The Energon Pub

Farstar – Deck 3

Having completed one entire side of the deck, Strafe had moved on to the opposite side where he was in the middle of running further diagnostics on the last few escape pods. With the exception of a couple, they were all pretty much in working order. Although, some were only at ninety percent efficiency, but they would get the job done if it was necessary to abandon the ship. Apparently, Scattershot had considered the idea otherwise he wouldn’t have ordered the aerial gunner to run the appropriate diagnostics. The Farstar was a good ship, but it was too much and out gunned when it came to Decepticon warships such as the Rancor and the Pestilence. In Strafe’s estimation, it was only a matter of time before these escape pods would get used.

Scattershot’s voice came over the ship wide intercom, ordering the Technobots back to the bridge immediately. “What? But, I’m not done yet!” Strafe said out loud over all the noise as he tried to hurry along the current diagnostic he was running. He still had three more to do, but orders were orders and the mechs that might use the unchecked pods would just have to take their chances. I hope there's nothing wrong with those, the aerial gunner worried as he finished with the pod in front of him.

As he stowed away the scanner, Strafe took one final look over at the remains of Tonka and gave him one last nod. “May your spark find peace.” He then hurried down the corridor, darting around debris and electrical cables that lay and hung everywhere. It was a virtual obstacle course especially when you factored in the numerous, frantic mechs that were trying to do their jobs amidst all the chaos.

Strafe finally reached a turbo lift and quickly stepped inside just as others were getting out. I hope this thing still functions properly. I’d hate to get stuck in here, he thought as he pushed the button, sending him up to the command deck.

Farstar--Bridge

Lightspeed was keeping an active optic on the ship's integrity. They hadn't taken so much damage from their surroundings that they were going to disintegrate and float off in to the gaseous ether. If things kept going the way they were though, that option was going to be on the table.

The ship jostled again as it navigated through the dense pressure of the jovian storm.

>>"I hope you guys have got done whatever the slag it is you're doing down there...."<<

Lightspeed registered new, incoming unfriendlies. These were smaller, faster and decidedly no less hostile.

Sweeps....

"Did we just stumble on Megatron's vacation planet? Primus almighty."
___

Fortress Tenebrous

Bombshell was eager to listen to what Shrapnel had managed to glean from the gossip occurring in and around the fortress. There were apparently more Autobots. In space, no less. He couldn't help but wonder how exactly that had happened. Some had erred, but he was comfortable in the knowledge that it had not been he. Quite the contrary, he had ripped the information of the Autobots' hiding spot from Skyhammer's fertile little mind and handed it over to the Air Commandant with all necessary haste. No, he would be getting a commendation after all this was said and done.

"Tunnels....space battle. I suppose the Decepticons here wouldn't be averse to a little, eh, assistance if things do not go exactly according to plan up there."

Their situation appeared to be one of either feat or famine. Bombshell had been spoiling for more Autobots to psychologically violate, and now it seemed as though as he would soon be given a plethora of options.

"We can dally here for a while and see what happens. I don't think Turmoil will mind. I suspect he'll be occupied with the organics."

The Folassian Forest

Lockdown spared Treadshot a sideways glance, but quickly turned his attention back to the entrance of the cave. The rain continued to come down in a steady stream and it did not seem as though it would let up any time some.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to get some more work. Besides, I haven’t been compensated for this job yet.”

The bounty hunter turned once again to look at the faceless gunslinger and offered a dry smirk.

“In your case, my friend, you might still be out of work. Without finding any Autobots you’ve no one to shoot.”

Lockdown motioned for Treadshot to follow a long as he began to leave the shelter of the cave.

“Let’s get back to Koraja. I need to have a discussion with the ‘Con in charge.”

Both hired hands left the cave and quickly transformerd to their respective alternate modes and headed back to the Decepticon fortress in Koraja.

Koraja – Fortress Tenebrous

The two mechs arrived just outside of the gate to the fortress several breems after leaving the cave deep in the forest. Treadshot and Lockdown transformed back to their robot forms and approached the two guards on duty. Borehole and Wingblazer. Both were simple minded goons not worthy of even being ripped apart for spare parts.

“Hold it, you two. What business do you have here?”

Lockdown flashed both guards a charming smile, or as charming as Lockdown could actually manage, and stepped forward.

“Easy gentlemechs. My friend and I are on official business. We’d like to see Turmoil in order to…discuss some interesting business venture.”

Borehole and Wingblazer shared dubious looks before they looked back at Lockdown.

“Is that so? Well, is the Vice Commander expecting you?”

Lockdown chuckled lightly and walked past both guards, but not before he patted Borehole on the shoulder.

“Of course we are. Would I lie?”

The two mechs made their way into the fortress and began their search for the Vice Commander.

Farstar - Engineering
Scattershot stopped briefly at the base of the turbo lift. His attention split at the announcement from the internal loud speakers and the announcement of the recently revived Breakaway. Sweeps were the last thing they needed in this situation, but he had already figured that some fighter or drone would be dumb enough to approach the Farstar within this writhing soup of a planetary atmosphere. As the doors slid open, Scattershot looked over his shoulder with a smirk. "Soon you'll have more than enough to satisfy that energon thirst of yours Breakaway. But for now... Join me on the bridge. I am sure we can use a third gunner for this operation."

Farstar - Bridge

The Technobot commander emerged from the turbolift at a dash and swung straight into his command chair. His fingers immediately danced across the console within the command chairs arm rest. Bringing forth the small command holograph screen. His command codes brought him access to the hazed still frames of contacts that had been picked up on radar, and a smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. It was a piece of evidence that Scattershot filed away for future anaylsis. Given from what he knew of the Sweeps and their commander, they were hunters by trade. Dedicated enough that they would not willingly break off a hunt to begin a fresh one... unless there was nothing to hunt down on the surface.

He pressed that thought to another subfile in his hard drive. Soon the lift doors open again and the other three members of his command staff emerged to take their places. Pointing to the secondary missile guidance system he ordered Breakaway to take position. Offering only a cursory overview of the system itself, primarily because they were so basic, and secondarily because he really didn't have time for a fullbore training session.

As the three Technobots, Nosecone, Strafe and Afterburner completed their log ins and brought their own terminals online, Scattershot looked on to the main forward view screen. "Alright Lightspeed. Final systems check. Enter that course protocol you established and prepare for departure."

"Afterburner, release hatch on waste desposal units one through four. Do not use the automated ejection, just let our debris float away."

"Nosecone, release the bouys to intermingle with the trash. Same restrictions. Propelling them away from the ship will only serve to have them detected earlier. Just so long as one survives, we've won this little battle."

"Strafe, shunt power to main forward cannon and load torpedo tubes one through four. We're only going to get one shot at this, don't fire until we have the Rancor dead to rights. Take it down and we'll have a clear run to the planet. Remember, we're going to leave these Decepticons an oily burning mess before this is all said and done."

Scattershot paused briefly as he looked back to the absolute rear of the bridge. "Breakaway. Your job, help the gunners keep those Sweep bastards off our aft. No sense going through all this hard work if they end up knocking us back to the All Spark before we can pay our proper respects."

"Scattershot to Engineering... Prepare transwarp engines. Activate static warp bubble."The chorus of responses echoed through the bridge as the primary lights dimmed to battle conditions. Life support systems were brought to their lowest safest levels in order to bring about the daring goals that the Technobot Commander had devised.

"Alright Lightspeed. The ball is in your court. Give me a target and take us up."

FarStar - Bridge

Afterburner flexed his fingers and shoulder struts as he entered the bridge with Nosecone. The only reason for them to be called from their assigned duties would be to bash some ’Cons. His previous beliefs in Scattorshot’s incompetence and other insults were quickly forgotten. Soon, preferably minutes, he’d be allowed to do what he did best.

Taking his seat at the secondary weapons console Afterburner activated the system and watched the weapons begin to power up. The signals of the Sweeps were highlighted on his scopes and once they were in range he pressed the firing studs without waiting for Scattorshot’s orders.

He smiled as the lasers lit up the readouts on the screen in front of him. His smile broadened as some of the blips from the screen. At least he got their attention. “You can’t hide Sweeps.” His voice was low as he continued to fire relentlessly.

"Afterburner, release hatch on waste desposal units one through four. Do not use the automated ejection, just let our debris float away."

What? At first Afterburner didn’t twitch for half an astrosecond then turned his head enough to see Scattorshot. There was more at stake than his own agenda, but to assign him to garbage duty at a time like this? His energon ran hot before he turned back to the controls. Casually, he reached to the side control port and imputed his commands bringing the desired waste disposal units online. A press of a button was all that was needed to disengage the ejection system, another button opened the hatchways allowing their trash to float away.

“Waste disposal units one through four released. “Care to inspect them first hand… boss?” Without glancing back he pressed the studs again unleashing another volley towards the incoming blips.

Farstar Bridge

Nosecone walked into the Bridge with Afterburner and walked at a slow steady pace to his station and sat down and began to prepare the Buoys for departure. He heard the pneumatic pistons open and a large object clank on the side and that signified that Nosecone should release the buoys as ordered. He pressed the button to release and he heard to release mechanisms firing and the buoys were released to carry their precious cargo to tell the Autobots of their findings.

"Buoys released, sir." Nosecone said to Scattorshot.

He grimaced and stared blankly at the screen and began to think about just how they are going to get out of this situation.

We need to do something unexpected... Nosecone thought and he knew he was right, the enemy plans for what they do, so do something spastic and rub it in their faceplates.

Fortress Tenebrous

Galen stared up at the massive metal man, still somewhat amazed that he was able to carry on a conversation with these creatures. He was even more surprised to hear that the creature had given any consideration at all to how they had been treated on the way here.

“No. None among our number was mistreated in any way,” Galen began, feeling some of his earlier indignation steadily beginning to return. “I must ask … now that we have been summoned here, what—exactly—do you want from us?”

When Scorponok had first made his gargantuan presence known within the halls of their Capital Dome, he had made clear that he, and this Megatron, wanted the Nebulans’ submission. Now that it had been given to them within the requested time deadline, there had to be a next step. There had to be a reason that the entire Council of Peers had been summoned here. Galen was curious to know what it was.

“Answer the question, you walking playtoy! We all have more important things to do than bow and scrape in the presence of oversized, talking houses!” another one of the Peers shouted. Many others in his vicinity gasped audibly, and several moved to put additional distance between themselves and one of the more disruptively brash members of their assemblage.

Farstar – Bridge

Strafe entered the bridge and found that most of his teammates had already arrived. If it hadn’t been for the slowness of the turbo lift, he would have been there sooner. Taking a seat at his designated console, the aerial gunner performed the necessary log in procedures and brought his station online. He then listened to his commander give out further orders to everyone assembled.

“You got it, sir,” was Strafe’s only response as he took to the task he had been given. His actuators danced quickly across his terminal keys as he transferred power directly into the primary forward cannon before loading up torpedo tubes one through four just as he was instructed. He then set his sights directly ahead as he waited for the Rancor to appear on his targeting screen. Instead, all he saw were numerous blips indicating that Sweeps were moving in. In typical fashion, Afterburner responded by firing on them and Strafe did everything he could not to follow suit. Neither the main cannon nor the torpedoes were meant for taking out smaller targets such as Scourge’s minions. Instead, patience was the key as the aerial gunner waited for Lightspeed to move the ship out of hiding and hopefully reveal a clear shot of the Rancor.

“Forward battery is ready as are torpedo tubes one through four. Just give me a Decepticon war ship to fire on and I’ll take her down, sir,” an anxious Strafe reported to Scattershot as he gripped the controls tightly, awaiting just the right moment to strike.

Farstar--Bridge

Once the other Technobots had found their way back to the bridge, Lightspeed began to feel more in his element again. Piloting the ship was great, and he wouldn’t trade the job for any other duty aboard the Farstar, but there was just something about having your teammates by your side, especially at times like this. He had hoped that they would all make it back to the bridge, as he had already seen some preliminary casualty reports being entered in to the ship’s logs. So far, so good.

“Alright, here goes everything,” Lightspeed said, bringing the ship out of impulse and cranking the engine speeds back up, forcing the Farstar out of the Jovian cloud structures and on a chaotic course back towards this ‘Nebulos’, whatever it was.

No sooner had they exited the clouds, than Lightspeed visually registered the presence of incoming Sweeps. Several of them veered out of the significantly larger ship’s pass, even as they let loose with a flurry of stray energy shots. He could also clearly register the larger Decepticon vessels further back, though one of them had dared to position itself perilously close to the planet. It registered as the Rancor.

“Optimum target right there. Let her have it,” Lightspeed, banking the ship hard to port, allowing it to clip one of the bypassing Sweeps. He was going to have to push it if they were going to make it planetside before they got obliterated out here in the cold depths of space.

One of the Sweeps appeared to be on a direct collision course with their bridge. It wasn’t firing wildly like the others. When Lightspeed steered one way, the Sweep adjusted.

“Oh, man….”

Just when it seemed that it was going to collide directly with their viewscreen, the Sweep pulled up. Lightspeed felt something on the ship jerk a little, but he didn’t know what. None of the sensors had suddenly gone screwy. They were all still alive, that’s all that really mattered. Hope renewed in his mind, at least for a few more astroseconds—hopefully breems—Lightspeed pushed the engines even harder as the Farstar sped towards Nebulos.

Farstar – Bridge

Strafe kept his optics closely trained on his targeting computer as Lightspeed adjusted the Farstar’s course and took them out of the Jovian clouds and directly into Decepticon-filled space. The Sweeps were the first attackers that appeared, no longer just mere blips on a screen, while the larger enemy ships were positioned behind them, but not too far away. In particular, the Rancor was situated much closer than the rest of the ‘Con fleet and that suited the aerial gunner just fine as it gave him a clearer shot at his intended target.

“There you are! Come to papa!” Strafe muttered with excitement as he first unleashed a volley of torpedoes from all four tubes directly at the Rancor, hoping they would strike the war ship’s engines and disable her. The aerial gunner then followed up that attack by firing the primary forward cannon, aiming for the Rancor’s own chief weapons systems in an effort to allow the numerous projectiles to do their job without being shot down. With any luck the ‘Con vessel would soon be dead in space, a burning husk that would allow the Farstar to reach Nebulos intact or at least whole enough to keep them all from ending up as scrap metal.

“Torpedoes away, sir!” Strafe yelled out to Scattershot and the rest of his comrades as he continued laying down suppressive cannon fire at the approaching Rancor. He ignored the incoming Sweeps the best that he could and remained focused on destroying the enemy war ship directly ahead. The aerial gunner did flinch slightly at the one Sweep that almost collided with the bridge, but otherwise he remained firm and did not let up on the trigger, not one bit.

Farstar- Engineering

Scattershot looked over his shoulder with a smirk. "Soon you'll have more than enough to satisfy that energon thirst of yours Breakaway. But for now... Join me on the bridge. I am sure we can use a third gunner for this operation."

"Yes, commander Scattershot, sir!" Breakaway grinned, saluting once more.

Making sure he held the salute until the commander turned away, Breakaway followed Scattershot to the bridge.


Farstar- Bridge

As Scattershot ran from the lift to his central chair, Breakaway entered more slowly, half in awe, half wanting to run straight to the forward cannons. This was a huge privilege, he knew, for a low-class warrior such as himself to be invited to the bridge alongside the Technobots. Looking around the room, he tried to spot where he would be placed.

His excitement lessened, however, as both the main guns became occupied by Afterburner and Strafe- and he tried his best not to frown or seem ungrateful as the commander pointed him to the furthest point in the room.

Saluting, Breakaway trotted up the steps around the lift and up onto the rear platform where the secondary missiles were located. As he brought the guns online and listened to Scattershot's command to help clear away the Sweeps, Breakaway came to the realization that he was being pushed aside, placed into the corner until the commander had something else for the low-ranking warrior to do.

Still, this was a huge opportunity, and Breakaway would make sure not to waste it. After all, the Technobots were important bots, and they were sure to have friends in high places- maybe even the Aerialbots. At the thought of this, Breakaway's despair turned into determination. All he had to do was make sure he did a good job, and maybe Scattershot could put in a good word for him. Breakaway gritted his teeth and gripped the triggers tighter.

"Secondary missiles online, sir!" He yelled over his shoulder.

As he sent off a barrage of bullets and explosives at the incoming Sweeps, Breakaway grimaced. He would make sure he would be remembered.

Fortress Tenebrous

Shrapnel stood in confusion as Bombshell voiced his decision to stay put. This was not an outcome he had foreseen- in fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind. To pass up two opportunities so grand was a waste, he thought.

Barely mumbling a response, Shrapnel turned away from his Insecticon brothers and marched towards the Fortress. Bombshell surely had some sort of plan, there must have been some way this decision would work in his favor, otherwise they would have kept moving, Shrapnel was sure of it.

Nevertheless, they were stuck here for now, and while they were, he could at least get out of the rain. Stomping through the fortress doors, Shrapnel supercharged his body with electricity, instantly causing all the liquid dripping from his form to evaporate. Once he was dry, he pushed his way past the entrance guards and began wandering the halls. He had seen some of the smaller skin-laden things being escorted in here shortly after his own arrival, and he was curious as to their purpose. Following the sounds of conversation, he found himself standing in the doorway of the command center, where, sure enough, the little ankle-high bloodsacks were gathered to meet with commander Turmoil.

Never one for politics, Shrapnel was tempted to leave until one of the tiny green meat-lumps had the gall to insult the commander.

As he awaited eagerly for Turmoil's response to the meatstick, Shrapnel decided that maybe politics had some exciting potential after all.

Fortress Tenebrous

“I must ask … now that we have been summoned here, what—exactly—do you want from us?”

Turmoil had expected this question, curiosity was after all a defining feature in these carbon-based organic bipeds. Much like in the similar feeble beings inhabiting the solar system Starscream's infiltration unit had been assigned to. Satisfying their curiosity was in fact largely the reason he had invited the Council of Peers into his fortress. Of course, it was not everything he had in mind.

"All in due time councilor." Turmoil stated, sitting down on his command throne while taking notice to the arrival of Shrapnel. Interfacing with the fortress' computer systems, Turmoil called forth an amphitheater like assembly of seats from the floor. "Sit."

At this point, one of the Nebulans apparently lost his mind due to the overbearing stress the situation before him was likely causing to the Nebulans - and shouted something that was clearly shunned by his fellow councilors. Turmoil's visor began flashed eerily as his gaze fell on this pathetic little man. How easy it would be destroying a being this feeble, yet it did not feel fitting. Nor could the arrogance of this meatsack go unpunished.

"You speak out of your place fleshling." Turmoil stated coldly. "Shrapnel, seize the insolent one. I am sure he will know his place after a short treatment from Bombshell."

Clearly, the massive Decepticon warlord was not about to continue the meeting before the troublesome Nebulan had been removed from his presence.

Fortress Tenebrous

There were quiet murmurs of discussion amongst the members of the Council of Peers as this massive Turmoil creature first addressed Galen and then turned his attention to the one that had voiced the frustrations that several of them surely felt but none had either the desire or courage to speak. The Nebulan in question, a Councilor from the Thok region, had found himself quite alone in expressing his frustrations so boisterously. Galen, in fact, had such words within his own heart, but his mind told him that now was not the time to voice their dissatisfaction. Now was the time to learn more.

When Turmoil had made the amphitheater-like seating available, Galen was the first to move towards one of the seats in the center-front row. Others began steadily filling in the seats around him, the grouping expanding steadily outward from Galen’s seat.

“I appreciate the fact that you have not ended the life of Councilor Muro, though I am sure your customs would warrant such. His frustrations are surely felt by others, but his timing and manner of expression were ill chosen. For that, I apologize on behalf of this council.”

Galen rested his chin thoughtfully on the edges of his knuckles.

“We are here at your summoning. Your control over our world is obvious and now uncontested. What would your leaders have of us?” Galen asked again, wording the question from before only slightly differently.

___

Bombshell had found himself incredibly intrigued by the arrival of the little green Nebulans. Many of them he recognized from their first appearance within the Nebulan capital structure. He wanted to know why Turmoil had brought them here. The tunnels could wait. The mystery of what happened to one of Ransack’s drones, as well as the other two Decepticons who had not reported in, would become clear once they invested enough mechpower in to finding out. And Bombshell intended to do just that, unless the Nebulans’ presence here held some answers. And the space conflict? Curious though it was, there was nothing that the likes of them could do to affect that in any form.

Arriving only a few short moments after Shrapnel within the main command hall of the newly constructed Decepticon base of operations, Bombshell had arrived just in time to hear that Turmoil had already remanded one of the natives in to his personal care.

How…delicious.

“And what shall I do with him, vice commander?” Bombshell said, his actuators rubbing against one another with not small amount of obvious anticipation. He hadn’t been able to toy with the natives the way he had wanted to yet. Perhaps that was about to change.

He could hope.

Fortress Tenebrous

“We are here at your summoning. Your control over our world is obvious and now uncontested. What would your leaders have of us?”

"Your cooperation." Turmoil replied to Galen's question in very direct manner before Bombshell decided to interrupt his meeting with the Nebulans.

Annoyed by being interrupted time and time again, the look the massive Decepticon commander gave the Insecticons did not leave much of room for error when it came to understanding his message, especially with the addition of Turmoil extending his cannon arm to point at the door the Insecticons had came from and the following internal communication. >>"Make the meatbag see things our way."<<

Turning his attention back to the Council of Peers, Turmoil contemplated for a moment to reduce the whole group of disgusting organic creatures into ashes, more out of frustration than out of malice. It did not take too long for him to abandon such thoughts. In the end, these creatures did not deserve his hatred. They were weak in so many ways, near perfect examples of why the Cybertronians were clearly the highest lifeforms in the galaxy. These Nebulans were unquestionably lifeforms that needed the guiding hand of their betters. If they needed to be helped through sheer brute force due to their faulty views, so be it.

"Mighty Megatron demands obedience. Peace through his superior wisdom. You have taken the first step by submitting to his rule." Turmoil addressed his audience. "Our efforts of uniting the galaxy under his supreme vision demand sacrifices from all sentient species."

A holographic view of slowly rotating Nebulos appeared before the Nebulans as Turmoil continued. "And mostly due to the dangerous separists of our own species. Progeny of old corrupted regime that saw fit to reduce our home world into a wasteland in their boundless hubris. You have even met some of them. While we offered you a chance of surrender, they did not hesitate to fire upon your city just to eliminate our presence while their leader tried to buy your trust through lies."

"We have no desire to affect the way of your life on larger scale. Your council is allowed to continue as the ruling body of your species under our supervision. However, this is not without a price." Turmoil added. "We will require a considerable share of your energy output and natural resources as well as a no access zone of 1000 kilometers in diameter around Tenebrous. This is not negotiable."

Farstar - Bridge

Brilliant flares of power illuminated the holographic view screen at the head of the bridge as the main cannon burst to life through the thick atmospheric soup that had been their cover for the past two breems. The clouds parted from the edge of the singularity as if they had been plowed aside by a cosmic hand. The Farstar's forward bow was lit by the bright crimson of spitting fire and shedding rocket fire as the forward cannon vomited its stored battery contents like a great dragon emptying its chemical cocktail.

Scattershot's optics polarized immediately as soon as the first alert signaled the shunting of power from nearly all systems into the main forward battery, but even still he had been forced to turn away from its powerful effects. Once the klaxon had silenced, the second alert telling the bridge crew that the power to their primary systems had been restored, he returned his view back to the forward viewer. Stray ions and charged particles lined the weapons firing path, causing the storms to part like the divine sea of some mythical epic. The torpedoes themselves like guided spears aimed straight at the heart and head of the enemy destroyer... with vengeful intentions. It was the picture that Scattershot had envisioned when he had set the preparations into motion. Though he doubted that the attack would outright destroy the Rancor, he had calculated that the range from which they would hit it would leave her badly damaged and possibly at the tender mercies of the ravenous gas giant.

Shockwaves from the initial detonation of all of the forward weapons shook the Farstar. Electrical panels began to fall from their brackets and crash upon the decks below. Scattershot's armrest monitor was already flashing with a river of damage reports as they happened in real time, he ignored them. Soot soon followed as fires were suppressed as they ignited by the overhead suppression units... but even those black marks were trivial to the overall success of the plan they were embarking upon.

Scattershot ordered the Frigate to quicken its pace up through the corridors that it had carved through the atmosphere. Ions danced across the clouded funnel, keeping it walled and at bay as the Farstar ascended. The particles from its primary impulse engines further exciting those charged elements that had been over energized.

The engine bells were burning white as the charged plasma was forced through their nozzles into the stellar mix of the Jovian atmosphere. Desperation was within sight as the rectangular vessel raced against the clock and the globule of distorted subspace behind them.

Scattershot smirked inwardly as the field began to churn and push within its stellar space, ripped from the very nature of the subspace and time field. It did not matter, by the time the Decepticons recognized the anomaly for what it was, they would have been shot out of the galactic cannon towards their destination. Of course they were going to be given the choice… respond to the pending emergency calls from their damaged Rancor, for which ruby rose buds began to sprout across its forward decks and under carriage as a result of the yellow photon seeds the crew of the FarStar had sowed.

Sparks and flame licked across the ceiling of the bridge, acrid smoke roiled through the bursting panels and vents. Debris began to once again litter the deck as plastics flew from their moldings and cascaded upon the bridge crew as automated weapons from the fighters and escort vessels returned fire onto the fleeing Autobot warship. The ship rocked under the impacts of quad and ion laser burst, sending even more debris upon the deck. Still Scattershot remained a solid rock. His face was expressionless, doing his best to hide the quiet excitement he was experiencing.

Quietly the ship commander allowed his optics to drift to the armrest and the monitors located within. The screen immediately separated into four windows. Two of them indicated weapon statuses and damage reports from both the Farstar as well as those recorded from the Rancor. The final screen was a simple chronometer, wired with the progression of the static warp bubble and the transwarp field that was being generated within. Soon the bubble would rupture and they would be propelled across the system. The clock was on its final seconds.

Five seconds left. “Scattershot to all hands… Brace for impact.” Three seconds remained on the clock. Scattershot tightened his fingers into a balled fist. The monitors switched from the weapon scanner filters to those of the engine diagrams. Power levels, sensor scans and field generation stats. Time was almost up… the field barrier began to burble to the extreme limits of physics. And soon… the clock struck zero.

He never really had a desire to feel what the terrains on the planet of Earth, where Prime and his division had been dispatched, called a billiard ball felt. A small spherical wooden ball struck by a larger piece of timber as it was dispatched nearly uncontrollably on calculated path of mathematics and angles. Colliding with other bodies as it traveled sending them into various pockets for storage was not how he envisioned his time on this voyage on the Farstar. Unfortunately this was knowledge he was gaining through experience. The bridge rattled with the intensity of a planetary quake. Consoles tore from their braces and flew across the chamber, one striking at the back of the command chair. The filters that had once thrived in action, or at least managed to keep the remaining atmosphere of the bridge clear of smoke and other contaminants were now choked with magnesium and argon particles from the fires that surrounded their fixtures.

The Farstar lanced through space in a burst of light before rematerializing on the opposite end of the weapon arcs of the Decepticon destroyers and cruisers that had tracked them to that Jovian. Behind it the frigate left a fountain of atmosphere at both ends of their launch point. Radiation soaked the region of space, causing most inactive sensors problems with interference and distortion. Particles would fly in the various directions of the compass causing havoc to the nearby ships, striking shields and sapping power, in other words, Scattershot’s crew had created a major navigational hazard for years to come.

It did not matter. By his estimation the buoys had been completely mixed within the planetary ionosphere. They would remain inactive until the portable timers counted down and activated the scanners designed to detect interdictor fields. Once clear they would launch towards the edge of the solar system. If his plan worked then all he needed was for one probe to transmit, just one and Maximus would arrive to settle the debt. Until that came to pass, he and the Technobots would hold the line.

The bridge had gone dark as the transwarp field collapsed and they fell back into reality. The Farstar tumbled end over end briefly before the subsystem thrusters reactivated and reorientated the vessel towards Nebulos. They had a head start towards the planet, but it meant little. He knew their speed was cut by half and that the surviving Decepticon squadron would be on them in a matter of moments. It also didn't help that they had fried the Transwarp generator, subspace engines and even gate access thrusters. All they were left with was impulse and thrusters. He hesitated to hear the reports from the lower decks but he knew full well that there had been fatalities... it was just a matter of who and how many.

“Lightspeed, make a break for that planet. Don’t worry about finesse, just get us within range. Nosecone, status report to all systems. Afterburner, Strafe, Breakaway… keep those slag sucking tin plated aluminum skirt wearing Decepticreeps off our aft for as long as possible.”

Farstar Bridge

Nosecone looked up from his chair slowly, even through disaster, and nodded to Scattorshot after orders were received. Nosecone brought up a holographic model of the Farstar on his console. It seemed that there were a large amount of damage to the hull, including the communications relay. The Engines were in fair condition thankfully, the life support was intact, also a quite good thing. However the Sensor relay's outer cage was breached leaving the inside sensor relay open to space debris. The Shields were not able to take serious fire from the Decepticons, but they were running at 32%. The Weapons were still running, but they have lost some of the turrets.

"Engines at optimal level, the hull has a breach on the top level near the living quarters, the Long Range Communication's Relay won't be functioning any time soon unless repairs can be made, the Sensor Relay's outer cage has been breached, the Life Support is in good shape, that can be still functioning until we run out of power. The Shields are running at 32%, we can't take much more of Decepticon fire. The Weapons are still functioning at optimal range, we have lost some turrets on the forward bow and on the stern flap above the engines." Nosecone briefed Scattorshot on the condition of the systems while a panel fell from the ceiling and crashed into the back of Nosecone's seat, and onto the floor.

"Can we aim for the Decepticon's base on Nebulos before we crash, sir?" Nosecone added with a hearty smile to brighten the situation.

Fortress Tenebrous

Bombshell looked to Turmoil for a few moments, analyzing the meaning behind his superior officer’s words before accepting that they did indeed mean what he hoped they meant: finally, he was going to be able to probe with the minds of one of these natives. He had been quietly waiting for the opportunity ever since they had arrived here. The encampment they had created would have been ideal, but this would be a suitable replacement for the time being.

“By your command, Bombshell said, taking hold of the brash Nebulan councilor and leading him out of the meeting hall so that Turmoil could continue with your affairs.

“This is madness! Your kind expects the impossible!” the smaller Nebulan shouted, even as Bombshell continued to lead him away.

“Eh, yes, our demands can seem quite rigid at first. Tell me more.

Kickback, for his part had remained silent, quietly observing the entire exchange and trading a quick glance with Shrapnel before returning his attention to Turmoil’s proceedings. Let Bombshell have his fun. Kickback was more interested to see the green-skinned organics’ reaction to the Decepticon Vice Commander’s latest set of expectations.

___

Cyclonus remained eerily silent as well, his optics coldly staring down the Nebulan assemblage as they had filed in to the room and took their places as Turmoil had instructed.

He had wondered which one of them would be the first to voice their displeasure over the circumstances they had been put in to. When one of them finally did, Cyclonus’ optics took particular note of that Nebulan. He made a mental log note to inquire further about that one later. On the whole, they seemed to be taking Turmoil’s explanation better than he would have expected of most organic species. In truth, they were being offered a more generous existence than many worlds that the Decepticon Empire conquered. They would be able to continue with their lives more or less as they saw fit, so long as they were willing to cede the requisite resources. If they possessed any inherent wisdom at all, they would find some way to eke out a satisfactory existence from those resources that remained while the 2nd Expansion Fleet used this planet to suitably enhance the Decepticon war machine.

Other worlds had fared worse. Far worse.

When one of the apparent leaders of this little green collective stood up, Cyclonus took note of his presence as well.

“We have not come here to negotiate. I believe many of us recognize that the time for that has passed, and is ultimately futile. We simply came to hear what you would have us do. If those are indeed the terms of your leader, Megatron, then we will see it done,” the Nebulan said.

“Protect us from the usurpers who would destroy us!” another Councilor called out.

Cyclonus remained silent, his face expressionless. But he could not help but think that the Decepticons’ arrival here was the best thing that could possibly happen to a helpless, weak society such as this one.

Farstar – Bridge

Strafe’s grin widened considerably as the forward cannon unleashed it’s fury on the approaching Decepticon vessel followed closely by the assortment of torpedoes striking the forward sections as well as the underside of the Rancor. To what extent the enemy warship had been damaged was not yet known, buy hopefully it would be enough to get them past it to safety. However, their other primary concern was the attacking armada of Sweeps as they unloaded their own weapons fire onto the fleeing Autobot ship. The bridge was rocked with a series of explosions, sending debris flying everywhere and almost knocking the aerial gunner to the floor. He held on though as fire and smoke escaped from the ceiling but was quickly extinguished by the still functioning suppressors.

“What a ride!” Strafe shouted as he pulled himself straight up in his chair and grabbed a hold of the controls once more. The primary forward cannon was spent, power once again flowing to the appropriate systems. Likewise, the torpedo tubes were empty. It was, therefore, time to man to secondary weapons systems and take out the white and blue bombers that were now a more immediate threat to the Autobots' survival.

However, before Strafe could fire upon Scourge’s minions, Scattershot called for everyone to brace for impact. The aerial gunner held on tight to the console in front of him as the Farstar lurched forward suddenly, appearing to vanish and then re-materialize in an instant beyond the attacks of their Decepticon foes. The bridge shook again and went dark as the Autobot ship tumbled slightly through space before being righted once more. What they left behind in their wake was something Strafe would be hard pressed to explain as only a true scientist would be able to understand the ramifications of the atmospheric radiation that they had managed to spread across their rear flight path. Instead, the nervous 'Bot simply thanked Primus for making it this far and then returned his attention to the task at hand.

Before Scattershot even had a chance to give his order, Strafe was one step ahead of him. “Already on it, Commander!” The aerial gunner shouted as he initiated the ship’s aft weapons array and opened fire on the armada of Sweeps that were beginning to close in behind them as they tried to make a break towards Nebulos. Several of the white and blue ‘Cons were destroyed by the Technobot’s sharp shooting, while others managed to evade his initial strike. It was no matter as Strafe would not stop firing until every last Sweep was reduced to a burnt-out dead husk, drifting lifelessly through the cold, emptiness of space.

FarStar - Bridge

Afterburner paused from his firing following Scattorshot’s orders. While he didn’t see eye to eye with his leader this was one time he completely agreed. He sat in his seat with his hands locked on both sides of his weapons console silently praying to Primus his atoms wouldn’t be scattered across the cosmos.

Once the mini warp was finished he looked around to make sure he was still functioning. What filled the view screen and his readouts was something no mech had ever laid eyes on, at least as far as he knew. He thought about throttling Scattorshot for putting him through this but he decided against it. There were still Cons to slag. It took him a few seconds to release his grip from the weapons console surprised the weapons systems weren’t further damaged. The warp even gave his enough time to cool down until they were deep in the green. A small grin appeared on his faceplate until he saw the limited energy. “Scrap.”

“Lightspeed, make a break for that planet. Don’t worry about finesse, just get us within range. Nosecone, status report to all systems. Afterburner, Strafe, Breakaway… keep those slag sucking tin plated aluminum skirt wearing Decepticreeps off our aft for as long as possible.”

What? He’s got to be… oh frag it. Afterburner turned down the dispersal pattern on his weapons. With luck the finer beams would save some energy but it’d require better aim. “Can’t make things easy can ya boss.” With a sly smile he took longer to aim then pressed the firing studs. Every circuit in his being screamed against bombarding them but by his count he only tagged a couple the last time. Besides, there’d be more opportunities when the Sweeps realized his side was firing less. Then he’d start having some fun.

The Perdition--Bridge

Reflector continuously monitored the energy discharges and trajectories of the various craft that were currently involved in the space conflict around Nebulos, three pairs of optics taking in a continuous stream of facts and figures.

>>”Rancor—status update?”<< Reflector transmitted through the main communications grid.

>>”…..ta….heavy…..ire……..secondary systems unrespons……”<< came the garbled, static-laden reply from Death-Grip.

Reflector continued to watch, zooming in on an image of the Autobot vessel. It appeared to be foregoing the cover that the Jovian planet had previously provided and they were now engaged in something akin to a suicide run, directly for Nebulos.

If that was their goal, Reflector was only too pleased to aid them.

>>”Pestilence, intercept and destroy whatever remains,”<< Reflector then transmitted to Venom’s vessel as he began to move the Perdition on to an intercept course as well, even as the Sweeps continued their orbital assault on the Autobot ship.

___

Farstar—Bridge

Lightspeed tried as best he could to keep the ship steady, despite the barrage of weapons fire that they were currently taking, doing his best to give the ship’s gunners their best shot at getting a solid lock on their intended targets.

Lightspeed had known that Scattershot’s order was going to come sooner or later. Now that the buoys had been let go, they couldn’t stay up here and hope to outrun the Decepticons—not with Sweeps on their tail—and they certainly weren’t going to win in a firefight. Nebulos was really their only hope now. Whatever was waiting for them down there probably wasn’t a whole lot better than what they were facing up here, but at least there was an Autobot presence somewhere that they could make contact with and maybe lend some support to.

“This is gonna hurt,” Lightspeed said, gripping the controls tighter as the ship shuddered all around them. Sensors went offline and came back again as the systems tried to recalibrate. More than once, Lightspeed had noticed a partial engine failure, but thankfully those had not quit entirely either. By Primus, they might actually make it to the planet's surface in one piece.

Might.

"I could really use an energon surge right about now."

Fortress Tenebrous

As Bombshell walked past Shrapnel with the disagreeable Nebulan, Shrapnel tapped the comm on the side of his head. "Remain in contact, contact. It would be best if we were capable of reassembling our small band quickly, if necessary, necessary." Then, after watching Bombshell travel down the long corridor, Shrapnel exchanged a quick glance with Kickback before turning to face the gathered monarchs once more. However, he made sure to take a step back so Kickback would be first in line for any threats or- Shrapnel's antennae twitched with uncharacteristic nervousness- punishment Turmoil may feel the need to dole out on the two remaining insects. After all, though he hated the thought, and would never outright admit it...

...Turmoil frightened him. And Shrapnel despised him for that.

This hate, amplified by Shrapnel's wariness of the mech, led him to crave battle with his commander and destroy the source of this hateful emotion. But even when struck by such a war-lust, he knew better than to pick a fight with his superior. There was a reason he held the rank he did, so these feelings were pushed to the back of Shrapnel's processor.

Rather than lingering on these thoughts of rage and battle, Shrapnel instead focused his attention on the circle of tiny lifeforms in front of him. His decision to stay had been based on hope rather than real interest- there was always the chance of something even a little interesting happening. Who knew, maybe another mushbag would need a lesson as well. Perhaps one of a more... extreme teaching.

Farstar- Bridge

Even though he had known it was coming, the ship's jump still caught Breakaway by surprise. The sudden lurch threw him from his chair, and he was only saved from being thrown across the bridge by his grip on the cannon's triggers. As he scrabbled back into his seat, making sure nobot saw him, Breakaway nursed a burn on his wing caused by a bit of debris that had been hurled at him during the jump. Attempting to scrape away the blackened scarring with his palm, the Sweep's resumption of their attack almost threw him once more. Ignoring his injury and returning his optics to the black of space, he pulled the triggers in his hands and continued the fight.

“Lightspeed, make a break for that planet. Don’t worry about finesse, just get us within range. Nosecone, status report to all systems. Afterburner, Strafe, Breakaway… keep those slag sucking tin plated aluminum skirt wearing Decepticreeps off our aft for as long as possible.”

The command from Scattorshot could barely be heard over the cacophony of guns and explosions, but Breakaway heard enough to understand the order.

"Y-yes commander!" he responded, trying to mask his shaking voice in the din of battle. Were they really going to just crash into the planet? Was there no other way? As he shot down a Sweep that had made it past Strafe's barrage of fire, Breakaway's optics were drawn to the planet. The earth and cities of Nebulos were becoming uncomfortably clear and detailed despite the swirling storm.

Laser shots from another attacking Sweep lurched Breakaway out of his trance, and his face was lit up with shots from his own cannon as he returned fire. Gritting his teeth behind his mask, he whispered a quiet prayer as a second Sweep began aiding the first in the assault.

"Primus, please let Lightspeed be as good a pilot as they say he is."

Mount Melanos—Autobot Beta Site

Rad stared at the screen. On it was the same image that he had been staring at for the last several breems—an exterior look at the landscape surrounding the Nebulan mountain range. Every so often he would detect traces of movement from one of the indigenous lifeforms, but that was essentially it. On the plus side, it meant that the Decepticons had not yet managed to successfully track them to this site, and ideally never would. But there was a potent negative as well: Roadbuster had stayed behind to ensure that they got away when the primary bunker base had been destroyed. Now Highbrow had left to go find him. Rad had tried to raise both of them on several occasions during the substantial amount of time since Rad had last seen either of them to no avail. That meant one of two things—they were either willfully choosing not to respond to his communications, for reasons he couldn’t possibly begin to understand right now. Or…they had no choice in the matter, either because they had been terminated or captured.

The grim reality of either scenario had sent Rad in to something of a depressive spiral. Everything on this planet had gone so smoothly for so long. They had discovered one of the few—and perhaps only—civilized world that had not encountered even the bare concept of war in many generations. They had infiltrated the planet on a very limited and observational basis and found ways to research their surroundings that did minimal disruption to the planet itself, while the society at large remained blissfully unaware of their presence.

And now all of that was gone.

Skyhammer captured, possibly killed.

Roadbuster AWOL.

Highbrow AWOL.

Vulcan and his team AWOL.

In an incredibly simple series of strikes, the Decepticons had completely slagging decimated their command structure on this world. So much so that Rad wasn’t even sure if there was anything to salvage of what they had accomplished here. Even if he wanted to go on, how long before the Decepticons tracked down this site and did the same as they had to the last one? How long until he shared Skyhammer’s fate? He couldn’t even get word out to Autobots offworld and let them know what was happening. He couldn’t warn anyone. He couldn’t help anyone.

May be better to end it myself. Not give them the satisfaction, Rad thought.

It was a dark line of thinking, and he did his best not to linger on it for too long, but it was also unavoidable. Never before in his vorns of service to the Autobot cause had he felt so defeated. What would be a more natural reaction? Pick up the Autobot banner and storm the Decepticons’ operations in Koraja? Before, maybe, but he just wasn’t feeling it now.

This is it, he thought, continuing to stare blankly at the screen. I’ve hit rock bottom.

Fortress Tenebrous

Skullgrins mouth wrinkles at Apefaces insinuation. [He dares insult me! MEEEE! I'll take his head!!]

"I assure you, my fellow, that any supposed lack of visceral combat in the forest was due to Autobot cowardice, not any lack of skill or desire on our part. The weaklings hid in their bunker, and Cyclonus decided to bombard the site rather than spend the time on a siege. If he had been in a more patient mood I assure you, I would have dragged the corpses of those inside back myself."

With this, he falls silent again. There didn't seem to be much to do in this phase of the operation except watch Turmoil torment the organics. There were the faint traces of weapons fire in the sky, if you strained your optics to their maximum, but they were barely worth looking at. Starting a fight with the Horrorcon wasn't exactly a good plan for entertainment either.

I can certainly see why one would wish for that Autobot ship to get closer...

The Pestilence - Bridge

Venom had seen this happen before. For theoretically immortal beings something truly original was a rare event. Be that what it may, it was no less difficult to predict where and how the Autobots would leave the protection of the gas giant. After carefully considering his options, he had found the most likely scenario to be exactly what the Autobots ended up taking - a suicide run towards Nebulos through the destroyer Rancor. The Insecticon leader had thus prepared to react accordingly against an assault towards the sister ship of his own destroyer.

With Reflector's orders echoing in his mind, Venom redirected most of the power from his ship's antimatter reactors into to the forward shields and gun batteries while maintaining full thrust in order to pursuit the Autobot vessel. While Farstar's attack against Rancor had certainly looked devastating, Venom was pretty certain that the larger Decepticon craft was still mostly intact. Had the Autobot frigate lingered any longer next to Rancor, the destroyer would have torn it to pieces. It was pretty clear that Death-Grip's ship had suffered damage to its maneuverability and has was unable to pursue Farstar.

That mattered little to Venom. The Pestilence was on firing range and the Farstar was already damaged. He had the firepower to tear a full strength frigate apart, a damaged one would not stand a chance. Death-Grip might have been put to shame but as Venom opened fire against the Autobot ship, he was smugly certain that the Farstar would not reach Nebulos in one piece.

Fortress Tenebrous

A predatory smile formed under the mask plate covering Turmoil's facial features as he listened to the response his words had roused among his Nebulan audience. He had expected some form of back talk from these flesh creatures for their whole culture had been built on negotiations, debates and mediating. Instead they had offered none of it. While it suited the powerful Decepticon just fine, it did make him suspicious. Could it be that even such a weak-willed species was beginning to build up their courage? Obviously they were not able threaten the Decepticons directly or they would have already done so. The possibility of them planning something in secret though, was all too likely for Turmoil's tastes. Still, it was hardly a problem. After the Decepticons would be through with the changes they were going to introduce to this world, culling out the traitorous resistance cells was going to be child's play.

"I am glad you have accepted our terms. Continued bloodshed is not within the interests of either of us." Turmoil spoke up, "Your world will be protected. The separatists will be hunted down, prosecuted and judged according to our laws. This I swear."

After finishing with his oath, Turmoil opened his palmed hand as a gesture of candor as he continued addressing the Nebulans while also forming a comm-link with Cyclonus who was standing near him. "I doubt our discussion so far has done much to quench your thirst for knowledge. I am willing to answer to some of the questions might have, unless of course - there is none."

>>"Cyclonus, have you received any news from the fleet?<<