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Post by Starfighter on May 11, 2007 13:36:25 GMT -5
Starfighter kept his arm up in the saluting position, visibly nervous. Oh, wow. Hook. As if Starfighter didn't have enough to be squirming about. One of the first Decepticon gestalts on the Earth mission and a master craftsman that Starfighter didn't know whether to appreciate for his work or distrust for his habit of wasting resources for the sake of perfection when 'good enough' did the job just as well. Still, he couldn't help feeling mildly fanboyish at someone who'd actually served with Megatron and Soundwave.
He didn't recognize the other seeker, but her attitude made him feel wary. And yet, vaguely at home. Seekers were plentiful in the barracks near the tower and anyone cooped up too long without anything to do tended to get irritated easily.
"Time travel? I've heard it was possible, there were some people discussion it, but--" Rambling again. "Sorry," he says nervously. "Early 1992. We've only known about Earth and Megatron's return for about a decade."
"Now, ignoring all the possible different ways that this unknown world can kill us, our most pressing immediate issue is locating an energy supply. If we do not do that soon, we will starve to death before the rest of the unknowns can kill us. I could have stayed on Charr if I wanted that experience, thank you,
"I refueled a little bit before I came here, so I should be fine for a while." Starfighter wished the powers that brought him here had included his desk; he had a few extra cubes stashed in his bottom drawer.
"I'm Shockwave's personal assistant, my specialty is accounting, surveying of resource usage, and database research. I've also got a bit of repair and medical training, probably nothing you don't already know how to do." He held out his datapad. "This doesn't have anything classified on it, I can't hook up to the tower systems because I'm not at the tower."
Right, they know that. Idiot. Starfighter fidgets slightly and almost drops one of the cubes.
"But it's got most of the commonly available database information," he continues hurriedly. "Profiles of most known Decepticons and Autobots besides the ones no one is supposed to know about, historical records up until the present time, I think there might even be a few star charts in there. If we can find traces of Cybertronian contamination here, I might be able to figure out more or less where we are."
It was rather depressing that his datapad was probably more useful than he was. At least they needed him alive to provide the passwords for it.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on May 11, 2007 15:50:08 GMT -5
Skystrike continued to confirm Dead End's opinion that most Seekers were irritating, arrogant bastards. To be fair, Dead End thought that most Decepticons were irritating in one way or the other--and the Autobots, with their habit of shooting at him, were doubly irritating.
That Dead End carried himself like a member of an elite unit that answered only to Megatron, and casually condescended to almost everyone he spoke to who wasn't a gestalt commander or in the High Command, escaped the Stunticon entirely. Dead End was a Stunticon; save for four other people in the universe, everyone else wasn't. That's all there was to it.
“How about we don’t die at all, live to get off of this planet, get back to our respective times and preferably go back and rejoin our teammates, hmm?” Skystrike snapped snidely, leaning in just close enough to attempt to swat her wing lightly across the top of Dead End’s helm.“Then, we can go consume copious amounts of tainted, high grade energon and forget every-blazing-thing! Then you can go ahead and get yourself killed however you fragging want.”
Dead End leaned his head to one side and let the wing swish by, not caring to be smacked around by someone he didn't really know. If he let her hit him, he'd feel oblige to repay her in triplicate, and they really didn't need casualties just yet.
"You misunderstand, Skystrike. I am not suicidal. I am simply aware that everyone dies and everything decays in time. To insist otherwise is to deny reality." Dead End says, faint irritation evident in his tone. "Also, I must insist you not take swings at me; I don't know you, really, and might misinterpret your intentions."
He ponders her further comments about fuel convoy escort. "You are familiar with convoy procedures, then. What other, non-combat specialties did your duties expose you to? Combatant status is a given for a front-line Decepticon."
Dead End regards Starfighter for a long moment. "Hopefully you have enough spare data storage to keep notes, Starfighter? Find our personnel files, if you have them, and start a "team record"; we will need to keep track of what we know, what our capabilities are, and what we learn here. Oh, and some additional data for both of you--"
Dead End uploads his regional map of the Expansive Plains, that he generated with his radar and mapping software, to both of the Seekers. Hook already has a copy. It shows the terrain in 200 miles, including the one confirmed road and suspected road traces; the gully, the service station, and suspected structures to the east, in the lowlands. "If either of you have annotations, please upload them to me so I can update my master copy."
"Skystrike, keep watch; we believe that one other Constructicon is out there and in need of rescue, and we don't know what hazards or hostiles may be out there. Starfighter, put your arm down and come with me; let's see what Hook has uncovered." Dead End strides over toward the 'garage' that Hook has opened up.
Dead End opens a private channel to Hook: // Hook, I think I have an executive assistant for you here. Starfighter claims to be skilled at accounting, database research, resource assessment. Let him handle the logistics, record keeping, and data analysis? With all this technology to assess, I expect you'll be occupied at a much higher level, and someone has to keep track of what we have and what we learn. Oh, and as you probably heard, he also has a current as-of-1992 dump of Shockwave's non-classified databases. //
Dead End peers past Hook's shoulder at the vehicle in the dimming light; he clicks on his head lights for a better view. "Off-road vehicle, like the Autobot Beachcomber. Those don't look like internal combustion engines, though. What are they?"
Dead End, alas, is not an engineer--he's just a mild aficionado of Earth cars. He knows what a gasoline or diesel engine looks like, but not much else. Electric cars are not one of his specialities, really.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on May 12, 2007 13:11:46 GMT -5
"You misunderstand, Skystrike. I am not suicidal. I am simply aware that everyone dies and everything decays in time. To insist otherwise is to deny reality."
“Yes, but just because it’s a fact of life doesn’t mean anybody should just lie back an accept it.” Skystrike answered unhappily. If she’d done that, she wouldn’t be alive anymore. Her life wasn’t dedicated to thinking about death, her life was dedicated to avoiding it long enough to protect her team members. Death was not one of the things she wanted to hear about everyday.
"Also, I must insist you not take swings at me; I don't know you, really, and might misinterpret your intentions."
“The only time I swing at people like you is when you’re acting like an idiot.” She muttered, optics narrowing. Skystrike’s definition of ‘idiot’ varied a lot from other people’s depending on the context. In this case, well, there was a reason why Lighter often kept her away from some of the more depressive members of the DFD when she was being moody after a particularly nasty fight.
"You are familiar with convoy procedures, then. What other, non-combat specialties did your duties expose you to? Combatant status is a given for a front-line Decepticon."
“A lot.” She answered, not in the mood to answer to him but she quickly amended her first vague statement. “I know basic first aid and some construction skills, mostly. Those are the two skills I used most anyways.” She unfolded her arms, resting one fist on her hip. She didn’t really pay attention to whatever it was Dead End said to Starfighter next –she knew she probably should have but she didn’t care about that particular rational voice at the moment.
She looked skywards, watching the planet’s single sun become a bright, distorted sphere of red over the horizon. The stars were beginning to appear as well, twinkling through the clouds as they faded into existence. It wasn’t until Dead End suddenly dropped the map into her system that she was snapped quite unhappily out of her reverie.
“Don’t do that.” The seeker barked as well as her deep voice allowed. She hated it when people dropped random data into her system without warning. There was always the potential of the foreign data containing viruses that she most certainly didn’t want the Porsche sending things into her memories without her consent. Nonetheless, Skystrike had the common sense not to delete the map and quickly stored it away for later after the car’s explanations.
She nodded a bit reluctantly at the new duty of being the watcher but decided that she, too, wanted to be alone and isolated from the rest of the group. Mostly Dead End. She needed time to think and be away from the group for the moment.
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Post by Hook on May 12, 2007 14:32:12 GMT -5
It couldn't quite be said that Hook was listening to what everyone else said. He heard them, certainly, and if he needed to replay what they said, he would have perfectly accurate versions. But he was far more interested in the engines he had to play with.
It is not, as Dead End notes, an internal combustion engine. It is an electrical engine, and those look like useful wires...
He sets the multimeter to read voltage, grounds one of the probes, and sets the other against the wires.
Then Dead End opens a radio conversation with him. //Yes, yes, a secretary. Duly noted. Now let me concentrate on this.//
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Post by Starfighter on May 13, 2007 18:32:20 GMT -5
"Plenty of storage space." Starfighter came over to Dead End's other side, peering over his shoulder at the strange vehicle as he went through Skystrike's database entry. He didn't even bother looking at the datapad as he typed, he knew it well enough for it to be a part of his own body.
It was worth noting that he backed away from Skystrike ever so slightly as he did so. She didn't seem the sort of person to suffer fools and weaklings lightly, and on occasion people seemed to think Starfighter was both.
He switched over and put his own profile and those of his companions into a separate folder, again just in case. If they collapsed from fuel loss, at least there might be a record left of their progress. "I'll put the maps up on here too, just in case, and some information about the general area." Starfighter looks up. "Do any of you have scanner data you want on here? There's no records for detailed analysis of organic substances."
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on May 13, 2007 20:46:55 GMT -5
Dead End nodded towards Starfighter. "Hook has confirmed your position. Go ahead and assist him however he requires, and keep a record of our findings."
He turned toward Skystrike. "I will also stand watch," Dead End says, then transforms in to car mode and parks out at far edge of the black metal tarmac, just off the metal highway. He didn't really expect anything to run down the road, but it would be unfortunate to be parked across the road if some sort of automated maglev freighter was still running from city to city.
Out there in the dark, he turns off his lights and turns up the gain on his sensors: optical into infrared and ultraviolet range, radar detector at maximum sensitivity, scan on all radio channels--but not his radar emitter. No point in advertising his presence unnecessarily. A dark car on a dark road on a dark night.
The stars wheel overhead, and Dead End watches them. He doesn't know anything about astronomy, but the night sky is different from the one he used to see so clearly in the desert nights in the southwestern United States. There's a glow across the sky, a vast band of sparkling light--the light of countless stars, packed too close together to stand out individually, the light of this world's galaxy.
He'd seen a sight like this once, on a mission in South America--the Milky Way galaxy, wheeling across the southern sky. Then, his brother Stunticons had been with him, and Breakdown had watched the stars with him. Wildrider had been too busy herding their target toward them along with Motormaster, who wouldn't have cared about the stars in the first place.
They weren't here, now. Dead End was alone. He'd avoided thinking about it all day, just moving from one thing to the next, working to survive and pull the others together--like he always did in the Stunticons. Hold the center together, don't let them their psychoses drive them apart--
But Hook wasn't Motormaster, and the others weren't Stunticons. How far away were his brothers? Were they even in the same universe? Snatched from all over space and time by some unknown force and tossed here, on this strangely empty world... He didn't remember Hook disappearing--but if Hook came from a parallel reality, he wouldn't. If they were just copies of the originals, he wouldn't, either. Hook had told him to drop this speculation, but it was night, and watch, and there was time to think...
Dead End would never see his brothers again. He was sure of that. He'd die somewhere on this alien world, and they would never know what had happened to him. Perhaps, if he was a copy--or had been replaced with a copy!--they'd never even known he'd left.
Alone. Utterly alone, without his brothers for the rest of his short existance. Never to hear Wildrider's rebel yell when he did something particularly crazy, or Breakdown's stammer or Drag Strip's sneering tones or Motormaster's harsh thunder--okay, scratch that last, he could do without that... couldn't he? He'd always thought he'd be delighted if he didn't have to put up with Motormaster, but now... he'd be happy to hear the brutal truck's voice.
No hope of that. Dead End was alone and bereft. The bleakness crept into him and consumed his will. His engine slowed down to its very slowest idle as Dead End sat frozen in his misery.
He barely bothered to notice the high-pitched hum of something traveling at high-speed down the black metal road.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on May 13, 2007 21:01:14 GMT -5
(( OOC: I will be on vacation this upcoming week. I may or may not have net access. If I don't post by 11pm CDT of a given day, I'm not posting that day. ))
(( OOC: If I can't post, assume the Deadster has gone into one of his depressive funks and refuses to move short of being hit very hard and repeatedly. His forcefields are currently offline to conserve power. ))
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Post by SceneMod on May 14, 2007 22:22:48 GMT -5
Road security tank #8, nicknamed 'Bob' by her maintainers, flashed down the roads between the city in the swamps and the howling mines of the north. This area was both national wildlife refuge and military complex, and thus no one without authorization should be there during certain hours.
She detects a curious vehicle at the third service station on her route and queries it for its permits to be there. It does not answer.
It has its lights out, as well, and now she can detect robots nearby. Also in the dark, except for small points of red light. None of them answer her identification demands. (The Transformers do not even detect them on a relevent spectrum.)
There are some miles yet before she reaches the service station, but she will be there Very Soon.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on May 15, 2007 10:17:49 GMT -5
Skystrike cast a sidelong glare at Dead End, changing her visual spectrum so that it was set more towards infrared as she did so. Of course, she should’ve expected it considering her luck. She muttered a silent curse under her breath before huffing and walking off to position herself on the other side of the road. There was silence for a few minutes, only the rustle of plants moving in the wind disrupting the quiet. Then a series of chirps began erupting from the grass nearby, nearly making the seeker jump ten feet into the air.
“Ah…!?” She managed to suppress the cry of surprise although it still managed to sound like she’d just had an encounter with a particularly nasty oil slick. The chirping stopped. The seeker cast a nervous glance at the grass behind her before slowly relaxing once more. At least until the evening chorus started up again.
The jet bristled anxiously before stepping into a more cleared area beside the road and scowling at the spot she had been in. The sound continued, cheerily gaining in volume as it spread throughout the thick, night darkened grass and in a few moments, it surrounded Skystrike. The jet uttered a nervous whine watching as glimpses of green bioluminescence began to flash throughout the sea of starlit green-blue as if mimicking the constellations above it.
That wasn’t what made the blue jet hop back to the other side of the road though, no. What did it in for her was when she felt something move across her wing. She barely managed to stifle the shout that welled up in her vocalizers when she looked to see what it was and what it was, was a massive metallic insect that’d happily chosen the moment to bang into her wing.
With whatever was left of her dignity, Skystrike strode back across the road, looking for all the world like someone had just shoved a wrench into her air intake before she came to a stop under a tree, a few yards away from Dead End, seething and shuddering in disgust quietly. She cast a glance at the dark red car and was idly glad that he seemed too preoccupied with his own thoughts to have noticed her little bout of panic. He barely seemed to be aware at all, something that rather worried the Berkut but she chose not to do anything about it.
Letting exhaust heat escape her head intakes, the seeker once more calmed her self and settled her weight on her thruster heels. She gave the glittering grassy expanse a withering look then, before glancing up and down the road. She was supposed to be on watch after all, even if it was a depressive and annoying mech that’d ordered her to do so.
It was little surprise that she was the first to feel the tell tale, minute vibrations in the air. Skystrike’s optics flared, highlighting her black face with streaks of crimson as she peered down the black tarmac in the direction of the sound. In moments, the sound rose in pitch before a gleaming outline of something became apparent in the distance.
//There’s something coming down the road…// the seeker broadcasted over the intercom, bringing her shoulder cannons online. She took several steps back, the grass brushing against her thighs before she crouched down till only the gleam of her angular wings glinted above the grass. Then, carefully, the jet aimed her weapons at the point she’d estimated the vehicle would come by.
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Post by Hook on May 15, 2007 15:00:32 GMT -5
For as long as there was still light from the sun, however faint it might be, Hook had dictated to Starfighter as he hauled vehicles out of the garage and checked their charges. The majority of what he had to say consisted of observations on the technology, brief descriptions of each vehicle as well as their charge, and what he calls a rough estimate* of how many energon cubes each vehicle will produce.
When night fell, and he finally had to give up working, Hook closed his toolkit and sat back to think long and hard about what they would need to do.
A short time later, however, Skystrike warned of something coming down the road. Hook roused and then began to shove vehicles back into the repair bay. If this turned into a firefight, he didn't want them getting damaged. "Can you determine what it is?"
*Hook's definition of 'rough estimate' is far more precise than most people's 'close estimates'.
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Post by Starfighter on May 15, 2007 17:40:04 GMT -5
The work took Starfighter's mind off their strange surroundings and whatever it was that kept buzzing in his audials every five minutes. The accountant's opinion of Hook leaned firmly towards appreciation by the time darkness fell. Hook was a careful worker, and on a personal level seemed to appreciate Starfighter's abilities instead of brushing him off as a useless geek.
Starfighter liked that.
When Skystrike reported a nearby vehicle, however, he shut down his datapad almost immediately and held it over his chest. If whatever decided to attack them was sentient, they might not shoot him first. Very quietly, he began to back toward the other side of the building for shelter.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on May 15, 2007 23:00:32 GMT -5
//There’s something coming down the road…//
Dead End heard Skystrike's transmission; his own threat routines chirped at him, pointing out that something was approaching and he lacked sufficient information to evaluate it, though there was a high probability that whatever it was had sufficient firepower to vaporize him where he parked.
Did it really matter? They were all going to die on this remote world and he'd never see his brothers again. Who cares whether it happened now or later?
On the other hand... Hook was depending on him somewhat. And doing nothing in the teeth of an unknown hostile would be too much like giving them a free kill. Dead End did not give up his life freely. They would have to earn it the hard way.
There was a nearly imperceptable hum as his forcefields came online; Dead End focused his optics on the oncoming vehicle--yes, it was a vehicle. He sent off a brief ping of his radar at it.
// Decepticons, there is a rather massive vehicle with tank-grade armor coming down the road. It is probably hostile. //
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Post by SceneMod on May 16, 2007 13:40:49 GMT -5
Bob flashes to a stop in front of the service station, then demanded that the robots and strange vehicles show identification or be destroyed.* To emphasize her point, she rolled open her gun bays.
*Sadly, none of the Transformers speak her language.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on May 17, 2007 7:41:06 GMT -5
Skystrike resisted the urge to snarl. Noises weren’t good, no, her internal made enough noise and she didn’t need to add onto that. She’d already dimmed her optics down till they were only a dull dark red that didn’t reflect off the grasses in front of her.
The blue jet didn’t even give her self the luxury of flinching when the tank-thing announced something in an alien language that she didn’t bother to try to understand seeing as the gun bay opened afterwards. It was hostile and it was alien and that was enough for her.
//The gorge is directly in the thing’s path, we can lure it over there and make it fall off.// The flier said uneasily over the intercom. //Who’s with me?// The question was more directed at Dead End than anybody else, mostly because he was the closest to her at the moment.
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Post by Hook on May 17, 2007 21:59:24 GMT -5
Hook stared right into the banks of tri-barreled cannons, noting the way they shone in the red-tinted moonlight. There were quite a lot of them, really. They didn't quite fit in close to the upper and lower edges of their banks, either.
Quite naturally, he flung himself skyward. It was the best possible response to the situation, in his opinion. While the guns did have some elevation capabilities, as demonstrated by the set trying to track him, they couldn't elevate themselves at a sufficiently steep angle to be truly useful against something like him.
He pulled out his energy-pistol and looked for a good point to shoot at. Freezing up in the face of the enemy tended to lead to the worst battle-wounds, he recalled. (Besides, the Constructicons would take out their dinky energy-pistols to shoot at Omega Supreme[/i]. The Constructicons were 'ard.)
//It might work,// he replies to Skystrike. //It doesn't seem especially well-designed for fighting fliers. That changes what your options are, does it not?//
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