The Energon Pub

Here is the first chapter of my HMW-related fic. I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 1
Decepticon Outpost
North of the Azores

He sat in a chair in front of the computer terminal, metal fingers tapping against the side of console, his optics glued to the screen. He frowned, seeing something he didn’t like, sighed, lifted a hand to his head and rubbed his temple.
His name was Scavendrill, a Decepticon engineer well known for his attention to mechanical detail. He was slightly shorter than the average Decepticon with a bulky physique; had he been human, he would have been described as “buff.” The armor of his superstructure was painted primarily green with purple on his torso and a black, triangular visor over his optics. He had a grim expression on his face as he looked over the readout on his screen.
Scavendrill was part of a twelve-member team that called themselves the Eisen Dragoons. The Dragoons had a notorious reputation with both Autobots and Decepticons, not for any particular battlefield prowess, but rather for their blitzkrieg-style raids on enemy merchant convoys and frontier colonies. They were officially classified within the Decepticon ranks as privateers but were regarded by many as mercenaries at best, pirates at worst.
The Dragoons usually operated from the ocean world of Hylion Prime, but Scavendrill and three others had been transferred temporarily to a smaller base on Earth. It was part of a small-scale experiment to harass the communications lines between the various Autobot outposts on the planet and perhaps lure more of their squadrons away from other combat zones. It had been a relatively minor success; their attacks did little to cause any serious disruption in the supply line. But they had instigated enough chaos to be considered a serious nuisance and the Autobots and EDC were tripping over themselves in a vain attempt to hunt them down.
Scavendrill never went on any of the forays, would always remain behind at base. His priority was to make sure the base was in working order and to patch up those who did go out and fight. He preferred it that way; he considered himself an engineer first and a warrior only reluctantly. There were few emergencies on base and the repairs on his comrades were usually few – their targets were usually lightly armed convoys – which left him with plenty of time to pursue other, more “personal” projects.
He was currently looking over a schematic for one of many of the constructs he developed but rarely had the opportunity to actually build. Most of his ideas rarely got beyond the planning stages, usually because what he developed had little to do with warfare, but there were a few projects that even he considered too elaborate and would take far too much investment time and resources to be feasible.
He glanced over to another station, just out of curiosity, where one of his teammates, designated Novacula, was sitting. Novacula was a tall, slender, angular olive-colored Decepticon, better known as “Mad Novacula” for his penchant for charging headlong into any situation, no matter how dire. He was currently assigned to monitor the scanners and communication channels, though Scavendrill wondered if he was actually paying attention. Novacula was leaning back in his seat facing the screen, his arms dangling behind him. Scavendrill knew his comrade well, was well aware that the leaner Decepticon desired a challenge above all else. For someone with that kind of a personality, monitor duty had to be considered a complete bore, though Novacula rarely complained.
Scavendrill turned back to his own station and looked over his schematic again. He shook his head slightly and let out another sigh. Too long, it would take too long to build, even with the Constructicons’ skills…
He heard the footfall of another individual approaching from behind him and turned towards the sound. He saw another Decepticon approaching him, exceptionally tall, his physique a combination of angular leanness and physical power. The outer armor of the new mech was a shade of white that was sometimes referred to as lavender, with a black internal superstructure that could occasionally be seen between the gaps in the armor. The face was colored dark silver with a clear visor over a pair of dark red optics and wore a stoic expression. His forehead bore a small crest in the center, emerald green in the center, blue on either side. On the back of the mech was a pair of long, drill-like weapons, each made up three long blades, and the chest bore the forehead of a dinosaur in the center, the exposed eyes emitting a soft red glow.
Scavendrill nodded slightly, said, “Northclaw.”
The tall white mech returned the gesture, a silent acknowledgement. Northclaw was the second-in-command of the Eisen Dragoons and the commander of the small team on Earth. He was an exceptionally powerful Decepticon, extremely strong physically and bearing some powerful offensive and defensive weaponry. He was also intelligent, possessing a keen strategic and analytical mind. This rare combination of brawn and brain made some nervous, especially some ambitious individuals who feared he might be hiding aspirations of leadership under his stoic appearance. Scavendrill knew that he held no such ambitions but he and the other Dragoons kept that fact mostly to themselves.
Northclaw looked at the screen behind Scavendrill. “What are you working on?”
Scavendrill glanced behind him and shrugged. “Nothing much; just something I drew up in my spare time.”
Northclaw’s expression didn’t change. “What is it?”
“A mobile base, similar to but not quite as sophisticated as, say, Scorponok or Trypticon.”
“I see,” Northclaw said. “Looks as good as other works. Have you considered submitting this design to the Decepticon Design Bureau?”
“Not really, largely because this one’s on a scale that’s considerably larger than even Trypticon,” Scavendrill replied. “The resources it would take just to being the initial construction… well, let’s just say they could be put to better use.”
“Are you certain about that?” Northclaw inquired. “If I recall correctly, it didn’t take long for either Trypticon or Scorponok to be complete; Scorponok was finished in under a megacycle.”
“Like I said, this is on a much larger scale. Total construction time would be in the decacycles, possible even a couple of stellar cycles. There’s no way it could be built in any reasonable amount of time.”
Northclaw grunted and stared at the screen for a moment. He then glanced at Scavendrill and said, “Speaking of time, how long would it take for you to prep our supplies and equipment for transport?”
It was an odd question and even Novacula looked up. Knowing that Northclaw expected an immediate answer, Scavendrill replied, “Half a decacycle, at the most. Why do you ask?”
“Because it may be time to pack up this show and depart. The shipping lanes have been moved so far that to attack them would risk capture or the revelation of our base. The EDC and Autobot patrols are also getting a little better employing their search patterns; that last party got a little too close for comfort. This mission is essentially done and its time to wrap it up.”
Scavendrill nodded. “I understand. I’ll start downloading our records immediately.”
Northclaw nodded. “I’ll prepare a message for Archanubis telling him that we’re closing up shop. We’ll transmit it when we leave and place it on a time delay, so even if the Autobots manage to decode it, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.”
Scavendrill nodded silently. Novacula turned back to his station, shaking his head slightly. “Too bad; it was kinda fun wrecking havoc away from Khyos.”
“We’ve accomplished what we came to do,” Northclaw said. “We don’t need to push our luck any further than necessary.” He paused a moment. “Though it might have been nice if we could have targeted some of their cargo aircraft.”
“We could have,” Scavendrill said, “if the units capable of attaining those altitudes hadn’t been away on their own assignments when we left.”
Northclaw shook his head. “Probably for the best. Wingshadow might be the only one who’d be agreeable to such an assignment and we all know what a liability he can be sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Scavendrill said. “He’s reckless to a fault, taking more chances than necessary and coming back with parts falling off him. Plus he never pays attention to his surroundings; even a Dinobot could follow him without attracting his attention.”
Northclaw nodded silently. “Well, no point in reminiscing now; we’ve got a lot of work to do, so we’d all better get to it. Scavendrill, see if you can’t salvage…”
A small alarm went off on Novacula’s console and he began typing furiously. “Northclaw, we’re receiving an encoded message, priority Delta.”
Northclaw turned towards him. “Origin?”
Novacula worked the controls for a moment. “It’s from one of the Decepticon outposts off the Grand Banks.”
“The old offshore oil platform,” Northclaw said, rubbing his chin. “That’s fairly close to Vector Maximus’s assigned station. Can you authenticate the transmission source?” He knew Vector, was well aware that deception was not part of his typical modus operandi, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. He watched Novacula typed out commands while watching the readout on his screen. Scavendrill rose from his seat and walked over.
After a moment, Novacula finally responded. “Double and triple checked. It’s Decepticon in origin.”
“Decode and put it through,” Northclaw ordered.
“So you command,” Novacula said, “so it is done.” He pressed a button on his keyboard. “On screen, now.”
Northclaw looked up and saw the image of a familiar looking Decepticon mech. He could only see the head and torso – the screen obscured the rest of the body – but that was enough to make an identification. The face consisted of a mouth plate and a pair of yellow triangular optics. At first, Northclaw thought he was talking to Soundwave, but then he noticed the purple hues of his superstructure.
“Datamatrix,” he said flatly.
“Yo, Big White North, what’s shakin’?” Datamatrix said.
Novacula lifted a three digit claw to his inhuman face. “Oh, not him,” he groaned.
“Nice to see you too, Mad Nova,” Datamatrix scowled.
Datamatrix was Soundwave’s younger spark-brother, though it was wise not to mention that little tidbit around him as he suffered from a serious inferiority complex. His main task was to collect intelligence for the Decepticons, but more commonly he used his abilities to download the latest local music or video. His habit of referring to everyone by nicknames was considered annoying at best – though some were better at hiding their displeasure than others.
Northclaw kept his own composure, but he wasn’t in the mood for this mech’s antics right now. “I would presume that you have a good reason to contact us. You know that Archanubis ordered us to limit our communication broadcasts.”
“Bah, that damn bounty hunter can kiss my ass. In fact, he needs to take the broom stick out of his.”
Northclaw’s optics narrowed slightly. “What do you want?”
“It’s not what I want, it’s what Big D wants.”
“And that would be?”
“A-train says he’s found something not too far from the Grand Banks, something big. Big D wants your team to rendezvous and take charge of a little party in the area, have a look, it’s something interesting, recover it if possible. That is, if you’re not too busy and all.” He uttered the last comment like it was a bad joke.
Northclaw glanced over at Scavendrill and saw the same puzzlement he felt on the engineer’s face. It was unusual for Dynamax to call on the Dragoons for any sort of assistance, let alone put one of them in charge. Either it was a vote of confidence in Northclaw’s abilities or they were hard pressed for “better” candidates.
“Did Astrotrain provide the coordinates?” Northclaw inquired.
“Sending them to you now,” Datamatrix replied as he leaned forward. Scavendrill moved to a smaller terminal beside Novacula and waited for the transmission to come in.
After a moment, he said, “Coordinates received.” He suddenly frowned. “Northclaw, the location… is in the heart of an area known locally as the Laurentian Abyss.”
Deep water, Northclaw thought. There lies another possible reason; we may be the only ones in the immediate region with the experience working under those conditions. “Scavendrill, how long would it take to retrofit our thrusters for equipment operations?”
“A little under a megacycle.”
Northclaw turned back to Datamatrix. “Tell Dynamax that we’ll rendezvous with his team in about two and a half megacycles.”
“Will do, Great White. Over and out.” The screen went dark and Northclaw turned his head to look at Scavendrill.
“Start your modifications, my friend, we’re apparently going deep sea diving.”
Scavendrill said nothing, merely nodded, turned and walked out. Northclaw turned his attention to Novacula.
“Novacula, prep the submersible for launch and load it with as many torpedoes and sonobouys as can be fit into the hold. Report to Scavendrill once you’re done.”
Novacula touched a couple controls, saying, “I’ll get on that once I secure my station.”
Northclaw nodded, turned and walked to the tactical station in the center of the room. Hovering just above the flat, table-like station was a holographic topographical map of the immediate area. The map was mostly clear, with a few lines indicating the elevation of the sea floor around the base and a few sensor contacts, mostly marine life. There was one contact that wasn’t organic in origin, indicated by a single, violet dot and was moving about in long, lazy circles.
As Northclaw studied the map, Novacula rose from his station and moved towards the exit. As he passed Northclaw, the latter called out, “One more thing, Novacula, and you can do this from the sub.”
Novacula stopped, glanced at his commander, curious. Northclaw pointed to the map, saying, “Bring him in. We might require his… special expertise for this mission.”
“As you command.”

It's a good opening, Thunderscream. I look forward to reading more.

Chapter 2
Dragoon Submersible
North Atlantic

Scavendrill’s modifications were completed within the megacycle and the Dragoons’ submersible was loaded and launched. Novacula sat at the helm, piloting the small craft as it cruised under the surface of the Atlantic. Scavendrill sat to his right, keeping an eye on the minisub’s systems and the structural integrity. Northclaw stood behind them both, arms crossed in front of his chest, silently watching the viewscreen. The sub had picked up an escort of fish as it traversed the ocean, the animals using the craft’s slipstream to save energy on their own journey.
The submersible was a retrofitted Decepticon long-range shuttle that had originally been designed to handle the depths of space but modified to operate underwater. It still had capacity to fly if necessary; the Dragoons had traveled to Earth on this ship. The vessel had been adapted to the point where, at least according to Scavendrill, it could handle the intense pressures found at the bottom of the oceans of Hylion, where sea depths could exceed even the deepest point on Earth. Still, even Scavendrill could make mistakes and Northclaw found himself glancing at the nearest bulkhead at the slightest creak or pop.
He another reason to be worried. The Laurentian Abyss was right off the east coast of North America, well within the range of the local naval patrol. Northclaw was most concerned about the American and Canadian attack submarines. The Dragoons’ minisub was not designed for combat, and despite their cargo of torpedoes, there was no way to deploy them. Most of the offensive weapons the shuttle had carried before it had been modified had been removed to make room for ballast tanks, extra bulkheads and other equipment. The reinforced bulkheads were little protection against even the torpedoes used by humans and the weakest point was the cockpit itself; a direct hit there would cause an instant implosion. Northclaw didn’t even want to think about what would happen if a lucky shot hit the hold.
‘How ironic,’ Northclaw thought. ‘After all these years of combat on other worlds, neither side has perfected the art of naval warfare. Are we all so arrogant?
“What’s our ETA?” he inquired, bringing his thoughts back to the present.
“Ten point zero four cycles,” Novacula responded.
“Scanners pick up any contacts?”
Novacula checked. “Nothing but a bunch of fish out there.”
Northclaw looked up at the screen again, the wheels in his CPU turning. ‘So far, so good. No combat submarine patrols encountered… yet. Like the natives say, ‘Better safe than sorry.’’
“Take us down and bring us within two hundred meters of the ocean floor; I’m not ready to bottom the sub yet, but the deeper we are, the less likely we are to be detected by local patrols.”
“Understood,” Novacula said. “Flooding ballasts.”
Northclaw felt the sub nose downward steeply and instinctively reached up for a handle on the bulkhead above him. The only seats on the submersible were the two at the helm, which were occupied, and fold-up bulkhead seats in the back, which were too far for anyone to see what was going on. Northclaw liked to know what was going on first hand, not by some second party.
It would take a few cycles before the sub attained its target depth, but the crew noted the change in depth almost immediately. During most of the trip, they maintained a depth just above five hundred fathoms, but as they entered the bathyal zone, the deep dusky blue field they were used began to darken and it wasn’t long before the sub was enveloped by darkness. Now there was nothing to guide them to their destination except for their scanners.
The compartment was silent except for the sounds of the hull popping and creaking as the weight of the water around them increased steadily. Looking over from the corner of his optics, Novacula noticed Scavendrill glancing at the bulkheads nervously and saw him mouthing something silently. So, even the master engineer was praying that his work was impeccable. Novacula turned back to his own station, keeping a close optic on the depth gauge. After the needle passed a certain depth, he slowly brought the sub out of its dive. Once they were completely level, Novacula called out, “Distance from ocean floor, two hundred fifteen meters. Forgive me if that’s a little high, but I figured we could do with some, as the fleshlings say, ‘breathing room.’”
Northclaw nodded slightly. “Continue on course to the rendezvous point; our hosts are undoubtedly waiting for us. In the meantime, tune the passive sonar and the thermal scanners to their highest gain. I want to know what we got out here.”
“Can’t be that much,” Scavendrill said. “Maybe the occasional deep sea fish or crustacean, but even the humans don’t make combat vehicles that operate this deep.” He checked the scanners. “I’ve got a number of high thermal readings, but that could be nothing more than volcanic vents.”
“Keep an eye on it,” Northclaw ordered. “If there’s anything down here isn’t supposed to be there naturally, notify me immediately.”
“Gotcha,” Scavendrill said.
Northclaw folded his hands behind his back. There was nothing to do now but to wait. He considered ordering that the sub’s external lights be turned on so he might be able to see what kind of animals were out there. The oceans on Hylion were teaming with all sorts of weird and unusual creatures, some of which could put fear into the sparks of the orneriest of Decepticons. He’d been curious about Earth’s sea creatures for awhile and wondered how they measured up to the animals back home. There’d been no time during their raids and Northclaw knew that doing so now would be a waste of power. His curiosity would just have to wait for the time being.
“Approaching the rendezvous site now,” Novacula reported after a few cycles.
Northclaw nodded slowly and turned towards Scavendrill. “Anything on the scanners?”
Scavendrill checked. “I’ve got about ten contacts on the IR sensors, moving slowly around the ocean floor. Sonar’s also picking up a medium-sized submersible in the area.” He paused to look at his readout. “Oceanglide-class.”
Northclaw’s optics narrowed; he was all too familiar with that class. The Oceanglide was a type of submersible shuttle used by the Autobots that, unlike their own retrofitted ship, had been designed and built from the ground up for undersea work. Northclaw knew that they were unarmed vehicles, meant to be used in scientific research, but that didn’t mean their crews were defenseless. The Dragoons had managed to steal a pair less than a decacycle earlier and had turned them over the nearest Decepticon posts for study and possible use. However, that wasn’t nearly enough time to modify the ships enough to distinguish them from the craft the Autobots were operating.
“Can you identify the smaller contacts?” Northclaw asked.
“I’ve been trying,” Scavendrill answered. “But the outside temperature, pressure, and the natural properties of sea water are refracting the transponder signals to such a degree that all the transceiver’s picking up is one or two big masses of electronic garble.”
“Comforting,” Northclaw said, the wryness slipping out. He had encountered this problem on several occasion back on Hylion. The equipment the Decepticons used in their combat sensors just weren’t designed to work in a deep sea environment and started acting up below eight hundred fathoms. From the few intelligence reports he’d been allowed to read, the Autobots experienced similar problems and both sides were purportedly working on a solution.
“What in the Pit…”
Northclaw turned to Novacula, who was staring at his screen with optics wide. “What is it?”
“Sonar just picked up a large object several meters ahead of us,” Novacula replied. “Something big.”
“’Something bit?’ I need a better description than that.”
“Sorry, but I can’t do any better than that. All I know it’s as big as a small mountain… and metallic.”
‘Well, this certainly makes this situation all the more interesting,’ Northclaw thought. He suspected this new contact was the reason behind why they had been brought out, but he’d have to investigate later. He had other concerns at the moment.
“Novacula, bring us down slowly and hit the lights. I want a closer look at who or what is down here.”
“You got it,” Novacula said and responded. The hull popped and creaked again, the familiar indication that they were descending. After a couple of cycles, Novacula called out, “We are now fifty meters from the ocean bottom; activating external lights.”
Northclaw looked up and the main screen and watched as beams of light from the shuttle’s quartz lamps lit up the darkness, revealing the ocean floor. Sand and sediment extended endlessly into the darkness in all directions, not all that dissimilar from Hylion’s ocean floor. He saw crustaceans and small fish sitting on the sediment and caught a glimpse of a large shark-like creature swimming slowly away from the light. He was mildly surprised to see an animal that big down here. He glanced over the screen, saw only sand and organics.
“Scavendrill, do you have a fix on those thermal readings?”
“I’ve got three about a meter or so in front of us.”
“Ahead slow, Novacula,” Northclaw ordered. “I don’t want to pass right over them before we can see who ‘they’ are.”
Novacula complied silently and the sub crawled forward, causing the fauna below them to scatter. It didn’t take long before the lights caught a glint of metal in their beams. Northclaw waited patiently as the source was slowly revealed; three advanced robots standing on the ocean floor and looking up in the sub’s direction, their hands raised to shield their optics from the lights. If he had been capable of breathing, Northclaw would have exhaled in relief; they were Decepticons. He recognized Datamatrix right away, standing to the far right of the group. He saw an unfamiliar green colored femme-con, no bigger than the average human, standing to the left and slightly behind Datamatrix. To the right of her was another femme-con, larger and more imposing, primarily red in color and standing with a somewhat regal posture. He recognized her immediately.
“Well, it looks as if we will again be graced by the presence of her royal pain in the skid plates,” Novacula said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. Northclaw caught Scavendrill glare at Novacula disapprovingly, but he could also see that the engineer was also wasn’t thrilled to be working with “her royal pain in the skid plates.”
The red-femme con was Dynabreaker, the spark creation of Dynamax, the commander of all Decepticon forces on Earth, himself a spark creation of the late Megatron. The Dragoons knew her well; she had once been a part of their ranks, an attempt to escape the shadow of a heritage she utterly despised. She hadn’t been particularly popular within the team, not because of she came off as a spoiled child of royalty, but because she of her hair trigger temper. She had a tendency to snap at the slightest umbrage and her tantrums were almost always violent; anyone and anything that got caught in her crosshairs could become a victim. Her outbursts had worn on even Northclaw’s legendary patience and though he tried to teach her some self control, Archanubis was not nearly as tolerant. A few incidents in which potentially lucrative hauls were completely lost thanks to her temper was all the excuse the Dragoons’ commander needed to have her shipped back to Dynamax.
“Dynamax must have sent her so he could have a moment of peace,” Novacula grimaced. “Lucky us.”
“We work with what we have,” Northclaw stated. “We don’t always have the luxury of choice.”
“If you say so,” Novacula said with a dismissive shrug.
Northclaw ignored him; he didn’t have time for arguments now. “Move us closer and turn the ship to bring the aft airlock around,” he ordered. “I want them brought aboard; no sense in subjecting the integrity of their superstructures to the ocean pressures any more than they have been already.”
“You want me to set this tin can down as well?” Novacula inquired.
“No, but bring her down to within five to ten meters of the bottom,” Northclaw replied. “Flood the airlock before you bring them aboard as well; I don’t want to chance an inadvertent implosion.”
“Makes things a little easier,” Scavendrill commented.
“Indeed. Once we’re in position, contact our comrades and invite them aboard. I’ll greet them at the hatch.” With that, Northclaw turned and walked towards the rear of the sub.
Novacula leaned over towards Scavendrill and whispered, “I am not looking forward to seeing Dynabreaker again, are you?”
“Not really,” Scavendrill admitted. “But I’d rather deal with her tantrums than to have to look into Northclaw’s optics and wonder if he’s thinking about tearing out my circuits for my impertinence.”

Nice work so far, T-Scream. Looking forward to the rest. Just remember what I said about not putting Vec Max in a tutu, OK?

Deadboy wrote:Nice work so far, T-Scream. Looking forward to the rest. Just remember what I said about not putting Vec Max in a tutu, OK?

Boy, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Anyway, here's Chapter 3 of the story.
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Chapter 3
Laurentian Abyss
North Atlantic

They’d spotted the lights before they had seen the submersible. Dynabreaker had been quietly relieved when she saw them; she’d had enough of the pitch-black darkness that had surrounded her team since they left their ship. They still didn’t know if the craft belonged to the Dragoons, the Autobots, or the humans, as the glare of the lights prevented them from seeing any markings on the hull, if there were any at all. It was only when Scavendrill’s invitation to come aboard came over their communicators that they knew to whom the ship belonged to.
Dynabreaker stood between Datamatrix and Sustain, the small green femme con, her arms crossed, waiting for the airlock to drain. They’d boarded the sub once the hatch opened, grateful to get off the ocean floor. She absolutely hated the place and everything about it; the all-encompassing darkness, the silt creeping into her joints, the strange creatures that gave her the creeps, and the weight of several tons of sea water pressing down on her like the walls of a recycling compactor. She had to remind herself that she’d volunteered for the mission as an excuse to escape from the shadow of her creator, even for a moment, and gave her a chance to see Northclaw again. Standing thousands of kilometers from the surface of the Atlantic, her armor straining against the intense pressure, she wondered if it had been worth it.
Datamatrix shifted slightly, his impatience beginning to show. “God, these mercenaries are taking their sweet time. You think they’re making us wait intentionally?”
“Maybe,” Dynabreaker said, unable to hide the irritation in her own voice. “But the Dragoons have more experience in this field than we do. Northclaw knows what he’s doing.” Datamatrix nodded slightly, keeping his lack of faith to himself. He knew better than to slight Northclaw in front of Dynabreaker.
When Astrotrain had made his initial report, no one had the slightest idea of what do with the information. Whatever the Triple Changer had detected in the depths, it was worth investigating, but few Decepticons in Dynamax’s forces had any experience with deep-sea operations. The few underwater battles any Transformer army or individual had engaged in had been in relatively shallower waters; probably no more than a hundred meters max. Aside from Dynabreaker and a few others, the only Decepticons that had the experience and equipment needed were the Eisen Dragoons, and they operated on the other side of the galaxy. It seemed like nothing could be done until somebody remembered that the Dragoons had a detachment on Earth, operating in the North Atlantic.
She’d been surprised that Northclaw had acquiesced to Dynamax’s request, had been certain he would refuse outright or just simply ignore it. The Eisen Dragoons weren’t known for following anyone’s orders other than their own and would often thumb their noses at anyone in the Decepticon hierarchy that tried to assert their authority. That rebellious streak had been one of the reasons she’d been attracted to their ranks and she still bore few grudges against most of their members, even if they didn’t share the same sentiment.
A soft whoosh snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked down to see that vents in the floor had opened. She looked up to see the water level falling as it was pumped out of the compartment.
“It’s about frikkin’ time,” Datamatrix groused. Dynabreaker said nothing as the water level slowly fell past her head. It took a couple of cycles for the airlock to drain completely and only then did was hatch to the main compartment opened. Dynabreaker was the first to exit and she saw a tall, white-lavender colored mech standing a couple meters away. She smiled slightly.
“Welcome aboard,” Northclaw said, giving a small bow.
“Thank you,” she said as her companions stepped aboard. “And as the natives would say, ‘Welcome to the pits of Hell.’”
Northclaw’s impassive expression didn’t change as he replied, “Could certainly pass as such.”
Dynabreaker smiled slightly, Northclaw had possessed always a dry sense of humor. She stretched an arm towards Datamatrix, who had just climbed out of the airlock, saying, “I believe you already know my companion.”
Northclaw nodded slightly in acknowledgment. After Datamatrix returned the gesture, Northclaw turned his attention to the small green Decepticon stepping onto the deck. Dynabreaker realized that the two had not met each other before. “Northclaw, this is Sustain, Dynamax’s combat strategist and weapons developer. Sustain, this is Northclaw, executive officer of the Eisen Dragoons.”
Sustain bowed slowly. “I’ve heard about you, it’s an honor to at last meet you face to face.”
Northclaw bowed as well. “Likewise.” He extended his arm, saying, “Shall we move forward helm?” The others nodded and followed him towards the bow. As they walked, Northclaw inquired, “What’s the situation?”
Sustain spoke first; Northclaw got the impression she’d been tasked with representing Dynabreaker’s team. “Scrapper’s surveying the site now, along with Scavenger, Hook, and Bonecrusher. Mixmaster and Long Haul are aboard our own submersible, providing support. Parasite, Nightjack, and Saint Vitus are with them; they’re supposed to be assisting, but the last I heard, they were going stir crazy instead. Not surprising, really; they’re used to the wide open sky, not the cramped insides of a submarine.”
“Perhaps we can fix that,” Northclaw said as they approached the helm; Scavendrill and Novacula turned to face them. Northclaw turned to the trio and said, “Most of you are familiar with my comrades-in-arms, but for those of you who aren’t, this is Novacula and our engineer Scavendrill.” Sustain made her own introductions and Northclaw said, “Alright, now that introductions are over with, on to business. Where exactly is this object of interest Astrotrain discovered?”
Dynabreaker pointed to the back of the sub. “Back a few meters that-a-way, you can’t miss it.”
‘Given Novacula’s sonar readings, I’m certain of that,’ Northclaw thought. He turned to the olive Decepticon and said, “Turn this bucket around, turn on the prow lights, and bring the thrusters to one quarter power. Let’s go see what’s out there.”
Novacula nodded and turned back to his controls. Dynabreaker looked up at the screen in time to see the lights at the bow turn on, revealing the same featureless sand she’d been standing just moments before. She watched as the landscape slipped under them, angled slightly, then straightened out again, all in what seemed to be one fluid motion. After a moment, Novacula called out, “Thrusters at one quarter power.”
“Engage!” Datamatrix said in a tone that was deeper than usual and pointing dramatically. The others shot him annoyed glares. “What?”
“Datamatrix, if you’ve got nothing better to do, then we can give you something,” Northclaw said in a rare display of irritation. “Contact Scrapper and have him rendezvous at a location of his convenience. Also, order the other Constructicons to return to the other submersible; I don’t know how long your team’s been wondering around out there…”
“Less than a megacycle,” Sustain said.
“… But there’s no need to keep them out there any longer than necessary,” Northclaw continued. “We don’t need any implosions around here.”
Datamatrix cocked his head, puzzled. “Pardon my apparent ignorance, but we have operated in underwater conditions before. Hell, our initial headquarters on Earth was located underwater!”
“But that was in a significantly shallower environment than this,” Scavendrill pointed out. “At this depth, the average Decepticon would have about…” He paused, silently running calculations in his head, “… two point five megacycles, maybe three, before the pressure crushed him like he was an aluminum can.” He glanced down at Sustain, adding, “It was fortunate that we got her aboard as soon as we did; another fifteen cycles out there and we’d be sending her back in a recycling bin.”
Sustain frowned. “Aren’t you a cheery fellow,” she said sardonically.
Dynabreaker eyed Datamatrix a moment and saw that he was considering another protest. But a sharp glare from Northclaw was all it took to make him reconsider. He nodded slightly, said, “I’ll call Scrappie immediately,” turned, and walked to the closest terminal. Dynabreaker had to smile; Datamatrix was notorious for questioning authority. She’d only known three individuals who’d been able to get him to do anything without repeating themselves, Dynamax included. Northclaw would have to be added to that list.
“Sonar contact,” Novacula called out. “We’re approaching the seamount.”
“Slow to half our current speed,” Northclaw ordered. “And bring it up on the viewscreen.”
The view screen blinked and brought up the view… of a carcass. It was the remains of a large animal, at least twenty meters long, consisting of mostly bone and a few patches of flesh. Some parts of the body were teaming with red and black tendril-looking animals that coiled and knotted around each other like serpents from a horror holoprogram. A pair of large, slow moving sharks cruised just inches above the carcass, while a third latched its jaws into one of the mounds of remaining flesh, twisting and turning in its effort to bite off a mouthful of rotten meat.
“Okay, that’s just disgusting,” Novacula groaned sickly.
“These things are spread all over the place,” Sustain said, her own voice a little higher than usual. “Most of its just old bones and chalk outlines, but there are a few that are… active.”
Northclaw nodded absently. “Novacula, can you find us an area that doesn’t have organic debris around it?”
“Gladly,” Novacula said. The camera moved slowly to the left until the undersea feast was out of view, to be replaced by the view of a massive wall of gray metal encrusted by red, orange and white rusticles. Northclaw took a step closer to the screen, his optics fixed; he knew he wasn’t the only one.
“By Primus,” Scavendrill said. “That’s a big… whatever it is.”
“Scrapper believes that it is a ship of some kind,” Sustain said, her voice calm; she’d already seen it. “He also thinks that it’s of extraterrestrial origin, though he can’t be entirely certain.”
“Let’s see if we can’t determine that before our rendezvous with him, shall we?” Northclaw said. “Reduce magnification to the lowest setting possible; maybe we can obtain a little more detail on this thing.-”
Scavendrill moved to comply, did a quick double take, checked the settings again. “We’re already at the minimum setting.”
Northclaw glanced back at the screen in surprise. Novacula echoed his thoughts, “That’s a big ship.”
“It’s like looking at the hull of the Titanic,” Scavendrill said in awe.
Novacula glanced at him, confused. “The what?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Datamatrix returned suddenly. “Just talked to Scrappie,” he said. “He’s sent the others back to our sub, per your orders. He’s waiting for us to pick him up now.”
Northclaw glanced at him. “Where?”
“About a hundred meters or so to our right,” Datamatrix said. “He’ll sit tight until we get there.”
“Well, no sense in wasting any time,” Northclaw said. “Novacula, lock onto the any thermal contact within a hundred meters of our starboard and make a slow beeline for it. Scavendrill, I want the video scanners recording every inch of that hull out there as we pass over it. If there’s anything that might be of interest along the way, I want it on tape, as the saying goes.”
“Understood,” Scavendrill said.
“Hey, Northclaw,” Datamatrix said. “We were told that there were four Dragoons on Earth; I only see three. Where’s the other one?”
Northclaw actually smiled. “Oh, he’s swimming around out there somewhere.”

It didn’t take long to reach Scrapper’s position and he’d been brought aboard as quickly as possible. As the Constructicon waited in the airlock, Northclaw decided to rendezvous with the other submersible. They would continue recording their passage over the hull so that any information it held could be studied at their convenience.
Scrapper, Northclaw, Dynabreaker, and Sustain stood in the center of the main compartment, looking over a three dimensional holographic rendition of the sunken ship. Given the diagram’s incredible detail, it was obvious that the Constructicons had taken full advantage of the Oceanglide’s survey capabilities. Northclaw would have liked Scavendrill to join them, but he was engrossed in looking over the video feeds. Novacula and Datamatrix were being kept busy on other tasks, the former with steering the ship and the latter watching the communication channels.
“This hologram,” Scrapper was saying, “represents a rough rendition of what we believe to be the object’s appearance, based on the scans taken by our submersible. As you’ve witnessed yourselves, it is of considerable size; it’s estimated that its total dimensions are substantially greater than anything we’ve encountered in the past. We can’t be certain of its exact size as a portion of the craft is buried under several meters of sediment. But based on our initial investigation, it is certain that this vehicle did not originate from this system.”
“Sustain mentioned that” Northclaw stated. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“The metal used in the outer hull is a type of alloy that’s not known to have been developed by the native population. In addition, the methods in which the ship has been constructed do not match any known technique employed by the inhabitants of this particular system.”
“That you’re aware of,” Northclaw pointed out. “Primus only knows what the Autobots have been sharing with their allies.” Or what our own people are allocating…
“Perhaps,” Scrapper said. “But we’ve also taken metal samples from the hull, measured the length of the rusticles, and gauged sediment depth. Base on these and other variables, we estimate this vessel’s age at around fifty galactic cycles* and that it has lying in this place for nearly as long.”
Dynabreaker glanced at the Constructicon. “So this isn’t the legendary Atlantis the fleshlings are always going on about,” she said half jokingly.
“Possible, but not likely,” Scrapper replied. “When this ship crashed, this planet’s was probably just entering its most recent ice age. The local inhabitants were probably in caves or on the open plains back then; if any saw it at all, they probably just saw the fireball it made as it fell through the atmosphere.”
“What kind of condition is it in?” Northclaw asked.
“From what we can tell,” Scrapper said, “its in fairly good condition, appearances to the contrary. The amount of rusticles on the hull is deceiving; the native microbes apparently can’t stomach the exotic metal this thing is made out of. I couldn’t begin to guess at the state of preservation for the portions buried under the sediment; for all we know, the keel could have been torn right off in the crash. We haven’t taken scans of the internal compartments yet, so I can’t tell you the state of those, either.”
Northclaw pointed to the rear of the hologram. “I presume these are engine thrusters.”
“That’s what they look like.”
“Would it be possible to raise this thing under its own power, then?”
“Maybe; depends on how well the structural integrity has held up after all these millennia. It looks good on the outside, but the inside maybe a different matter entirely. Even if the internal decks are in excellent condition, the engines themselves might be completely dead. We need time to complete our surveys.”
“We may not have that luxury,” Northclaw said. “The longer we stay, the more likely it is the Autobots will detect our presence; we’re too close to two of their outposts to go completely unnoticed as it is. And we can’t stay down here indefinitely on our limited supplies. I want to explore every option possible before we have to abandon the site.”
“We discovered something else while we were doing our surveys,” Scrapper said. “Actually, Scavenger picked it up.”
Northclaw angled his head slightly. “What?”
“He detected a trace amount of energy emanating from within the superstructure.”
“An interesting find, but not exactly planet shattering.”
“I thought so too initially, but it nagged at me long enough that I ran an analysis and compared it with known types of energy. I found a ninety percent match with radiation normally emitted by the spark of a Transformer.”
Northclaw narrowed his optics. “Are you sure about that?”
“Like I said, it’s a ninety percent match. I ran a diagnostic just to be sure. I’m well aware of the problems we’ve had with our equipment in these conditions, but a spark’s a long way from a software glitch.”
Northclaw stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. If the internal compartments haven’t flooded and the airlocks are working, we could board and investigate further.”
“Could be taking a big risk on that,” Sustain said. Turning to Scrapper, she asked, “Do you have any other information on this signal?”
“Not much,” Scrapper replied. “The signal’s pretty weak; even Scavenger’s scanners had trouble picking up. We couldn’t tell you who, what, or how many. There also that slim chance that it’s not a spark at all, just something that emits a similar signature.”
“The only way to find out would be to find a way to get aboard that ship,” Northclaw said. “We might also be able to find out where this thing came from.” Seeing movement, he glanced away from the diagram and saw Scavendrill approaching from behind Dynabreaker. “You have something to add?”
“I might,” Scavendrill replied. “We may have a means of identifying the ship’s point of origin without having to board it. I was going over some of the video scans we’ve taken thus far and found something you might find interesting.”
“Bring it up,” Northclaw said. Scavendrill nodded, walked over to the nearest bulkhead terminal and typed a command into the keypad. A second screen appeared over the holographic diagram, showing the hull plating as the sub’s cameras had seen it. The Decepticons watched as the image panned over the ship’s surface, but all they saw was the same gray, rust, and white colors they’d seen already.
Scavendrill waited a moment before saying, “I’ll freeze the image… here.” He typed on the keypad and the video froze in place. “Let me zoom in on a section and enhance,” he said, typing furiously, and the pictured followed his statement not long after. He scanned the image a moment before saying, “There it is. Notice anything?”
“All I see is rust,” Dynabreaker groused impatiently.
Sustain was a little more sharp-eyed than her larger compatriot. “I see it, in the center. It’s a bit a faded and a little obscured by the rust, but it looks like markings of some sort.”
Northclaw saw it too and was studying them closely. His optics narrowed abruptly. “Are those what I think they are?”
“You’re thinking that’s Decepticon script you’re looking at, you’d be correct,” Scavendrill replied.
Dynabreaker looked at the camera image, then at Scrapper’s diagram, then at the image again. “Are you saying that’s a Decepticon ship down there?”
“It would appear so,” Scrapper said, silently reading. “I see at least two separate lines, which isn’t unusual. The top line looks like some sort of serial number. D-X-one-seven… that looks like a two, but I can’t be sure, there’s rust obscuring that character.”
Northclaw turned his head away slightly, thinking. He wasn’t an expert on the serial numbers assignments, but was familiar enough to know what codes Decepticon vessels carried. Supply transports were assigned a random combination of letters and numbers, while warships bore a code that corresponded to the ship type. The number Scrapper had read off didn’t match any ship registration he was familiar with. Then again, considering the vessel’s estimated age, the registration process could have been different when it was launched.
Scavendrill came forward, also observing the image closely. “The second line’s a bit obscured, but I think I can make it out…” He paused a moment, then his jaw dropped. “Orcunis!”
Scrapper’s visor nearly bugged out of its socket. “Orcunis? Here? You’re not pulling my transistors, are you?”
“If I am, the joke’s on me as well,” Scavendrill said. “I thought for certain he was destroyed.”
“Care to inform the rest of us ignorant protoforms what’s going on?” Northclaw inquired flatly. “Who or what in the infernal Pit is Orcunis?”
“Orcunis was a Decepticon who was constructed on Cybertron,” Scrapper explained. “You might call him the prototype for units like Trypticon and Scorponok. Shockwave had him built… about fifty galactic cycles ago, as a matter of fact. During his initial test trails, he got caught in of what we had presumed to be the event horizon of a black hole and disappeared; it was believed he was destroyed.” He looked back at the hologram. “It must have been a wormhole he fell into and it dumped him into this system.”
“Could a Transformer’s spark survive all this time?” Sustain asked.
“The occupants of the Ark did,” Scrapper pointed out.
“True, but they aboard a ship, not the ship themselves. They didn’t take a header into a submarine trench from orbit, either.”
Northclaw shook his head slightly. “What is it about this planet that makes it a giant magnet for lost Cybertronians?”
“Couldn’t tell ya,” Scrapper said. “But I can tell you that this puts a greater priority on raising him from the depths; if it can be done.”
“We should contact Dynamax,” Sustain suggested. “But I do recommend that we place a priority on recovering him; he could be the key to turning the war in our favor.”
“We should contact Dynamax,” Sustain said. “Perhaps we could arrange to obtain a ship with undersea capabilities so we can tow him out.”
Northclaw shook his head. “Negative; the increased activity would attract to much unwanted attention; besides, a tractor beam or magnetic grappler might do more harm than good. There’s also no guarantee that either would work in this environment anyway. We’re going to have to try to raise him under his own power.” He turned to Scrapper. “Do any of the warp gates in this system connect to a Decepticon dry-dock?”
Scrapper thought a moment. “We could use the warp gate in orbit above Earth’s moon to reach the Tyhryl Shipyards, which is located deep within our own territory.”
Northclaw nodded slightly, then turned to the helm. “Novacula, empty the ballasts and head for the surface. Datamatrix, contact the other sub and tell them to surface, we’ll rendezvous with them there.”
“Consider it done,” Novacula said.
“On it,” Datamatrix replied at nearly the same time.
Dynabreaker eyed Northclaw carefully. “What are you planning?”
“I’m giving the flyers on your sub their wish,” Northclaw said. “Once we’re on the surface, we’ll establish an aerial perimeter to provide us advance warning should the Autobots or EDC become too curious. Novacula, I want you to take a position parallel to the coast. Your stealth capabilities make it possible for you to operate a little more freely in that sector.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll repeat this to the others, but I want to know immediately if an Autobot or EDC patrol is detected, even if they’re not heading for this site. I want no surprise guests.”
“Gotcha.”
Northclaw turned back to the others. “Once the flyers are in position, the rest of us will return to Orcunis and ascertain his condition. We’ll log the location of every airlock and pray that the galactic cycles of decay and ocean pressures have flooded every one of his compartments. We’ll decide on how to proceed once we’ve established all that.”
Dynabreaker nodded. “Understood.”
Northclaw turned to Scavendrill. “You have those schematics you were looking at earlier?”
Scavendrill looked lost for a moment, and then realized what he was talking about. “Not on my person, but I can get them. What did you have in mind?”
“Think you can reformat Orcunis into what you intended for that design?”
Scavendrill thought for a moment. “Maybe. It would depend on if he were compatible with our current technology. Even if he is, the refit alone would take decacycles, even with the personnel and equipment at Tyhryl.”
“We’ll discuss the intricacies later,” Northclaw said. “For the time being, let’s first make sure this thing can be salvaged.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
1 Galactic Cycle = 1000 Earth Years

Good stuff, man. Keep it up!

Chapter 4
Autobot Outpost
Nova Scotia, Canada

Windracer stood outside the station commander’s office, staring blankly at the door, nervously rapping her thigh with her clawed fingers. She was not looking forward to the meeting she was scheduled to attend.
Windracer was a female Autobot of short stature, though she still towered over the average human and the bat-like wings on her back made her seem even larger. Her slim superstructure was colored with mix of grays, blues, gold and black. Her light silver face plate was contorted into a scowl, her azure optics narrowed into thin slits. Her long tail was motionless save for a slight nervous twitch at its spaded tip.
‘Might as well get this over with. Vector Maximus will have my chasse if I’m even a nanoclick late.’
Windracer was part of small detachment of Autobots assigned to man a coastal outpost located on the eastern coast of Nova Scotia. Their primary assignment was to keep an eye on a nearby Decepticon outpost located just offshore, in conjunction with another station located in Newfoundland. It was mundane duty, consisting of megacycles of boredom, occasional punctuated by a half-hearted assault on the outpost itself or the rare foray to harass Decepticon patrols. The Decepticons seemed to be aware that they were under surveillance and Windracer was starting to think that their base had been set up merely to gauge a reaction.
She took deep breath, an unnecessary reflex she’d picked up from her time among humans, pressed a button next to the door and immediately heard a soft, musical tone. She didn’t recognize the tune, but it bore the familiar air of a cremation dirge. That thought did little to ease the scraplets in her abdominal chamber.
A calm, low voice, similar to that of an undertaker, answered, “Enter.” The sliding doors opened slowly and somewhat ominously, at least it did in Windracer’s mind. She stepped cautiously into the room and the doors snapped closed behind her, causing her to flinch slightly.
Vector Maximus stood behind a large, mahogany desk, the only bit of luxury he allowed himself.. Windracer figured it was only because the desk was base property, no doubt a gift from some human craftsman; the rest of the office was sparsely decorated and felt more like an interrogation chamber than a welcome retreat. Vector Maximus himself was an imposing mech, bearing a physique that was both tall and broad, his superstructure primarily colored in a shade of dull shade of yellow. She could see the three cannons he bore, one on each arm and the third behind his left shoulder.
Windracer had not met Vector Maximus before being assigned to this post, but she was familiar with his reputed reputation. According to what she’d been told and what she read, he was known for being analytical and pragmatic with his resources. But she’d also heard some rather disturbing attributes from those who’d worked with him. It was said that he cold and impersonal to his subordinates, had a tendency to overanalyze a situation where quick action was required and would readily sacrifice them if it served the “greater good.” Windracer was experienced enough to know that a good commander didn’t necessarily need to be liked by their troops, but according to those she’d talked to, Vector Maximus was neither. She’d tried to keep her mind open about him when she arrived, but recent experiences in his service had colored her own opinion of him.
“You wanted to see me?” Windracer inquired carefully, placing her hands behind her back.
Vector Maximus turned to look at her, his expression betraying no emotion. “I did,” he replied after a brief pause. He extended an arm towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit down, please.”
Windracer took his offer and sat down in the chair, draping her wings over the back. She sat with her spine ramrod straight, her back not touching the back of the chair, a habit she had whenever in his presence. She had no real idea why she sat that way, but he rarely commented and actually seemed to prefer it.
Vector Maximus sat down as well, folded his hands in front of his face and said, “We’ve just received orders from Command; we’re to investigate recent Decepticon activity in the Grand Banks.”
Windracer said nothing, simply stared at him, knew there would be more.
“Several solar cycles ago, Cosmos picked up an increase in Decepticon communications traffic between their Terran headquarters and their offshore Grand Banks station. The transmissions were heavily encrypted and our intelligence unit is still working to crack the codes. But whatever was said, it seems that their commanders felt that it was important enough to transfer the Constructicons to the Grand Banks sometime in the last couple of solar cycles.”
Windracer’s frown deepened as she pondered this development. The entire Constructicon team had been transferred, something big had to be in the works. It was possible they were building some new device or expanding the base, but she doubted the Decepticons would start a major construction project on a outpost that was under heavy enemy surveillance. She could only think of one other reason for the Constructicons’ reassignment; an new offensive campaign with Devastator in the lead, perhaps with one or both of the Autobot stations in the crosshairs.
“Should we begin bolstering our defensive works?” she inquired.
“The thought had occurred to me,” Vector replied, “but I don’t believe that will be necessary. According to Cosmos’s reports, within megacycles of the Constructicons’ relocation, an encoded transmission was sent from the station to a receiver near the Icelandic coast. Not long after, an Oceanglide-class submersible was observed departing from the station, heading in the direction of the Grand Banks.
“That station is in possession of one of the subs that were stolen a couple weeks ago?”
Vector Maximus nodded. “Apparently so.”
Windracer frowned. The Oceanglide vehicles had originally been built for use in the deeper waters of the Pacific but were recently beginning to be shipped to outposts along the Atlantic. The pair she’d mentioned had been on their way to Labrador from construction sites in Europe when the Decepticons pilfered them. Windracer was aware that the Decepticons had the stolen submersibles, but hadn’t thought they would have seen a use for them. Dynamax had apparently seen something of value if they were operating even one of them. Primus only knew what his engineers were doing to the remaining one…
The theft of the submersibles had been only one in a series of raids that the Decepticons had carried out on North Atlantic trade over the course of a couple of decacycles. Though considered more an annoyance than a critical threat to the supply lines, the attacks had created enough of a disruption for both Autobot Terran Command and the EDC to take them seriously, but despite their best efforts, they hadn’t been able to put a halt to the attacks. Merchant ships weren’t the only vessels that were being targeted; several nuclear submarines, including one carrying ballistic missiles, had been sunk and stripped of their weaponry and nuclear reactors before the response teams could arrive. Windracer could only guess at how the Decepticons managed to take those reactors without turning the region into a radioactive wasteland. These blitzkrieg style attacks were fairly typical and were the main problem in trying to stop the raiders. The Autobots had been able to establish a pattern of attack: the victims would torpedoed first, but this was not usually a fatal hit, just something to occupy the crew’s attention. The ship would actually be sunk by someone or something either slicing a huge gash in the hull or just simply biting a hole in the keel. Once the vessel was completely submerged – no one knew if the raiders waited until it settled on the bottom or not – the holds were ransacked for anything that might be considered of value. Most of the attacks occurred in deep water, where it was believed the raiders could take their time picking through the cargo, knowing that it would be some time before anyone came to investigate the wreck.
Some thought the Seacons were somehow involved in the attacks, but Windracer has seen the reports stating that they weren’t even in the solar system. The style of attack matched those employed by a group that referred to themselves as the Eisen Dragoons and there was physical evidence that they might be involved in some way. The raiders had attacked a Los Angeles-class attack submarine, but the sub survived its encounter and even received a souvenir; an unexploded torpedo lodged in its hull. The warhead’s nose had been emblazoned with the Dragoons’ distinctive emblem, but it what it couldn’t reveal whether or not one of their members fired it. For all anyone knew, it may have just simply been part of a larger arsenal sent to the Decepticon Terran forces.
Breaking out of her thoughts, she asked, “Do we know who that transmission to Iceland was intended for?”
“Negative,” Vector Maximus said. “That transmitter’s been investigated before. Nothing there but a buoy, which is though to serve as a means of shunting signals to its intended destination. The signal becomes untraceable after that.”
She was familiar with object Vector mentioned. Not long after the raids had begun, a patrol had discovered a buoy in a region where few buoys were necessary, even for the NATO SOSUS nets. Once its purpose had been discovered, the Autobots moved it to the nearest outpost and attempted to trace destination of any transmissions that passed through. But the transmitter had stopped working almost as soon as the buoy had been confiscated and not long after a second buoy was discovered in nearly the exact same location. They left that one in place but planted a listening device, hoping it would prove more insightful. But the bug lasted only a few nanoklicks before it suddenly went dead; a quick investigation revealed that the second buoy had been destroyed. When a third transmitter appeared in a different location, no attempt was made to hack it, as it was obvious that someone was keeping tabs on their equipment.
“And what of the submersible?” Windracer inquired. “Any idea where that was heading?”
“Cosmos followed its trajectory until he lost them around…” Vector Maximus checked one of the various info-pads scattered across his desk. “… Longitude forty-four degrees north, latitude fifty-three degrees west. It’s believed that at this point the submersible dove to a depth his scanners couldn’t penetrate. However, he tracked it long enough to determine that, provided that they didn’t change course after he lost contact, they’d pass into an area of the ocean known locally as the Laurentian Abyss. Central Command believes they’re still in the vicinity and I’m inclined to agree with that assessment.”
“Is there any way to be certain of that?” Windracer inquired. “How do we know they haven’t surfaced around Maine or Boston?”
“I understand your concern,” Vector stated. “However, we’ve had several surveillance satellites looking for the sub’s profile ever since it left the station. The EDC has also had a couple P-3 Orions crisscrossing the Atlantic, each equipped with sensors that can hone in on its unique engine signature. They’ve found nothing thus far and the Oceanglides don’t have the range for a cross-ocean trip. It’s only logical to conclude that it is still in the area of the Abyss.”
‘What could they be doing there?’ Windracer wondered. ‘There’s nothing down there but miles of open ocean, if they’re at the bottom, nothing but sediment. If they wanted to drill for an energy supply, they would have better luck in the Grand Banks…’
“As we’re the closest outpost to that particular region,” Vector Maximus droned on, “we’ve been ordered to send a small scouting party to investigate. I want you to lead it.”
Windracer nodded, grateful for any escape from the dullards of base duty. There might even be an opportunity to send a few Decepticons to a watery grave. If the Constructicons had also been aboard, terminating even one of their ranks would mean the end of Devastator. It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.
She started to rise from the chair, saying, “I’ll start putting a team together immed…”
“Don’t bother,” Vector Maximus said, drawing out another info-pad. “I’ve already taken the liberty.” He handed the pad to her.
Windracer remained standing, but winced slightly as she took the pad from him. He was well known for his micromanaging and she’d been the victim of that little quirk on more occasions than she cared to recall. As she looked over the roster, he continued, “I want your team collected and on its way within thirty cycles. I’ve also arranged for the use of depth ranging sonar, in case the Decepticons are hiding in the depths.”
Windracer nodded absently, wasn’t really listening, was rereading the roster with a deep sense of dread. ‘He can’t be serious…’
Vector saw the expression on her face. “Is something wrong?”
She looked up briefly, then back down at the pad, trying to think of how to best voice what she was thinking. “With all due respect, sir, the team you’ve put together…” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts, wanting to say, ‘The team you’ve put together is a load of slag!’
“Yes?” He was watching her carefully.
Windracer took a deep breath before she spoke. “Sir, I’m familiar with the units you’ve assigned to this mission. I know two of them to be decent warriors, even if one has a tendency to exaggerate his own abilities. The other, if I may be frank, is a bit too… unpredictable for my tastes.” ‘Too infantile might be a better description…’ “And none of them are really suited for the environment we’ll be operating in.”
“Can’t be helped,” Vector Maximus said. “All our sea-capable units are currently on another assignment and won’t return for some time.”
“Again, with all due respects,” Windracer said, guarding her words carefully, “their mission is to chart the waters around Anticosti Island. I’m certain Central Command won’t mind if recall them…”
“I’m sorry, Windracer,” he stated flatly. “But this is all we can spare without weakening our defenses. You’ll have to do with what you have.”
She frowned, had half expected this. Vector Maximus was living up to his reputation as the ultimate pragmatist, using only those units that he available. He would almost never pull units from other assignments unless it was absolutely critical, and she had the feeling he didn’t view her mission as all that important; after all, they were just doing a little reconnaissance. She thought for a moment, remembering a report she’d seen a few days earlier.
“If I may, sir,” she said, “but if I recall correctly, Deepdive and Alcatraz are both assigned to patrol duty along the Cabot Strait. If I could be allowed to request to add them to this roster and bolster our sea power…”
“Negative,” Vector Maximus said. “Deepdive and Alcatraz are assigned to the Newfoundland post and are beyond my authority.”
“Then we can request their services from the Newfoundland post,” Windracer said, trying desperately not to sound like she was begging. “I’m fairly certain that Blazer Prime would be amenable…”
“I’m sorry, Windracer,” Vector stated flatly. “But our orders were explicit.”
“Sir, they’re right over the Laurentian Channel, which is a direct shot to the Abyss itself…”
“The answer is no.”
Windracer growled in frustration, a carry over from her alternate form. Vector was taking Central Command’s orders literally, again, and that had caused problems in the past. She had, as the humans might say, a gut feeling that there would be trouble and she felt the need to convince him to change his mind before he committed to what she thought was a mistake.
Leaning forward and placing her hands on his desk, she said, “With all due respect, sir, if the Decepticons are operating on the ocean floor…”
“Highly unlikely,” he interrupted. “We have no recorded instance of the Decepticons carrying out an undersea operation below five hundred meters.”
“On this planet, perhaps. But there is suspicion that the Eisen Dragoons are providing support to the Decepticons here on Earth, perhaps even more, and they’ve operated out of Hylion Prime for years. From what little data we’ve been able to obtain, Hylion is an ocean planet with certain points so deep they’d make the Mariana Trench look like a public swimming pool. It is my respectful opinion that anyone whose operated from such a world has some knowledge and experience with deep sea operations. It’s entirely possible that one member of the Dragoons is here on Earth, possibly more, and is responsible for the raids on commercial shipping. If they are here, Dynamax would be idiotic ignore any potential they might have to assist his own forces.”
“I will admit that your statement has some logic to it,” Vector said. “However, there is no proof that the Dragoons have been involved in anything other than providing supplies.”
‘Well it’s not like they’d sink the QE2, pop out of the ocean and go ‘Nyah-nyah,’’ Windracer thought. Aloud, she said, “That is true sir, but if the Decepticons are working in deep water, wouldn’t it make sense that there’d at least be a Dragoon onsite to assist, perhaps even command, the effort?”
“That would be illogical. Such a unit would be considered too valuable to risk in a major operation. It is also unlikely that Dynamax would consider any member of the Eisen Dragoons qualified to lead any assignment.”
“Depends on the Dragoon,” Windracer said flatly.
Vector Maximus cocked his head slightly. “It is extremely unlikely that either Archanubis or Northclaw would be sent on such a menial mission. Archanubis would regard it as beneath his dignity and the Dragoons’ tactics regarding Northclaw is to use him as sparingly as possible, usually only as a weapon of last resort.”
Windracer had to admit he was correct about Archanubis’s chances of being on Earth, but not for the reasons he stated. The Dragoons’ commander had begun to take a less active role in their operations of late and there were rumors that he was considering retiring altogether. Northclaw, on the other hand… Judging by the reports she’d seen, he wasn’t being used as “sparingly” as he seemed to assume. But Vector was simply going by the official information he had on hand; he’d didn’t consider scuttlebutt worth his attention.
She made one last attempt to persuade him to change his mind. “Sir, wouldn’t be prudent to cover all possibilities on the off chance…”
Vector Maximus stared at her, the expression on his face a mask of calm, his optics staring coldly into hers. “You have your orders, Windracer. I expect them to be carried out immediately; if you don’t believe yourself capable, I’ll find someone else who is.”
Windracer sighed, resigned to her fate. She was familiar enough with him to know that once he made up his mind there was very little chance that he’d change it. She bowed curtly, saying, “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed,” Vector Maximus said, turning away to look at yet another info-pad. Windracer didn’t waste any time; she turned on her heels and walked out of the office. She stopped just outside the door, stood absolutely still even as they closed behind her, her body shaking with anger. She curled her hands into fists as she seethed, her rage boiling over. In a final expression of frustration, she raised an arm and slammed her fist hard into the nearest wall.

Very nice. I think you hit Vec Max nearly perfectly. I had some minor quibbles but nothing really worth mentioning. Though you did refer to him as Vector Prime in the last paragraph.

Anyway, good job, I've been enjoying it so far.

Deadboy wrote:Though you did refer to him as Vector Prime in the last paragraph.

Corrected

I think there were a couple of minor grammatical errors. If you want I can go through and pick them out.

Also, one of my team was referenced. :Grin: woot!

Thanks for the offer, kaij, but at this point, I'm just trying to post as many of these chapters as I can before I go on vacation on Oct. 17

Two chapters on one night? What are the chances?
-------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 5
Laurentian Channel
Cabot Strait, Canada

It took Windracer twenty cycles to gather her team, brief them on their mission, and be on their way. They made a brief detour before racing to their intended destination, following the Laurentian Channel, the quickest route down to Abyss. They dove to around four hundred meters under the surface, the maximum depth they could maintain indefinitely and reduce their chances of being detected any Decepticon aerial squads that might be scouring the area. Traveling underwater would hopefully obscure their presence, but Windracer was concerned about the possibility of running into a Decepticon submarine patrol.
Her team was an eclectic mix of characters, most of whom had not really been designed for undersea warfare. Half the group were in their robotic forms while the others were in their alternate forms. Windracer herself had converted to her dragon form before their dive as it was considerably more streamlined than her robotic form, especially when she folded her wings against her body. She might not be able to match the speed the others could travel, but at least she could keep up by clinging onto one of her teammates like a remora.
Trailing behind her and to the right was the Autobot Phasewing, a mostly aqua-green colored femme bot whose colors made her seem to disappear into the background. She was a little taller than Windracer was and was well known for being as cool as a cucumber even in the midst of the most serious crises. Windracer had worked with Phasewing before, knew she could be solid and dependable in a crunch. If she had any personal quirks, it was her fascination with the local bird population. She would spend megacycles on Anticosti watching the birds that inhabited the island in her free time. But Windracer wouldn’t necessarily call it a weakness; once a battle got going, Phasewing’s mind was on the fight.
Behind Phasewing and to her left was WarTrack, a large, light brown colored Autobot mech, more commonly known as “Wart”. He was probably the least suited for this mission and it wasn’t just because he transformed into a battle tank. He possessed the mind and personality equivalent to that of a five-year-old human child and though considered a tough warrior, he was usually regarded as more of a liability than an asset. If it had been up to Windracer, she’d have left him behind, but she knew that would only result in her being “tattled” on, so she had no choice but to include him in the mission. He was the slowest of the group so she’d placed him in the center of the line so he wouldn’t be left behind.
Behind Wart was Subsonika, another Autobot mech whose deep red color made him appear black in the murky water. He was a heftily built Autobot, though he himself thought he looked as slim as rocket and it would be a mistake to say otherwise. Windracer had worked with him as well and though he was dependable, he possessed an exaggerated view of his own abilities. He transformed into a hypersonic jet, which did more to exacerbate his ego than it improved his performance.
Phasewing, WarTrack and Subsonika were the units Vector Maximus had assigned to Windracer’s team; the final two were not. In spite of her orders, Windracer had still been hesitant about commanding a mission in the middle of the ocean without support from more seaworthy units. Without authorization or a second thought, she contacted Alcatraz and Deepdive just before she left and arranged for them to rendezvous with her team off Cape North. When she met up with them, she’d learned that they had notified Blazer Prime of their plans and to request replacements. She had no doubt Blazer would notify Vector of their assistance and she would catch the Pit for ignoring his orders when they got back. Well, frag it, she’d rather be chewed out for covering her bases than end up a decoration on the ocean floor.
In the rear of the line was Deepdive, a sea-blue femme-bot who had spent most of her life in the waters of the planet of Animatros. Swimming in her shark form, she was proficient in undersea combat and possessed probably the most sophisticated underwater sensors of any of them. It was for that reason Windracer had placed her in the rear; if the Decepticons attempted to sneak up on them from behind, hopefully Deepdive would detect them before they got within weapons range.
Leading the group was Alcatraz, the largest Autobot on the team; his head alone was nearly as long as Windracer’s entire body. Cruising easily in his deep blue colored sea serpent form, his imposing figure alone could intimidate all but the largest of creatures, and if that wasn’t enough, a glare from his yellow eye would certainly do the trick. Windracer knew him well, had fought him once, even earned his respect; what he thought of the others he kept to himself. His undersea scanners were nearly as good as Deepdive’s, but he’d been place up front for another reason entirely. If there were Decepticons lurking in front of them, seeing Alcatraz emerge from the murky blue would hopefully unnerve them long enough for the Autobots to take a few out. It was Alcatraz that Windracer was clinging onto in her attempt to stay with the others.
“How are you holding up, ‘traz?” Windracer inquired, aware that having her claws digging into his hide was probably not all that comfortable.
“Fairly well, considering,” Alcatraz responded. “Not what I’d planned to do today, but it beats pacing back and forth in the same place.”
Behind them, WarTrack was signing softly, “’He lives in a pineapple under the sea…”
“Oh, Primus, no,” Subsonika moaned. “Wart, if you don’t stop singing that stupid song, I’m going to shove my blaster up your tail pipe and pull the trigger!”
“Knock it off, both of you!” Windracer shouted behind her. “Phasewing, what’s our ETA?”
“If we keep our current speed and course,” Phasewing replied, “about thirty cycles.”
“Good. ‘Traz, you got anything in front of us?”
“Nada. They could be rigged for silent running, though. Or there could be nothing at and this is little more than a cyber-goose chase.”
“Maybe. Deepdive, got anything on your scanners?”
“Just a lot of fish,” the shark replied. “I’m picking up few sonar signals, but they’re fairly weak; I can’t identify the source.”
“Let’s hope that it’s just a local submarine,” Windracer said, more for her own benefit than for theirs. “What about above the surface? Anything up there?”
“Nothing I can detect,” Deepdive replied.
Windracer frowned. That should have alleviated her worries a bit, but it didn’t. She didn’t know what, but something felt… wrong.
“So what do you think we’ll find when we reach the Abyss?” Subsonika asked.
“Snorks!” WarTrack explained gleefully. “Snorks live on the bottom of the ocean!”
Alcatraz glanced back. “Cute,” he said, having no idea what a Snork was. He brought his attention forward again, saying, “Personally, I’m hoping for a debris field. There’s no way on Cybertron anything that’s not adapted to the conditions found at those depths could survive for very long down there.”
“Probably why they needed our submersible,” Phasewing said. “I personally hope and our sub are waiting at those coordinates, right where we can get at them. Maybe we could even reclaim our property.”
“We’ll worry about all that when we get there,” Windracer said. “Until then, best speed and keep close. The Pit itself could break loose once we pass the continental shelf.”
“Aye, aye,” all replied. They continued on to their destination, every vigilant, looking nervously into the deep veil of blue and green around them.
They should have been more worried about what was lurking above the water’s surface.

‘Too easy,’ Novacula thought. ‘They’re making this way too easy. I hate easy.’
Novacula had been trailing the Autobots for awhile now, using his RAH-66 Comanche helicopter form to follow them, being careful to keep a respectable distance. His helicopter form was slightly faster and considerably more stealthy than his robot form. It had been designed to be nearly undetectable, with a shape that deflected sensor signals, materials that absorbed them and hid anything that could give off a return, and a shrouded tail rotor to reduce noise. All of these features had been enhanced with Decepticon technology, but he had still rigged himself for a silent flight as a precaution.
He had discovered the Autobots nearly by accident. He’d been deploying a net of sonobuoys across his assigned patrol area, concentrating on a submarine trench known locally as the Laurentian Channel, which the Decepticons had code named “Abyss Route One.” He had just finished setting up his latest buoy when it detected something pass by. At first, he thought it was an error or a false reading; the devices were a new invention from Scavendrill and had a sad tendency to malfunction, die completely, or report a school of mackerel as an Autobot patrol. But other buoys soon began reporting similar readings and it was enough to warrant investigation. It didn’t take him long to find the cause: Autobots traveling down the center of Abyss Route One.
Novacula tracked them cautiously; judging by noise they were making as they traveled, they hadn’t noticed him yet. His onboard sonar had identified five units with a possible sixth, though he couldn’t be sure; the possible was too close to the largest contact on his screens to be positively identified. If he’d been directly above them, he might have been able to confirm their numbers, but it also raised the risked he could be detected; all they would have needed was his silhouette. Following behind them meant that he had to angle the beams, making sure to lead the targets to compensate for their movements and sensor refraction; it was like trying to read them through water that was two or three times the actual depth.
Complicating his job was that he also had to keep his sensors tuned to the rest of his surroundings. He was still responsible for his this zone and there was always the possibility the Autobots would send reinforcements. Target fixation had killed many a mech on both sides and he was determined not to let that fate befall him. He also remembered Northclaw’s warning: “I want no surprise guests.” Northclaw was a good commander, possibly better than anyone Novacula had served with before, and wasn’t know to be particularly violent to his subordinates, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to find out what might happen to him if he screwed up. This pragmatism proved sage; he was tracking another object along with the Autobots, almost directly below him, hugging the undersea terrain. Novacula couldn’t tell who or what was it was, the clutter of the ocean floor effectively hiding the contacts, but he had his suspicions. He kept a scanner locked on the object in the off chance he was in error.
It would have been so easy for Novacula to send a torpedo right up the tailpipe of the rearmost Autobot and he was extremely tempted to do so. But he thought better of it, knowing that even if he managed to take down even one Autobot, there would still be five more to content with. He loved a challenges but even he didn’t want to stir up this was a nest of scraplets. Besides, Northclaw’s orders had been specific; detect, track, and report any enemy unit that intruded into the perimeter. Well, he’d detected intruders and if they kept on their current course and speed, they’d be right on top of the recovery site in under twenty cycles. Novacula knew that there was a communications buoy near the site, deployed there to provide a sort of direct line to the salvage team should the need arise. He figured that the need had arisen and it was time to raise the alarm.

Hey, Blazer Prime got a mention! WHOOP! Go Autobot Spartans!

I do feel obliged to point out that when I wrote Deepdive's full bio I basically retconned out the shark mode in favour of this, but since I didn't do that until well after you'd asked for characters to use I'm not complaining, just making an observation.

Chapter 6
Orcunis Recovery Site
Laurentian Abyss, North Atlantic

‘Luck; that’s all it amounts to, pure, dumb luck. But I’ll take it.’
After dropping Novacula, Parasite, Nightjack and Saint Vitus off at the surface, the rest of the Decepticons had returned to Orcunis. Northclaw quickly ordered scans of the hulk be taken, checking the structural integrity and determining how much of the old Decepticon’s interior had flooded. No one held much hope; after his crash and subsequent time on the ocean floor, Orcunis could be expected to be in pretty bad shape. It was a surprise then to discover that only fifteen percent of his hull had flooded and the interior was in excellent condition, all things considered. The findings meant that they could work to salvage him from inside his superstructure – provided there was a working airlock near an unflooded corridor.
Orcunis did possess a pair of massive shuttlebays, but one was open to the sea while the other was sealed shut and there was no way of determining if the hanger doors could be opened without flooding the interior. The scans had pinpointed several airlocks along the exterior and their locations had been logged so they could investigate them later. With the initial survey complete, the recovery team returned to the airlocks, checking to see which ones were operational and unobstructed. The first such portal they found was assigned to the Constructicons’ shuttle; Northclaw wanted to get the salvage operation underway as soon as possible and having the engineering team board first would hopefully expedite things.
Northclaw, Dynabreaker and Sustain were in Orcunis’ auxiliary control room, with Sustain under a console fiddling with the wiring. The main bridge was flooded and thus inaccessible, but fortunately the auxiliary had been clear and accessible and it was here the team had regrouped before receiving their final instructions. Scrapper and Scavendrill had gone down to engineering to see what they could do about restoring engine power. Hook was sent to check on the condition of Orcunis’s laser core, which housed his spark. Scavenger and Mixmaster were scouring the corridors, reinforcing any damaged bulkheads they came across, while Long Haul and Bonecrusher were surveying the rest of the interior. Sustain was working to restore command operations to the control room while Datamatrix had been left on the Dragoon shuttle. Datamatrix had protested, naturally, but he lacked the engineering skills that were needed for this mission and someone needed to man the comlinks in case the surface patrols reported in. The only other choice had been Dynabreaker, and Northclaw was familiar was familiar enough with her temperament not to risk her damaging his equipment.
Northclaw moved over to a flickering console and absently watched the static-filled screen. If Datamatrix lacked any appreciable engineering abilities, Northclaw and Dynabreaker had little to no such skills whatsoever. He knew enough to make minor repairs to himself, but that was about it. But he had never been one to lurk about in the rear, no matter the situation, and always had to know what was going on first hand. He was smart enough to stay out of the way and let the experts do their work. If it had been anyone else – Dynamax or Archanubis, for example – they would have been hounding the others constantly, getting in the way. Northclaw felt that a hands-off approach worked, with periodic checks to keep himself in the loop.
He glanced over at Dynabreaker, who was standing stiffly behind him. He’d been mildly surprised that she hadn’t protested when he ordered her to stay close to him. It wasn’t totally unexpected, though; during her time with the Dragoons, when they weren’t on separate missions, she’d follow him around like some lost Terrorcon. He’d never really understood the reasons behind it, though he’d heard the rumors. It didn’t matter at the moment; for the time being, she was where he could keep an optic on her.
The screen he was staring at suddenly went dark and then flickered on again, displaying a blank, blue field. The main lights came on soon after and Northclaw watched the consoles and screens around him come alive soon after while his optics adjusted to the brightness.
“That should do it,” Sustain said, pulling herself out from under the console she’d been working on. “It’s not perfect, but you should at least be able to use the intercom to communicate to the other departments.”
“Only one way to find out,” Northclaw said. He carefully pressed a button on the panel in front of him. “Command to all stations, this is a test of the onboard communication channels. If you read this, please respond.”
“Engineering here,” Scrapper’s voice answered. “We hear you loud and clear.”
“Datamatrix here, bored out of my skull.”
“Damage control here,” Mixmaster’s voice reported. “Everything’s going well down here.”
“Survey team reporting in,” Long Haul groused over a static-filled channel. “You’re coming in a little hazy down here.”
“I’ll check into that,” Sustain said. Northclaw only nodded and waited for the final check in.
“Hook here, at the laser core. Everything looks ship shape here. You want me to fire this big guy up?”
“Negative,” Northclaw replied. “We have no idea how he’ll react to having unfamiliar Decepticons crawling around inside his superstructure. Keep him in stasis for the time being; we’ll wait to wake him up once he’s been moved to a secure facility. Our priority for the moment is to get him out of his watery grave. For the time being, head to engineering and see what you can do to assist Scrapper and Scavendrill.”
“Will do; Hook out.”
Shutting off the intercom, Northclaw turned to Sustain, saying, “We’ll worry about that faulty channel later; if we have too, we’ll use our own communicators. Right now, I need you to get navigation operational. If Engineering gets those engines working, we’re going to need to know where we’re going.”
“What about the tactical systems?” Sustain inquired. “The Autobots are going to have a hard time missing this thing, provided we can get it out of the silt at all.”
Northclaw had already considered that. “Hopefully the Autobots won’t have time to react if we can get this thing moving. Once navigation is up and running, then you can worry about the weapons array.”
“Understood,” Sustain said and strode over to the navigation controls.
Dynabreaker watched the small triple changer for a moment then turned her attention to Northclaw. “Do you think the Autobots already know about this?”
“If they knew about Orcunis, I doubt he’d still be here,” Northclaw replied. “However, Vector Maximus and Blazer Prime have had their scanners locked onto your base the nanoklik it came online. You couldn’t have an oil change in that place without those two knowing about it.”
Dynabreaker nodded slightly. “I would gather using the sub your team stole from them wasn’t a good idea, either.”
Northclaw shrugged. “You got to use whatever’s at hand sometimes. But unless the scanners are run by complete idiots, it’s doubtful the Autobots would have missed a pilfered submersible leaving a Decepticon outpost.”
Sustain listened to the conversation from where she was working and decided Northclaw was correct. The Autobots had to know something was going on and it would surprise her if they didn’t send a team to investigate. She was beginning to get the idea where Northclaw got his reputation and why there were those who feared him.
The intercom crackled to life. “Datamatrix to Command Team, come in.”
“This is Command Team, Northclaw responding. What is it?”
“There’s a call coming in from Mad Nova, says it’s important.”
“Patch it down here,” Northclaw responded. He waited a moment before saying, “This is Bottom Feeder, what’s the beef?”
“Bottom Feeder, this is Coastal Puffin,” Novacula responded, his voice crackling over the speaker. “The reception’s bad on this end, you’re breaking up, gonna have to make this short.”
Sustain shook her head, smiling slightly. She had heard of the Dragoons’ reputation for coming up with some creative and unusual call signs. Then again, what Autobot would guess a Decepticon would call himself “Bottom Feeder” or “Puffin?”
“Understood,” Northclaw responded. “What’s going on up there?”
“I got some steel fish making a beeline for your position, right down Abyss Route One. Five contacts with a possible sixth.”
“Abyss Route One?” Dynabreaker inquired.
“The Laurentian Channel,” Northclaw replied. ‘Which means they either came from Nova Scotia or Newfoundland,’ he thought. He knew Vector Maximus’s personality well enough to predict how he’d react; it was Blazer Prime who was the unknown factor. “Puffin, you got a fix on their point of origin?”
“Sorry boss by the time I detected them, they were already in the middle of Route One. I estimate they’ll be over your position in a little over ten cycles.”
“Slag,” Northclaw swore. “We’re going to have to work fast on this one. Puffin, keep on their trail; I’ll have Eagle and Frigate take over your sector and have them tighten the patrol zone with Gull. If there’s one team out there, others may also be on their way. I’ll see about getting you some undersea support as well.”
“I suspect that’s not an issue; I suspect he’s already lurking nearby. Coastal Puffin out.”
‘Wouldn’t be surprised,’ Northclaw thought grimly. ‘It‘d be just like him to trail an incoming enemy and not report in, just for giggles.’
Sustain was watching him carefully. In her mind, he’d come to his decision far too quickly to be a “spur of the moment” order. She suspected he’d already thought this might happen and already had a contingency plan worked out. She said nothing, though, as she watched him silently switched channels.
“Northclaw to Sea Wolf, come in.”
“Hey, Northy, what happenin’?” replied a voice that was thickly laced with an accent similar to what humans called “Cajun.”
“Sea Wolf, we have some Autobots coming down ‘Abyss Route One’ and will be here in ten cycles or less, most likely to see what we’re up to. Could you occupy their attentions with something a little more… pressing?”
“Ah, some craw-fish want to play in the ally-gator’s turf, eh? Don’t worry yourself none there; I’ll give them a little education. How much time do ya need?”
Northclaw turned on an internal channel. “Engineering, how long before you can attempt to free this beast of a Decepticon?”
“At least a megacycle,” Scavendrill answered. “Less if Hook gets his slow as used oil skid plate down here!”
“Don’t get your tailpipe in a knot!” Hook called out over the speakers. “I’m on my way now!”
“You have five cycles, Hook,” Northclaw said and cut the channel before Hook could respond. “Long Haul, Bonecrusher, I’m placing your survey assignment on hold; I need your skills for other tasks. Bonecrusher, rendezvous with Mixmaster and Scavenger and assist with their efforts. Long Haul, head for Engineering and give them a hand down there.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. Making sure that both channels to Sea Wolf and Engineering were still open, he said, “Sea Wolf, see if you can’t keep them busy for the next forty-five cycles. Jam their communications; I don’t want them calling in reinforcements. Novacula’s in pursuit if you require assistance.”
A tiny laugh burst of laughter burst over the speakers “I can hold them Autobots off for three times that long, without assistance. Sea Wolf out.”
Sustain shook her head slightly. “Arrogant little bugger, isn’t he?” she said. “And how in the name of Primus did he get that silly accent?”
Northclaw shrugged. “He had it when we caught him. He can be a real pain in the skid plate, but he’s good at his job.”
Dynabreaker stepped forward slightly. “I should probably go up and assist him,” she said. “He may need some extra firepower.”
“Negative,” Northclaw said. “We can’t risk losing a submersible to enemy fire; we’ll need both if we have to abandon this site. Besides, Sea Wolf can handle it; he’s designed for combat in this environment. You aren’t.”
“But the charged particle cannon…” Dynabreaker protested.
“… Is useless under water,” Northclaw finished. “With respect, Princess, you’d be nothing more than a big, fat target out there.”
Sustain turned away quickly, covering her mouth with a hand, stifling an amused laugh. Dynabreaker caught it and shot an annoyed glare at her.
“We’re better off concentrating our efforts on raising Orcunis from the ocean floor,” Northclaw continued, ignoring both of them. “We’ll just have to pray that Sea Wolf’s as good as he claims and that Novacula can back him up if he isn’t.”

kaijubot_uk wrote:I do feel obliged to point out that when I wrote Deepdive's full bio I basically retconned out the shark mode in favour of this, but since I didn't do that until well after you'd asked for characters to use I'm not complaining, just making an observation.

Hey, no problem; you might even want to use this story to explain the change.

Thunderscream wrote:

kaijubot_uk wrote:I do feel obliged to point out that when I wrote Deepdive's full bio I basically retconned out the shark mode in favour of this, but since I didn't do that until well after you'd asked for characters to use I'm not complaining, just making an observation.

Hey, no problem; you might even want to use this story to explain the change.

Yeah, I had a feeling that might be a viable option after this.

Also, I'm fairly certain it's supposed to be "sealed shut" in the first paragraph of that last chapter. It's certainly not what it says at the moment.

Chapter 7
Laurentian Abyss
North Atlantic

The wise and cunning predator does not rush into an attack, does not waste energy charging at wary prey. He is patient, waits for the prey to relax, let down their guard, forget that his enemy might be hiding close by. All the while, the predator silently stalks, slowly closing the distance, creeping ever so slowly into striking range. If the predator is careful, remains patient, the prey will remain oblivious, unaware that he is now in the killing zone…
He could see them clearly, their shadows outlined against the sunlight filtering down from above. There were five of them – no, six, one was sticking close to another – hanging in the water like black chandelier crystals. He waited silently, watching from below, orange-yellow optics taking in the view. He saw no indication that they’d seen him; almost as if their attentions were directed elsewhere.
He smiled maliciously.

“We’ve reached the designated coordinates,” Phasewing reported.
“All stop,” Windracer ordered and her team slowly came to a halt. “Alcatraz, anything to our front?”
“Negative; as clear as a summer’s sky,” the sea serpent replied.
“Deepdive, you have anything?”
“Negative,” Deepdive said. “I got nothing on my scanners; back, front, up, down, and every other direction you can think of.”
Windracer waited a moment, tried to use her own scanners to probe their surroundings. She could only detect the members of her team; her sensors weren’t designed to operate in this environment and were thus limited in their range. But she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she said after a moment. “Deepdive, do you have the deep sea sonar device?”
Deepdive transformed to her robot form and withdrew a long, pole with a blinking light at its tip. “Right here.”
“Good,” Windracer said. “You and Alcatraz will dive down and scan the ocean floor. If you find anything unusual down there, anything that’s not organic or geological in origin, you report it immediately. Understood?”
“Understood,” Deepdive and Alcatraz said together.
“As for the rest of us,” Windracer continued, “we’ll arrange ourselves in a linear patrol pattern, based on depth. Subsonika, aside from Deepdive and Alcatraz, you’re the best suited for this environment; you’ll remain at this depth. Phasewing, you’ll take a position at a hundred meters below the surface; WarTrack, you’ll be on the surface itself. I’ll take to the sky and watch for any air patrols the Decepticons may have sent out.”
“Perhaps I should take the air patrol,” Subsonika offered. “I mean, I am the fastest one among us…”
“If I need assistance, I’ll call,” Windracer said. She had a reason for keeping him below everyone else; he was known for taking too many risks and this might make him a little more cautious.
“I wanna go down with Deepy and Alcy and look for Snorks!” WarTrack protested.
“Sorry, Wart,” Windracer said. “But I need your firepower at the surface; no telling what the Decepticons may have left drifting around.”
“But I wanna look for Snorks!” WarTrack shrieked. He began screaming, “I wanna I wanna I wanna!”
Alcatraz smacked him with his tail. “Knock it off!” WarTrack stopped screaming, but kept sobbing quietly, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.
“Whoa!” Deepdive suddenly exclaimed.
“What is it?” Windracer asked.
“I just picked up a high-frequency signal, origin unknown.” Deepdive paused a moment, trying to locate the signal’s origin. “Slag! I can’t pinpoint it! My scanners are being jammed!”
Alcatraz quickly ran a diagnostic on his own systems. “So am I,” he reported. “Communications and sensors are completely hosed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s affecting us all.”
Windracer quickly checked her own sensors and communication arrays and found that he might have been correct in his assumption. Her sensors were full of static and her communicator was emitting a low-pitched squeal. She glanced around and saw the others checking their own systems, with no better luck.
“Decepticons,” Subsonika hissed.
“And what brought you to that brilliant conclusion, Captain Obvious?” Phasewing snapped sarcastically. She didn’t wait for the answer and asked Windracer, “What do we do now, boss?”
“Let’s try to find out who’s jamming our equipment,” Windracer said. “Deepdive, see if you can pinpoint the source…”
She noticed the sound first; the distinctive, high-pitched whistle of a torpedo’s motor. With their scanners jammed, they had to look for the projectile visually, a task made even more difficult as the sound seemed coming from every direction. Windracer turned just in time to see four torpedoes sailing up from the depths, all of them locked on Deepdive. She tried to warn her, but it was already too late; they were too close. All four found their mark and Deepdive was torn apart in the blasts.
“Subsonika!” Windracer shouted. “Check on Deepdive! She’s been hit!”
Subsonika didn’t answer, had seen the torpedoes strike their target and was already on the move. The explosions had generated a cloud of small bubbles that obscured Deepdive’s body, so he couldn’t tell if she’d survived or not. He did notice metal shrapnel sinking into the depths and not all of it was from his companion.
“The sonar’s been destroyed!” he shouted. At that moment, he heard another whistle and looked down just in time to see another torpedo coming right at him. He managed to dodge it by mere millimeters and heard explosions behind him. He turned in time to see more torpedoes pass through the group, two of them striking Alcatraz in his underside. Alcatraz roared in pain and anger.
“’Traz!” Windracer shouted. “Are you alright?”
“Minor damage,” Alcatraz responded. He turned to dive, growling, “But that Decepticon’s gonna pay! He may think he can hide, but I know he’s down there somewhere!”
“Guess again, Autoboob!” a voice called out. Alcatraz looked up and saw a deep green mechanical mosasaur speeding towards him from the left. He turned to face the new menace, jaws wide, but the mosasaur was too agile and deftly dodged Alcatraz’s snapping teeth. It glided alongside the larger Autobot, raking his flank with blade like fins, tearing a gapping hole in the armor. Alcatraz roared in fury.
Windracer swam over to help her friend, tail pumping, but the mosasaur broke off its attack and turned its brightly glowing orange optics towards her. Advancing smoothly towards her, it launched several torpedoes from pod-like structures mounted over each of its fore-flippers. She attempted to dodge, but one found its mark. The mosasaur swam past her and weaved calmly through the rest of the team, strafing each individual with a salvo of torpedoes before disappearing into the green ocean background.
“What in Primus was that?” Phasewing demanded.

The Quintessons had originally designated him “Sharkticon, Hellscream Model 8X3,” but to his teammates he was simply known as Sea Wolf. Recruited by the Eisen Dragoons after they caught him trying to raid their stores, he had himself reformatted to his current mosasaur form and was assigned the role of sea support. It was a task that he performed with relish, even possessively by some standards.
Sea Wolf considered Hylion Prime his true home and rarely, if ever, talked about his Sharkticon past. Few knew how he’d reached the planet in the first place; the most accepted theory was that he’d been a passenger on a Quintesson transport that crashed on the planet some stellar cycles prior. When and how his unique personality was a bigger mystery; Sharkticons weren’t known to possess distinct personas.
Sea Wolf had traveled to Earth with Northclaw, Novacula and Scavendrill for their mission to raid local commerce. His job had been to rip open the unprotected keels of surface ships they’d been torpedoed, a task he performed with efficiency and eagerness. For extra practice, and much to Northclaw’s chagrin, he’d taken to sinking nuclear submarines. But even the Dragoons’ EXO had to admit that Sea Wolf’s new habit had a useful purpose and the sunken subs had been stripped of anything deemed useful. Now he had a new assignment – and new targets.
He studied his opponents warily, circling them slowly just outside their visual range. His specialized sensors could track even their slightest movements and he could see they were confused. He grinned with self-satisfaction, but knew they would recover quickly. He’d already cut down one of their sea-capable units and damaged the other, but the others, although out of their element, weren’t completely helpless and prey was sometimes at its most dangerous when wounded and frightened. They were likely expecting him to attack again… but they wouldn’t know from which direction.
Smiling cunningly to himself, he eased himself into position for the next attack run.

Windracer swam towards Alcatraz. “How are you doing, ‘traz?”
“Can’t tell,” the big serpent answered. “I hurt like the Pit, though.”
Windracer swam around him, checking on his wound. He had a horrendous gash running down his left flank, but it appeared the most of his critical systems were in good shape. He’d survive, but his injury would provide their attacker something to exploit, if it was smart enough to recognize it. She wasn’t about to take that chance.
“Can you transform?”
“I’ll try,” Alcatraz said, wincing. He activated his transformation cog, groaning as his gears and hydraulics struggled to move damaged plating. It took a couple cycles, but he managed to complete the conversion to his large robotic mode.
“That’s a relief,” Windracer sighed. “At least now you don’t have to worry about protecting a huge gash in your side.” She turned to the others. “Any sign of the thing that attacked us?”
“Not yet,” Phasewing reported. “I don’t suppose it just decided its work was complete and left?”
“And leave five functional Autobots swimming about?” Windracer inquired. “I don’t think so. It’s probably looking us over now, deciding how to hit us next.” She glanced behind Phasewing and saw Subsonika swimming up, Deepdive’s limp form draped over his shoulder. “How is she?”
“Her superstructure’s completely slagged,” Subsonika reported. “But her spark’s in stasis. She should survive.”
“If we’re lucky,” Windracer groused. “Slag it all! I should have demanded Vector Maximus equip us with better sensors. Now this Decepticon can attack us with impunity! Frag it all!”
“You did what you could, Windy,” Phasewing said. “Right now we have to deal with…” Her voice faded off and her optics went wide. “Alcatraz, it’s behind you!”
Alcatraz turned his body around to look and saw the mosasaur charging at him, transforming into a robotic form as it advanced. He heard a sound similar to that of a chainsaw and saw a cloud of small bubbles drifting up from the mech’s left arm. The mosasaur swung the arm around and down at Alcatraz. He lifted an arm to shield himself, felt a new pang of pain, heard the squeal of metal being shredded and saw sparks flying from his forearm.
Seeing her friend under attack yet again, Windracer reacted quickly. She transformed, pulled her crossbow from its holster and pointed at the mosasaur, even as it buried a shark-toothed chainsaw into Alcatraz’s limb. “Get him away from him, Decepti-scum!” she shouted as she fired an explosive bolt. The mosasaur saw it, broke of the attack, transformed back into his creature mode and swam away. The missile followed and disappeared into the haze, but it moved so pitifully slow that she knew it would never find its target.
“Slag!” Windracer swore. Alcatraz’s arm wound was bad; she could see hydraulic fluid slowly seeping from his arm and disperse into the current.
“It’s playing hide and seek,” WarTrack said.
“Yeah,” Subsonika said grimly. “It’s doing both the hiding and the seeking and it has all the advantages. It’ll be back. We’ve got to make a break for the surface.”
“Agreed, but if we try, we’ll expose our tail pipes to its crosshairs,” Windracer said, watching the depths. A plan was slowly formulating through her mind. “Subsonika, hand Deepdive to Alcatraz and make a run for the surface with Phasewing. The rest of us will stay here and see if we can’t draw its attention away from you.”
“And what if it doesn’t?” Subsonika inquired as he passed Deepdive to Alcatraz.
“If it doesn’t, then we might get a clear shot at it,” Windracer said. “If it ignores you, than you have a unobstructed path to the surface. If you break the surface and get airborne, I want you to call for reinforcements. This guy’s proof there’s something going on around here and it may have already contacted its buddies. We’ll try to join you as soon as we can, but something tells me this thing’s going to be harassing us along the way. Now move.”
Phasewing nodded, knowing this was the best they could do under the circumstances, and placed a hand on Subsonika’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” she said and immediately made a beeline for the surface at full throttle with Subsonika on her tail.

Sea Wolf was setting up for his next attack when he noticed two of the Autobots break off from the main group and head for the surface. He watched them for a moment, considering his options.
He didn’t possess the tactical genius of his commanders, but he was smart enough to realize that this was an obvious attempt to divide his attention. If he ignored them, they’d breach the surface and call in reinforcements. He could catch them easy, bring them both down, but that might leave him open to an attack from below. He was fairly certain he could attack the two ascending units before their two similar sized companions could react; it was the big one he couldn’t be sure of, even considering its damaged state.
He grunted to himself. This plan of theirs was based on the assumption that he was alone; they were wrong. He smiled to himself; he’d let Novacula deal with the two escapees.

It took awhile for Phasewing and Subsonika to reach the ocean surface, but when they did, they wasted no time in breaking through the waves and taking flight. Subsonika turned to face the sun, spreading his arms wide and lifting his chin slightly.
“Ah, glorious sky,” he said as salt water dripped off his frame. “Feel that warm sunlight.”
“No time,” Phasewing said gruffly. She quickly opened a communication channel. “Phasewing calling all Autobot units within range of this transmission. Scouting team under attack, requesting immediate reinforcements…”
A high-pitched screech, as piercing as nails being scratched along a chalkboard, broke over her communicator, making her cringe. She tried every frequency, with no success.
“Slag!” she swore. “My comlink’s down; must have been damaged in the attack. Try yours.”
Subsonika did and received the same high-pitched scream. “Mine’s down too. You don’t suppose both our comms got damaged, do you?”
She could believe one, but two was pushing it. It was more likely their communication frequencies were being jammed, but by who? Could their undersea attacker be able to jam them this far up? She doubted it; Decepticon electronic warfare systems weren’t that much more sophisticated than the Autobots’ own tech. It was more likely that there was another Decepticon in the area – but where? She checked her scanners, making certain they weren’t being blocked as well.
She heard it first; a quiet, low buzzing noise that sounded like an angry swarm of bees. Phasewing turned and saw something flying low over the water, circular in shape, spinning at an extreme speed. She realized that it was a set of helicopter blades; spiraling rapidly through the air like an oversized star shiriken. And it was heading straight for Subsonika.
“Subsonika, move!” Phasewing cried out.
Perplexed, Subsonika, who hadn’t heard the sound, turned to look and saw the weapon coming right at his face. Neither he nor Phasewing could do anything; it was moving too fast and already to close. The last thing Subsonika said before he was struck was, “Oh, bugger.”

Possibly the final chapter I post before I go on vacation. I've still got to red ink Chapter 9 and the Epilogue and Chapter 9 is (double spaced) a 17 page monster.
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Chapter 8
Orcunis, Engineering Section
Laurentian Abyss, North Atlantic

Scavendrill popped a panel off a bulkhead and peered inside, scowling at the tangled web of wiring and circuitry within. Setting the panel aside, he could hear the occasional dull thumping sound, like thunder in the distance. He knew that it wasn’t thunder at all, but explosions going off several fathoms above them, and yet still somewhat audible even at this depth.
‘Nothing like working under pressure,’ he thought glumly. Reaching into the opening, he called out, “Hook, have you brought that plasma transfer capacitor online yet?”
“Still working on it,” Hook answered from across the room.
“Work faster,” Scrapper ordered from under a large table in the center of the room.
“This is delicate work that requires precision and patience!” Hook protested. “You can’t rush perfection!”
“We don’t have time for ‘perfection!’” Scrapper shouted. “Just get it working! We can’t activate the antigravs without that device!”
Scrapper and Scavendrill had agreed to make the antigravity field generators their first priority, figuring if Orcunis couldn’t get off the ocean floor at all, there’d be no point in attempting to starting up the main engines. If that was the case, it was likely they would have to scuttle Orcunis in order to keep him away from the Autobots. That didn’t necessarily mean that they would lose him completely; Scrapper had mentioned that his submersible had a spark extractor stored in its hold; if they had to abandon and destroy Orcunis, they could at least salvage his spark. It was an extreme measure that appealed to no one, least of all to Northclaw, and gave everyone an incentive to work as hard as possible on recovering Orcunis whole.
Scavendrill ripped out a handful of fiber optic wiring as another round of thunder rumbled softly through the hull. Nearby, Long Haul looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Sounds like Sea Wolf’s having a grand old time up there.”
“Maybe,” Scavendrill growled. “But we’ve got work of our own to do. How are you coming on repairing that transmission router?”
“I’m almost done. I need some more optical cables, though.”
“Then get some.”
“And where do you suppose I obtain some?” Long Haul demanded.
“Tear it out of something we won’t regret loosing later,” Scavendrill huffed. “I’ve got a pile of it at my feet you can probably use, for Primus’s sake.”
“As do I,” Scrapper said, “so quit your griping and get to work!”
The intercom crackled to life. “Northclaw to Engineering; where the infernal Pit are those engines?”
‘Just what we need right now,’ Scavendrill thought grimly. ‘The boss breathing down our necks.’ Turning to the closest intercom, he turned it on and replied, “Don’t get your particle cannons in a twist, we’re working on it!”
“We need them online as soon as possible,” Northclaw stated. “We just received a message from Novacula; he’s just taken out one Autobot and is engaged with another at the surface. He’s blocked their communication channels, but its still possible they managed to call in reinforcements, so there’s no telling how much longer we can stay here.”
“We’re going as fast as we can,” Scavendrill said. “This entire compartment is a complete wreckage yard!”
“You have fifteen cycles,” Northclaw said blandly. “Control out.”
Scavendrill shut the intercom off with an irritable grunt. “Rebuild a fifty-thousand stellar cycle old engine practically from scratch in less than fifteen cycles,” he muttered angrily. “What in the smelter does he think we are, miracle workers?”
“We’ll have to be,” Scrapper said as switched circuit boards. “I’ve repaired the power circuits for the magnodrives. Hopefully they won’t explode when we switch everything on.”
Scavendrill said nothing, finished his own repairs and put the wall panel back in place before striding over to the central control station and gazed over a display screen. “Power levels are stable, for now,” he reported. “Hook, is that capacitor working yet?”
“Give me another nanoklik or two!” Hook retorted.
Scavendrill huffed and turned his attention to Long Haul, who said, “Before you ask, the router’s fixed and ready for activation.”
“Good,” Scavendrill said, observing Scrapper pull himself out from under the table. “All we need now is that capacitor…”
“Which is now complete,” Hook reported in an annoyed tone.
“About time,” Scrapper said. Turning to Scavendrill, he asked, “You want to run a test first before we turn this jury-rigged system on?”
“I’d prefer to,” Scavendrill said. “But with Northclaw roasting our skid plates, we’re going to have to skip it and hope nothing explodes in our faceplates.”
“Which could be prevented if we first run a test,” Hook protested. “Otherwise, we’d…”
“Shut it, Hook,” Scrapper ordered. “I’ll activate the system; Scavendrill, you keep an eye on the power levels.”
“Can do,” Scavendrill replied. Scrapper moved a hand slowly over the console, crossed his fingers, and activated the antigravity field generators. A low humming sound filled the compartment, but other than that, nothing happened.
“Power levels are stable,” Scavendrill said. “But no telling what will happen when we attempt to pull Orcunis from the muck. We better let Northclaw know that we’re ready.”
“I got it,” Scrapper said, turning on the intercom. “Engineering to Control; the antigravity generators are online; you may proceed with the attempt to raise Orcunis. We’ll start working on restoring engine power once we’re free of the sediment – if we get free.”

In the auxiliary control room, Dynabreaker sighed in relief. “It’s about time!” she said. “Navigation’s been up for the last ten cycles!”
Northclaw ignored her outburst. “Sustain, activate the antigravity field; let’s get Orcunis out of the mud. But do it slowly, I don’t want to rip out the keel completely.”
“Affirmative,” Sustain said. She moved to the helm control and pressed a key. “Antigravity field activated.”
Northclaw heard a low rumble and felt the deck under his feet shake slightly. Instinctively, he reached for the intercom. “Engineering, keep an eye on the structural integrity; I want to know immediately if the hull starts to tear itself apart.”
“Understood,” came the reply.
The rumbling grew louder and the shaking more pronounced, joined fairly quickly by the low creaking of metal. From the corner of his optic, Northclaw caught Sustain edging slowing towards the nearest exit. He didn’t blame her; if Orcunis’s superstructure was firmly stuck in the sediment and his bulkheads failed, the sea could flood the compartments faster than damage control could respond, if it could respond at all. Depending on where the breach occurred, they all might need to get out fast.
Northclaw remembered an old quote he had once read; ‘Can you draw out Leviathan with a hook, or snare his tongue with a line which you lower? Can you put a reed through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook? Will he make many supplications to you? Will you take him as a servant forever?’
Then, without warning, the whole room lurched with a loud, crunching pop. Dynabreaker fell over backwards, Sustain was sent flying, and Northclaw instinctively grabbed a console as he lost his footing, nearly ripping it out of its fittings in the process. Once the shaking stopped and he regained his sense of balance, Northclaw turned to the others and shouted, “Everyone alright?”
Dynabreaker rose slowly, rubbing the back of her head. “Wouldn’t care to go through that again. Sustain, are you still functioning?”
Sustain had ended up on the other end of the room, lying against a wall upside-down, her head on the deck and limbs dangling in front of her face. She responded sardonically, “Just fine, never been better. Thanks for asking.”
Dynabreaker went to help Sustain while Northclaw moved to the intercom. “Engineering, what the slag just happened?”
“We’re free!” Scrapper shouted. “The lower hull just broke free of the sea floor! We are now rising to the surface!”
Northclaw could hear the pride in the Constructicon’s voice and decided to deflate it a little. From what he felt, they couldn’t have freed themselves without incurring some kind of damage, outside of a few bruised egos. “Damage report,” he ordered.
Scavendrill answered, “We have some minor hull breaches on the lower decks, but the emergency bulkheads seem to be in place; Mixmaster and Scavenger have been sent to double check.”
“How soon do you anticipate having engine power restored?”
“We’ll start working on that just as soon as we all finish scraping ourselves off the deck plating.”
“What’s our estimated time to the surface?”
“At our current speed; I’d say about half a megacycle, more if we’re cautious.”
“You have until then to repair the engines,” Northclaw said. “We haven’t come this far to be stopped now. Control out.” He switched channels. “Control to Datamatrix, come in.”
There was no answered. He tried again, “Northclaw to Datamatrix, come in, now.”
Still no answer. Dynabreaker approached, saying, “Datamatrix’s has a habit of listening to his music downloads when he’s bored. He can become so enraptured that he doesn’t pay attention to anything else.”
Northclaw growled, “You sure he’s not just ignoring me?”
“He does that too sometimes,” Dynabreaker said. “In fact, he’ll use his files as a cover.”
“You want me to check on him?” Sustain asked.
“Let me try something first,” Northclaw said. “Northclaw to Datamatrix; if Datamatrix doesn’t respond to me this time, I will personally hunt him down and delete all of his downloaded files off his hard drive. It should be noted that my knowledge of computers is somewhat limited, so there is a distinct possibility that I could ‘accidentally’ delete something important.”
“So what do you want?” Datamatrix responded in a irritated tone that poorly hid the anxiety in his voice.
Northclaw glanced back and Dynabreaker and Sustain, both of whom were chuckling with amusement. “I had a feeling that would wake him up,” he said. “Datamatrix, contact Sea Wolf; tell him to break off his attack and rendezvous with us as soon as possible. Tell Novacula to break off his fight with the Autobots on his end as well and have the others reinforce his position. We’ll need their air support once we’ve surfaced. Once you’ve done that, undock your submersible and bring her into the open shuttlebay; I’ll have Sea Wolf bring in the other one.”
“You want fries with that order?” Datamatrix inquired indignantly.
“That deletion option’s still open,” Northclaw countered. “Care to push your luck?”
“Alright, alright,” Datamatrix said. “Jeez, can’t take a joke…” The intercom went dead.
“Nicely handled,” Dynabreaker said, snickering softly.
“I don’t know how your creator deals with him,” Northclaw said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Especially since he doesn’t possess near the patience everyone seems to think I do.”
“Datamatrix fears him,” Dynabreaker said. “He knows that if he steps out of line, he’ll be scrap.”
Northclaw eyed her skeptically, thinking that there had to be more to it than simple fear. He was familiar with Dynabreaker’s long standing feud with Dynamax, enough to know that her “insight” would be skewered at best.
“Sustain,” he said, turning. “Monitor our course to the surface and keep an optic on our structural integrity. Orcunis’s skin just spent the last fifty millennia holding back several thousand meters of water and I suspect we’re going to pop more than a few seams on the way up. Make sure you notify Scavenger and Mixmaster as soon as you detect any hull breach, no matter how minor.”
“Affirmative,” Sustain said, moving to a nearby console.
“Dynabreaker, once we surface, you, myself and others will take up defensive positions along the upper hull. I doubt Sea Wolf and Novacula have taken out all the Autobots and the coastal stations will indubitably pick us up on their scanners. We’ll never get Orcunis’ defense systems operational in time and I have some reservations about how effective they would be even if we did get them working. If engine power haven’t been restored by the time we surface, we’ll need to hold off any enemy patrol in the area until Scavendrill and Scrapper can bring the thrusters online.”
Dynabreaker smiled broadly. “Good, I was hoping to see some action on this trip.”
“We’re probably about to get it,” Northclaw said quietly.

I still look forward to reading it. Hope you have a good time.

Just letting the (few) folks who are interested in the conclusion of this story that I am working on it; I'm just working on a new intro for Chapter Nine that will hopefully cut it down in size.

You could always try breaking down the chapter into smaller ones. Might ease the work load a little.

The intro for Chapter Nine is, in my opinion, excessively long (I had the same issue with Novacula's discovery of the Autobots - too much exposition). Besides, I kinda want to keep story to ten chapters or below.

That's fair enough. Was just a suggestion, and I look forward to reading it even if you did feel compelled to trash my bot

Well, in any case, I can't wait to read the rest! Nice work