that barren pot hole ridden rock that orbits this planet"

Sideswipe chuckled as Blades continued to give him verbal abuse.

"I'll mess your pretty face up so bad it'll make First-Aid cry when he has to fix it."

He burst out laughing at that one breaking from his fighting stance to hold his stomach plating doubling over laughing.

"Oh that's a good one no one said that you where the Protectobot's resident comedian"

The warrior used his hand without the piledriver to wipe a mock tear from his optic before settling back into his fighting stance

"So are you gonna stand there yammering like Trailcutter at a bar or actually fight?"

Transmission from Jazz to Hot Spot

Hot Spot, my man! Listen, got a big job I'm gonna need you and a few others to join in on. I'll brief you all at once, but get Beachcomber and Silverbolt to the bounce chamber and I'll clue you all in then. Jazz ouwwwt."<

Bounce Chamber

Sunstreaker only leaned back against the wall of the bounce chamber as he watched Sideswipe and Blades get into a proverbial lubricating contest. Usually he would step in and lend his brother a helping hand or two, but part of him wanted to see how his twin in the Crimson finish could handle himself every now and then. Besides, after seeing how the Protectobot jostled him around down on Earth, it'd be pretty fun to see him pay for that kind of disrespect.

But for now, he kept his servos loose and his hand ready to grab his laser pistol should this pit fight go further astray. If 'Swipes couldn't best him in a fist fight, there was no chance Blades could beat the golden Autobot's precision with a gun.