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Shuttle Bay 5

"Yea, I'm here" Said Air Raid as he took he seat. "So you said we are going to earth, do you mind explaining why we going to do that. And i especially don't like the human part. It makes me feel uncomfortable".

Bridge

Blaster had to pause for a moment when Ultra Magnus finally appeared on the bridge and addressed him. At first, Ultra Magnus apologized for placing him in an area out of his element and gave him orders to keep tabs on Prowl's earthbound team and Arcee's group who would be bouncing down soon. Blaster nodded with a smile and was about to say something when Ultra Magnus continued.

His smile faded from his faceplate almost immediately. His audio receptors weren't malfunctioning, were they? The Autobot communications officers performed a quick diagnostic on them. No. His audio receptors were not malfunctioning. He would have preferred if they were. Rising from his seat and turning to look at Ultra Magnus incredulously, Blaster gesticulated, searching for the right words.

"What?!" was the first thing Blaster managed before bringing his voice down a few levels, "All due respect Magnus, sir, but are your mental processors malfunctioning? Make contact with the Thanatos? Soundwave will triangulate our position in a sparkbeat - that pile of slag. Why on Earth or Cybertron would we do that? What's going on, sir?"

Blaster glanced at Springer as he addressed his own questions and concerns to Ultra Magnus. He couldn't believe that the green mech was taking the news of contacting the Decepticons so well. Maybe he was aware of something that the red communications officer was not. It hadn't seemed so in their earlier conversations.

-----

Corridors

Blurr waited for what seemed like hours for a reply from Ingram (in reality only about 8 astroseconds) patiently when the Autobots' resident diversionary tactician approached the pair. A big grin was plastered across Smokescreen's faceplate and seemed to grow wider and wider with each passing astrosecond. Blurr had seen Smokescreen about here and there, but the speedster had never approached him. A fact that the courier regretted. Now he had his chance!

Blurr smiled warmly back at his fellow Autobot, wondering what it was that Smokescreen wanted to talk about. Maybe about the emptiness of the ship? Or it could be that he just wanted to say hi? With a smile like that, it certainly wasn't bad news. That was good. The speedster could use some good news. Maybe Smokescreen might even be interested in his bar idea too. Blurr hoped that the diversionary tactician liked it.

“Um...hi, Blurr...um. How are you doing?"

"I'mdoinggreatSmokey!" Blurr replied cheerily, forgetting to slow down his speech in his cheer, "Just headed tothe bridge tosee UltraMagnus."

Smokescreen paused momentarily then spoke up again, “Um, I know we really haven’t chatted much in the past, but I just wanted you to know that I’m a really big fan of yours and I always thought you were a way better racer than that hack, Drag Strip. He could never hold an energon cube to your talents. It’s too bad the war had to ruin everything, you know? I’d love to hang out with you and talk racing when you have a spare astrosecond if that’s okay?"

Blurr stared at Smokescreen and, for a rare moment, was speechless. But only for a moment. The blue speedster was touched. In the distant past, there was a time when Blurr would shrug off admirers. His fans. Uncaring. Because he deserved to be in the spotlight, or so he thought anyway. The war had brought clarity into Blurr's life and a change for the better. With the end of his career, Blurr had become the honest, friendly and much happier mechanoid he was today. Smokescreen was a fan. And Blurr counted himself lucky to even have any after he realized how horrible he had treated some of his close associates long ago.

The blue speedster smiled genuinely at Smokescreen and said slowly with great deliberateness, "Thank you, Smokescreen. I really appreciate that. I'd love to hang out with you and talk sometime. Did you want to come with us to the bridge? We could walk and talk. Right now we're off to see Ultra Magnus. I figure we need his permission if I want to start up my own bar. You know, like Maccadam's Oil House? It's gonna be like that."

Blurr watched Smokescreen's optics shift up to Ingram. Oops. The speedster had totally forgotten to introduce the hefty femme. Smokescreen introduced himself to Ingram. Blurr turned slightly to look at them both with a smile. Well, no harm, no foul. Unless Ingram broke Smokescreen's hand when she shook it....that would be bad. Blurr glanced up to the femme. She knew how to control her strength. Surely. Of course she did. He was silly for even worrying.

Shuttle Bay 5

"With all due respect, Hound, shouldn't I or Air Raid be piloting this craft? I don't remember the last time you piloted a shuttle craft while Air Raid and I are some of the better pilots in robot or alt mode. It does puzzle me why Prowl would need the rest of us Aerialbots unless Silverbolt is in some trouble."

Bridge

Springer quickly diverted his attention to Blaster, having just heard Blaster relay his own orders to Ultra Magnus. His brows rose and his unassure expression quickly faded into a sudden expression of sudden awe, his mouth only slightly gaped open in disbelief.

"Ultra Magnus, is there something wrong with your processor?" The green mech asserted as he shifted attention back at the Armored Autobot, "Mags, I know you're not one to be the joking type, but this isn't the best time to be trying out a new quip. They're Decepticons! Strong emphasis on Deception!"

The angered triple-changer crossed his arms and lifted his left hand to his browline, pressuring his index finger and his thumb up against the bridge of his nose.

"And even if we do manage to make contact with the Decepticreeps over on the Thanatos, there is no denying that their own communication officer, Soundwave, will lock onto our location, as Blaster has already addressed."

Springer then shifted his hand into a fist and placed it over his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts more on the subject at hand as he began to pace in a little line up and down the bridge.

Shuttle Bay 5

Fireflight’s feet “wumped” across the deckplates as he trudged toward their designated shuttle, still upset about being pulled from the simulation prematurely. As he reached the transports rear hatch the aerialbot grabbed the edge of the portal and leaned forward to peer in, surveying what would be his surroundings for the duration of the trip. “Is this what we are shuttling to Earth in? It wouldn’t hurt to add some more windows. I’ll barely be able to see the planet on approach from here.” Fireflight went on.

He acknowledged Air Raid and Skydive with a small wave before sitting in the closest available seat to the forward viewport. Despite his efforts this still afforded him a poor vantage point by his standards. “I was having so much more fun in the simulator” He groaned before turning his attention to the finer details of his Photon Displacer gun.

Corridors

Tracer let a small smile creep onto her face as she studied Remington. The technician was, perhaps, a foot or so taller than Tracer. Perhaps a bit bulkier, but by no means a warrior's build. And as mentioned in Remington’s profile, she is a friendly and cheerful mech. That alone eased Tracer, but only slightly.

The scout’s optics roamed from Remington and stopped when they reached First Aid. The doctor’s head was tilted ever so slightly and even with the facemask on Tracer could tell the Protectobot was a little concerned. Why is he looking at me like that? She stared back until she recalled that she had been asked something and never bothered to answer.

Her optics flashed and she turned her attention back to the other femme. Wait, was it her that asked me something? Oh Primus, my head hurts. Tracer reached a, somewhat, shaky hand up to her forehead and gave it a gentle rub. She quickly accessed her memory files and brought up the last thing Remington had said.

“Know? Retta?” she said lowly. Her fingers dug a bit harder into her temples while she tried to compile a comprehensible answer…her thoughts were already muddling together.

“Uh… Beretta, right. Well, actually I think I may have met her once. Possibly twice? I can’t recall.” Her hand slid down slowly and she looked up to meet Remington’s optics. “But it was only in passing. I think it may have been when you guys were assigned to the Guardian.” Tracer flashed a sideways glance in First Aid’s direction. She quickly looked back to Remington. The movements sent shockwaves of pain down her entire body and through her processor.

The drug addicted femme’s body stiffened slightly. The feeling finally passed, but with each occurrence it took longer and longer to recover. Again, Tracer reached up and rubbed her forehead. This is killing me. I’ve got to get to Jack’s lab. Head hurts so bad. She released a low hiss and continued on with her explanation. “At some point I crossed paths with Beretta after your arrival and decided to look you all up.” She let out a heavy sigh and looked at Remington. Please let that be it.

“Are you okay, Tracer?” First Aid’s voice had Tracer whip around and stare down at the shorter bot. “No. I’m fine. It’s….it’s just been a long day, that’s all.” The answer seemed to satiate the doctor’s concern as he changed the subject of their conversation. “Where are you headed, Tracer?” Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to come up with an answer. In the end she decided that the truth would be her best option. After all, what were the odds they were all headed to the same place?

“Oh, I’m heading over to Wheeljack’s lab. I need to pick something up.” The scout ended her response with a forced smile.

First Aid perked up and looked to Remington. “Well, now that’s a coincidence. Remy and I were headed over there ourselves.” First Aid stepped up in front of Tracer and gestured over his shoulder with a tilt of his head. “Come on. We can keep one another company.” Aid reached out a hand and beckoned the two femmes to follow.

But Tracer hesitated. “You know. I can see him another time. Why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll just go back to my quarters.” She flashed Aid an uneasy smile which went unnoticed. “Nonsense. Wheeljack will see anyone. He enjoys the company.”

Tracer decided not to press her luck with anymore refusals. Instead the scout fell into step behind the Protectobot. “Let’s get going. Coming Remy?” First Aid motioned to the technician while Tracer and Razr waited.

Now what am I supposed to do?

Corridors

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve ever met.’

This newly arrived mech seemed to know Blurr. More as a fan than a close buddy, as much as Ingram could discern from his slightly awkward and baffled posture. Yeah, Blurr tended to have that effect on people, much like Glocksie, once recognized for what they were; top sportsmechs. There came some sparkles and fame with that.

Ingram didn’t know the mech either but he seemed friendly enough, extending an actuator and all.

‘Name’s Smokescreen. I’m the resident diversionary tactician around here. It’s nice to meet you, Miss...?’

Diversionary... oh, yes, when you feign to do one thing but end up doing something entirely different. Tactician... tactician... that was one of the things ‘Retta was good at, or so Ingram believed.

In other words - simpler words - this Smokescreen was a smart guy. If he could do what ‘Retta was good at, plus being a diversionary one, he had to be smart.

Ingram flashed a smile.

‘Ingram,’ she said cheerfully, and took the proffered actuator, which was more like slapping and grabbing it, and shook it with all her enthusiasm. Which, in turn was more like trying to jerk a stuck handle into turning again. But no harm intended at all. ‘Very nice ta meetcha.’



Corridors - En Route to Wheeljack’s Lab

‘Let’s get going. Coming Remy?’

‘Sure, lead on,’ Remington nodded as they set off.

However, her concerns regarding Tracer’s well-being had not entirely dissipated. Remington didn’t realize it, but she was already looking at the scout through a medic’s optics.

Slight disorientation. Imbalanced steps. Possible signs of pain in the cranium and joints. Distracted, slowed thought process. Dilated pupil-lenses. Agitation. Edgy behavior.

Of course, it could just as well come down to extreme stress due to fatigue but given how inactive the Autobot contingent had been in recent weeks, what was there to saddle a mech with this much fatigue? She certainly hadn’t bumped into the scout that hard.

First Aid was leading the way, seemingly oblivious to Tracer’s condition. Or maybe it Remington who worried too much, being new to medic business and all? Whatever. The technician stepped closer to Tracer and offered an actuator to grab onto, if needed. She said nothing, only smiled. A-Okay.

If Tracer indeed had studied their profiles, she’d knew it meant, everything’s gonna be fine.


Bounce Chamber

Dragunov plodded along, with her newly assigned team mates, keeping her expression impassive. She still hadn’t befriended the thought of calling the squad motley but there was admittedly a... wider variety to the members than she was used to.

A squad leader with the most awkward paint job she probably had ever seen. A mech with an overblown ego and appearance fetish. A cassettobot who was stealthy without effort. And her, the sniper. Possibly the only one with any measure of real class.

’Greetings to you Tracks, and you too, miss. Are you squadmates with Miss Glock?’ Steeljaw spoke.

Dragunov’s optic ridge rose a fraction, the only sign of her being pleasantly surprised. Reputation. It was only good if it bent the right way. Even Glock was useful on occasion, it appeared.

‘Yes, that is co...,’ she answered. Or would have, had she not been cut off.

‘Indeed, I think she is. They're quite the team. Very, um, capable, from what I've heard. I'm surprised AutoComm would waste your talents on this little snatch and grab, honestly.’

Dragunov supressed an irritated sigh. Instead, she unslung her rifle as she took position in the bounce displacement unit. The gun was as long as she was tall, and just as impressive. Immaculate, well-maintained, reinforced but still retained an overall sense of grace through a streamlined frame and barrel.

She flashed a glare at Tracks. A glare that immediately made you feel you were targeted through a scope though the rifle still rested in her actuators pointing downwards, digits resting on the guard.

‘Your information is correct. Glock is my teammate and indeed, Beretta does demand higher than average standards from all of us. Which is why, you’ll soon come to realize, this is more than a simple snatch and grab.’

She cocked her rifle. The clearest indication; she was ready.

Shuttle Bay 5

Slingshot was the last to arrive on the flight deck. His attention split between the battle in the simulator, the handicap he had been saddled with when he was forced to team up with Mister Brainiac, and the possible assignment that had been handed down to the team as a whole. Over all he knew that Silverbolt really did not need his help, no one really needed his help being that he was too weak and worthless to matter, but the fact he had been summoned meant there was something more than a simple scouting operation going on.

He stepped onboard the craft and immediately saddled himself next a tactical control console. A simple log in with his access codes brought the top most turret of the smaller craft to life. A series of beeps and muted whir of hidden gears echoed through the cabin as he went through the final checks. "Well, whatever it is Fearless Leader wants us for, we may as well get started Hound. I really don't like getting busted out of a simulation right before I was about to take the lead."

Corridors

Arcee glanced back at her squad as they plodded down the corridors, casually observing their interactions to get an idea of how they could work together. Steeljaw seemed cordial enough, although having the bestial robot form that he did, he would not be able to move around as freely as the rest of them. He would need to ride with someone in his alternate mode. Or...once they established an outpost for their base of operations, Steeljaw could remain there and guard it. They would have to see.

The pink warrior was no Prowl, nor did she pretend to be. She was not a number cruncher, one who worked out all possible eventualities and chose the one with the highest chance of success. No. She knew mechs though. Steeljaw was likely capable of working with any personality, considering how much the individual personalities of the cassettobots differed.

Dragunov, Arcee did not know. She had only just become acquainted with Beretta. She carried herself with poise and grace, like a remnant of a lost breed. The gunslinger's glare at Tracks was not lost on Arcee. That would not be enjoyable to work with. To be fair, Tracks had his faults as well, but none that were so grating for Arcee. Teamwork was essential for these small operations. They would learn to work together, or else Arcee would have to take...measures.

Your information is correct. Glock is my teammate and indeed, Beretta does demand higher than average standards from all of us. Which is why, you’ll soon come to realize, this is more than a simple snatch and grab.'

"Indeed," Arcee stated in agreement, turning her gaze toward Tracks, "As dull as material acquisition may sound, this is a serious assignment. I need you all," Arcee swept her gaze across the rest of the group, "to be at one hundred percent at all times. We work together. As a team. Our first order of business will be to secure an outpost. It needs to have been bereft of human activity for years."

Arcee paused for a moment as they reached the doors to the bounce chamber. She punched the open button on the console, making the doors slide open with a hiss of steel on steel.

Bounce Chamber

Wasting no time as she strode over to the control console, Arcee began to input the coordinates for their bounce. They needed a spot away from human eyes. Just outside of the city, so that they could drive in immediately after bouncing.

While the pink warrior was doing that, Steeljaw positioned himself in the center of the bounce chamber and looked over to the other two Autobots on his team. He scented the air, delineating Dragunov's scent and committing it to memory. He wasn't as familiar with her as he was Tracks or Arcee, so he wanted to make sure that he would be able to track her in case she got separated from the rest of them. If Steeljaw was how she smelled, he wouldn't have been able to give a satisfactory response. Each Cybertronian had their own particular scents which could be dissected into each of its individual components, which were thousands upon thousands.

Dragunov did have something of a pleasant aroma though.

"I'm going to bounce us down in a deserted location. We'll be a bit of a distance away from our target destination, but away from prying optics. From there, we'll begin. Be sure to transform into alternate mode before we bounce. Steeljaw, you too," Arcee stated as she finalized the bounce coordinates.

The lion cassettobot glanced to Tracks and then to Dragunov. "May I ride with one of you?" the tracker asked politely, "I apologize for the inconvenience. My alternate mode does not possess wheels." Steeljaw waited for a response. He did not dislike his alternate mode, for every shape serves a function, though it could be inconvenient at times such as these.

Corridors

When the strong, burly femme grabbed a hold of his extended hand and shook it, Smokescreen felt as though his entire arm was going to be ripped right out of it’s socket. This Ingram seemed friendly enough, but clearly she did not know her own strength. Please don’t tear off my arm. I just got this new body, the diversion expert thought to himself as he continued to smile outwardly. “Very nice to meet you, as well, Ingram,” Smokey replied, hoping that his new appendage could hold out just a little bit longer. Thankfully, it did and the big, overly-cheerful femme finally let go. “Wow, that’s some grip you got there,” the rallybot continued as he rubbed his right arm with his left hand. “You must really give those ‘Cons a run for their money on the battlefield! Heh.”

Smokescreen then returned his attention to Blurr, who had already responded to him, mentioning something about seeing Ultra Magnus and setting up a bar of some sort. “Yeah, I’m heading for the bridge, too. I’ve been out of action for a while now and I want to get back to doing something before I die of boredom. I love your idea of opening a bar on board. It would be a nice alternative to the usual mess hall and the sludge that’s served there. I used to frequent Maccadam’s back before the war broke out, so count me in to help out if you need it. Maybe you could even include some harmless gaming machines. Not actual gambling, mind you, just something fun to keep the ‘Bots around here occupied during downtime, you know?”

The diversion expert paused for a moment, glancing down the corridor in the direction of the bridge before looking back at Blurr and Ingram. “I guess we should probably get going. I’m sure Magnus is a busy mech now that he’s the new Sector Commander and all. Hopefully, he’ll be able to spare a few astroseconds to see us.” Smokescreen then smiled at both ‘Bots before patting the blue speedster on the shoulder plate and making his way towards the bridge. As he walked, the rallybot glanced over at the champion racer, trying his best to keep in step with the much faster mech. “So, Blurr, what do you think of my idea for the gaming machines? Do you think they’d make a nice addition to your bar?” Smokey took a hard swallow, hoping that his idol would be open to the idea.

Shuttle Craft

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Aerialbots to arrive and take their respective seats within the shuttle. Before Hound had a chance to greet the others, he was bombarded with a series of questions, including whether he was the best choice as pilot. Most mechs would’ve taken that comment as a personal attack, but not the green scout. Hound took it all in stride as he rechecked the systems before closing the outer hatchways, both side and rear. “Not to worry, Skydive. I’m fully training and capable of flying a simple shuttle. Besides, these little ships practically pilot themselves. I’ll be fine at the helm.”

Hound then considered Air Raid’s question regarding why they were being summoned to Earth. “You’ll have to ask Prowl that once we get down there. He’s the one who requested reinforcements and mentioned something about humans being involved. He also wanted me to bring a bunch of large scale holo-emitters and force field generators, so whatever’s going on will likely involve hiding something big, if not ourselves. I wish I could tell you more, but I was given limited information.” The comments from both Fireflight and Slingshot had not gone unnoticed by the scout, but time was of the essence and Prowl was not known for being a patient mech.

“This shuttle should get us to where we're going,” Hound commented before entering the coordinates into the navigational computer. He then relayed the appropriate security codes to the bay doors, which slid open moments later, revealing one bright hemisphere of the planet below, the distant stars framing it’s outer edges. Such a beautiful world. I sincerely hope we can save it before the Decepticons completely destroy it, the green scout thought as he gripped the controls firmly and carefully guided the small shuttle out into space. Once clear of the Ark-22, the craft descended towards the Earth, becoming enveloped in an orange glow as it entered the upper atmosphere.

(OOC: I will be moving the shuttle and it’s occupants to the Autobot City thread in my next Hound/Prowl post which will be made soon.)

Science Laboratory

Huffer pulled himself to his feet and swatted Ironfist's hand away as the weapons engineer pulled a power disruptor module from the side of his hood and abruptly regretted the sudden movement. He groaned briefly as he pulled himself to his feet and staggered forward to lean against the door frame. "Allow me to guess, power discharge over loaded my neural network."

"Something like that little guy." Huffer scowled at the comment, though Ironfist took no notice. The weapon engineer pivoted back to the main work station and set the medical kit back on a design table. He stooped in front of the ring and placed his hand on one of the new components that had been installed. With his free hand tapping at the side of his chin, he carefully drew his fingers along the top of the component before finally yanking it clear of its housing. "Now that explains it."

The construction minibot folded his arms as he leaned against the computer terminal stand where Chromedome was stationed. "So that explains what? Don't tell me, the motherboard was the wrong shape or..."

"... Backwards." Ironfist flipped the burnt out board straight into the waiting hands of Huffer. "Course I don't know who could have installed it that way..." He left the accusation hanging with a hidden hint of mirth within his voice.

Huffer tossed the burnt component next to Chromedome on the desk and shook his head briskly. "Alright so we replace this piece and we should get some live data."

"Theoretically," Ironfist fashioned a fresh board from the scavenged parts of the probe and installed it correctly into the bottom portion of the ring. "There that should do it. Hey Chromedome, soon as we are in the clear from any surprise discharges, hit the switch and lets see if we can't get some relevant numbers."

Bounce Chamber

Dragunov had shot the Autobot warrior a look that would have sent him into a CR chamber for a vorn or more if such things carried energy with them. He held up his hands innocently. Sometimes words and phrases came out of his vocalizer that had no filter on them.

Oftentimes they did that, actually. He couldn't help it.

"As dull as material acquisition may sound, this is a serious assignment. I need you all to be at one hundred percent at all times. We work together. As a team. Our first order of business will be to secure an outpost. It needs to have been bereft of human activity for years," Arcee had said.

"No arguments from me. It's hardly Rodeo Drive or Fifth Avenue, but anything is better than staying stuck on this ship for another astrosecond. You'll have my full cooperation."

Then Steeljaw spoke.

He looked down at the Cassettobot and then over at Arcee. Maybe he'd offered his full cooperation up a little too prematurely.

Dragunov didn't exactly appear to be leaping at the opportunity.

He offered a listless sigh.

"Oh alright. Just don't dirty my suede interior."

Science Laboratory

"Hey Chromedome, soon as we are in the clear from any surprise discharges, hit the switch and lets see if we can't get some relevant numbers."

"Alright! Just recalibrating primary system functions now." The mnemosurgeon typed furiously at the keyboard, finishing up the final remnants of the extensive programming. He looked up briefly from the computer screen to find Huffer leaning against the terminal he was working at. Didn't even notice he had walked over here.

While the machine was running finalized software scans, Chromedome turned to find that Arcee and her group had departed from laboratory while he was finishing up his work at the computer. He rubbed his actuators over his faceplate, not realizing how much he seemed to have been working this whole time.

"So what exactly are you having them gather?" Chromedome asked over to the weapons designer while the computer was running it's scan, "Just curious is all."

The computer alerted the former programmer stating the scan was complete. As he turned to view the computer screen, the alert wasn't stating the the scan was complete, but that Chromedome had inputted an incomplete code index into the bridge shielding relay.

"Ah scrap!" The mnemosurgeon exclaimed as he began to frantically reinstitute the new coding into the mainframe. Without the shielding relay, anyone traveling through the space bridge could get knocked out of the travel path by any wayward object. The smallest of robins could knock a cybertronian the size of Omega Supreme off course and scatter his particles across the cosmos.

Finally. He was done.

"Ironfist, Huffer! Programming is complete and the scans show the Subspace ring is fully operational. Ready for a proper test run?"

Bridge

Jazz waited and waited, but to no avail. He hadn't been noticed by Magnus yet, even though just minutes before he was asked for his report on the incident of both the Ark 19 and on the subject of... Well, whatever Hot Rod called himself now. Jazz wasn't ready to write off the hot-headed as evil just as much as he was willing to say that there was no hope of Optimus coming back through some lesser direct means.

But now there were other, more pressing questions. He thought of himself friends with Magnus -- not as much as he was with Optimus, but the fact of the matter was that he knew when Magnus was hiding something. If Magnus was hiding something, the special operations director knew that it would be behind a wall of various rules and regulations that basically stated "I don't want to tell you, therefore I don't have to" in the most complicated way possible. Either way, it was worth a try. Surely he'd be able to learn something, at least the importance of the secrets.

"Yo! Magnus, sir!" Jazz said jovially, first two digits on his right hand pressed to his forehead in a quick salute in a method he picked up from the humans, "Got that report you asked for."

As he was handing the large city commander a datapad with his report filled out in full, Jazz paused as he was releasing the pad.

"I also have a few questions that need to be answered, sir, if you'll humor me." the white mech said in a lower tone, observing the large commander's reaction closely under his visor, something that couldn't be seen except by the most acute eyes.

He was going to get his answers one way or another. This was the perfect way for figuring some things out.

Bridge – Observation Lounge 1

Their staring game lasted a while before Axle finally broke off optic contact with the CMO. Both mechs were angry. Both mechs were concerned. But mostly they were desperate. Desperate to help. Desperate to heal, to make things right. In that sense both Autobots were exactly the same yet they were completely different.

Axle gripped the badge that was shoved back into his hand and watched as Ratchet stepped away. He’d make sure Hex got it back.

Both Ratchet and his subordinate turned their attention onto Ultra Magnus. They watched as the Commander thought aloud. Each of them, and they were shore the others in the room as well, thought the same as Magnus. The Fallen was something none of them could comprehend. Most thought him a myth. Others believed he didn’t even exist. And then there were the few that worshipped the fallen demi God.

“Private vendettas? Hell, Magnus. They aren’t private at all.” Ratchet growled out while he looked to Axle across the table. The field medic pursed his lips tight making an effort not to throw offenses.

With his eyes still glued to Ratchet Axle addressed Magnus. “I’ve got an idea or two, sir. I’ll be sure to look into them in depth.” With a tilt of his head Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I can’t wait to see them. Let’s go play around with your hypotheses. I’m sure at least one of them will be workable.”

Ratchet stalked around the table once more, but this time he did not stop. Instead the CMO headed right for the door. Taking that as his cue Axle nodded to the Commander and followed Ratchet out onto the bridge.

“I hope this isn’t going to continue.” Axle expressed in a low tone. They needed to work together if they were going to help Hot Rod, Hex and Hardhead. “You’re kidding me, right? Axle, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to put this behind me, but every time I think it’s over you open up old wounds.” Ratchet said as he turned to face the former doctor.

Axle lowered his gaze and shook his head. “I know. I know. It’s just…” With a roll of his head and a breathy exhale Ratchet placed both hands on his hips. “I told you, and you know the decision wasn’t mine. I tried like hell to get command to change its mind but they weren’t having it….or rather he wouldn’t have it.” The black and green mech looked up at the CMO. “You were a great surgeon and you’re still a good medic. And damnit, that’s what we need right now.” Ratchet placed his hand on Axle’s shoulder and did something he rarely did…he smiled...it wasn’t much and it was barely noticeable, but it was certainly there.

“I can do that.” Axle nodded before adding, “Sir.”

A grunt escaped Ratchet’s vocalizer as he pushed past the younger medic. “Let’s get this started. I wanna get our guys back as soon as possible. The longer they remain under that…thing’s control the greater the chance of losing them all together.” Axle strode to the doctor’s side and both sat down at adjacent terminals accessing each Autobots’ medical records and all the information they could gather on The Fallen and other similar mystical entities.

Corridors

Tracer’s jaw nearly dropped to her knees as she watched, unbelieving, as First Aid began to make his way to the exact same place she needed to be. She had to get to that lab. She had to get to that replicator. She needed another dose of the synthetic Syk. The pain was becoming more relentless as time went by. Her body hurt. Her optics hurt…her brand new optics. But it was her head that gave her the most trouble. Her thoughts were becoming muddled. Her ability to concentrate was becoming impaired. In short, Tracer was a mess.

First Aid took a quick look over his shoulder at the two femmes but continued his pace. Tracer, for her part simply stared.

It was the gentle nudge from Razr’s nose that caught her attention. Tracer looked down at the little turbofox and smiled. Always there when I need you, she thought. When she looked back up she was surprised to see Remington’s hand. Tracer looked from the other femme’s actuator to the Remington’s optics.

Again Tracer stared trying to sift through the racing thoughts running through her already overworked processor. When she finally came to the conclusion that the soon to be medical assistant was just being supportive and helpful, Tracer shook her head slightly and sent a weak smile. “Thanks. I’m good.”

Tracer pressed forward passed Remington and falling in behind First Aid. Her smile had faded and her hand lifted to press gently against her temple.

After several feet into their journey Tracer nearly stumbled, but it was not due to any type of obstacle or simple clumsiness. No, it was due to her racing thought processor. What if she knows? What if they both know and they’re just leading me to Magnus, or some other officer? What if they’re just going to bypass the formalities and lobotomize me?

“Tracer? You sure you’re okay?” First Aid’s voice nearly made the scout jump out of her armor. She was able to control her reaction, however. She paused, took in a deep breath and then looked up and gave First Aid a bright smile. “I’m just fine. Like I said before, I’m just a bit worn out.” The Protectobot doctor looked a bit skeptical and watched her for along moment. He wasn’t going to press. If she said she was okay he didn’t want to upset her by forcing her to go to the med bay for a full checkup.

“Okay. But if you’re having any kind of issues, please let me, Ratchet or Axle know, okay?” Tracer nodded prompting First Aid to turn back around and continue on. Thankfully their destination only lie a few yards ahead and when the doctor stopped Tracer let out a relieved sigh.

First Aid raised his hand and was about to knock on the door when it suddenly slid open. He took a quick step back noting how unusual it was for Wheeljack to leave his lab unlocked. After a moment he stuck his head inside and looked around. “Hello? Wheeljack?” No answer.

“I don’t’ think he’s in.” First Aid had pulled out and looked to his two companions. “Maybe we should come back later.” Tracer intoned. For a quick moment First Aid thought about it but then he recalled that the lab was quite large taking up a couple of rooms and several large storage rooms. “Let’s take a quick look around. I’m sure if he’s here he’ll be in the back. Come on.” The red and white mech beckoned them forward as he entered the lab.

Oh Primus. This is bad. This is so bad. Tracer stepped through the threshold behind the inquisitive doctor.

Bridge

Ultra Magnus paused briefly as he studied the demographic surveys and population density reports that scrolled rapidly on the triple split screen window. Every so often he rubbed his chin in contemplation, each sector had their strengths and weaknesses. Russia was sparsely populated and made for an ideal meeting location but because of the remote venue, the northern Siberian Tundra near Tunguska, there was little to no available resources to expand the region as Magnus was planning.

And though the tundra lacked roads and was practically devoid of human habitation, the very fact that it was in the very heart of the Russian Territory made Magnus hesitate. Russia was a global power, though slightly diminished of late, its power was still formidable and its technology rivaled many western powers such as the Japanese, German, Chinese and those of the American super powers. Which in tern made much of the Utah badlands also an incredible risk, an area he had previously considered before asking Springer for his analysis.

The next location, an island located in the heart of the primary body of water that separated the two major power centers of the planet. A Pacific Island, it was remote, but even that did not mean it was unguarded. From what he had read in the rather meticulous reports from Prowl regarding the human military infrastructure and habits, the Pacific Ocean was heavily trafficked by the United States Navy, as well as smaller forces from Russia and China.

"Springer, I want you to give me a full topographical scan of the Northern African Deserts. Primary focus in the human territories known as Ethiopia and Egypt, near the edge of the Savanna regions" A stitch of information had caught his optic as he scrolled through the African Savanna. While it was indeed remote, there were high instances of resources with regards to technologically sophisticated societies, there was a significant risk discovery or at least accidental contact with local aboriginal tribes. It was a minimal risk, but to remain in the open with such tense times in the planet's delicate socio political sphere, to remain in the open invited a lot more than Magnus wished to bring to the table. "I want you to cross reference those locations with historical documentation and local scans. Humans are resourceful creatures, and they build things to last. I get the feeling that during their last great global conflict they had to have created some sort of bunker system within the depths of the desert to protect from southern invasion."

He leaned up just in time to take on an audio receptor full of protests from the Green Triple Changer as well as a very large one from the communications specialist. "Am I to take it that you are unable to reroute through various communication satellites, telescope dishes and radar arrays on the planet in order to cover our location from the likes of Soundwave? Or is it that you both protest the fact that I have given you a direct order?"

Gone was the veneer grace and joviality that Magnus had managed to hang onto since his encounter with the Fallen. It had been a difficult task to keep up a cheerful expression given he had witnessed two of his friends get slaughtered without so much as putting up a fight, or at least an effective defense. Replacing that mask was that of sheer confidence and defiance. A face that commanded respect from all who served under him, with daring optics that shown bright in the darkness that encompassed the bridge, the world and the universe to come. It was the confident resolve that made him who he was, a fearless soldier and commander of mechanisms into battle.

Carefully and slowly he stepped forward. "Very well, you deserve a brief insight into my command. Springer, Blaster, Circumstances have arisen that are far and above our ability to resolve. Particularly the rise of a demonic mythic figure of ancient legends bent on the obliteration of all Cybertronians everywhere. In order to combat this threat, I am going to unite the divided factions of our home world. With our combined technology, resources, ingenuity and our combined resolve, I intend to send that black spark back into the abyss from which it came. Now, I trust I do not have to give you any more of an explanation."

Magnus paused briefly for a response, pro offering an acknowledgement to the message that was sent to him by Hotspot, the Protectobot commander and captain of the Guardian. He sent a quick message burst in reply. "Hotspot, prepare your team for a securing operation. Details will be transmitted momentarily."

"Jazz, thank you for your report." Ultra Magnus remained as a sentinel as he accepted the data slate. "I will peruse this as soon as I am able. Given your more recent incident, I trust you have been cleared for return to active duty."

He glanced over to Springer briefly then to Bluestreak before returning back to the Counter Intelligence Officer. "Because I may have use for you and your particular set of skills."

Bounce Chamber

So... stiff. If they were to display a convincing image, in any possible manner, to humans, they need to have presence. To grab attention and hold it. To steer it.

Dragunov decided she’d had to show how it was done. Her rifle disappeared into the subspace displacement holster and she cast a smirking glance in Arcee’s direction.

The transformation sequence was smooth and seamless. Where a femme of sleek elegance stood in one moment, a streamlined and classy Aston Martin DB9 luxury car took her place in the next.

Air crackled with distortion and static as holomatter was projected, taking up a human female’s shape by the back of the vehicle, leaning against the chassis, arms crossed over her chest. The white suit she wore was as immaculate as gleaming the car from polish. A suit so new it had never been worn and a car so new it had just rolled off the assembly line.

The woman pulled her sunglasses from her waist pocket and put them on with practiced care. Her movements light but confident, she strolled up beside the car and sat in, opening the door on the opposite side as well and looking out at Steeljaw.

’Your pick?’

Beretta had once called it ’aristocrat’s nonchalance’ When you didn’t have to actually show off to be showing off. Your class did it for you. Something Dragunov could pull off flawlessly.

Bridge

"Am I to take it that you are unable to reroute through various communication satellites, telescope dishes and radar arrays on the planet in order to cover our location from the likes of Soundwave? Or is it that you both protest the fact that I have given you a direct order?

Blaster was for a rare moment without words when Ultra Magnus offered a scorching rebuttal to his initial protests about making contact with the Thanatos. Gone was the approachable demeanor that the acting commander had possessed just astroseconds earlier. Replacing it was a stern and fearless expression. The commander's countenance was that of one who had seen many battles and both many defeats and victories. It was the face that could lead them to victory, inspiring confidence anew in Blaster, which had fled so long ago when the Autobots had lost Optimus.

"Very well, you deserve a brief insight into my command. Springer, Blaster, Circumstances have arisen that are far and above our ability to resolve. Particularly the rise of a demonic mythic figure of ancient legends bent on the obliteration of all Cybertronians everywhere. In order to combat this threat, I am going to unite the divided factions of our home world. With our combined technology, resources, ingenuity and our combined resolve, I intend to send that black spark back into the abyss from which it came. Now, I trust I do not have to give you any more of an explanation."

"You got it!" Blaster said, snapping off a parade salute while trying to suppress a smile from spreading over his faceplate. Their situation was grave. He knew that. But it felt like the Autobots were finally getting back to working order. A trace of normality was returning and with it, hope. Hope.

Blaster whirled around as soon as Ultra Magnus diverted his attention to Jazz who had come to deliver a report to the commander. Sitting back down at the communications array, Blaster began the elaborate process of rerouting the transmission feed through earthen communications systems. It was protoform's play making the signal invisible to the humans. That wasn't the real goal. To Soundwave, it would seem as if the Autobots' signal was coming from all over the planet. If he even tried to trace it, he would be caught in a looping series of satellites and radar arrays.

Blaster doubted the Decepticon Chief Communications Officer would even bother to trace the signal back once he realized what Blaster had done. It would be a pointless exercise. The Autobot CCO kept rerouting the signal until finally he sent it to a human satellite which would project the signal out into the depths of space and back at earth. Wherever the Decepticons were hiding, they'd get the message.

>>"Yo any Decepticons out there on the Thanatos recieving me? This is the Autobot Ark-22, requesting a parley with whatever 'Con took Megatron's place!"<<

Punching in a few commands on the console, the crimson mech pulled up a large screen on the bridge's main display. Blaster glanced back at Ultra Magnus and flashed him a thumbs up.

"Yo, Mags! The transmission is sent. Waiting for the 'Cons to answer their doorbell. I'll let you know when they respond. Might be a while though, you know how they are."

Bounce Chamber

Arcee nodded to Tracks with a smile as he offered up his full cooperation. She finished inputting the coordinates for the bounce and stepped down to join the rest of her squad. The pink warrior suppressed a chuckle as Tracks reluctantly allowed the lion cassettobot to ride with him.

Steeljaw was about to nod to Tracks and walk over to the vain Autobot's side when the sound of a transformation cog spinning caught the cassettobot's attention. He looked over to the elegant femme as she transformed into her gleaming, immaculate alternate mode. Her holomatter avatar soon flashed to life beside her as she strolled up to the car and sat inside of it.

The cassettobot glanced over to Tracks once more, remembering his earlier hesitation to let the lion cassette ride in him. The last thing Steeljaw wanted to be was a burden to his comrades. Dragunov seemed as if she did not mind whether he rode with her. Nodding in thanks to Tracks, Steeljaw turned and padded toward Dragunov, approaching from the passenger side door and crouching down as if to pounce inside.

With a graceful leap, Steeljaw propelled himself toward Dragunov, transforming in mid-air. He landed neatly on the passenger seat in his alternate mode, the effects of the rapid mass displacement transformation a bit disorienting.

Arcee looked at her squad and let out a soft, inaudible sigh. This would be an interesting mission indeed. The pink warrior transformed as well, smoothly and elegantly shifting into her alternate mode. She was no Dragunov, but she did not pretend to be. Her blonde holomatter avatar fizzled into being on the seat and glanced up at the light of the bounce consumed the team.

With a the characteristic flash of bright, white light, Arcee and the other Autobots vanished from the hangar, gone to Earth and to fulfill their mission.

((OOC: Arcee's team will now be moving to the Detroit thread.))

((OOC: Friendly Reminder that I'm taking Cliffjumper as a NPC))

Bridge

Magnus' demeanor shifted back into his usual and strict self. Springer figured it wouldn't have taken long, what with the situation with the Fallen going on everyone looking to him to lead them in Optimus' absence. Still, for being such a by-the-book kind of commander, Springer was glad he decided to take the role of leadership while the Autobots were in disarray. With a slight gruff, the triple changer turned back to his computer console and reopened his search results. He began cross-referencing post and current human activity within the areas Ultra Magnus wished to know more about.

"Okay Mags, think I found something that'll suit your fancy." Springer stated to Magnus as he gazed up to view the large projection screen. He edited the preferences of his screen to project off to the side of Blaster's viewscreen. Blaster gave Mags a thumbs up as Springer walked over to the viewscreen.

"So, this little spec here" He said pointing up at the screen where he had placed a cursor over the location, "is an abandoned aircraft hangar that was used by the 'United Kingdom' back during some war from 1941-1945. I didn't look into it too much, but the nearest human occupied zone is at least a good 400 miles from this place." The green mech turned back to Magnus. "So what exactly are you looking for with this team you want me to assemble?"

Training Hall

The training hall seemed very quiet. Usually there would be bots in here practicing their fine aim or testing their skills on the obstacle course, but this was a unusual for it to be completely empty. This didn't stop Cliffjumper though; he wanted to stay prepared, ready for any situation that might come up. All this business with the Fallen only sparked the warrior's fighting spirit, he was tired of being left behind on missions, he wanted a piece of the action!

Cliffjumper approached the firing range area of the training area, his signature glass cannon strapped over himself and hanging on his back and his Ion gun tight next to his side. As he approached his bench, his trigger finger was beginning to itch with eagerness.

After programming his training exercise, the warrior readied his weapon and aimed down the firing line. If they were gonna leave him behind on missions because of his size, then he was gonna make sure they wouldn't doubt his skills. The training program was set up like the human's shooting alley styled carnival games and soon holographic targets began to pop up from behind digitally designed structures like walls and debris.

*Ping*...*Ping*...*Ping*

"Protoform's play."

Science Laboratory

Huffer knelt down next to the portable power cable that plugged into the rhombus shaped box that locked into the base of the pedestal that held the ring upright. He placed his finger tips to the box and allowed a series of powerful molecular sensors to flow over the entire matrix to ensure the recent power surge had not done considerable damage to the primary super structure. Pulse after subsonic pulse throbbed through the complex systems, ultimately returning to the construction engineer.

"I do not detect any structural weaknesses," the minibot grumbled as he stepped away from the power transfer box. He stepped back to the small cluster of benches around the holographic computer terminal where Chromedome had assumed command. He gave a short stretch, the aches in his joints only recently subsided as the extra energy dissipated from his internal network. "If anything, I don't recommend we start up the actual projection unit. For one reason we lack a definite target, and I doubt Magnus or Springer would want us to start sending objects from one end of the ship to the other... without some reliable figures behind it."

"I would concur. Chromedome. For now let us place the event horizon generators on standby and begin with. Perhaps we can get a better idea as to how to stream line the process in future renditions of our project."

Bridge

The voices on the bridge began to grow more and more distant as Magnus reviewed a swollen blob of cybertronian text that had finally downloaded from the primary data tracks. He began to play the information backwards and forwards in his processor as he weighed the options available to him. Particularly, he focused on the political interests of the region that Springer had selected as a possible site for the parley mission. It was an old air field, quite literally forgotten by the humans, and left to the sands of the desert winds. The structures there, just by the available satelite imagry, were in dire need of repair and the runway was all but lost to the dunes. However, Magnus mused quietly to himself, what use did the Autobots or Decepticons have for primative sand stone air strips?

"It will have to do, with a bit of personal reinforcement." His voice tailed off as he closed the political history of Southern Egypt. A distablized political region, however he doubted that such chaotic events would be felt so far into the dead zones of their lands. And even if they were, Magnus paused a moment.

"The team I want will be involved as observers to the meeting I intend to initiate between myself and who ever currently commands the Decepticon forces in this sector. Bluestreak and yourself will be present, for reasons I will explain later. I will require a scout and a relay officer to transmit orders from one position to the other. If possible I would have liked to have had Bumblebee, however he is currently on assignment." He stood up and faced the dark hemisphere and the dazzling display of lights dotting a swirling mass of water vapor and dust particles.

"This is not a combat operation so I do not wish to provoke one by having our most aggressive individuals present either. Neither is this a surrender, so should such a turn happen I refuse to be caught with my armor on the deck."

He pivoted to Blaster and gave a simple nod. "Understood old friend. Keep trying, and continue to adjust frequencies on a random modulation to prevent Soundwave from potentially tracking us to the source. In exactly 3 Breems I will be contacting both the Guardian and the interior of the 22, for a full intercom report of the situation. I expect such channels will be avaliable for that event, as well as the attention of all Autobots on both vessels."

Ultra Magnus looked back to Springer. "Once you have your team, transmit the bounce coordinates to Hotspot. You are to join him and the Protectobots to secure the base from Human eyes. Take what you will need from the cargoholds. Establish an early warning peremeter, but I do not want weapons installed." His voice remained strong to hammer home that point. This was not a permanent Autobot facility. If his plan worked out, the base they had located would become the first joint operational outpost since before the golden age. It also meant that he would have to rely on the self preservation programming of the Decepticon Commanders. "Jazz will accompany you and the Protectobots, once his status has been returned to full active duty."

Magnus wasted no time as he reached over to an intercom toggle. He pressed in the approprate frequencies to Wheeljack's personal communicator. "Magnus to Wheeljack. I require a status update on the progression of the projects required for the Autobot City Protocol."

Bridge

As the hulking mass of blue armor took his datapad, Jazz felt a bit of tension wash over him. Just moments before, Jazz heard the words "rise of a demonic mythic figure of ancient legends bent on the obliteration of all Cybertronians everywhere" and "unite the divided factions of our homeworld" used in the same breath. Needless to say, the air in the room felt a bit cold. Jazz's mind began to race after those words were said, prodding around the information that he had gathered from Hardhead's murderous behavior. Could Hardhead be the demon? No... Something -- or someone, rather -- that powerful wouldn't use such conventional methods such as teleporting someone's sword into his hand and decapitating them with it. Suddenly, under the special operation's director's visor, his optics widened. He had remembered a sort of visual cue from Hot Rod just before Hardhead went to go on his little escapade, and how Hot Rod was leading them on like Megatron did in the early days of the war. That would mean that Hot Rod was in charge.

Huh. Jazz thought, Hot Rod possessed by a demon. Didn't see that one comin'!

It was the when Magnus asked him about his return to duty, and the city commander's job for him.

"Looks that way." Jazz gave a noncommittal answer, leaving a door open to make an escape politically.

It was then when the city commander explained where they were headed. Egypt. Of all the places in all the world, it had to be Egypt. Sure, the pyramids there are pretty neat, and the Sphinx was also pretty cool, but why couldn't it be a few miles out of, say, New Orleans or some place like that? For instance, the Bayou? Jazz loved it there, and he had always wanted to go back.

He shrugged internally, Guess I'm going to have to use some of my shore leave one of these days.

"When we get there, who're we gonna expect? There is a power vacuum, after all, and I'm pretty sure that certain warlords aren't going to be on the same page as others that are up for an alliance or momentary cease-fire." Jazz inquired, not convinced at the Decepticon's trustworthiness.

Corridors/Bridge

Hearing Smokescreen's support of his idea for a bar only strengthened Blurr's resolve to attain one before all of this was over. Mechs needed a place to come and talk and get over-energized and relax among friends. A place where the war didn't matter - well - mattered less. Smokescreen petitioned the idea of some gaming machines. Blurr wasn't sure how well that'd fly with Ultra Magnus. Did gambling go against that Tyrest Accord of his? He couldn't remember. Still, it was definitely worth having.

“I guess we should probably get going. I’m sure Magnus is a busy mech now that he’s the new Sector Commander and all. Hopefully, he’ll be able to spare a few astroseconds to see us."

"YeahIbet," Blurr said as the newly formed trio continued on their way to the bridge. "Ifnot, we can always waituntil he's free." Blurr looked over at Smokescreen, wondering if perhaps he knew something about the situation with Hot Rod and the others that had gone down to earth. The blue speedster quickly cast the thought from his mind. Ultra Magnus would be the one to know. That issue resolved, the courier noticed that Smokescreen was trying to keep pace with Blurr's normal walking speed, which meant he was leaving Ingram behind in the dust. Slowing his pace drastically as the trio continued on their way to the bridge, Blurr listened to Smokescreen's question.

“So, Blurr, what do you think of my idea for the gaming machines? Do you think they’d make a nice addition to your bar?"

"Yeah! I'msure they would, Smokey," the speedster replied cheerily, "We justhave to get thempast Magnus. Orwe could not mentionthem to Magnus. Thatmight be the best idea. Betterto ask forgivenessthan permission. Sometimes." As they approached the doors to the bridge, Blurr punched the button on the console to open them. They slid apart with a slight hiss to reveal the occupants within. It was quite the assembly. Blaster, Springer, and even Ratchet were here as well as Jazz and others with Ultra Magnus presiding over all of them. Maybe now...wasn't the best time.

Bridge

Smokescreen was almost giddy with joy when Blurr approved of his idea for the inclusion of some gaming machines in the speedster’s proposed bar. Of course, Blurr reminded the rallybot that they would have to get the idea past Magnus first and who knew if the City Commander would even go for it let alone the entire concept of a bar on board a warship in the first place. Smokey would just have to be sure to let Magnus know that the games would be just for fun and not associated with actual gambling. That way there would be no risk of breaking any rules from the Tyrest Accord. The only other alternative was to simply not mention the games and hope the fallout afterwards would be less than severe.

“Yeah, maybe we should just keep the gaming machines to ourselves for now, Blurr,” Smokescreen agreed, cracking a slight smile. After recent events, the diversion expert had fallen back into his old deceitful ways rather easily. Although, innocent games were a far cry from all of the issues regarding Tracer’s addiction, including the encounter with Oil Slick and the truth behind Smokey’s new body. Still, the bar alone would be a hard sell so leaving the games out of the conversation for the time being was probably for the best. “I guess maybe once we get the bar approved I can approach Magnus at a later date with the gaming idea. That might give us a better chance of getting that approved, too.”

Once they had finally arrived at the bridge, Blurr activated the doors which slid apart and allowed the trio of Autobots to enter. Smokescreen immediately took notice that there was a lot happening on the bridge. Not only was Ultra Magnus present, but so was Kup, Axle, Ratchet, Springer, Jazz, Blaster and Bluestreak along with the regular assortment of mechs that were simply going about they assigned duties. “Wow, looks like something serious is going down. We should probably find out what it is.”

The rallybot took a step forward as the doors closed behind him and his companions. He tried to lock optics with Axle, but instead found Bluestreak looking back at him. The chatterbot smiled and quickly made his way over to Smokescreen’s side. “Hey, Smokey! Good to see you again! Have you heard about everything that’s going on?”

“Actually, we were just wondering that,” the diversion expert said, giving a quick glance over at Blurr and Ingram before returning his full attention to the black and silver mech. “So, what is going on, Blue, and could you just give us the short version, please?”

“Sure thing, Smokes,” Bluestreak replied as he prepared his vocals for the onslaught of sound that was about to follow. “Basically, we’re facing the extinction of the Cybertronian race and the end of the universe as we know it. I know how this is going to sound but Hot Rod has been possessed by the Fallen. Yes, you heard right, that Fallen. And he’s gathered four heralds, including Hardhead, Hex and two ‘Cons, who are Darkride and Drag Strip, I think. Regardless, they plan on destroying all Cybertronian life and unleashing the Lord of Chaos, himself, Unicron! Right now, Rodimus and his heralds are down on Earth preparing for the apocalypse. We have their coordinates but we unfortunately need to meet with the Decepticons in order to barter a temporary truce so we can fight the Fallen on a united front. I can’t say I’m very optimistic that the ‘Cons will cooperate or can be fully trusted, but we really have no other options, I’m afraid.”

Smokescreen stood in awe, his mouth a gasp at the sheer volume of information that his audio receptors were hearing. The Fallen? Really? It sounded like a story that a drunken mech would tell. However, considering that Ultra Magnus, himself, was present along with other high ranking officials, the whole apocalyptic scenario must be true at least to some extent. “Whoa,” the rallybot could only utter at first. “That’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Smokey,” Bluestreak said, apologetically. “I gave you the shortest version I could muster.”

“Heh, I’m sure you did, Blue,” Smokescreen replied with a smirk before looking back over at Blurr again. “I guess the bar idea will have to wait. We can’t rightfully open a pub if the universe ends. Heh. We should offer Magnus our help, instead, don’t you think?”

“Wait an astrosec. A bar? What bar?” Bluestreak asked, looking back and forth between Smokescreen and Blurr. “You guys are opening a bar? You know I used to be friends with someone before the war that owned a....”

“We don’t care, Blue,” Smokescreen interrupted the gunner before another tirade of useless words spilled forth at a neverending rate.

“Sorry.”

Science Lab

Wheeljack returned to the science labs with a hover cart full of spare parts he had procured from the primary storage facility on board the ship. It wasn’t all they would need in order to build the test armature. A working circulatory system along with a nervous system would be needed, as well. Perceptor was in the process of getting those components from the medical bay, but he apparently was taking longer than anticipated. As a result, the mechanical engineer decided to head back down to the science lab to begin the early stages of construction.

Walking to the back of the lab where Jetfire had found space for the armature, Wheeljack noticed that Huffer had arrived to help out Iron Fist and Chromedome with a test node for the eventual global ground bridge. By the looks of things, they had made some steady progress on that front, finding and modifying a Subspace Transit Support Ring into a smaller version of what Ultra Magnus had requested. “You guys look like you’ve made some good headway over there. Great job! Have you had a chance to test it yet?”

Not waiting for an immediate response, Wheeljack pushed the hover cart to the back of the lab and gave Jetfire a friendly nod. “Sorry, it took so long. I was waiting for Percy, but I guess he got detained in the med bay. I’m sure he’ll be along soon. In the meantime, we should get started on the armature. Even without the internal components we can still build the outer shell and have it ready in time for when Perceptor gets here. Sound like a plan?”

The mechanical engineer then began pulling out numerous spare parts and placing them onto a nearby worktable. Before long, Wheeljack had begun putting together what looked like a basic Cybertronian skeleton. It wasn’t much but at least it was a start. As ‘Jack reached into the cart once more, looking for a cranial module, he received a status request from Ultra Magnus. Placing his tools down, the mad scientist opened a comm line back to the Sector Commander:

>>”Commander Magnus, this is Wheeljack. Jetfire and I are in the midst of building a test armature for the ore sample. Perceptor is retrieving the internal components that we’ll need as I speak. As for the others, Chromedome, Iron Fist and Huffer are hard at work on modifying an old subspace ring into a ground bridge node. It’s just a small version of what we’ll actually be using in the field, but it’ll suffice for the needed testing. No discernible results as yet, but we are all working as quickly as possible. I will keep you informed as things progress. Wheeljack out.”<<

Cutting his comm line, the mechanical engineer dove back into the hover cart and quickly found the cranial module he needed. Placing it at the top of the armature skeleton, Wheeljack began soldering it into place.

Bridge

Springer turned to the blast doors of the bridge, preparing his trek to form the small task force Magnus requested he should form. He already had a strong idea who to choose already, now he just needed to round up the crew in the hangar. As he stepped closer to the doorway, someone had beat him to open it already. It was Blurr, Smokescreen, and Ingram. Perfect, just the bots he was looking for.

"Blurr! Your audio receptors burning? I was just talking about you!" The triple changer exclaimed as he welcomed the trio of Autobots to the bridge. Smokescreen went off and began chatting with his mold-mate, Bluestreak. No matter, it was Blurr and Ingram he needed to talk to. "Listen, things are getting a little hectic up in here. Magnus wants to form a scouting team to help secure a point on Earth. We would of chose 'Bee, but he's already on active duty on that blue marble. So! I'm going to need your help and use your special talents to function as a scout for this mission. Can you do that?"

The green mech then turned to Ingram, "Ingram, I heard you can throw a punch. This might not be a mission where we're gonna see a lot of action, but I figure it wouldn't hurt to have a bot who's capable of their own in a fight."

Springer then shifted back towards the opened doorway and began to walk out. He turned back and gazed at Blurr and Ingram once more. "If you're willing to join me on this endeavor, then meet me in the bounce chamber with fresh weapons and smiles on your faceplates." He then turned back into the corridor and began his trek towards recruitment. First stop; The firing range.

>>"Springer to Sideswipe, meet me in the 22's weapon storage facility, it's just within the ship's firing range. I'll brief you on the situation when you get there. Springer out."<<