Station Battle: Jazz's Repairs

[Long Haul]

A new figure appears in the entry-way of Omega Supreme's rocket form, one that, while perhaps a bit different than some here might remember, is still recognizable to many. A massive dump truck of Cybertronian make, curves where some straight lines are expected, a vehicle never seen on Earth, but yet with a design that is functional, sturdy, and obvious, rolls down the ramp. The truck is mostly lime green, identical in shade to the one Hook sports, and the windows are tinted a deep purple. Emblazoned on the front of its massive grill is the stern expression of the Autobot sigil in the deep red they usually come in.

In the truck's bed is a critically injured patient in two pieces, the bottom have arranged in such a way as to be out of view of the top half. The truck rolls as fast it dares, trying to find an area of relative cover in the chaos of the battlefield.

Here, Decepticons, is that lost Constructicon you've been told of. Perhaps you've missed part of the story.

[Jazz]

At last. More answers about the current situation from the voice of the one who seems to be in charge, more or less.

All met with the same quiet nod, and paling blue gaze, from half shaded optical sensors.

Adaptable mind. The answers are interesting, and yet they don't stress him terribly. In fact, the puzzle is yet another one of those things that Jazz really wants to know the answer to before he goes.

Expressive, these faces, for all their bare and bared mechanisms.
Coiled and wired to show fear and amusement and pain.

Jazz's face is set in the last, even as he processes the information, and the jolts from outside echo through what's left of his frame.
A puzzle that needs a solution.

Omega's order barely registers, as does the presence of another of these strangers. Red. Small.

Perceptor.

The half- muttered response to the greeting is typical Jazz.

"Nice to meet you..." Half a joke, half serious, "hate to bug a busy 'Bot about a scratch or two."

Strength.

He's being moved, and they're not letting him see something. What could that be?

Oh. That's right-- Megatron was grabbing his leg, and twisting... and something gave way....

Well, no wonder he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

Blue pales to near white as an alarm chimes silently somewhere.

Reserve power? Critical alert?

Sky opens over head, as the small Autobot is transported through the somewhat familiar sounds of battle.

"... that's kinda pretty." Clouds. He's making an effort to talk. "Haven't been... here before, have I?"

A spark from the open end of his torso. Long Haul's work seems to be unravelling. Duct tape wasn't quite enough.

The force shield gives one of those clock wrenching flickers, and starts its slow fade again.

Optics dim, he can feel it creeping up on him. "If I don't make it...take care of... Bumblebee and Skyblast ... for me."

The spark remains within the field, but Jazz is slipping under.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron dumped a bucket of paint that Holi left in Omega Supreme on himself. He is now a lavender robot. Given that he has no trace of alternate form, he looks about as generic as generic can be. He smells faintly of paint fumes, but he doubts anyone will be able to smell it over the scent of rock dust and gunfire, and the parched desert air made certain that he dried fast. Emirate Xaaron doesn't explain the recolour to his fellow Autobots, but his logic is a bit like this: he and Nightbeat are from Xaaron's universe. Thus, there can be Decepticons from his universe here, too.

If they are, they will know who he is, and they will try to kill him. Emirate Xaaron doesn't expect that the paint job will protect him for very long, but perhaps it will buy him time.

He mutters, "A small group trying to get away from the rest of the battle is going to look suspicious. We won't be able to last if Decepticons harass us." Emirate Xaaron looks at the battle. He suggests tentatively, "I could go back. A lone robot, unmarked, is more tempting prey than a convoy. I can draw their attention, buy a little time."

That Decepticon gunman hurt Omega Supreme. Emirate Xaaron does not seriously think that they're going to get the power plant now.

[Perceptor]

Perceptor flinches visibly from Long Haul's snarl; he'd deserved that. He'd deserved more than that, likely, and hadn't missed the clenching of Long Haul's fists. No time for recriminations, though. Time enough for that later, after Jazz is functional, a thought he echoes over the broadband to Slingshot.

"I have the dragon," he replies, briskly unstrapping it and gathering the squalling, squirming creature up in his arms as Xaaron gets Jazz loaded. Fascinating as Perceptor would ordinarily find the young creature, the dragonette is little more than an annoyance now as Perceptor shoves it into the bed of Long Haul's alternate mode, as far from Jazz as he can keep it - no need to damage the failing mech any more - before hopping up himself.

And failing he is; Perceptor doesn't need his acute optics to see how quickly he will have to work. Power supply will be a significant problem, and the most immediate. With tools scavenged, collected, and created over the days he's been in this world, Perceptor opens panels to his own components and strips out enough non-essential wiring to create a splice, working quickly to patch his own power reserves into Jazz's. The rough terrain does not make the process very easy; dump trucks are not precisely built with comfort and ergonomics in mind.

"You will have to attend to their care yourself, I am afraid, Jazz. I do not intend to allow you the luxury of deactivation today," Perceptor replies to Jazz briskly before a brief wave of weakness informs him that his splice is now patched into Jazz's systems. All that remains to be seen is if it will work to support the wounded mech long enough to make it through the repairs.

His systems had never been intended to support more than one significant drain. He's taking a large risk, but lacking any other significant source of power - and yes, he did consider the dragonette for a moment, feel free to be shocked Xaaron - he has precious few alternatives. Xaaron may well rail at him later for the risk he is taking, but Perceptor cannot, will not, fail this mech.

He turns his attention to locating and insulating the shorts that are contributing to the power drain. Until those are dealt with, other repairs will be futile.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul is frightened. No, no, strike that. Long Haul is terrified. He's never been in any fight larger than a barroom brawl, and now a massive battle rages around him. Someone... someone out there has the fire power to hurt Omega Supreme. One of his dearest friends is already wounded... and already making plans to kill another of his dearest friends, and he's helpless in the face of this. To top it all off, he has a dying mechanoid in his truck bed.

He's never had someone die in his truck bed, either.

Xaaron offers to separate from the group, an offer that's met with immediate protest. "No!" Then he hesitates, trying to offer up a rational reason for this. "No... I... Xaaron, I don't trust my judgment what with all what's going on. I... I don't know where to carry them. You... you gotta help me pick a spot that... that's not so bad. And... Perceptor's going to have to work back there. The dirt's no good for this. Which means I can' t transform, and if he needs another set of hands, I can't help him."

There's a pause as the dump truck weaves through the battle field, not fast, but steady, despite his fears.

Finally he adds, "Please."

[Jazz]

Jazz has never died in the back of a dump truck before.
And he can't reassure Long Haul that it won't happen.

The main drain that Perceptor will find on the systems comes from exactly what he's looking for; shorts, wires pulled away from where they should be. Leaks from cracked lines into the systems that required lubricants, leaving parts nearly dry enough to cause sparks.

Through this is the unsteady hum of an already overtaxed force shield, pulsing where it should not. The flickering stopped shortly after Perceptor spliced himself into Jazz's power loop.

The drain is low. Considering that most of Jazz's systems had already started shutting down, this shouldn't be much of a surprise. Awareness was the last to go, leaving him very unconscious to what is going on around him.

The scientist has been given a better shot. Without the processes running (and the motor-mouth going), the power consumption is low, and will give them a little more time.

No movement. No sound.

His friends would probably be shocked. But then, they'd also know how bad things were, seeing Jazz not twitching or cracking jokes about his current situation.

At least he's not in pain for a moment. Jazz isn't even dreaming.

[Emirate Xaaron]

A thoughtful look steals over Emirate Xaaron's face at Perceptor's reply to Slingshot over channel, and he silently applauds for a second. The scientist's response is nothing short of masterful. Right now, the last thing they need is Autobot against Autobot, even if some of the Autobots in question are usually Decepticons. With his words, Perceptor has shunted the blame to himself, instead of condemning Long Haul and making a morass. He even seems to have a rationale that works with the history of his home universe. Finally, Perceptor wields some authority over those of his universe, and they are more likely to listen to him. It's absolutely beautiful. If Emirate Xaaron had any tears to shed, he would shed one now.

Emirate Xaaron suspects that if it was truly, deeply important to Perceptor, he'd be an excellent liar. The scientist is nothing short of genius. He could be good at anything he applied himself to, Xaaron thinks. It says something about Perceptor that he doesn't seem to have ever tried the charlatan's path. Good man.

He isn't going to rail at Perceptor now or question his judgement in how he's operating on Jazz. Emirate Xaaron simply assumes that Perceptor is doing what must be done. If it works, it works. If it fails, they'll have more spare parts, that nasty side of Xaaron notes.

Emirate Xaaron is about to bail out the side of the dump truck when Long Haul pleads that he stay. He remembers how Long Haul froze up with Jazz arrived. If he does that again, he's going to need someone unafraid to snap him out of it. Emirate Xaaron sighs heavily and acquiesces, "Very well. Look for an overhang or tunnel. We need to be not easily spotted from the air, and the shade may make it easier on the coolant systems."

[Perceptor]

Perceptor is oblivious to either Long Haul's fear or Xaaron's approval. He barely notes that the Emirate has no remark in response to the risks he is assuming; he's too preoccupied with making sense of the wreckage that is Jazz. Perceptor isn't certain if it is a good thing, or not, that the strange mech is no longer online.

Capacitors. Perceptor requires the capacitors - preferably retaining the charge they had carried at the time of deactivation - from Optimus' remains. Some energon would not be looked askance at, either. Wiring. Lubricants. A fabrication unit. While he's wishing for things, he adds a fully stocked medical repair facility to his wistful list.

"Ah. Thank you Long Haul. It would be most advantageous to not be forced to relocate during this procedure," Perceptor observes absently as he systematically examines the twisted, shredded, shattered boundary of Jazz's upper half for the most dire looking damages. Ratchet had been quite astute in pounding the concept of individual triage into his skill-set, over the years.

He pauses briefly, fishing his concussion rifle and missile launcher out of subspace. He cannot use them at the moment, however Xaaron is empty handed. He has no idea of the Emirate is able to - either by skill or by philosophical choice - to utilize the weapons, but there is a far greater probability that the weapons will be more useful outside his subspace storage than inside it.

"The charge on my concussion rifle is not at maximum, but it is sufficient enough, at least, to provide a serious deterrent to any who attempt to impede Long Haul's progress. Unfortunately, I have only three missiles at this time. I recommend using them sparingly," Perceptor observes as he slides the weapons across the scarred surface of Long Haul's bed toward Xaaron.

"I am afraid that my attention will be significantly consumed now." Unspoken, that he's counting on Xaaron and Long Haul to keep watch, even if that last observation had been somewhat obvious.

[Long Haul]

"Ah, well..." Long Haul looks around as best he can for a mechanoid without a head. No tunnels or overhangs that he can see. But there are lots of buttes! Well, a few, beyond just the massive mesa the station sits on. "Uhm... maybe one of those will work?" And he makes for the nearest one, still rolling like at only a moderate pace. It must be excruciating for the group... out there in the open, as conspicuous as can be, in the middle of a raging battlefield.

And yet, they aren't so conspicuous as Omega Supreme who, fortunately, appears to be drawing all the attention.

He rolls forward in silence for a few moments, then hurrums. "Well... it looked kinda close," he says apologetically.

[Jazz]

No dreams, just darkness.

Is it a good thing that the silver mech isn't online anymore? Possibly not. It means that some of the trauma has caught up with Jazz. It means that his body is on that fine edge between life and death, with only Perceptor to hold onto him right now.

It's a little surprising that he was awake for so long.
But offline means that Perceptor won't have to worry about accidental movement from the limp patient, or deal with the stubborn mech's attempts to talk.
Or watch him suffer.

The damage is indeed severe. It might be difficult to triage, although, there are enough similarities that Perceptor will be able to see which systems are the most critical, and which are peripheral. Somehow, a patch or two of Long Haul's work stayed connected. That might be helpful. He was the one who got to see what the system should look like.

Still no movement from either half of Jazz. No sign of a return to consciousness. Just a faint pulsating spark.

[Dead End]

Dead End is crowding his top speed, bouncing across the desert before some other Autobot--namely, Omega Supreme--notices that there's a Decepticon running loose without a dance partner.

Long Haul weaves steadily, if slowly, through the lava fields and packed desert earth--Dead End bounces recklessly from one bump to another, sometimes letting the terrain send him for short flights over obstacles, only to slam down on four tires once more. If he wasn't a Stunticon, his whole suspension would be toast by now. Not to mention his axles.

Sooner or later, someone's going to notice the dark red Porsche rapidly overtaking Long Haul...

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron finds himself looking back. A few quick tactical calculations suggest to him that gunman on Omega Supreme was the grey jet, which is bizarre, and he radios as such. Hopefully Swerve can at least distract the assailant.

A more immediate tactical problem is what do to do with the Stunticon.

He looks over at the two weapons that Perceptor laid out for him and reaches for the concussion blaster, hand shaking slightly. He leans over to whisper in Perceptor's audio and admits, "I have no aim. Keep the rocket launcher." Oh, he's grateful enough. If the Decepticons capture him and there's anyone who knows enough to know who Emirate Xaaron is, despite the lavender paintjob, he can use the concussion blaster to off himself. It's not the way out he'd want, but he cannot allow himself to talk.

Cradling the concussion blaster to his chest, Emirate Xaaron dives off the back of the dump truck. He hits the dirt hard and rolls a few times, putting himself directly in the path of the Stunticon, although his bounces look quite coincidental, and the dust makes it hard to see much of anything, anyway. He struggles up to his knees, and the blaster in his hand looks suitably uncomfortable that it could be something he nicked off his Autobot 'captors' and hasn't the foggiest how to actually use.

His face and pose shows a mixture of abject terror and relief, and he cries out, "Oh, a brave Decepticon warrior! I'm saved!"

Now he lets his optics glaze over, as if he only now realises that Dead End's going to runs him over, unless the Stunticon swerves hard, and Xaaron shows all the bad reflexes of someone who has only ever piloted a desk by not hustling out of the way. Emirate Xaaron doesn't mind if Dead End runs him over. It'll slow the Stunticon down, and Xaaron's built tougher than he looks, sort of like a... tank, actually.

[Perceptor]

Perceptor barely registers Xaaron's response, ticking a glance in that direction just in time to see the Emirate leap out of the moving vehicle. His hands are buried in Jazz's circuitry again, precluding any attempt to make a grab for Xaaron; he wouldn't have been quick enough anyway, even if he'd had the freedom to do so.

He does allow himself the luxury of a few choice words, however, before addressing Long Haul.

"Do not stop! Xaaron has devised a plan to provide us with time we would not otherwise have; we must trust him to execute it!" he orders. "And, if not, as soon as Jazz is stabilized, we will return and rescue him from his foolishness."

Now Perceptor must trust Long Haul to see the wisdom in the order; whether the Constructibot obeys or not, Jazz requires Perceptor's undivided attention and as much haste as the scientist can coax out of his hands.

[Synapse]

Synapse begins his hasty ascent into the air. At his final height, he can see most of the battle as it rages on. Perceptor and the others are no where to be seen...wait there! His optics zoom in on a lime-green truck moving over the desert. Something lavender is seen jumping out of the back. Further back, Synapse frowns at the sight of a strange dark vehicle following after Long Haul. What, he's never seen an Earth car before.

Picking up speed (though the wind that blasts into his cockpit is certainly putting a drag into his movement) he goes after the small convoy.

// Synapse reporting in, is there anything I can aid with? //

[Long Haul]

Long Haul does actually slow down when Xaaron initially leaps from him. He asked Xaaron not to leave! But he speeds up again at Perceptor's words. He's heading towards the semi-shelter of the nearby butte at his best clip, but while his massive tires crunch easily over most the terrain, there's no way he'll outrun that sports car.

By now, he's almost to that butte, but that will offer small protection now that they've actually drawn the attention of the Decepticons, and there is no longer anyone available to hold the enemy off.