Can't Stop the Signal

[Rattrap]

OOC: Month 1 Week 4 Day 2. Semi-private? Posting Holi and Rattrap in the same post because I can. Details of the radio frequency mentioned with player permission. Nightbeat's presence mentioned with player permission.

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Holi is, as usual, on communications. Really, he's quite proud of the fact that he gets this duty so often; to him, it doesn't just mean an acknowledgement that he's possibly the best equipped for it, physically. To Holi, it also means that command trusts him with it. They trust him to do a proper job of it and really, that means more than the duty itself.

It also means he makes a point of doing his job thoroughly, up to – and hopefully exceeding – expectations. Ever vigilant, almost wired throughout his rotation, keeping not only the Event Horizon's sensors but his own tuned to the waves. It's how he picks up that faint signal almost before the ship does. He frowns and tunes in on that errant transmission, feeling as though he should know the frequency. It certainly feels vaguely familiar.

When it hits him, it knocks him clean out of his chair.

Once Rattrap gets a single, coherent string from his dangerously hyperactive communications jockey – seriously, get the kid some robo-sedative and lock up all the sugary snacks – he stares at the report he's jotted down while listening to Holi rattle off the whole radio mess. He stares, then he scowls, and looks from the report to a list of warned and contraband frequencies he's been monitoring out of paranoia and cynicism more than any real sense of responsibility. Holi's reported transmission matches an entry on the list, given by Ultra Magnus. The coordinates in the transmission match a planet that was off-limits in Rattrap's time to Rattrap's people. And it's a planet that can only mean trouble.

And here he thought his only big hurdle for the morning would be debriefing Nightbeat.

"Well," Rattrap mutters, glancing sidelong at the detective, "ain't this just prime." Then he makes a radio call.

[Rodimus Prime]

Rodimus strides into the room quickly, glancing around to see who's present and frowning. His curiosity is killing him, but he realizes that if they wait until Xaaron arrives that Rattrap will only have to explain things twice, so instead he just steps out of the way of the door and nods towards the three in the room. "Rattrap, Nightbeat, Holi."

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you've got to say."

[Nightbeat]

Nightbeat looks over Rattrap's shoulder to get a glance at the report, an easy enough feat given their relative sizes. He lets out a disgusted groan as he, too, puts two and two together. "This could mean several things, and none of them are good news."

The detective sits up a little straighter in his chair and makes a gesture at the Prime as he walks in, more akin to tugging down the brim of an invisible hat than a salute. "Rodimus."

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron, not being a hot rodded Winnebago or an improbably fast Porsche, is the last to arrive, though he is by no means late. He steps into the office, settles himself down on a chair in a dignified fashion, and promptly scoots to the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees, backs of his hands under his chin, all conspiratorial eagerness.

He commands, "Okay, spill it."

If it's something that requires this crowd? Emirate Xaaron wants to hear it, because it is something that ought to be heard.

[Rattrap]

"Ehh… no, probably not," Rattrap concedes to Rodimus with uncharacteristic candour. And while he appreciates Xaaron's magnanimous gesture in hunching down like that – almost makes Rattrap feel like one of the big boys – he'll spare the golden child his poor old back. "I'm gettin' there," he mutters, dismissing the command with a flick of his fingers. He taps a few keys to link his monitor with the larger setup on Nightbeat's desk, then prompts the detective, "Give 'em a look-see, wouldja?" Nightbeat obliges with the sort of nonchalant poise that deserves a fedora; why he isn't wearing it now is beyond his commander.

Rattrap makes a mental note to figure out what will best bribe Nightbeat and Muzzle to stick around and not go crazy. He's burning through seconds like cheap booze. He leans forward, elbows on his desktop.

"Kindergarten Cop here picked up dat transmission on dat frequency just a few minutes ago," he says, gesturing with upturned palm to the screen.

The frequency is Shockwave's old personal channel, as given by Ultra Magnus; the transmission is nothing blatantly ominous, like The Transformers are all dead or seven days. It's just a set of spatial coordinates. Those who run the coordinates, however, will realise they match Earth's galactic position.

---

OOC: Posing of Nightbeat with player permission.

[Rodimus Prime]

Rodimus gets a sick feeling in his fuel tank. He sets his jaw, and a slight snarl pulls at the right corner of his lips.

"Earth."

He knows those co-ordinates. He's piloted voidships there enough times.

He sighs and shakes his head. "You know, I had... kind of hoped we could avoid Earth. Don't get me wrong, I love that planet, but... it never seems to come out the better for our species involvement." He lifts a hand to his forehead. "But one thing I know for sure, though, is that if the Decepticons are there, they're better off with if we're there than they are with just the Decepticons."

[Nightbeat]

Obviously Nightbeat is going to take off his hat inside. That's just common sense, Rattrap. The fedora and trenchcoat are currently in subspace.

"We could try and draw them off. Lure them away from Earth somehow. We've got the Matrix. If we can pull off some kind of feint . . ." the detective trails off and slaps his hand down on the table, leaning back in his seat. "Ah, who am I kidding. Earth is a buffet for the Decepticons without us there. I just hate dancing these same steps again, with them leading."

Nightbeat is used to not having the initiative. He's a detective. By definition, once he's on the scene, the crime has already happened. It still rankles to continually be following after the 'Cons, though.

[Emirate Xaaron]

"Nevermind that Earth doesn't come out the better for the involvement of our species," Emirate Xaaron mutters, "I'm concerned about what Earth does to us."

Kidnapping? Vivisections? Slavery? Some humans are very quick at learning how to be as horrific to Transformers as the Transformers are to themselves, to judge by the reports from other realities.

He nods unhappily to Nightbeat and muses, "The problem with traps is that sometimes you have to spring them, whether you like it or not."

[Rattrap]

Rattrap's with Xaaron on this one, and he pulls a sour face as he cuts the feed.

"I ain't seen much of Earth," he admits, "but I gotta say, I got no real love fer the place after what I have seen." Though the snippets of contraband on his Cybertron were pretty tantalising. A modern Earth is bound to be more engaging than a prehistoric alien-governed death trap, right?

Assuming it isn't the same thing.

"We're goin' after 'em, aren't we," he mutters, not really asking.

[Rodimus Prime]

"Some of their worst behavior is self defense," Rodimus allows. After all, the Autobots themselves don't always do as hot a job at defending humans as they'd like. "Some is..." Rodimus shrugs and shakes his head. "I believe that they are as capable of being as good and as noble as our best can be, maybe better... and as terrible and wretched as our worst, if not more so. It should be no shock to us that other species can range the same sort of spectrum we can."

He looks down at Rattrap and clenches his fist briefly, not in any amount of anger but in determination, then nods. "We're going. Even ignoring what we do to Earth or what Earth does to us, we allow the Decepticons too much advantage if we give them free reign on that planet."

[Nightbeat]

"Sometimes you have to spring them, and sometimes you sneak around the back while your tech guy," gesture at Rattrap, "cuts the tripwires," Nightbeat shoots back at the Emirate. Freaking analogies.

"Between everyone we've got here, we must have played out this scenario a dozen times. There must be an angle we can work." He snorts and nods at the Prime. "People are people everywhere."

[Emirate Xaaron]

"I'm not surprised," Emirate Xaaron comments mildly to Rodimus Prime. Just don't expect Emirate Xaaron to value the lives of humans over the lives of his own men. He just re-learned that he actually needs to value the lives of his troops. Trying to tell him now that his troops need to throw their lives away to protect aliens is going to make him glare.

Emirate Xaaron leans forward a bit and starts, "Quite so, Nightbeat. Cross-referencing several realities, I've observed that matters tend to go somewhat better when we are upfront with the local populace, which I know seems counterintuitive, given our inherent tendencies towards disguise..."

[Rattrap]

"Yeah, yeah." Rattrap waves off the weird air of noble self-righteousness going on. "I'm all fer throwin' a wrench in whatever plans they got," he goes on, "but that don't mean I gotta enjoy puttin' my tail on the line fer a bunch of humans." He leans back in his chair and shrugs, shaking his head.

[Rodimus Prime]

"No one's asking you to enjoy it, Rattrap," Rodimus says brightly. Of course, implied in that phrase is the suggestion that he might well ask Rattrap to do it, anyway. Just that he's not going to mandate enjoyment.

He dips his head towards Xaaron. "I arrived on Earth a bit late in the game, but even in our own reality, things seemed to go a lot smoother once we put aside the disguises." By Rodimus's time, the Americans had even granted Sovereign Autobot Territory to the Autobots, and Rodimus's own reality is just a stone's throw and a reality crack from Xaaron's and Nightbeat's. "It's... part of the pattern, and patterns have been... significant so far in this universe. Besides, since at least starting in disguise is also part of the pattern, approaching openly has a better chance of throwing the Decepticons off."

[Nightbeat]

"So you want to go in and flash our badges?" Nightbeat asks, pushing his chair back from the table. He ponders for a moment, then shrugs. "Sounds like a plan."