+ictime

IC Time on Earth: Wed Jul 10 13:27:46 2024

Fulcrum nods. "Some of your... Comrades have met with less success" Fulcrum replies, frowning again as he remembers Fleet's disasterous confrontation with Briar. "And you also recently undertook a successful action not far from here, gaining the Empire vital supplies. These things should be commended."

Catechism knows that her own encounter with that xeno jet didn't go fantastically well, either, but that's easy for her to forget. She prefers to focus on the positive side of things, if at all possible. Catechism nods, smiling. "Why would I do otherwise? There are standing orders for raids, and the Empire needs the supplies, so I raid."

Fulcrum shrugs, with the slight sound of metal grinding against metal. "It was successful, and no resources were expended on repairs. By general standards, that's a complete success" His low tones make the comment sound more like a dirge than a compliment. "I expect the human and Autobots have increased their vigilance now, however."

Just as every good technician knows that it's best not to mention gremlins because to do so is to invite them to infest nearby equipment, perhaps Fulcrum will one day learn not to reference the one he believes to set the standard in cowardice, even in his own thoughts, least he appear, for sure enough, here comes the yellow hued coward himself, arriving with his characteristic lighter-than-it-should-be skitterstep. He shows up in time to catch Fulcrum's last comment, and smiles to himself. Good. Catechism's being given the credit for the raid, whether she'll take it or not. That works quite fine by him.

Catechism snorts, leaning against one of the consoles, the maps put aside for the moment. With her usual optimism, she postulates, "They can't be everywhere. There'll be some place they don't watch closely enough, and that'll be the place to strike." Spying the yellow one, she waves.

Fulcrum reserves his own thoughts on that; namely that it's inevitable that the Autobots and Humans will eventually upgrade their interception capabilities to a level where it's IMPOSSIBLE to raid anywhere without coming under fire. "Perhaps" is all he says, noting Fleet's entrance but not waving. Fulcrum doesn't wave.

Fleet puts on a pleasant smile and nods to both Fulcrum and Catechism as wanders over to an open terminal to make sure he's up to date as far as reports, newsfiles, etc.

Catechism continues, blithely, "Hopefully we'll have them all wiped out or shown the error of their ways soon enough, anyway." She glances back at the collection of maps. It's harder than one would expect to match up what is seen while flying to what the map says ought to be there.

Fulcrum thinks it's far more likely that both sides will destroy themselves, and Cybertron and Earth with it. "In any case, your previous statement was correct. We are under standing orders. If you are both fully fueled.." he looks to Fleet, "..we should undertake another energy-harvesting mission."

Fleet looks up from the reports - not that there's much to speak of, anyway - turns towards Fulcrum, left hand still resting against the console, and says, "I am. Where do you propose?"

Catechism continues to lean against her console. If no one else has any ideas, she's located a few possible targets for raids, but she'd rather let those who know Earth better get their say in first.

"Computer" Fulcrum states. "Display human energy sources outside the American continient, ranked by viability and distance from military installations."

"Compliance" comes a pleasant, gender-neutral voice, as the screens flicker, now displaying a photo-realistic map of the Earth, overlayed with blinking red dots. Fulcrum surveys the map for a while, then points at one near the top of the map. "There. In the zone known as..." he peers, "...Green Land."

* Spinny! *

Greenland

The world's largest island, two thirds of desolate Greenland is within the Arctic Circle. Long, complex fjords cut deeply into the east and west coasts, offering barren, but magnificent scenery as huge chunks of the vast glacial ice sheet constantly break off and slide into the frigid ocean water. The land is criss-crossed with glacier spits, meltwater rivers, and icy mountains. As barren as it may seem, Greenland is still rich in mineral resources, including lead, zinc, copper, gold, and uranium. The economy is mostly based on tourists come to see the breathtaking arctic scenery and, depending on the time of year, either the soft, diffused light and long shadows of the low-hanging midnight sun, or vivid white, yellow, green and red northern lights of the winter darkness. Despite its apparent lack of technology, Greenland also houses a sophisticated NATO telecommunications and radar network.

Contents:

Fulcrum

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to Arctic Circle.

South <S> leads to Central North Atlantic.

Southeast <SE> leads to Northeast Atlantic.

Fly <Up>

MiG-29 <Fulcrum> leads the way across the picturesque fjords and ice-covered majesty, heading for the Fnordfjordsford oil refinery at his top speed, which is no-doubt a pleasant, sub-sonic cruising speed for his two comrades. As the town-sized installation comes into view on the horizon, Fulcrum broadcasts "I shall set up the equipment, while you two clear the humans from out underfoot."

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) doesn't reply in words at all, instead using a brief digital radio-pulse code that equates to, "I understand and will obey." If you're not bothering with vocalizers, anyway, sometimes codes are most efficient standardized phrases.

In some cases, subsonic speed might actually not be comfortable for a fast fighter jet. With some of them, if they go too slow, they stall out and can no longer stay airborne. Ouch. This F-35, however, is an evil alien in disguise and thus has no problems maintaining subsonic speed. She wiggles her wings and comments vaguely, "Sweep and reap."

Sweeps? Where? Oh.. this is some of that 'combat lingo'. Fulcrum prefers to stick to terminology like 'Die Autobot Scum!'. As the three jets approach the refinery, Fulcrum transforms, the sudden change of shape acting as a crude air brake. Touching down, he leaves long furrows in the snow as he skids to a halt, boot-jets melting the snow around him, giving him a twisting halo of steam. "HUMANS!" he booms, destroying the perimeter fence and advancing into the complex. "We have come for your fuel! Do not attempt to resist! Do not attempt to call for help! Resistance will be met with excessive force!" He points his heat-rays at the cars in the company lot, melting two of them to slag to prove his point.

The yellow pyramid transforms immediately after his mission commander does so, twisting in the air to bring his feet forward and slow his forward momentum down. He lands lightly behind the other, the exothermic properties of his alien metal body melting the snow around him as he touches down. His mouth is set and his eyes glitter hard, like rubies, as they scan the area before him, looking for humans who might prove to be in the way... somehow.

F-35 lingers in jet mode a little longer then the others, waiting until she's just past the installation to transform. She hits the ground fairly heavily, leaving permanent divots in the ground underneath the snow, which quickly melts into puddles around her feet, causing small ponds instantly. Then, Catechism kicks in the back wall of the refinery, thoughtfully opening a new exit for the humans. And incidentally crushing a few.

F-35, Marine Corps variant, transforms into robot form. Catechism's feet unfold, her arms unfold out of her body, her nosecone rotates through her body and ends up on her shoulders to expose her face, and her wings rotate into position.

As Catechism kicks a hole in the wall, Fulcrum melts one, making an entrance for himself with his heat rays. Scattering workers before him, he trudges inside, taking the Energon Cubulator 3000 from subspace and attaching it to one of the maze of pipes running throughout the complex. "Any sign of hostiles?" he radios to his comrades.

Fleet looks in after Fulcrum and, upon seeing that he has things well in hand (and not, oh, mechanical digit containing grasping unit) he turns to search the sky. After a moment of searching, he radios back a code for 'negative'. He may be a philosophical talkie-type in base, but on mission or in battle he tends to prefer a bare minimum of verbal exchange. Wouldn't want chatter to get in the way of an escape, after all.

Catechism shouts, "Run, xenos, run!" and waves her arms in what one could interpret as a scary fashion to emphasize the point. The conehead remembers that killing too many fleshlings will just attract attention quicker, against all logic. She radios back in reply, "Don't see anything. I could go back in the air and hold lookout, if you want."

Fulcrum activates his device, watching as it produces a glowing cubular outline and slowly fills it with energon. "Someone must be on perimeter watch" he broadcasts, not bothering to specify who

While it's true that Catechism was the one to volunteer to be on search, Fleet doesn't care for the idea of being caught on the ground if anything happens. He radios his first actual words this mission, "I've got it," and leaps into the air, transforming almost the moment his feet no longer touch the ground. He gains altitude quickly and begins circling the area in a search pattern, reaching out with all senses.

Perimeter watch would have suited Catechism just fine, but Fleet claims the job. She shrugs and advances into the refinery, doing her best to scare off the pesky humans. They mostly get the idea and run. One would almost think they're intelligent. She radios, "If Fleet's got perimeter watch covered, I can start packing energon cubes for transit." It's better to pack up what they have now than to scramble to pack it up later while under fire.

"Good" Fulcrum states. "Converge on my position. Fleet, I want notice the moment any hostiles appear." The Blacksmith scowls. So far everything is going TOO well. His pesimistic core tells him that this just means the universe is saving up the bad stuff to dump on his head all in one go.

"I understand and will obey." Once more, not words, but the brief digital pulse. He adjusts his flight pattern accordingly. Although he remains constantly on the alert for trouble because to do otherwise was to invite unnecessary injury, he doesn’t share Fulcrum's misgivings. You pick smarter targets, you get better results. It's a simple equation. Humans protect their more considerable energy resources, and the Autobots help them; go after lesser strikes, and you may get a smaller yield, but with less overall energy expenditure.

Catechism exits through the hole she caused, circles around to the side that Fulcrum entered through, and gets to packing up the energon cubes as they're produced. It's boring work, but if it was fun, everyone and their turbofox would do it. Eh.

<Earth> Fulcrum isn't posting, but rather acting as a transmission from the Fnordfjordsford refinery in Greenland "Help.. this is Eric Steingrimmsonfrith... we are under attack by Decepticons.. repeat, this is Eric Steingrimmsonfrith of the Fnordfjordsford refinery.. we are under attack.."

Fulcrum, seeing that the cube production is going well, and not hearing the cries of pain that would no doubt accompany at attack on their watchmech far above, takes the opportunity to look around the refinery, noting its primative construction and general shoddyness.. at least to Decepticon optics. Bending to help Catechism with the cubes, he remarks "When the call comes, assist Fleet with all haste. His combat systems are..." he pauses, looking for the word. "...Lacking."

Porsche 935 Turbo cruises in from the Central North Atlantic far to the south.

Porsche 935 Turbo has arrived.

Catechism frowns a hair as she continues packing. "Fleet's not that bad, really. Sure, he's fragile, but he's quick enough to dodge most things." Of course, this just could be her mercilessly positive side talking.

Fortunatly, for the emotional well-being of the yellow seeker, he can't hear Fulcrum's comment. Well, no, not really. Fleet's not proud of the fact that he's a coward, but it is an aspect of his personality make-up that he's well aware of, and has been well aware of for a long time. But being a coward has helped him survive where many a braver mech has fallen, and ultimately fitness is proven by survival. Either way, it doesn't matter, as he continues his search pattern oblivious of any comments made.

"Not in my experience" Fulcrum intones. "Both in training and in actual combat situations he has proved that his abilities to dodge are far outweighed by his propensity to crumple like sheet metal when actually hit. I have already begun designing ways this could be rectified." Fulcrum drones this all matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't just proclaiming that his comrade was, basically, crap. He adjusts a dial on the Cubulizer, as a power-spike causes the output to stutter.

"How thoughtful of you." Coming from Catechism, that might be meant as is, with no sarcasm whatsoever intended. "He did okay when we did a two-versus sim against the training drone." Stupid sword-loving training drone. Grr.

Circle, circle, fly fly, search search search. Dum-de-dum.

Mmm. Choppy seas. That must be why the Autobots are late in coming. But coming they-- er... wait. That's one Autobot. With hydrofoils.

Fulcrum shrugs. "In any case.. I shall take this load of cubes back to New Crystal City. I suggest you and Fleet stay to acquire another load, or as many as possible. Remember - the chief priority is the energon. Avoiding damage is close behind. Destroying the enemy is currently low on the list."

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) radios to his companions, "Something's approaching. One of those wheeled Earth vehicles, approaching over the water using hydrofoils. May be one of the Autobots." He changes his flight pattern to intercept, intending to make one run in his swifter jet form before moving over to his better armored robotic mode.

Catechism nods. "Understood." Then, she hears Fleet's call over the radio, and remembering Fulcrum's insistence that she aid Fleet with all haste, and charges out of the refinery. She skids on the slush but manages to get herself into the air, with all the grace of a wounded goose.

Porsche 935 Turbo keeps on a-truckin'. Probably because if he transforms on the water it's going to be a soggy walk home. Soggy and COLD. Jazzman don't like the cold. Freezes his antifreeze or something. Now if he could skid his way onto the beach, he'd be doing much much better. "Looks like trouble's comin' t'find me." And trouble is bright yellow, isn't he?

Fulcrum checks one last time that the Energon Cubulator will function on its own, then hauls the load of Energon Cubes out the hole he melted through the wall earlier. Transforming, he lets down a towline, firing his jets and rocketing skywards with his precious cargo. Behind him, in the now abandoned refinery, his device continues to methodically produce Energon Cubes from the humans' oil.

Fulcrum crouches, then leaps up, his joints screeching as he transforms into a grey and green MiG-29.

Fulcrum begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Porsche 935 Turbo, Pyramid Jet (Fleet).

Trouble is *not* bright yellow, but pale yellow, thank you very much. Rather on the pastel side, if you want to be exact. And right now, pastel is making a dive at the Porshe, assuming that it is the enemy. If it does happen to be just a random human joyrider in a Porshe equipped with hydrofoils after all, no big loss, right? At the nadir of his dive he unleashes his rockets before rising once more. His best weapon will be unavailable once he transforms, so he'd better use it now.

You strike Porsche 935 Turbo with rocket.

Catechism smirks ever so slightly, priming her weapons. She radios Fleet, "Good that we did that team fighting exercise, eh?" The cloudy Seeker gives the situation some thought and continues, "I don't want you in this fight too long, actually. As soon as you can, go back, retrieve whatever energon has been produced in the meantime, and get out of here." Then, she aims at the Porsche and fires her taser.

Catechism strikes Porsche 935 Turbo with taser.

AAAAAA! And the stealth Porsche o' Doom tried his best to disguise himself as a whitecap, but ended up... "OW! Hey man--" And the water gets dangerous. "Yer gettin' a li'l personal there." 'Course he's not utterly defenseless, as he heads for sshore. Actually, Jazz can be rather dangerous-- see lasers? See lasers fire? Targeting yellow, because it's purdy. Oh. And more visible against the sky.

Porsche 935 Turbo strikes you with LaZ0Rz for 12 points of damage.

You are now at 36 endurance and 0 injury.

Fulcrum has disconnected.

The canary colored jet does not see lasers, does not see lasers fire, because he was in the process of climbing away from them. Ow, his aching tailfins, but that stung, hard! Still, he manages to keep presence of mind to transform, his jet-feet smoking a little where the lasers scorched as he spins in the air, his poor, aching footsies turning away from the Porsche as he twists and reaches out and down with his left arm as though to touch Jazz... with his pulsed lasers.

You strike Porsche 935 Turbo with Energy Rifle (pulsed mode).

Catechism flies ahead, not making a single attempt to be sneaky. She is, in fact, making a big target of herself. It's a stupid Catechism thing. She knows that she can take a hit better than Fleet can, and she wants Fleet to go recover energon. A perforated Fleet isn't going to be much good hauling that precious pink cargo. She closes some of the distance between herself and Jazz and then opens fire with her own laser, just trying to get in a boring old hood shot.

Catechism misses Porsche 935 Turbo with her laser attack.

Thank all that's holy, Jazz did manage to sliiiide out of the way of one of the shots, and to the icy beach. "Gahh..." He exclaims, transforming, "Ya know... Y'all better get your sorry wing-struts outta here-- 'Fore ya make me mad." 'Course Jazz looks half sizzled as is. "An' I ain't jokin'." Hmmm. Rifle out. Photon shot at the lasst one to fire. Because y'know, ya have t'spread the love as much as possible.

The Porsche explodes into action, becoming Jazz, Autobot hero.

Jazz misses Catechism with his Photon shot attack.

Now that Catechism has engaged the Autobot, Fleet is perfectly content to follow both Jazz's advice to 'get his sorry wing-struts outta there' and to follow Catechism's own suggestion. Because it was actually a logical one, and besides, it made sense to begin packing up before he was so hurt that he could only think of himself. A little late, he radios Catechism that same "I understand and will obey" code he had sent Fulcrum earlier and takes off, zooming in the direction of the factory at his top robot speed. (no attack)

Catechism not only succeeds in drawing Jazz's fire but manages to dive down at the last moment and thereby evade his photon shot. Her sudden dive blows away the snow, revealing frozen ground beneath. She hovers, just a few meters above that frozen ground, and queries, "Leave? Why should we leave? We were here first!" Then she fires off a shot at Jazz's torso with her pistol.

Catechism misses Jazz with her Zap! attack.

Mmm. White snow. White... er.. .almost white Porsche. Probably why Catechism didn't notice the sudden movement just before her shot. The one that starts the next motion that Jazz takes--- which is to use the icy ground to slide towards her-- and perhaps just a bit under her. "Actually th' humans were here firrst, an' I'm pretty sure they want ya t'leave too." He answers, and fires a laser. Because lasers are good. And it's a slightly more polite way to ask a lady to leave.

Jazz strikes Catechism with LaZ0r.

As the yellow seeker approaches the refinery he hits the ground running, his jets leaving large scorches in the snow as they don't get turned off until *after* he actually lands. He enters the plant through the big hole in the side and begins frantically scooping cubes into an energy net. Why, oh why, didn't they create an entrance in the roof? Well, if it came to that, he could put an exit there, although the building already had plenty of robot sized exits as it was. (no attack)

Foolish Catechism, villainous banter is never a good idea! Not only does her own shot miss, but the Porsche nails her right in the hip. It hurts, but it's a good thing it didn't sever her wing. She flies up higher to gain more room to manoeuvre and replies with her own gauss weaponry, which isn't polite at all. She'd probably argue that the Transformers crashed on Earth before the humans evolved, but she's not familiar with all that history. So instead, she sneers, "We need it more than they do." Ah, the argument of every playground bully who wants to play with the shiny new toy.

Catechism strikes Jazz with gauss.

Now it's getting obvious that Jazz's movement is impared by... well... whatever those gauss rounds are made of. And whatever other injuries that were caused by that first shot. But y'know-- he's not letting it get to him. After the shots spray over him, Jazz rolls, and comes up, summoning the missile launcher frrom whatever subspace lurking spot it occupies. Missile: Armed. Target: Seeker. "Ya need a lesson in manners, is what ya need." He answers, "Ain't yours. Don't take it." Hopefully his aim isn't too impared.

Jazz strikes Catechism with Missile of Lov--er. Hate.

Cubes in net, Fleet is now working at a frantic pace to get the cube-o-matic disassembled. Snap, crack, pop SHATTER! Woops! Well, he was sure Fulcrum or someone would be able to repair it later. He opens his cockpit and tosses the components, along with a few bits of the machinery they were attached to, inside. (no attack)

Catechism is sent crashing into the snow, as the missiles connects squarely with her torso, shattering her cockpit glass, charring the avionics inside, and even damaging her innards. The snow melts around her. Smoking slightly from her wounds, she radios, "Hurry up, Fleet!" The situation is not good, so Catechism tries a different track and lies her off her busted little behind, "A harsh lesson Autobot! Perhaps you have a point. Perhaps we Decepticons should only legally buy our fuel from now on." Through the pain, she then snipes at Jazz with her disruptor, hoping to hit any part of him at all.

Catechism misses Jazz with her disruptor attack.

And Jazz doesn't have that reputation of being smooth for nothing. Hey-- so he's leaking from places he shouldn't be leaking from. So he's smoking a little. "Ya really...." he tells her, ducking tthe shot, and gimping towards her. "Should work on yer one liners. An' if ya were buyin' it leagal... that much easier." He starts to swing-- checks, and makes a grab for that pistol. "Ya also need t'work on yer aim."

Jazz misses Catechism with his grasp attack.

Fleet snatches up the cumbersome energon net and takes off, kicking his antigravs on and running a few feet off the ground before he's even out of the refinery. The instant he's out he kicks his jets to full power, scorching the ground and causing further damage to the plant itself as he quickly gains altitude. Being forced to carry the energon in robot mode hinders his retreat, but he's still a fast one... hopefully he'll make it.

Fleet begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Jazz, Catechism.

Catechism glares balefully and snatches her pistol out of grabbing range. She huffs, "Weren't you the one who was lecturing me about not taking what isn't mine? Looks like you need to learn that yourself!" The downed Seeker kicks at Jazz with both feet, hoping to knock him over so she can get herself back up and out of here.

Catechism misses Jazz with her kick attack.

As the yellow one starts to gain altitude, he catches the notice of one wavering Jazz, who steps over the Seekerkick, and fires a quick shot off at the fleeing jet. "Ya know... y'all are startin' t'get on m'last nerve here." Yeah. Even Jazz looses his patience once in a while. Though he's not likely to try and necessarily /kill/ Fleetwind, but y'know. Nerve. Standing. Ow.

You evade Jazz's disruptor attack.

Standing? On Jazz's nerves? With the way his feet were hurting from Jazz's first attack? No, ouch! That sounds like it would hurt! Because Fleet was fleeing, in all likelihood it was luck (and distraction caused by Jazz's own injuries) that allowed him and his burden to escape... maybe he tilted a little to avoid the blast. It's hard to be sure, although really, it doesn't ultimately matter because either way, he's gone.

Catechism is encouraged to see Fleet escaping with a load of energon. So cheered, she gets to her feet. As much as she'd like to stick around and debate manners with the Porsche, the idea was to get energon and not get too damaged. The idea was not to beat on/get beat up by Autobots. She's already in pretty bad shape as it is, visible severed wires sparking aimlessly. With a whimper, the Seeker transforms and takes flight, just trying to get out of the frozen North.

Catechism transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into position.

Catechism retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.

Jazz starts to turn to fire a second shot at the other jet, and . . . slips on the ice, falling flat on his dinged up porsche tailpipe. "Man..."

* Spinny! *

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:

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>

F-35 descends to the Sky above New Crystal City above.

F-35 has arrived.

Fleet lands a bit more clumsily than he's used to, and the moment he touches down he flinches, turning his antigravs back on to keep from putting more weight on his sore little tootsies. Of course, his damage was mild in comparison to what Catechism took, but it *is* annoyingly placed.

Catechism transforms slowly into her robot mode, gears groaning with protest. The conehead is a mess, particularly in the cockpit area. Looking worn and pained, she inquires, "You can get all that into storage okay?" Catechism really should get herself to the medical ward, but if Fleet needs the help, she'll see to that first.

Fleet looks to Catechism and nods. "I only took one hit. It hurts more than anything else. I'll join you as soon as I've put these up, and we can figure out the wording for that report."

Fleet limps into Trypticon to drop off the cubes.

Catechism nods, wincing. "Good. See you there." Then, she limps off to the repair ward, hoping that Fulcrum intends to follow up on giving Fleet better armour than tin foil. Slag, she'll even hold down Fleet while Fulcrum makes the changes, if it comes to that.

* Spinny! *

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:

Catechism

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 has gotten herself nicely slagged. She's got minor damage to her hip, but the thing that anyone is going to notice off the bat is that her cockpit glass is gone, the avionics inside are a complete wash, and beyond even her cockpit avionics, she's got more internal damage. It's an ugly mess, no two ways about it. She staggers over to a table and sits herself down, sighing heavily.

Fleet doesn't limp in and drags himself over to an empty medibed near the conehead. He's no longer cheating, because he's too down on energon to keep using his antigravs unnecessarily, and really, he has nothing to complain about and knows it. One hit in the afterburner and all. He pulls himself into the bed and waits for one of the on-duty techs to come check him over.

Apparently, Fleet's damage is not that bad, and the technicians decide to leave it to his selfrepair systems, although he is given a refuel. When they leave, the yellow seeker approaches the nearest data terminal to work out the report.

Catechism looks over at Fleet wearily. Despite being in a world of hurt, she manages a smile. Focusing on the good things, she notes, "Looks like you didn't get too injured." The Seeker pauses. Blast, this really smarts. If only she'd had some smarts, maybe she wouldn't be in this situation. "How many cubes did we get?"

Fleet answers without looking up from his report, "30, all told. A pretty good haul, even when taking into account the damage taken."

Fleet finishes entering in his report and smiles to himself, casting a concerned look at Catechism.

Catechism shrugs, wincing. "Looks like he's too busy," she says, referring to the gumby medic. Similar to her insistence on holding off Jazz while Fleet escaped with the energon, she now insists, "I can wait. I'll be okay."

Fleet nods. "Right," he replies. "Well, I'd better be off." And with that he turns on heel-thingy and leaves, intending to catch up with Fulcrum when he got the chance. If Fulcrum wants to drag them out on these raids and then take off first thing (and really, leaving a raid *before* Fleet is something to be commented on in general principle), Fulcrum can see to it that those who go with them are brought back up to good health.

.... Not that Fleet has any way to back any demands up, if it came to that.

Report:

============================ BB Post in Progress =============================

Group: Decepticon

Title: Report

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Text only report using Fleet's security code.

Raid undertaken at a fossil fuel refinery located in Greenland.

Decepticon units: Fulcrum (mission leader), Catechism, Fleet

Opposing Forces: Jazz

Result: 30 Energon cubes retrieved in two loads. First shipment was retrieved prior to the arrival of the enemy unit, who was kept preoccupied by Catechism, allowing for escape with the second shipment. Minor damage taken by the cube-o-matic and Fleet, considerable damaged suffered by Catechism.

Recommended commendations to Catechism for her performance in battle and Fulcrum for the organization of a successful raid.

General notes: Although opposition forces did arrive on the scene, they were slow and poorly organized, including only a single unit. Recommend continued raiding of similar type remote sites as when available.

Report ends.

==============================================================================