NCC Central Hub

This is the very center of New Crystal City, and serves as the gateway to the other areas of the base. A feeling of claustrophobia exists here despite the fact that this part of the city is open to the air. Now in Battle Station Mode, the Central Hub has far less buildings than usual, as many have transformed themselves into huge laser defense cannons and missile turrets. There are very few positions one can take to hide from the weapons without being forced to take evasive action. The roadways have laser point-defense systems protecting them. The important buildings, including the medical ward and the command center now have a huge layer of thick metal protecting them, covering up the facilities and protecting them from harm.

Contents:

F-35 <Catechism>

Trypticon <T>

Decepticon Sensor #1792

The Powerbase

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

Northeast <NE> leads to NCC Dungeon.

Northwest <NW> leads to NCC Medical Ward.

South <S> leads to NCC Coastline.

Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Residential Plaza.

Southwest <SW> leads to NCC Spaceport.

East <E> leads to NCC Arena.

West <W> leads to NCC Central Command.

Fly <Up>

Fleet returns from putting his catch of energon away. "Well. That could have gone better." He is *not* making the report for that one. Besides, he's now got a sweep keeping an eye on his reports, and he'd just as soon not be blamed for anything that could be perceived to go wrong when he wasn't senior 'Con on the mission, anyway.

Catechism tilts her head and asks, "That bad, eh?" She shrugs and continues. "We got a few loads of it, though, didn't we? Could have been much worse."

Fleet looks down at himself. He'd taken one pretty good hit in the left wing, but his auto repair systems were already working on it. "Pretty bad." He continues, "Anyway, I could use a refuel. You?" With that he heads for Medical.

You move northwest to the NCC Medical Ward.

NCC Medical Ward

The Crystal City repair bay is far larger than previous versions in Imperial Headquarters or Trypticon himself. Clearly it was designed by a medic, for a medic. The entire room is rectangular in nature with medical beds arranged in a neat grid pattern. The beds themselves vary, with some being precious little more than metal slabs, and others having full scanners and tools attached, as well as everything in between. In total, there are about twenty beds. There is room for more in an emergency situation. The cabinets line the walls, spaced out between medical terminals. Everything has a place, and organization is key. With battle mode being initiated, the huge windows are covered up as the bay is encased in metal for its own protection. Access can still be gained with the right codes, however. Red warning lights flash on and off.

Contents:

Arachnae

Scrapper's Art <SA> - Fourteen Pieces

MSE CO OFFICE (Earth)

Gumby Medic <NCC>

Obvious exits:

South <S> leads to NCC Central Command.

Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

East <E> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

Catechism arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Catechism has arrived.

Fleet arrives stepping a bit more heavily than normal, several shots scarring his left wing, although a close look would reveal that his self-repair systems are already on the job. He does ask to see a medic for fueling purposes, however.

Fleet asks the Gumby Medic for refueling. The medic complies.

Gumby Medic <NCC> refuels Fleet.

Arachnae is just stepping out of her office with.. yes you guessed it, a mug of something in one hand. She's still painted in constructicon colours, but there's a splattering of gleaming yellow on a shin, some red on her knee and a swatch of orange on a wing edge.

Catechism follows Fleet. She doesn't need a refueling, but she does need something to do. The Seeker comments to Fleet, "Well, any raid you can fly away from..."

Fleet glances back at Catechism and shrugs his left shoulder. Any raid you can walk away from... can still get you chewed out. But he makes no remark in that direction. He notes Arachnae's arrival and studies her thoughtfully for a bit, his optics narrowed in thought. Finally he says, "Experimenting with new color schemes, Arachnae?"

Arachnae blinks, looks up, looks down, gets a blankly sheepish grin. "Oops."

Fleet quirks a slight smile in the right corner of his mouth, although he still has an air of the faintly distracted himself. "Opps?" he asks.

Catechism has a rather blank look on her face, and she's wondering just what kind of oops this is. Oops, the base is about to explode? Oops, I misspelled something a report? Oops, I accidentally bought an Autobot on eBay? ...well, probably not that. Catechism doesn't know what eBay is.

Arachnae fans her wings out, peering at the smudges of paint that do little to add to the overall effect of an air of confidence. "Hmm. Oops.. Didn't realize I'd gotten that sloppy withthe sprayers. Must have a leak in a line someplace." Attention slides to Catechism, optics narrow.. then she peers at Fleet, "Are you two in here for something I can help with?"

Fleet shakes his head. He flicks his wing, which has nearly knitted itself back together, and says "Just returned from a raid, and I needed a refuel. Nothing much to it."

Catechism has pretty much no reason to be in here. She was too fast for any of the Autobots to shoot at and didn't stick around long, anyway. Caught, she excuses, "Oh, just seeing what was going on, is all."

Arachnae folds wings back behind her and smiles, "Well... If the two of you are not currently on patrol.." she trails off, ticking a paint covered talon (golden yellow) to her chin. "Care to help me pick up a few things on Cybertron?"

Fleet cocks his head to the side, pauses, then shakes it. No, he wouldn't be patrolling so soon after a raid. "I wouldn't mind helping." Beyond that, there was something he was tempted to discuss with the female, although he wasn't sure how to bring up the subject... or what to say once it was. "It'll give my wing a chance to finish up, anyway."

Catechism obviously has nothing better to do. However, she's not usually prone to slacking, and so she nods and agrees, "Sure." Whatever it is, it'll be more useful than gawking around and watching metal corrode.

Arachnae smiles, "Nothing terribly difficult. And we'll be remining in our own territories for the most part." She turns on a heel and pads out, "Need to use the Space Bridge to get to Cybertron and pick up those cadavers."

Ah. Oh, yes. The dead seeker collection. When he decided to he wanted to think about things like dead seekers, he had wondered when they were going to get to that. "Ah, okay." he answers, following behind Arachnae. "Catechism, y'mind helping?"

Catechism gives Fleet a weird look and follows the others. Didn't she just say 'sure' to the medic's query? Whatever. She answers again, "Of course not." Cadavers, eh? Those are certainly useful, for many reasons.

Spare parts for certain. Granted, this Medic could have other plans. Arachnae smiles faintly as she sets her mug on a counter in passing. "More optics the better. Granted, I have some understanding and even basic appreciation for the design but for this project, I need.. special materials."

* Spinny! *

Plaza of the Sciences

As you enter the plaza, your eyes turn almost immediately to the fountain of liquid mercury which serves as the centerpiece of this immaculate and tranquil area. It is carved from a beautiful crystalline material obviously imported at hideous expense and is formed as a strange yet beautiful combination of the symbols for the MSE and for the Decepticon Empire. An inscription in ancient Decepticon sigils reads, "Knowledge is the power which separates the strong from the weak."

The entire area is laid out around the central fountain, and thus reminds you of the Forum. Buildings for the various scientific divisions dot the landscape, pyramidal in form. Each of them is inscribed with the motto of the division it represents. The entire scene seems one of scholarly thought and peaceful progress... until you notice the watchful guards observing the area.

Contents:

MSE - Storage

Arachnae

Obvious exits:

Fly <Up> leads to Sky above Polyhex.

North <N> leads to Governmental Plaza.

Catechism has arrived.

Catechism follows, more at ease now than previously, during that raid. This is mixed company, with each Decepticon having a different design. Besides, there's not four of them here.

Fleet accompanies Arachnae, looking around the plaza as he does. This wasn't exactly the sort of place he generally had need to visit, but it was interesting, to say the least. He glances over at the fountain, smiling a bit, then returns his attention to the task at hand.

Arachnae leads the seekers to this particular plaza, pausing to give the fountain a look, brief smile fleeting across her features. The building we need is over there." Voice pitched soft as if this were, in it's own way, a special place for her.

Catechism looks at the fountain with a bit of awe, but in a less touristy manner, notes that Arachnae looks a bit like the non-Seeker. She looks over at the indicated building and, tearing her gaze from the fountain, makes her way toward it.

Fleet skuttles after the semi-sweep and heads in the direction indicated.

MSE - Storage

The inside of this building is simplisting. Fromthe forward entrance there is an antechamber. Behind the entryports is the storage facility which has been carved out of the planet, extending well below the surface layer. Corridors and aisles of cryotanks and tubes, some active, some not are simply numbered, no names to give away who came here for their final rest.

Catechism has arrived.

Arachnae has arrived.

Arachnae pads into the building through the small official entrypoint, pausing to key in a security code to gain access to the facility proper. "We're here to pick out the least damaged frames from an aesthetic point of view. If the internal design is too corrupt, that is why I'm here to help weed those out." Faint smile.. "Lets go. You may have to brush some ice off of the containers, we do keep then rather cold to aid in preserving what is left." She isn't going to say that some.. might very well not be dead.

Fleet walks in after Arachnae, step once more light and nervous. He looks up at the semi-sweep and nods. "All right." With that he walks further in, looking around him. A bit... morbid. And strange to think he had outlasted all these. There were other reasons he had been originally named Fleet, besides the obvious... and he has spent a good long time proving some meanings of his name wrong.

Catechism stares at Arachnae blankly for a tick. Pretty corpses? Well, the medic must know what she's doing. Catechism glances over at Fleet and smirks a little. What a conehead thinks is pretty isn't necessarily what a sleekie thinks is pretty. She's not terribly bothered by the macabre nature of the work. If they're dead, they must have been dumb enough to deserve it, she figures. The cold storage does nag at her a bit, though. After all, Catechism got stored away in stasis...

As did Arachnae, once upon a time, funny that. The now MSE commander heads down a wide spiraling ramp, heading for the older 'archives'. She pulls out a datapad, synching it with this buildings remote access operations and begins to call up search parameters, or else they could be in here a long while.

Fleet begins moving amongst the storage units, looking inside the nearest few. This *will* take awhile... he looks up to Arachnae to see if she has any means of narrowing the search.

Arachnae hnns as she keys in her parameters, "Something sleek, something that could be altered for flamethrowers or has.. had them.. And.. something that shines.." musing thoughts as she heads further down the spiral. "Should be some interesting cases along this aisle." She nods her head down an offshoot from the ramp. "Listings give briefs on design notations. And amount of damage."

Fleet chases along behind Arachnae, heading into the file indicated. Flame... shine? We want a seeker made of mirror? Well... whatever... he begins checking the listings. There is so much design variance inherent in the seeker line, it sometimes caused the mind to swim.

Catechism looks mildly disappointed. She tends to favour somewhat heavier designs that can last a long time in a fight. The conehead does have to admit that some sleek designs do work exceedingly well, though. It's the difference between a hammer and stiletto. She trots after the other two, reminding herself that medics don't have to make sense and it's best not to invite technobabble by asking them why they want what they want.

Awww.. The techobabble isn't that bad, really!

Arachnae pauses to brush formed ice off of a panel on a container. "Hmmm.." Glancing at the numerical identification before crossreferencing it. "Oh.. I do remember you."

Fleet glances up at Arachnae as Arachnae speaks to the dead. It takes him a moment to figure out that's what she's doing, and it gives him pause. He looks at the identifications and summaries in front of him, wondering if he'd run into any "old friends" here.

Arachnae headtilts, reviewing the brief on this one before she gives a shake of her head. "Warned you to leave such things to medics." She turns and paces onwards, pausing ot peek at another container.

Catechism ponders if it is better or worse to run into the dead that she knew here. At least here, the dead can serve some use. Charred scrap scattered across the battlefield generally doesn't. She wipes a bit of frost off one to get a better look and idly flicks her fingers to get the much off her hands. Hmm, the wings are too big on this one and he seems rather dull, although that might just be all the scorching.

Fleet pauses a moment, giving the one in front of closer look. He brushes off ice and looks again, narrowing his optics. Neon... green? Well, it is... shiny. And looks to be in good condition. He turns his head and looks up at Arachnae. "How's this one?"

Arachnae turns and pads over, giving that one a look over. "Hmm." she eyes the number, pulls it up.. "Lets see.. In here... because.." she trails off, reading the coronors report as it were. "I think that one will do. Framework is listed as in nominal condition, hasn't been down here past the enbrittlement stage for storage of neural transmitter pathways. Have to flush and rework the entire conduit system though. Systemic overload and poisen. Nasty stuff."

"Poison?" Fleet murmurs, although it's more or less to himself. Poison is an... odd way for a warrior to die. A moment, and he just nods, moving on to the next unit.

It's probably a good thing for Catechism that coneheads are fairly rare. No matter how detached one is, seeing someone who looks just like her dead and stored in stasis, like she was, is going to be unsettling. After all, Catechism's already blueish-grey. It's that general scarcity of coneheads that likely keeps her form seeing one here...yet. She continues to look at the dead Seekers, paying some attention to the causes of death, out of morbid curiosity and the desire to avoid what they did.

Arachnae nods once, sending request to have the green shiny one relocated to Earth. "Yes. Accidental of course." flat tone as wings shuffle behind her. "Now.. Really only need another but it helps to have a spare for parts transfer. Already out of..." she trails off and studies one cannister, brushing ice away.

By contrast, Fleet looks pretty much like any other seeker, save for the paint job, and that is in many cases meaningless here. Still, he's significantly more pale than most his kind, so even if they gray out, they gray out darker. He brushes some more ice away and frowns. Fleet. Fleet. Fleet of wing, fleet of thought... and when his namers had noticed how much frailer than the norm he had been built, life was expected to be fleeting. Sometimes he wondered if that was where his concern for self-pres - be honest with yourself, Fleet - his cowardice came from. There's a bit of rebellion in most Decepticons, and when you're told at the beginning you won't last long...

Catechism peers closer at one, perched on the tips of her feet. Although he's pretty standard, there's an odd hook-up on his lower arm trailing a bit of hose. She wobbles back, to keep from falling over, and raises a hand to her chin. The cloudy Seeker calls out to the others, "I think this one might have been flamethrower equipped."

Fleet looksup as Catechism calls out, then goes back to his searching. Arachnae mentioned wanting a spare, so he may as well keep looking.

Arachnae hmms, perking up, wings shifting and pads over. "Hose?" with all the inquisitiveness of a ferret she stands on tip toes, craning to peer down through the hatch. "Oooh.. Yes!" She pulls up the file, looking over. "Well.. Not flame but nitrogen. Simuar chemical composites in place.. Hrn.. Are the flight systems.. No.. Good.. Excellent yes."

Fleet shouts out, "Hey, if the third one's just for spare... this one looks pretty in-tact. Looks like it took a hard hit in the left shoulder, but otherwise..." he trails off.

Arachnae puts in the request for the second then heads over to see who Fleet is looking at. A brow lifts.. and she toggles her datapad to download the information. "Oh..." pause.. Be diplomatic 'nae.. Be diplomatic... "Erm..." Wings flick, "He's not slated for reuse." There.

Fleet gives Arachnae a very curious look. Apparently "diplomatic" means "impossible to really understand." But that's okay. Not his place to worry about such things, anyway. He shrugs, and moves elsewhere. "Have I moved into a bad section?" he asks.

Catechism glances down the way at the Seeker Fleet's found. Her wings droop a little when she hears that one won't work. Slowly, slowly, this place is starting to get to her, not that she'd ever admit it. She comes across one Seeker who has a neat hole right between the optics and no other obvious damage. He doesn't even look surprised. An execution, maybe? She queries, "Does cranial damage matter?"

So she still has utter moments of random obscurity. Arachnae gives a tiny shrug, and eyes the next potential. "I can rebuild a cranium without problem. As long as the demise didn't create systemic cascade failures of key node area." Padding over to peer at this one. Wings flick.. and she notes this one down to be transported to Earth. "Thank you two for helping me with this matte.r"

Fleet trembles slightly, and nods. "All right. Glad I could be of assistance." He paused. Not a good time. He shivers again, and adds, "I think I'd like to head out though. It's a bit... cold in here."

Catechism nods. "Not a problem, and I'd like to get going, too." Her wings twitch a little, though.

Arachnae tucks her wings in neatly behind her, padding back to the ramp that leads out of this house of death. "It is somewhat chilly." murmured..