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"Yeah, Gargantua, geez. Share the space a little. Some of the rest of us would like to have a place to stand,"

A deep rumbling emanated from within Broadside as he chuckled at Sandstorms comment as he entered the armoury, “Perhaps I should put your name forward to Ratchet for the Micromaster process, then all I’d have to worry about is stepping on you”

The triplechanger moved towards the bigger gun lockers that where designed for the heavy weapons. “Hmm! These look more my size” reaching inside one of the lockers he removed a heavy proton cannon something smaller mechs had to use two handed and laid down, thou he was using the heavy weapon like a rifle. Broadside’s own cannon was potent but he wanted something more powerful if they were fighting something that was begging to fight both decepticon and autobot forces at the same time

Bridge

As Blaster began his assigned task to reroute power to establish communication links with Prowl, Ultra Magnus pondered the situation for a brief moment, his mind continually going over the coordinates that Axle and Blue Streak had uncovered. Slowly he drew the coordinates along a placid and inert metallic surface of the bridge railing in the pale red alert hew, the klaxon blaring in the background of his attention. By the second rotation through the coordinates he was able to pause and look back towards the primary view screen. His optics narrowed on the coastal view of the planet below, illuminated by millions of lamps granting a welcoming beacon to any potential invader from space… telling everyone in the galaxy that they were there and vulnerable. How appropriate that the very survival rest on the surface of such an ignorant world.

“An ignorant world,” he muttered to himself. “Earth, a world that believes in multiple gods, goddesses, spirits and ancestors guide fate and existence, the hell and heaven of afterlives… in dire need of maturity, and yet.” Magnus stopped short of his personal reflection before his mind began to draw parallels and connections. Uluru… he had checked the coordinates left behind by Hex against the global positioning satellites and data base at the end of his briefing with the other members of his officers. A barren spit of sandstone in the heart of the island continent. The remains of the construction of the world, the aboriginal belief with regards to their religious creation mythology, the rock itself was evidence of ancient ancestral toils in the building of their flat surface and desert landscapes. Only problem was that such stories were never quantifiable. There was no physical evidence to prove stories after eons since their first formation. But in this case, there was something that drew the humans to that land beyond the simple fact that it was a pock marked piece of monolithic sandstone.

Magnus reached down passed the safety rail and lightly pushed one of the gamma shift Autobots from his station and siphoned a small bit of energy from the emergency cells. With his own security codes and a hunch, he began to reestablish a connection between the Ark 22, Guardian and the long range combat transport shuttle, the Longevity… the vessel that had brought him from the Battle Fortress Liberty and operations in the core worlds, to this particular backwater hotspot.

Remote commands activated the primary power generators and shunted power to reinforce the two ships, taking strains off of their emergency batteries. It was a simple patch and had a finite time limit. But for the moment, it gave Magnus access to the shuttle’s computers and sensors. As well as reinforced the communications array. He positioned himself behind the console and began to tap out several strings of coded command to the Longevity’s computer system libraries. He began to pull up files, though their contents were as Spartan as one would suspect without access to the primary database cores. He sent a command to the shuttle to adjust its sensor array towards the nearest human satellite and begin establishing a link to their vaunted internet services.

The computer responded to its assigned task and gave an estimate of a half breem to establish the requisite link with necessary security cloaks, and compile the required data he was searching for. Ultra Magnus leaned back briefly before he stood up again to look back at the Autobots who remained behind at their station while the main body of ground troops began preparations for battle. Bursts of static broke through the blaring klaxon as the first direct line of sight beams were received. The klaxon was immediately doused the moment the first voice was registered, though the ghastly red hew still remained laced with the pale green glow of the few active consoles powered by the two way umbilical from the Longevity’s small generators via the link with the Guardian. “I see… It would have been an appropriate place to develop our base for a possible body of cooperation and possibly a lasting peace. Unfortunately, I have to say that our obstacle has decided to intercede before our foundations could be cast. Springer, you are to prepare for redeployment. I will be dispatching the Serenity to pick you and your team up. Before you ask, our bounce systems are off line due to power issues… at least the coordinate package was never dispatched to the Decepticons before the transmission was cut. Take inventory of the region until pick up, I want to know strategic advantages and disadvantages for that site as well.” Magnus held no illusion that their desperate fight against the Fallen possessed Black Rodimus, was well beyond desperate. To have an offsite rally point should things turn sour was a tactical must. And should things go in their favor, however slim their chances for success may be, and the Decepticons decided to take advantage of their weakened state… Magnus knew that an emergency bounce out position was yet another tactical must. In other words, Egypt would still serve a purpose whether it was now or down the road. “The Serenity will be stocked with appropriate munitions and supplies your expeditionary force, as well as a set of rally coordinates, dubbed specifically ‘Point K’. In addition to the supplies, the data tracks will contain a file of the region you are to be deployed to… but be forewarned, it isn’t much with the primary computer core still underpowered and in diagnostic mode. Topographical data as well as local aboriginal mythos and mysticisms will be included. Review these immediately before our rendezvous at ‘Point K.’ Expect the Serenity in 3 breems. Magnus Out.”

The shuttle computer signaled that it had completed its patch and began to assimilate the assigned data requirements. Magnus glanced briefly at the tetra bytes of information before bringing up the primary search protocols. He ordered the system to begin whittling down the information to the primary focuses on the region and earthen lore of the coordinates in question.

The shuttle linked computer went about its task with a muted blurb and the screen began filtering out entries. Shorter and shorter, the entries began to disappear as if by the speed of thought. As they did so Blaster’s communiqué to the surface finally managed to pay dividends. A few clicks of static, partially from the overload in the communications system and most likely the majority from the passing storm that hammered Prowl’s position down on the planet. Perhaps there was something to the human mysticism. The thought caused Magnus’s lip to curl ever so slightly upward before he returned his attention to the console and the small window that managed to develop. The brief in and outs of a visual connection, a small miracle to say the least.

“Things have become… complicated Prowl.” Ultra Magnus’s voice trailed off and left what he was going to delve into off the proverbial table. Instead he shook his head quietly and retraced the moments in his head. “Prowl, our primary Quantum drive generators have been disabled, most likely destroyed. We are currently running on emergency battery power, as is the Guardian. I am siphoning battery power from Longevity’s generators but we both know that won’t last long. Add to that, I have a pretty good idea as to who perpetrated those strikes, *Statement lost to flux in connection* I am also willing to wager an orn’s credits that the cons were just as lucky to have had a similar visit.” He allowed the news to settle. His optics caught glimpses of lingering dust and lightening rain fall interspersed with the near continuous bursts of static.

“As it stands now our hands are being partially forced, and I refuse to go in scattered and divided. I am dispatching the Longevity to aid in… your team’s recovery, as I am fairly confident in your abilities to have secured the South American Valley. ..Your entire team will be necessary for this operation, lest they fail medical evaluation. *Sentence lost to static burst* Onboard will be a complete data base of the region, from topographical data to mythology and mysticisms of the native cultures. After your evaluation I to immediately delve into devising a tactical containment of those coordinates before we develop our final battle plans.

“I know this is a lot to take in Prowl. The proverbial question of ‘How does one kill a god,’ seems to be one that truly requires an answer these dark hours. I have included rally point coordinates, dubbed ‘Point K’ within the data tracks of the Longevity. First a difficult transition in command followed by a difficult scouting mission and now receiving the dubious honor of working to plan the end of a galactic genocidal threat… we seem to get the easy jobs.” He doubted the attempt to lighten the mood and boost the confidence of the Chief Strategist and long term planner of Opti… his staff would be lost to him. But he also doubted Prowl would receive it and act on the implications. There was so much pressure to be put on the Black and White general. He waited for Prowl’s response and allowed the officer to bring about any recommendations on supplies that he would require to be loaded into the Longevity’s hold, which would already be cramped with both strike teams being dispatched.

As he waited a third communication piped through his terminal, this time it was through the still functional ship’s internal comm. A visual window appeared and elongated next to the smaller fluff and snow filled window of Prowl, giving a stark contrast of where each mechanism was located. “Hmm, no Wheeljack, I agree with your assessment that you and your team should remain behind. The generators must be repaired before we make the attempt to land on Earth. But I have a more tactical use for the 22 than a simple landing effort. I trust your expertise in this element, get this ship restored to full, particularly the subspace trans-warp projection emitters. If we fail in driving the Fallen back to the brink…” He left the rest of it unspoken. The fact he was contemplating tearing an entire chunk of the planet from its surface, it violated every accord he could possibly think of. But in these situations… damn signers never foresaw the return of this Spawn of Unicron’s hemorrhoid manufacturing centers. “Just get these vessels up and running Wheeljack. Though if you find a glimmer of inspiration on some way of solving this crisis that does not involve jettisoning a portion of this world into the nearest neutron star or denser, I want to know about it the nanosecond you have it formulated…” He left the channel open briefly for the responses of his chief engineer and inventor.

They needed to level the playing field. And while throwing them into what remained of a super massive star was nowhere near the top of his options, not as if he had many options to begin with, Ultra Magnus was not about to discount it. He would face the consequences should it come to that… but it was the judgment call that he knew he was unworthy of making. If he was wrong then their entire cover could be blown and not only would the Decepticons be their enemies, but an enraged species such as the humans… Weak technologically now, their entire history was marked by advancements through collective goals, primarily through war. The very capacity and potential for mankind, should they put themselves to it, could be a comfort or a source of dread for all Cybertronian kind.

He turned his attention to Ratchet and Axle as he removed himself from the row of linkage consoles. Behind him the monitor flashed green as the umbilical between the two capital vessels and the Longevity began its final power replenishment cycle. He estimated they had maybe a day’s worth of emergency power on both vessels, the Longevity only managed to extend that time by a few extra breems. “Doctor, I believe your services will be required planet side. I want you two to replenish your supplies as well as store enough supplies for First Aid and the rest of the medical capable Autobots currently on assignment. I will dedicate ‘Hold One’ onboard the Longevity to serve as your primary triage center for the duration of this operation.”

The commander turned his attention Blaster and his staff of operatives who flooded the bridge since the ship wide power flux. He gave a nod briefly. “Jazz,” he called out, without breaking optic contact with the communications officer. “I want you to begin preflight checks onboard the Longevity. She is currently docked to the Guardian. I have already transferred a supply requisition with the Guardian’s armory officer and have augmented their supply from that of the 22’s. Soon as I arrive we will be launching for territory known as Peru.”

“Blaster, I want you to pull Chromedome from whatever project he has busied himself with these last few cycle.” He paused briefly as he calculated his next operation assignment carefully. This order could not be given over the intercom, no it was not something Magnus wished to discuss beyond issuing the command… and he was sure the target for the order would protest the moment he received it. “Before the power outage the computer indicated that he was in the science laboratories helping Perceptor and Wheeljack with development of the Global Space Bridge program.”

Ultra Magnus raised his wrist and flipped open a small linkage port. He pulled out a data slug and cautiously placed the thin wafer into Blaster’s waiting palm. “This slug is to be given to Wheeljack, no one else will be able to access it. Once that task is done, you and Chromedome are to prepare the Serenity for departure. She is currently in the primary shuttle bay. I will send your reinforcements as soon as I finish briefing them.”



With the transfer of the slug, Ultra Magnus gave a salute to the station officer and left the bridge. His destination the Armory.

Bridge

"Shuttle Detail? Well it ain't my first choice, but anything to get off this ship and get some fresh air is cool by me." The black and white special operations director joked as he tried to keep the mood up in the bridge. It go unnoticed, but as long as Jazz can keep a cool head in these desperate times, then he's got a chance to rally his fellow Autobots as well.

Jazz gave Magnus a quick salute as the armor mech took his leave from the bridge. He followed behind shortly after but couldn't see the bulky mech when he stepped out into the corridor. For someone so big and heavily armored, he sure seemed to move fast when he's on a mission.

"Well, I'm not one to keep ol' Shoulder Pads waiting... I'll see you astrocats in an breem or so." The black and white mech stated as he departed from the bridge and made his way towards the Guardian.



((OOC: Jazz is now on the Guardian))

Armory

“And don’t you dare ‘bomp’ me. I’m simply answering the question you posed, to the best of my ability."

Getaway could not suppress a grin as he heard his partner utter those words, for he been plotting to do just that. The escapologist turned his head slightly to look back at Skids and held up his hands innocently. "Why I'm offended that you could think I would do such a thing to you after you answered my question so eloquently," Getaway replied in his most painfully sarcastic voice.

The white Autobot soon tread into the armory where he found two of the triple changers, Sandstorm and Broadside, already gathered. "'Ello gents," Getaway quipped cheerily as he entered giving a nod to Sandstorm and a two-fingered salute at the gigantic Broadside. Getaway meandered over to his locker and banged it open, taking a look at the contents inside.

"Let's see...what do we have here...Ah!" Getaway leaned down and picked up a few magazines loaded with plasma shells for his gun. He popped the extras into some side compartments and reloaded his gun with a fresh magazine. Taking another look at the contents of his locker, the escapologist knelt down and checked the hidden compartment in his heel surreptitiously, making sure his escape kit was still stowed there.

Satisfied that all was in working order and his systems were at optimum levels, Getaway whirled on his heel and regarded the room's other occupants. He swiveled his head about to regard Sandstorm first.

"Hey Sandy! Ready to kick some Fallen aft plating?" Getaway turned to look at Broadside without a pause, "How 'bout you, Gigantor?"



Bridge

"Blaster, I want you to pull Chromedome from whatever project he has busied himself with these last few cycle. Before the power outage the computer indicated that he was in the science laboratories helping Perceptor and Wheeljack with development of the Global Space Bridge program."

Busily toiling away at his terminal, Blaster had been rerouting the transmissions to Ultra Magnus as they arrived. His fingers a visual blur over the console, he was hard at work speeding along the restoration of computer systems' functions. He looked up as Magnus addressed him and nodded, rising to his feet. He glanced down at Ramhorn who was at his side and gestured for the rhino cassettobot to transform and hop into his chest cavity for transit.

The rhino grunted but transformed without a word, leaping into Blaster's open chest cavity. That done, Blaster looked over at Magnus who had made his way over to the Autobot communications officer. As the supreme commander pulled out a data slug from his wrist, Blaster extended his actuator.

“This slug is to be given to Wheeljack, no one else will be able to access it. Once that task is done, you and Chromedome are to prepare the Serenity for departure. She is currently in the primary shuttle bay. I will send your reinforcements as soon as I finish briefing them."

"Yo, you got it Mags," Blaster said with a confident smile as his fingers closed around the data slug. He snapped off a stylized salute at his commander and then departed the bridge, heading for the science lab.

En Route to the Science Lab

Eject jogged toward the bridge, hoping that he would find Blaster there. The little blue Autobot rounded a corner and crashed faceplate first into his superior's leg. The collision sent him sprawling backward, a little dazed. Blaster knelt down so as to get on eye level with the sports fanatic.

"Hey, bud, you still rockin' and rollin'?" Blaster asked.

"Blaster! Goal! I found you!" Eject exclaimed as his optics regained focus. The little cassettobot leaped to his feet and saluted the larger crimson mech. "Sorry I'm late to the game, coach! I'm still ready to hike the ball whenever you are!"

"Heh, good," Blaster said with a chuckle, rising to his full height. "Let's get rollin' c'mon, Eject."

"You got it, coach!"

Blaster continued on his way to the science lab with Eject trotting alongside him.

Science Lab

The doors to the science lab hissed open with the metallic sound of metal grating on metal to admit the Autobot communications officer and his blue companion. Eject looked up at Blaster with a perplexed expression on his faceplate. "Hey coach...what're we doin' here? The game's the other way," Eject said with a jerk of his thumb in the general direction of the Hangar.

Blaster stepped further into the science lab, sparing a glance down at Eject. "Got something to deliver," he answered quickly as he lifted his optics to look around for the Autobot's leading mad scientist. Blaster's optics alighted on his quarry soon enough and the red mech made his way over to Wheeljack.

"Hey 'Jack. Mags asked me to give you this. Your optics only," Blaster said handling over the data slug into Wheeljack's actuator. Blaster turned his head to look over to Chromedome and gestured for the mnemosurgeon to come on over.

"Yo Chromedome, you're with me. We gotta get the Serenity prepped for launch. Hope you came prepared to rock and roll."

"It's time for kick off!" Eject chimed.

Armory

"Yeah, you do that big boy. You'll find a rotor in your aft," Sandstorm chuckled as he continued to lay out various weapons that he would be attaching to his body. This felt like the good old days, right when the war first broke out.

"Hey Sandy! Ready to kick some Fallen aft plating?"

Sandstorm grinned and returned the small salute.

"Like an Empty wants an energon goodie," he said as he started slapping energy clips into each of the weapons.

Armoury

Broadside started chuckling again at sandstorms reply as he sighted the Proton cannon lifting the cannon to his optics. Satisfied that the sites where correct he moved his attention to a plasma cannon that was sat in the locker blackened and charred coils told Broadside that its previous user was a brain dead simpleton who cooked the magnetic coils. It would be a fairly simple task of replacing the magnetic coils but one that would take a few breems and he simply didn’t have the time. Replacing the plasma cannon his thoughts of weapons were interrupted by a voice.

"How 'bout you, Gigantor?"

Broadside looked sideways and found Getaway had arrived in the armoury

“Oh yeah! I’m totally looking forward to pain, the agony and the death” muttered the triplechanger as he placed the heavy proton cannon on his back.

Armory

Ultra Magnus stepped through the threshold of the large orange double doors as they slid back into their spaces within the double thick titanium walls. He paused briefly, taking note of the masses of Autobots that had accepted his summons to battle detail, knowing that the armory onboard the Guardian was filling similar orders. By the book, the weapons were being issued to the design specifications of each member present after a covert scan from the wall dispensaries confirmed energy signatures.

The supreme commander stepped further into the armory chamber and made his way to the large array of weapon dispensers along the furthest wall. He pressed his palm against the sensor pad. The dispenser wall recorded his signature and prints, then activated the automatic conversion protocol. Panels along the wall elongated and split into several tiers. The back of the dispenser separated into six segments and folded backwards into the recesses of the chamber vault as a large rotating platform elevated from the floor.

Magnus stepped onto the platform, carefully avoiding accidently ramming the massive triple changer Broadside. He kicked his feet into the locks and gave an imperceptible nod to activate the rearming procedures. The rotating platform spun around and drew him into the back of the vault as an opaque blast shield lowered from the ceiling to conceal the secrets within. As it did so, Magnus mused to himself as to just how secret his little secret truly was.

Alone in the back of the vault, Ultra Magnus deactivated the locks on his armor and stepped forward as several robotic arms began to peal back access panels. The silent conversion was near instant as his mouth guard reactivated and slid across his face, an unpleasant feeling after being so long without it active. His bare pale white chassis peeled free from the confines of the blue booster Apex Armor and gave him a rather unique chance to stretch and clear his actuators.

As the robotic arms began to pull out spent missile cartridges and rocket pods from the powerful armor, Magnus walked over to a large stash of specifically assigned weapons. He pulled up the Heavy Laser Rifle, his personal favorite that typically selected for nearly all combat operations. A flick of his thumb tested the power level of the batteries in the weapon. Satisfied with the full charge and emergency recharge matrix that had been installed, Magnus raised the weapon to optic level to test its balance and sight calibration.

A quick glance back to the process unfolding behind him regarding his combat armor offered him reassurances that even the nastiest of burs would be removed from the joints and weapons systems would be at optimal efficiency. The supreme commander swung the weapon around and slung it into a holster pressed into his back. The long range weapons packages were being finely tuned and near completion, but Magnus knew well enough that battles never remained at a long distance for very long.

He turned his attention to a more generic rack of combat weapons designed for closer range quarters. Swords, Staves, Maces and combat Axes, they lined a large pegged rack along the right wall of the conversion chamber. Slowly he dragged his index finger along the upward hilts of the weapons, pausing briefly over the halberd spear before moving on. Never was one for the spear, nor the sword... though Magnus was proficient in both combat styles required to handle those weapons. Instead Magnus arrived at a large electro magnetic combat hammer. A cylindrical head lined with spines along the base of the striking body.

Magnus reached out to accept the close quarters weapon, a digital circuit emerged from his hand as one emerged from the Hammer's hilt. He plugged in and downloaded all of the requirements for the weapon and merged them into his own combat files. Satisfied with the weapon's potential, he slung it over his shoulder and placed it onto a specialized clip located on his back next to the laser rifle.

The robotic conversion system signaled that rearming had become complete, and refueling was on the verge of achieving the same level. Nodding briefly, Magnus climbed the platform and reestablished connection with his armor. The mouth guard lowered and the locks were reestablished. A swift diagnostic confirmed the reports of the RCS. A larger version of shoulder mounted missiles were installed to finalize the conversion and the platform spun around and the blast shields lifted.

Ultra Magnus stepped down from the platform through a field of haze and mist as they billowed out around his legs. He walked to the head of the chamber and pivoted on his heel. His optics locked with each of those who had gathered in the Ark 22 Armory. For a few seconds as their individual conversations faded away to instill the moment.

"My fellow Autobots. Our very survival is threatened once more. Not just our survival as a political movement, the right to choose how we desire to live our lives... but our right to exist as a species. The Fallen has absorbed several of our friends, many who have fought beside you and I in countless engagements. Hot Rod, Hardhead and even Hex, each one has developed ties with each of us that are difficult to sever. They will attempt to use those ties against us in every opportunity."

He paused, not to give effect but instead to choose his words. "The Decepticons face the same doom that looms over our head, for they too are Cybertronians and it is the quest of the Fallen to destroy all who call that world home. They face similar circumstances as they have lost members of their own to the same infection that holds our friends enthrall. They are not our enemy this day. Regardless of our differences, we have a common goal in survival."

Magnus raised a closed fist to his chest, a salute to the fallen dead and those who suffered at the hands of oppression... to Optimus Prime. "Our objective is simple. Save our friends and beat the Fallen back to the pit from whence he came. I expect everyone to exercise restraint in dealing with the Decepticons and their operatives. We all have enough on our plate as it is without fighting each other. I want sensor locks on all five of the infected at all times, all data is to be transmitted to Ratchet and Axle at regular intervals."

He lowered his salute and raised his head and seemed to grow larger in determination and in stature. "Bluestreak, I want you Broadside, Gunrunner and Sandstorm to link up with Blaster and Chromedome onboard the Serenity. Given your relative knowledge of what is being dealt with, or at least what can be expected I want you to brief Springer when you link up. From there Springer will take command of that strike unit and link up at previously established rally points... Smokescreen, Getaway, Skids... you three are with me onboard the Longevity. Those are the shuttle assignments. Remember, we are on the clock everyone. I'll be damned if I let those Decepticons have the opportunity to kill those who are innocent in this paranormal vendetta... If you have any questions, now's the time to ask."

Bridge

“It’s not him! It’s not his fault!” Axle snapped back at Crossfire. The outburst had the engineer backing away slightly. If that little bot was capable of destroying several quantum engines and murder his entire crew who’s to say this much larger agitated mech couldn’t, and wouldn’t do the same.

Ratchet quickly stepped in grabbing a solid hold on his subordinate’s arm. He tugged lightly catching Axle’s attention. Ratchet sent a frown in Axle’s direction and followed it up with a shake of his head. The field medic heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” he said with a shrug. “Whatever. You don’t need to explain,” the CMO interrupted.

Crossfire gave both medics a worried look as they began to back away. Note to self…don’t agitate a medic…they’re the ones with the laser scalpels. After a moment he looked back to Ultra Magnus, who seemed to already be in deep thought and decided it was a good time to make his way back down to the engine room in order to help with repairs, and to see to it his crew was properly cared for.

Left alone Ratchet released Axle’s arm and placed both hands on the black and green mech’s shoulders. “Now listen. You have got to get it together. Worrying about Hex isn’t going to save him or the others. Now…” he released Axle’s shoulders and gestured to the terminal they had been working on earlier. “…we need to get back to work.”

Axle forced a smile and nodded. But as both turned around they stopped and stared. “I don’t believe it.” Ratchet grumbled. Two sets of optics were trained on one red and blue mech. “Do you think…”Axle’s voice was apprehensive but hopeful.

The CMO rubbed at his chin while he stared at Smokescreen. “Nothing else we’ve come up with is going to work. At least it’s a viable option.” Attention still fixated on the rallybot Axle nodded before adding, “Diversion. It’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous. We’re going to have to get in close to make it happen.” Ratchet grunted. “It’ll need to be done by someone who they have a connection with” He paused letting what he had just said linger. Silent they watched Smokescreen, Tracer and Bluestreak leave the bridge together.

“Where the hell is First Aid?” The question came out gruffly. Axle thought for a moment. He couldn’t recall whether the Protectobot was still on board one of the ships or if he had; ah yes. “He was deployed to Earth. Some mission with Springer.”

Ratchet rubbed the bridge of his nasal bridge before looking to Axle. “Okay. I’m sure Magnus will recall him and the others. That just leaves…” He swung around and stepped back to the terminal and punched up the roster containing his medical staff. “…just about everyone is on assignment except for Veneer.” A few taps of the keys and the nurse’s file appeared on the screen. “Alright, I’ll contact him and have him bring some more equipment. Primus knows we’ll need all we can carry.”

>>”Veneer. This is Ratchet. I’m sure you heard the announcement from Bluestreak concerning the Fallen and his followers. This piece of slag has already taken some of our own and in order to stop him we’re going to need everyone’s help. That means I want you down there with us. Gather up as much equipment and supplies you can carry and head over to the Longevity. If necessary grab someone to help you with the supplies.”<<

As Ratchet closed off his comm he looked up to Ultra Magnus who had been briefing him on his medical team’s assignments. Axle looked over catching Ratchet’s eye. They needed to speak to the Commander concerning the use of some kind of “personal” diversions in order to stop the Fallen from succeeding.

Both medics fell in step with the towering Autobot as he left the bridge. “Sir…” Axle stopped suddenly as the CMO’s hand gently gripped his elbow. “Magnus. We may have something that could give us a slight edge,” Ratchet pressed.

Armory

Bluestreak and Smokescreen rounded one final corner before approaching the armory doors, which swiftly parted down the center as the two mechs and one femme stepped inside. There were already a number of Autobots present, loading up on their weapons and ammo of choice, chattering amongst themselves as they did so. The black and silver gunner paused a moment as the rallybot settled in beside him still gripping Tracer’s hand in his right. Blue shot them both a sideways glance, a smirk forming on his faceplate. Ah, to be in love again would be such a wonderful thing especially at times likes these. Unfortunately, love could be a bad thing in war as it tended to distract oneself from more important matters. Love could get a mech killed if he or she could not remain focused on the task at hand. In this case, fighting a mythical demigod hellbent on destroying all Cybertronian life.

Bluestreak didn’t want to say anything to Smokey, especially not right in front of his lady love, but he made a mental note to talk to him about it at a later time when things weren’t so hectic. Hopefully, until then, the diversion expert could keep his focus on what needed to be done. If he couldn’t, the chatterbot might have to mention his concerns to Ultra Magnus and ‘Streak really didn’t want to take things to that level. “Well, I guess we should follow everyone’s lead and get ourselves armed and ready,” the gunner said, looking over at the rallybot again. “Don’t want everyone to take all the good stuff now do we? Heh.”

“No, we don’t,” Smokescreen replied as he broke optical contact with Bluestreak and turned to face Tracer. “Wait here, okay? This won’t take long.” The red and blue racer smiled at the troubled femme as he let go of her hand and followed the chatterbot over to a row of lockers. Smokey opened one and immediately began loading up on cartridges for his electro-disruptor rifle along with additional ECM shells for his shoulder-mounted rocket launchers. Meanwhile, Bluestreak accessed his own locker full of goodies, grabbing as much ammunition for his ion-charged disperser rifle as he could carry in subspace storage, not to mention a variety of explosive shells for his own duel shoulder-mounted launchers. It was almost like watching two brothers mimic each others movements. Now, if only Prowl were there the doppelganger trinity would be complete.

As Smokescreen and Bluestreak finished arming themselves, the armory doors parted once again, allowing Ultra Magnus to enter the room. The duo nodded at the new Autobot leader as the City Commander made his way to the back of the room where his own weapons and ammunition were stored. Shortly thereafter, the doors opened once again. This time a mechanical wolf entered, letting out an indignant growl as he did so. “Oh, look who’s finally here,” the gunner muttered quietly to the rallybot as both mechs slammed their respective lockers shut.

“He’s all yours, Blue,” Smokescreen replied with a grin as the diversion expert quickly moved away from the impending confrontation and settled in next to Tracer once more.

“Thanks, buddy,” Bluestreak responded with a frown before walking over to where the lupine Autobot had stopped. “Nice to see you again, Howl. I was worried you weren’t going to wake up from your encounter with Hardhead. Glad to see you made it through.”

“Of course, I made it through!” Howlstrike replied in an angry tone as he transformed back to his robot mode. “It takes more than a single possessed Autobot to put me down permanently!”

“So, I take it you’re pretty much up to speed on everything regarding the Fallen?” Bluestreak questioned.

“Yes, I saw Magnus’ message when I exited the CR chamber,” the former Predacon revealed. “I also saw both Hardhead and Drag Strip in the engine room as they were destroying things.”

“At least they let you keep your heads this time. Heh,” the gunner commented, intending to inject a bit of humor into the situation. The Autobot hunter was not amused. “Ahem, well I’m afraid there's more I need to tell you and it’s not about the Fallen. It’s about the Decepticons and who has apparently taken over as their new supreme leader since Megatron’s disappearance.”

“Tell me...” Howlstrike growled, expecting the news to be less than ideal for him.

“Well,” Blue continued, taking a hard gulp in the process, ”It seems that, um, well, Razorclaw has claimed leadership over there. I don’t know the specifics but he’s their new Supreme Commander now. Magnus didn’t actually talk to him personally, but Onslaught revealed as much during their conversation earlier before the communications grid went down. Now, I can only imagine how you feel, Howl, considering your past history with Razorclaw and all....”

“You have no idea how I feel, Tiny!” Howlstrike bellowed, his deep voice echoing throughout the armory. The former Predacon took several deep breaths and off-lined his optics in order to calm his raging circuits. Howl stood there silently, his clawed actuators wrapping around themselves into tight fists.

Bluestreak cocked his cranium to one side, a bit confused as to what Howlstrike was doing. “Um, hello? Howl? You okay?” The gunner’s query went unanswered as he turned to look at Smokescreen. “What’s going on? What’s he doing?”

The rallybot shrugged as he took hold of Tracer’s hand again. “Not sure, but I think he’s meditating. It’s something he does to keep from getting angry. Kup taught him I guess. Might be best to leave him be unless you want to end up in pieces.” Smokey chuckled slightly, hoping to alleviate some of the tension.

“Good idea,” Bluestreak replied as he backed away from the former Predacon.

It was then that Ultra Magnus returned from the rear of the armory and addressed everyone present. The City Commander reiterated the severity of the situation they all found themselves in before outlining the main objectives - rescue their possessed comrades and send the Fallen back to the very Pit from which he came. Magnus also emphasized the need to work with the Decepticons and to use restraint in dealing with their kind. At the end, the Autobot leader allowed for questions to be asked.

Bluestreak shook his head before responding. “No question here, sir. I’ll fill Springer in on all the details once we meet up planet-side! You can count on me, sir!”

Likewise, Smokescreen gave his response, taking a single step forward while not letting go of Tracer’s hand in the process. “Understood, Commander,” the rallybot said with a respectful salute. “If I may suggest, Commander Magnus, perhaps once we are on site my diversionary skills could be utilized in distracting the Fallen and his heralds. It’s possible they might be expecting such a move, but it still could be worth a shot.”

“Distracting a demigod? Good luck with that.” The voice belonged to Howlstrike, who had been listening to the proceedings even while meditating his anger away. The ex-Predacon then stepped forward to address the Autobot Supreme Commander, his disposition considerably better than before. “Ultra Magnus, you have not yet assigned me anywhere. If I may suggest, I should join you on the Longevity. I understand that my former commanding officer, Razorclaw, has taken control of the ‘Cons in Megatron’s absence. Considering that I know Razorclaw better than any Autobot in this sector, my knowledge of his command style could only benefit you by having me close by.”

The tracker paused for a long moment to let his suggestion sink in. For the first time in vorns, he would be confronting his former teammates on the field of battle. However, instead of fighting them, he would be working with them once more. It was not how he expected things to play out, but knowing Razorclaw how he did, the hunter knew things with the ‘Cons could devolve quickly, especially once the Fallen had been dealt with. And when that inevitably happened, Howlstrike would finally show Razorclaw who the better predator really was. “What say you, Commander?”

Science Lab

Wheeljack listened to Ultra Magnus’ response with a sense of dread. Everything about this situation with the Fallen gave the mad scientist the feeling of impending doom. The others were going off to fight a demigod with no real way of defeating him. How does one beat a supernatural entity? It was a question everyone had already asked before, either aloud or in silent contemplation. However, no definitive answer had ever been given. The reason for that was because there was no answer, at least, not until Magnus had just mentioned that they should focus on fixing the transwarp projection emitters. The idea of teleporting an entire chuck of a planet into a black hole or neutron star was something unfathomable. Earth and it’s inhabitants would not survive such a catastrophe, not even the ones on the part of the planet that remained behind. Everyone would perish, human and Cybertronian alike. The thought was grievous to say the very least.

>>”Understood, Ultra Magnus. My team and I will get right on it, and if I think of any alternatives to what you have suggested, you’ll be the very first to know.”<<

The mechanical engineer turned to the rest of the team present in the lab. His face shield retracted as he began to speak. “I’ve just received new orders from Magnus that we are all to remain behind and begin repair work on the generators of both the Ark-22 and the Guardian. He specifically wants us to focus on the 22, particularly the transwarp projection emitters. This will be a daunting task, but I’m sure with our combined efforts we can make this happen in a timely manner.”

As Wheeljack paused to let their new orders sink in to the scientific minds present, Blaster and Eject entered. The Communications Officer handed the engineer a dataslug that was deemed for his optics only before calling over to Chromedome to join him on the shuttle Serenity. Unfortunately, that would be one less mech to help repair the Autobot vessels. “Thanks, Blaster,” Wheeljack replied with a defeated sigh as he looked down at the dataslug in his hand. The mad scientist had a really bad feeling as to what was on this slug and it was something ‘Jack didn’t even want to consider....ever.

Regardless, the mechanical engineer had to take a look and thus he connected the dataslug into a tiny linkage port on his wrist. Instantly, the information was uploaded into Wheeljack’s processor, appearing on his HUD:


“Dear Primus,” the white mech whispered as he peered down to the floor, shaking his head as what he feared most was confirmed. Ultra Magnus was considering something that went against every principle the Autobots stood for. However, it might actually be necessary if the Fallen and his heralds can’t be stopped. Sacrifice one planet to save an entire universe. On paper it sounded rational, but ‘Jack just couldn’t rationalize it within his own processor. Still, orders were orders.

As the databurst disappeared off his HUD, Wheeljack turned his attention back to his team. “Okay, time to get started. Perceptor, you’re with me. We’re going to work on getting the 22 up and running at full capacity again. I’ll focus on the transwarp emitters while you handle the generator repairs. Ironfist and Jetfire, why don’t you two head over to the Guardian and get to work on fixing those generators. Considering that a battle with a demigod is looming, I’m expecting their to be numerous casualties and we’re going to need the medical frigate operating at optimum levels. Since there are only a few of us that can work on repairs, I suggest that both teams utilize as many construction drones as needed. It’s the only way to get things done in a timely manner. Understood? Now, I know that there is a lot at stake here, but we have our assignments. So, unless there are any questions or concerns, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Transmission from Prowl to Autobot Supreme Commander Ultra Magnus:

>>”Understood, Commander Magnus. My team and I will have this valley secured by the time the Longevity arrives to pick us up. Your transmission was sporadic at best, sir. Did you say we’re facing some kind of god?”<<

Transmission to Ultra Magnus

>>"Jazz to Magnus; Longevity is close to take off status, just waiting on you and your squad to board and go."<<

Science Laboratory

Chromedome was in the middle of attempting to run a diagnostic on the main engines, hoping that this issue was one of a technical difficulty that could be solved with his terminal, rather than a mechanical malfunction that it actually was. His display flashed with a red warning light signalling the lose of primary power systems would soon divert all power from his terminal feed would go to the back up systems to keep primary operation services running through out the '22.

"For Primus' sake." The mnemosurgeon growled as he rubbed bottom of his brow-plating with his thumb and index actuator before sliding his entire hand down across his mouthplate. He turned to face some of the other scientific minds in the laboratory and address them once more of his findings when Blaster and his cassettobot teammate Eject stepped in. The communications expert handed Wheeljack what appeared to be data slug and explained it was "for his optics only" or something like that.

"Yo Chromedome, you're with me. We gotta get the Serenity prepped for launch. Hope you came prepared to rock and roll."

The mnemosurgeon turned and scratched the back of his processor. Seemed strange to call upon a technical mind like him to do something like shuttle detail. Must be a little short of hands around here. Chromedome strolled his way past the Communications Expert and the small blue sports fanatic as he made his way towards the shuttle bay.

"So, what's the plan then?"

Armory

"Oh yeah! I’m totally looking forward to pain, the agony and the death,” Broadside had said.

"Aw geez, quit your whining," Sandstorm said, grin still permanently etched on his face from his earlier interactions with his fellow triple-changer. "You make it sound like we haven't faced down a mythical, rampaging demi-god of Cybertronian legend before."

Sandstorm's optic lenses blinked slightly.

"Okay, so maybe we haven't. But still. Nothin' we can't handle."

While finishing up the process of making sure he got here early and got prime pick of some of the extra weapons and ensuring they were all fully loaded, he partially listened to what Ultra Magnus was going over. Something about linking up with Bluestreak and Gunrunner on the Serendipity. Or Blaster and Broadside on the Serenity. Something like that anyway. Whatever it was, it all meant battle in the end. Wreck and rule, just like Impactor used to say way back when, according to the stories Sandstorm had been told.

Locking his extraneous weapons into their various ports, he took one rifle in each arm and turned to face the others.

"Ready."

Armoury
Ultra Magnus sure knew how to deliver bad news badly thought Broadside, but on the plus side he didn’t try and sugar coat this bitter energon cube. Turning slightly after he heard his assignment he was about to speak to Sandstorm when a voice yelled at Bluestreak. The hulking Triplechanger swung around to find the ex Predacon Howlstrike calling Bluestreak “tiny”

Moving with a grace that belied his frame he moved himself to loom over the pair “Come on streak let’s leave the fluff ball to stew before he requires that fur ball to be removed surgically, We got a god to slay before Gamma watch fall asleep” to say broadside didn’t trust Howlstrike was an understatement whatever he might say under that autobot badge was the cold beating fluid pump of a Predacon. So placing himself near Bluestreak was more a protective move rather than a friendship, even thou Bluestreak was a likeable mech, despite his over active vocal processor.

“Ready?” interrupted Sandstorm who seemed oblivious to the ice cold glare Broadside was giving Howlstrike. Broadside turned to look at Sandstorm who was carrying two rifles one in each hand

“Ready! Thou are you sure you got enough guns?”

Armory

When they entered the Armory, Skids showed little inclination to join in the boisterous exchange Getaway chose to share with Broadside and Sandstorm. In fact, he barely seemed to notice, moving toward the ammunition racks to select a few spare cartridges for his main weapon. That done, he practiced deploying and retracting his grappling hook a few times, to make certain it was functioning within normal tolerances.

“We’re being deployed against a quasi-mythological figure from the earliest days of Cybertron’s history,” he noted, mostly to himself. “All that is known of the Fallen straddles the border between legend and plausible fact. Our standard armaments may prove wildly ineffectual, as the devastatingly effective raid against the Ark’s power plant would suggest. It is quite probable we shall be forced to innovate and adapt in the field, simply to stalemate opposition of the caliber we now face. It’s a shame we’re not deploying a full research team—analysis of the Fallen’s unique energy signature could prove useful in devising a means of counteracting his considerable advan—“

He was cut off by Ultra Magnus’ arrival and subsequent oratory, optics flickering as he considered the new information. “It appears we have our marching orders,” he said to Getaway. “Shall we be off, then?”

* * * * * * *

Gunrunner observed the interactions among the other mechs in the Armory, but made no move to participate. He sent a silent acknowledgement of Magnus’ orders, turned on his heel, and headed back toward the hangar bay. Once the shuttle penetrated the atmosphere, he could deploy outside it and provide escort cover. Such a role would have the added advantage of allowing him to maintain the distance he required between himself and his fellow Autobots—particularly at times such as these, when termination was all but a guaranteed outcome.

Armory

Quietly Tracer remained beside Smokescreen, her hand pressed firmly in his palm. Her grip was almost desperate, as though if she let go he’d simply vanish from existence. The thought of him never coming back sent an icy shiver down her spinal strut. She gripped tighter.

As the trio, Bluestreak had joined them on their way to the armory, moved through the corridors Tracer noticed the sideways glance and smirk forming on Bluestreak’s face.

From beside Smokescreen she looked over at the gunner and sent him a quizzical look. The scout’s lips had just parted ready to question Bluestreak when the silver and black bot spoke up.

Tracer’s attention slipped form Blue to that of Smokescreen when the rallybot turned to face her.

“Wait here, okay? This won’t take long." The red and blue racer smiled at the troubled femme as he let go of her hand and followed the chatterbot over to a row of lockers.

The scout nodded slightly while a small smile graced her face. She watched as both mechs moved deeper into the armory each stopping at specific lockers.

Her optics roamed around the room. Along with Smokey and Bluestreak several other Autobots were present. Among them Skids, Getaway, Gunrunner, who quickly exited the room once he was armed. Not surprising.She could also make out the voices of Sandstorm and Broadside.

Tracer turned her attention on to the remaining mechs in the armory. It seemed that every Autobot stationed on every ship in the sector was being deployed to fight this supernatural entity in the body of a Cybertronian.

Her thoughts were halted when Howlstrike stepped through the double doors. She had never had any encounters with the former Predacon, and she didn’t wish to be introduced to him here. As he moved past her Tracer gave the lupine mech a wide breadth.

The exchange between the gunner and Howlstrike did not go unnoticed by the femme. This campaign was going to be one for the books, and not because of who the enemy was. At the feel of Smokescreen’s hand slipping into her own made her look to the rallybot.

But the sound of Ultra Magnus’ address pulled her attention from Smokey. Her audios were tuned to every word the Commander was speaking, but her processor was focused on anything but. What if something went wrong? What if they couldn’t defeat this living myth? What if she lost him? Tracer’s free hand rose to her chest as she quickly looked in Smokey’s direction.

“Understood, Commander," the rallybot said with a respectful salute. “If I may suggest, Commander Magnus, perhaps once we are on site my diversionary skills could be utilized in distracting the Fallen and his heralds. It’s possible they might be expecting such a move, but it still could be worth a shot."

Wait. What? The scout had just realized that he released her hand and offered to head in and distract that thing.

“Distracting a demigod? Good luck with that." The voice belonged to Howlstrike, who had been listening to the proceedings even while meditating his anger away.

Howlstrike’s appearance gave Tracer the opportunity to gain Smokey’s attention. The femme took hold of his hand and gently squeezed and tugged. She stepped tightly into his side and leaned over closely.

“Please tell me you were joking about trying to distract that…that thing,” she whispered lowly in his audial. “Smokescreen. Rodimus and the others aren’t the only ones that you’ll need to watch out for.” Tracer looked around at the others still in the armory.

“Magnus said you’ll be working with the ‘Cons down there. There’s a good chance Oil Slick will be among them.” Tracer gripped his hand firmly.

Science Lab

Perceptor placed the laser cutter down on the bench and squeezed the bridge of his nasal right with his thumb and forefinger. Everything was snowballing.

Their kind was being threatened by a being of myth and legend. Cybertronians were on the cusp of extinction as it is and this Fallen was prepared to push them over that edge. What the war had taken countless millennia to do the Fallen would finish. And the only winner would be Unicron.

Perceptor sighed. He was a ‘mech of science. This entire scenario made little sense.

He turned his optics on to Wheeljack as he briefed the team on what Magnus had said. It looked as if their work on the apparatus, at least for now, was done. Getting both the Guardian and the Ark – 22 engines back in operational order took priority.

The scientist turned sniper’s interest was piqued with the arrival of Blaster and the delivery of a dataslug. For Perceptor the need to question his comrade concerning the contents of the device was null and void. In a situation such as this it could be the only option.

Perceptor gave a nod and stepped beside his friend. Without looking at the white mech Perceptor gestured toward the slug. “Will you be capable of following through with those orders, Wheeljack? Because there will be no room for doubt if and when the time comes.”

Armory

Responded to enthusiastically by the two triple changers, Getaway was sated with the amount of socialization outside of Skids that he had accomplished. He noticed that his theoretician partner was speaking again, catching the bits about...'legends and plausible fact' onward. The escapologist was tempted to interrupt his friend for a nice 'bomp' when Ultra Magnus entered the room to brief them.

The white Autobot listened attentively, considering the information that their newest Supreme leader had to offer them. How curious. Getaway was more than ready to get rolling, despite his own doubts about their ability to take on one of the Thirteen. Doubt would only muddle his thoughts.

“It appears we have our marching orders. Shall we be off, then?" asked Skids.

"Looks that way," Getaway said with some lack of his former boisterousness. He glanced over to Ultra Magnus, then to Skids. "What say we just go ahead of ole Mags and get to the ship before he gets there? C'mon Skids."

Getaway soldiered off out of the armory, headed toward where the Longevity was docked on the Guardian.

Science Laboratory

Ironfist pulled out a hyper spanner from his satchel of tools and set it against a socket located next to the holographic terminal that he had been using to display his latest creation. He activated a small slot along the tool's handle. A pair nodes emerged from the device and snaked their way into the socket. Power began to flow from the small independent generator located in the tool to the computer terminal. The computer flashed to life briefly thanks to the power of the hyper spanner's small battery.

The weapons engineer wasted no time and pulled a clean slug from the satchel's outer right most pocket and drove it into the matching data port. He tapped in several lines of code and security clearances to download several key schematics that he would need to rebuild the Quantum Drive Generator of the Guardian. Once the files were copied onto the slug, Ironfist activated a back door link to the Shuttle Longevity, the vessel that had come from the Battle Fortress Liberty and the distant fleet in the... well Ironfist did not exactly know where the Liberty was. Though he did still hold keen interest in the large vessel as he had been the key designer of several of her primary weapons systems.

Through several inquiries and quick dives into the furthest engineering specs that had been stored in the ship's primary data banks, Ironfist began to piece together newer models and theories to various repair techniques that could be employed. Downloading several specs based on theoretical papers based on Subspace Deterioration and Weaponry.

The computer terminal began to flux and flash as the power of the battery began to fail. Ironfist quickly plugged into one final data stream. He knew enough about the generators that they would be difficult repair jobs even under the most controlled of conditions, but the Guardian was no where close to a controlled situation.

Inwardly as Ironfist worked to retrieve data on the Medical Frigate schematics and power systems, items he knew mostly by memory, but still desired to retrieve updates to implement during repairs where applicable, Ironfist began to grind his internal gears. His engines, his generators, his haven... The minions of the Fallen had dared to attack his sanctuary. Ironfist took as much pride in being a chief engineer of that vessel as much as he did designing new weapons for the ongoing struggle against the Decepticons.

The terminal announced the downloads to the slug were complete. As Ironfist pulled the slug from the port, the terminal blinked off as the power of the sacrificial spanner died. The weapons engineer placed the tool into his satchel and placed the slug into a wrist mounted reader. His optics narrowed and dimmed in focus as each piece of schematic data flooded across his Heads Up Display.

He stood from his work bench and glowered towards Perceptor and Wheeljack. "Of course, the Guardian's engines are my responsibility. That monstrosity has just made this personal." He pushed his way passed Blaster and Chromedome, his emotions barely restrained behind his considerably closed veneer. He swung his satchel over his head and pulled it taunt across his chest and shoulder. As soon as he reached the partially opened door his palms reached out and rested on the blade edge of each panel. He pulled them apart with a metal shredding screech.

Stopping at the threshold, his optics flared a powerful blue as he looked back to Jetfire and the others. While his facial expression hid the rage well, his optics told the story that nearly every engineering chief would be destined to feel should the very object they grew so attached to were assailed and they were not able to protect them. "The Guardian's generator will be online. I don't care what it takes, those sons of a defective garbage scow are going to be held to account." He spun around and raised his fist into the air... "Wreck and Rule!"

The old Wrecker's Motto from eons ago, a personal favorite of the engineer. It fit the moment so perfectly. Ironfist was about to charge into battle with his own guns blazing, and while he may not be facing live ammunition... The enemy's plans involved having the Autobot and Decepticon ships disabled and dead in space. Ironfist was determined to wreck them with extreme prejudice.

Without another word the engineer transformed into his Humvee mode and sped off down the hall to the docking tube linking the Ark-22 with the Guardian. Only a trail of smoke and burnt rubber remained.

Next Stop Guardian's Main Engineering

Armory

Sandstorm actually let out a laugh when Broadside had questioned whether or not he had acquired enough weapons. Sandstorm took a moment to examine his current stock before nodding.

"Yep. Just enough, heh," he chuckled, before noticing that others were starting to head out to their assigned destinations. "Guess we better head over to the Serenity, eh?"

As he started to head out of the armory, another disturbing reality of what Ultra Magnus had said started to settle on his brain module.

"I can't believe the 'Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord' has us working with Decepticons. Did I glitch a circuit back there?"

Armory

Ultra Magnus's expression remained stern and confident as he turned to face the source of the newest arrival to their gathering. The ex-Predacon turned Autobot sympathizer, a turn that Magnus still did not wholly understand. Most likely it was a result of a failed attempt to retrain some level of authority within the true warlord ranks of the Predacons themselves.

"You make a valid point Howlstrike. Very well, you are with me." The Supreme Commander, stepped towards the threshold leading to the hall and the docking umbilical down the corridor. "I have had my experiences with Razorclaw before, though they have all been on the battlefield. Any insight that you can provide beyond such circumstances will be appreciated."

Now outside in the hall way, Magnus turned and looked at the Autobots who remained primed for the final dismissal. His attention briefly turned to Smokescreen. "Should it be deemed necessary... I suspect that your unique abilities will prove optimal in this endeavor, whether at the onset or in the heat of battle."

His gaze grew to incorporate the remaining soldiers. "Autobots, to the shuttles. Roll Out!" With that dismissal he expected everyone to make their way to their assignments. For soon those two vessels would enter on a joined date with destiny, even if their paths were separated by great roads.

As the massive Apex Armored commander began his long march down the hall to the link between the two Autobot vessels. His mind playing over the events that lead up to the situation they were unerringly drawn towards. He turned the first corner to the primary spine of the deck that lead practically from end to end of the ship, interrupted only twice by loops carved in by defensive bulkheads and engineering nodes. As his mind replayed the last moments before he left the bridge, he noticed that there had been a brief voice that called out to him before the doors shut them out.

Magnus isolated the voice and memory fragment. He sent it through various built in filters and enhancements before replaying it once more. It was that of Ratchet trying to give him some information, something they so sorely needed. Without wasting another nanosecond, Ultra Magnus opened a channel directly to the CMO of the sector. "My apologies for the abrupt departure Doctor. As you are aware, time is of the essence. So please tell me what you have and possible time for application."

Armoury

Broadside nodded as he heard Sandstorms assessment that he had enough guns the serenity was awaiting the huge triplechanger. His armoured form flexed as he turned spying a Volkite Culverin he nabbed it and slung it onto his back with the Heavy Proton Cannon. He looked up to the ceiling briefly “You think they’ve got in flight movies sandstorm?”

The large triplechanger moved away from Bluestreak as Ultra Magnus started to talk to the Ex Predacon. The serenity awaited as did a reunion with their triplechanger comrade Springer, he headed towards the armoury exit as the doors closed his voice could still be heard

“Let’s hope Springer hasn’t decided to embrace his feminine side”

Armory / Corridor

Bluestreak looked back and up at Broadside as the massive triplechanger offered his protection against the enraged former Predacon, calling him a fluff ball in the process. "Thanks, big guy. I appreciate the assistance. Although, I think can handle Howl. I've dealt with him before and I'm still functional. heh."

Howlstrike ignored the comments of Broadside, who had seen fit to move in closer to both the former Predacon and the overly talkative Bluestreak. Instead, Howl remained focused on Ultra Magnus as the new Autobot leader made his way out of the armory and into the corridor beyond. The tracker nodded as the City Commander agreed to the tracker’s suggestion. “Understood, sir. Indeed, I do have some insight into Razorclaw’s mindset,” the wolf-former replied before he cast a sideways glance back to Bluestreak. “It appears that this is where we part ways again, Tiny. See you on the battlefield.”

As Howlstrike was about to leave the armory, the silver and black gunner grabbed him by the forearm, a move that both surprised the larger ex-Predacon as well as angered him. “This isn't some personal vendetta against your former comrades, is it, Howl?” Bluestreak asked the question in a whispered tone so that no one else could hear him. “This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about the preservation of our race, both sides included. Going along with Magnus just so you can confront Razorclaw will only jeopardize the mission.”

Howlstrike glared down at ‘Streak, yanking his arm out of the gunner’s grasp. “I understand what this is all about, Tiny. I do not need to be lectured by you! Whether he is on our side in this battle or not, Razorclaw is still a very dangerous mech to deal with, and I will not hesitate to put him down if he turns on us. It’s not personal. It’s war.” With those last words spoken, the hunter turned and trudged out of the armory. Once in the hallway, Howlstrike transformed back into his timber wolf alt mode and headed for the docking ring that lead over to the Guardian and ultimately the shuttle that awaited him.

Bluestreak sighed as he approached Smokescreen, who remained by Tracer’s side. “Good luck with him, Smokey,” the gunner said with a look of concern on his faceplate. “I’d hate to be the one stuck in a cramped shuttle with an angry former Predacon, you know?”

The rallybot chuckled. “You and me both, Blue. See you planet side.”

The silver and black mech nodded and then left the armory, leaving Smokescreen and his lady love alone. The red and blue racer turned to Tracer and smiled. She had asked him moments ago if he had been serious about acting as a diversion before reminding him that there were other mechs to look out for down there, namely Oil Slick. It was a question he hesitated to answer but one he knew he could not ignore entirely. “Yes, I was serious, Trace. It’s my job, after all. How many diversionary tacticians do the Autobots have? Just me, I’m afraid. And as far as Oil Slick is concerned, I have not forgotten about him. Let’s just hope he’s more busy worrying about the Fallen than getting back at me. I’ll just have to deal with these things if or when they happen. Regardless, I will come back to you, Trace. I promise.”

Smokescreen then leaned in a placed a gentle kiss on Tracer’s chevron before pulling back and flashing her a reassuring smile. “Now, let’s get going. I assume you’re going to see me off at the Longevity?”

Wasting no more time, the rallybot exited the armory, following everyone else into the crowded corridor. It was then that Ultra Magnus turned his attention to Smokescreen, addressing his willingness to volunteer as a distraction against the Fallen and his heralds. The City Commander seemed open to the idea, but reframed from making a final decision on the matter until it was deemed absolutely necessary. “Understood, sir.”

With the final order from Ultra Magnus given, Smokescreen headed for the docking ring, the rallybot keeping a firm but gentle grip on Tracer’s hand as they walked. Howlstrike had already reached the Guardian side when the red and blue racer entered the docking tunnel on his end and quickly made his way across to the medical frigate. Bluestreak, meanwhile, headed for the Ark-22's own hangar bay where the Serenity would surely be waiting.

Science Lab

Wheeljack looked over at Perceptor as the scientist turned sniper questioned him in regards to the information contained on the dataslug and whether or not he could carry out the instructions within. The mad scientist had blown many things up in his time, but they had all been accidents and nothing intentional. ‘Jack was not the type of mech who wanted to hurt anyone, except for a Decepticon, but even then he didn’t want to maim or kill. This was war. He had to fight in order to survive and defeat oppression. He had no choice in the matter. The ‘Cons quite often gave him no alternative.

Likewise, this situation was no different. If the Fallen could not be stopped there would be no apparent alternative but to do what Ultra Magnus was suggesting. The City Commander knew the ramifications of this decision just as well as Wheeljack did. Half a planet, with innocent sentient beings living on it’s surface, destroyed for the sake of saving the universe from a Cybertronian demigod. These Earthlings hadn’t asked for any of this. This wasn’t their war, it was a war between Autobots and Decepticons and now some third party that wanted to destroy them all. Why should the humans suffer?

Then again, hadn’t so many other races already suffered, some becoming extinct, because of the Cybertronian civil war that had raged for so long? Yes, and this planet may also fall, the Autobots once again failing to protect an innocent world from the carnage that the ‘Bots and ‘Cons were responsible for. However, Wheeljack couldn’t just accept this notion. They would prevail this time. Earth would be saved no matter what. There was another way to stop the Fallen. There had to be!

“Primus willing, I won’t have to,” the white mech replied to Perceptor as his face shield slid across his visage in order to hide the deep, worried look that had become so apparent on his faceplate. “But, if worse comes to worse, and I’m unable to find an alternative, I’ll have no choice but to follow through with these orders, Percy. Otherwise, not only will we all die, but so will the rest of the universe. The good of the many out way the good of the few.” Wheeljack paused a moment as he looked away from the sniper and towards the door of the lab. “Let’s just hope that Ultra Magnus is successful down there and the Fallen is defeated. In the meantime, we have work to do.”

Taking a deep intake of air, Wheeljack walked to the door and exited into the corridor, his destination: the Ark-22‘s engine room. With any luck the damage wouldn’t be as severe at the video feeds had led him to believe. Although, somehow the engineer had a feeling that this was going to take longer than a few cycles. Of course, that was not necessarily a bad thing, even now with so much at stake. After all, it would give ‘Jack more time to come up with an alternative besides the genocide Magnus had suggested.

Untraceable Message from Decepticons

>>”Autobot vessel, we will be moving to the planet below to meet the Fallen’s challenge in approximately three breems. You may meet us there if you wish. Further discussions will take place on the planet."<<

Hangar Bay - Docking of Shuttle Serenity

Shuttle detail was something Chromedome thought he's never had thought to see himself working on someday. Sure he knew the basic fundamentals to fly a shuttle, but prepping one? Nope, could not see it. He entered the hangar and was greeted by the openness the hangar provided.

"Wow," Chromedome stated with a sly whistle, "Quite roomy in here. I've been cooked up in these ships for so long that I must have forgotten what it's like to have the space to move around more freely." The mnemosurgeon continued on down the scaffolding of the hangar's catwalk, assuming Blaster was still in close proximity of him.

"Ah! here we are... The Serenity!" Chromedome exclaimed as he raised both arms out for effect at the sight of the docked Autobot shuttle. The brown and white mech walked down the metallic stairway and brushed his actuators along the side of the spacecraft. He rounded the cornered keel of the craft and stepped inside the opened doorway at the rear end of the shuttle. He passed through the ship's cargo area and into the main cabin of the craft.

"She seems to be in good shape..." Chromedome muttered as he examined the interior of the vessel. "Although I'm no expert in spacecraft manufacturing. Program controls and computer interfaces, yeah I can do that in my recharge cycle."

Stepping into the pilot's cabin of the shuttle, the mnemosurgeon turned pseudopilot sat himself in one of the pilot chairs and began running his actuators over the controls.

"Let's see... Engines seem to be in shape... Fuel levels are looking good... let me just run some more pre-flight diagnostics and we should be all set to get this puddle-jumper into the air."

Hangar Bay - Docking of Shuttle Serenity

"Let's see... Engines seem to be in shape... Fuel levels are looking good... let me just run some more pre-flight diagnostics and we should be all set to get this puddle-jumper into the air."

"Roger that, my man," Blaster called from the exterior of the shuttle. After saying his farewells to the rest of the scientists, Blaster, Eject and Chromedome had moved right along to the shuttle bay. While the computer programmer checked the shuttle's systems, Blaster moved along the outside performing his own checks, making sure none of the exterior plating was damaged. That being a fairly swift check, Blaster went on to load fresh munitions into the shuttle.

Finding that the two larger Autobots were taking care of most of the preparations, Eject stood beside Chromedome on the interior of the shuttle, glancing over at the monitor's display as the mnemosurgeon ran some diagnostics. The sports fanatic stretched his two arms over his head and locked his actuators together, bringing them down to hold the back of his head.

"So Chromedome, long time no see. How you been? Score any touchdowns lately? Oh! By the way, you manage to get in touch with Rewind? I wonder if he's coming along for the away game..." Eject rambled, now more thinking aloud than speaking to Chromedome, "Oh and Steeljaw too. Slag, we're down half the team."

"Eject, yo! Help me with these crates will you?" Blaster called from outside of the shuttle.

"Oh yeah, sure thing coach!" Eject let his arms drop to his sides as he jogged out of the shuttle only to swiftly return with a crate with some ammunition for the shuttle's guns. The blue cassettobot soon departed the shuttle again to fetch something else for Blaster.

"How's it looking in here, Chromedome?" Blaster asked as he carried more supplies into the shuttle.

Hangar

“It is safer to assume the Fallen—or the being that has chosen to designate itself as such—will be aware of our approach long before we actually engage,” noted Skids absently as the hangar doors slid apart to admit part of the Longevity team. “A life-form capable of penetrating an Ark-class vessel without warning and then immediately afterward transporting its agents from high orbit to the planet’s surface should be able to detect the many fluctuations in both the atmosphere and the magnetosphere that would normally accompany a conventional shuttle drop. Unlike our opponents, we will not enjoy the element of surprise.

“Though it is difficult to imagine how they managed to pull off their raid in the first place—even the most efficient transportation technology—bridging, bouncing, transwarp—require massive amounts of energy to achieve—energy that our sensors should have been able to detect in some form, even if this ‘Fallen’ individual were cloaked or shrouded. It’s just too much output to conceal, without a large-scale apparatus or hub designed for that purpose, and nothing that extensive could have been constructed in the time our infiltration teams have been active on Earth. Not without the risk of attracting native attention crossing into the realm of near-certainty.

“The facts, such as they are, raise more questions than they suggest answers. All observable phenomena must conform to basic universal laws, even if they do so in ways that exceed our current knowledge. The Fallen, despite the massive power requirements of his recent activities, has managed to hide himself from our scans and data sweeps; we would not have known where to look for him, had he not told us directly. How, then, would such feats be accomplished? If we set aside what we know to be possible, we can focus instead on what we theorize may be possible—or at least plausible, if certain technical hurdles could be overcome. Perhaps that might lead us to some practical means of locating, if not combatting, this self-styled mythic figure.”

Gunrunner staunchly ignored the theoretician, breaking away from the group of Autobots that had joined him in the corridors between the armory and the hangar. He approached the shuttle matching Serenity’s ID markings, where Blaster and a few of his cassettes were already getting supplies loaded. Wordlessly, he hefted another crate from the stack to be taken aboard and began climbing the ramp. While not exactly eager for combat, he definitely preferred to get the mission underway as quickly as possible, for reasons both practical and personal.

Corridors

"My apologies for the abrupt departure Doctor. As you are aware, time is of the essence. So please tell me what you have and possible time for application."

The stop made by Ultra Magnus at the armory gave Ratchet and Axle plenty of time to catch up with the acting Autobot Commander. Of course when they arrived it was just in time to see the large mech’s red, blue and white figure turn down a far corridor.

“Slaggit all!” Ratchet growled. “I’m way too old to be chasing after my commanding officers.” Axle spared a quick glance in Ratchet’s direction as they both picked up their pace.

Several astroseconds later and both medics fell into step behind Ultra Magnus.

“I don’t need an apology. I need you to listen,” the CMO grumbled. Axle quickly placed a hand on Ratchet’s arm silencing the worked up doctor.

“What Ratchet means, sir, is that we have an idea that just might help end this.” With a small grunt Ratchet stepped past his subordinate and moved in beside Magnus. “We think that distracting the Fallen will give us a slight advantage in at least getting his followers under control.”

Ratchet slowed his pace hoping Magnus would follow suit. This conversation would be best had while concentrating on nothing more than its contents.

Axle stepped up continuing where the CMO left off. “If we could keep the Fallen pre-occupied, throw as much as we can at him at one time, then separate teams…consisting of maybe two or three mechs…” he looked back at Ratchet for a moment before glancing back up at Magnus. “…they could focus on his Heralds. When we get close enough to them one of us could…”

Ratchet quickly cut the field medic off by producing a syringe from a storage compartment. “One of them could use this. It’ll be loaded with a double dose of a very potent sedative. When they’re out we remove them from the area.” Ratchet lowered the syringe and raised his hand to stop any inquiries. “With the Fallen busy elsewhere it’ll be easier to pick off his followers. Now there’s a slight catch.” He glanced at Axle who took the reins.

Slowly Axle stepped forward. “The teams…they will be more effective if someone on the team has some kind of relationship with the Herald they’ll be trying to subdue. So…” Axle took in a deep intake before looking to Ratchet for a bit of moral support. He got it, in Ratchet’s all-too familiar grunt. “So I would take a mech or two and find Hex. I was thinking that Howlstrike, since he’s not too fond of Hardhead, could help distract him while someone else on his team sedates him.” He raised a hand to his head and rubbed at his temple.

“The two ‘Cons…we’re going to have to talk to someone to find out who they can send to subdue Drag Strip and Darkride.”

Ratchet spoke up this time moving to stand slightly before Axle. “This can work. And honestly, Magnus, this might be the best chance we’ve got. We remove the Heralds we remove four players from the Fallen’s game.”

Heading to the Longevity

Tracer waited and held tight to Smokescreen’s hand. Unwilling to loosen her grip the scout still considered going back on her word and follow him to the planet anyway. She squelched that thought the moment she glanced in his direction.

She had lied to him more times than she cared to remember. She would not go back on her word now. She needed to change; for the better.

Her lips curled slightly as she watched Smokescreen interact with the others within the armory.

That small smile fell away when he turned to face her.

“Yes, I was serious, Trace. It’s my job, after all. How many diversionary tacticians do the Autobots have? Just me, I’m afraid.”

Tracer nodded in understanding. Of course he was the only one, but that didn’t mean she would relent.

“And as far as Oil Slick is concerned,”

Tracer looked back at him intently. Oil Slick could be a potential problem. He was determined to kill Smokey and her and even if sided together the chemist would kill him in a sparkbeat had he the opportunity.

“I have not forgotten about him. Let’s just hope he’s more busy worrying about the Fallen than getting back at me. I’ll just have to deal with these things if or when they happen. Regardless, I will come back to you, Trace. I promise."

Tracer was just about to protest when he leaned in and placed a kiss on her chevron. For some reason the act always seemed to sooth her worries. And coupled with that smile. Despite herself Tracer smiled back and placed her hand gently against his cheek.

“Now, let’s get going. I assume you’re going to see me off at the Longevity?"

The smile faltered but only for a moment before Tracer ran her hand down to his jawline. “I'd prefer it if you stayed." She looked into his optics before shaking her head slightly." But you won't. So yes. I'll see you off at the Longevity." A searing pain worked its way deep into her spark as she gripped Smokescreen’s hand even tighter than before.