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:

Swindle

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>

Catechism descends to the Sky above New Crystal City above.

Catechism has arrived.

Fleet doesn't spend much time here anymore, what with the occupation of Carbombya, but there's only so much sand-blasting a Seeker can take before he becomes frankly sick of it. Thus it is that when Fleet was put back on light limited duty, he decided to take a trip back to the only /proper/ city on this wretched planet. The pastel wonder is right now just perched on one of the higher points of the city enjoying the scenery, the metal, the shine, and the closeness to the sky. He stands, for the moment, completely still, but gives an impression of bottled motion waiting to be poured out.

Swindle, on the other hand, tries to spend much of his time in varied locales, the better to find buyers, my dear. Currently, however, he can be seen traversing one of the many roadways that access the central hub. The dirt-brown colouration of his vehicle form seems to be making surprisingly quick progress, unhindered by the crowds of Decepticons that would normally be present, he is towing a trailer with large storage containers on it and therefore, unusually for him, is not attempting to sell anything to anyone.

Catechism comes in clotted with dust and sand, a clear indication of trip to a desert area, perhaps Carbombya. Probably Carbombya. She looks a bit frantic, a bit worried, and glances around the Hub, as if expecting the sky to fall down on her. Clearly, something is wrong with this normally cheerful conehead.

For the sake of plot convenience, we shall say that both the roadway Swindle is traveling and the spot where Catechism is standing just happen to be rather near Fleet's perch. The first motion the pastel seeker makes is simply to cock his head at both of these rather curious displays. The second is to move off his spot and even closer to the others, using his antigravs to make the motion seem a single, rather long step. He's certainly careful not to put himself in a spot where he's likely to get run-over, and now that he's nearer he tries to take a moment to get a better idea what is going on.

Swindle barrels along, apparently oblivious to any developments concerning air bourne or distraught Seekers. Of course, things are rarely that simple when dealing with sneaky, devious types and Swindle is, of course, paying undue attention to such disturbances. The fact that the streets these days are sparsely occupied also draws his attention to what little activity there is.

Catechism looks around, snarling slightly. Okay, it's clearly not here. She didn't expect it to be here. She'd have been worried if it was here. So all Catechism has to do is search the rest of NCC. Good thing she started now, huh? With any luck, it won't take all her breaks from now until the stars fall.

"Uhm... Catechism?" starts Fleet a trifle uncertainly. "Something wrong?" Still, he keeps an eye on the Jeep barreling through the streets. With the lesser number of people about, something like that is all the more likely to attract attention, and Fleet, ever curious and ever cowardly is on the alert for the moment that Swingle might go from 'something vaguely interesting that's happening' to 'something that might somehow endanger or inconvenience Fleet'.

Ah, the Seekers draw nearer together. From this distance, all that he can determine is deduced from how the subjects move, which is clearly insufficient. Switching from carelessness to caution, he slows down as he approaches a turning. Briefly he considers moving on about his business, but decideing against it he plots a course that draws him nearer to the two.

Catechism has a rather 'Huh?' expression on her face when she sees Fleet. He's not what she was looking for! Although maybe she can rope him into helping her. Stranger things have happened, to grossly understate recent events. She puts on a cheery smile and says, "Fleet. You busy?"

Damn! Fleet was so busy worrying about the jeep that he missed the real danger: his wingmate! The standard-style takes a step or two back from the conehead and eyes her warily. Truth of the matter is, no, he isn't, but it may not be too wise to give that away just yet. So rather then giving an answer, he replies with another question, "Why do you ask?" At this rate, the two might as well be playing a game of questions!

Catechism still hasn't noticed the jeep. It's becoming readily obvious at least part of the reason why this Seeker can't find that for which she seeks. Still looking flustered, she crosses her arms and admits, "Well, you remember those bonuses we got?"

Swindle is briefly distracted from the Seekers as he turns onto a nice, long, straight stretch of road, which conveniently passes near the two. Ahhh, gotta love those. As he moves within audio range he starts to reduce his speed, don't want to pass too quickly after all.

And these Seekers are talking about bonuses! In earshot of Swindle! BRILLIANT! Fleet narrows his eyes and cocks his head slightly, still looking quite wary, especially since the formerly quite-speedy jeep has now slowed. "What about them?" he asks. And the ball is back in Catechism's court! Who shall be the first to stumble and fail to answer question with question?

Catechism lets her arms fall to her sides, looking a bit dejected. She glances down at the metal-coated ground and scuffs at it with her foot. Catechism glances skyward, rather regretting this whole mess. She doesn't lament her purchase, just not paying greater attention to where she'd put it. "I never said I'd spent any of it, did I?"

Bonuses! One of Swindle's favourite words, especially in the company of 'others' and 'to spend.' Satisfied that this diversion has been sufficiently interesting enough to merit the loss of time, but unable to take much more time out to make a sale, he makes a note of this delightful titbit. And did he hear the words 'haven't spent' as well?

Fleet shakes his head and tilts it skywards for a moment. "Catechism, if you can't keep track of your own bonus, why should I do it for you?" he asks, exasperated, turning his palms upwards in a 'what do you expect from me?' gesture.

"Did I say I expected you to keep track of it for me?" Catechism says with a malicious grin, clasping her hands together. She might compare Fleet to a pit gladiator but not a personal accountant. Not at the moment, anyway.

Swindle, tempted though he may be to volunteer to 'keep track' of his comrades finances, realises that very few would actually be willing, or stupid enough, to actually let him do it. He maintains a steady pace as he nears and passes the two, deeming there to be no apparent need to extend his interest any further, and time is pressing.

Fleet seems about to answer when he's distracted once more by the Jeep. He turns his head to watch Swindle as he passes, then looks back to Catechism, cocking his head and murmuring, "He's slowed down an awful lot, hasn't he?"

Catechism leans back, optics tilted skyward. Oh, this is so silly! There's nothing for it, though. Either Fleet will or Fleet won't, and it's as simple as that. She can't expect him to understand; he's a standard model, but perhaps he'll help in spite of it. Then Fleet points out the Jeep that Catechism has managed to completely miss the entire time. Huh, weird. "Got any idea why?"

Swindle is not foolish enough to make a comment about the overheard remark concerning his presence, being too intelligent to simply give himself awway like that, or by suddenly increasing speed, either. Assuming blissful unawareness, therefore, he simply continues on at the same pace. Hmm hm hmm. Curiously, he's noticing a lot of questions in this conversation, maybe communication would be better facilitated if they spoke in plain statemtents, preferably not in relation to Swindle.

"What am I, psychic?" demands Fleet, hands motioning emphatically to further make his point as he becomes once more frustrated with his wingmate. Coneheads! Who can figure them? On the upside, the seeker's annoyance with Catechism has drawn his attention once more back to her and away from Swindle. But questions or statements, it would be foolish to ever expect Fleet and Catechism to actually, well, understand each other.

"Given the way things are going these days, well, are you?" Catechism says, perhaps more seriously than she should. Of course, if Fleet is really psychic, he probably wouldn't tell her. It'd be a nice advantage to have, and she honestly wouldn't put it past him, what with the Sweeps and attention from COC and the assorted weirdness that seems attracted to him.

Swindle sighs, although the soft sound is hidden by the drone of his engine, and continues onwards. He has no particular desire to eavesdrop on a pair of bickering seekers and is running late as it is. Leaving the converstaion behind, he allows his speed to slowly creep up, not so quickly as to draw attention, but he doesn't much care if it does now.

Swindle vanishes out of reality.

Swindle has left.

Congratulations, Catechism, you have once more broken Fleet's brain. Strange, isn't it, that he can handle being befriended by Sweeps and being used for a medical one-up-manship contest between the Constructicons with stride, but Catechism still manages to say things that blow his mind. The pastel Seeker's draw drops for a moment at the seriousness of her question, but he recovers quickly, shaking his head briefly to clear it. "You can't be serious about that, can you?" he asks, obviously shocked by the very suggestion.

Catechism gestures expansively, smirking a little. Has she headed off Fleet's weirdness before it has actually happened, for once? Her optics a little accusing, a little scolding, as if Fleet should naturally expect people to ask him ridiculous things, but mostly amused, she says, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because the idea's absurd!" exclaims Fleet. Oh, dear, the game is over. Catechism WIN! The upwing brings the palm of his hand up to his forehead and sighs. "I mean, really, just because I dance and the Sweeps like me and Chimera, who hates the Sweeps, also likes me, and..." he trails off and frowns. Okay, maybe the idea isn't quite as absurd is it rightfully should be, but still... "Well, anyway, no, Catechism. I'm not psychic. So are you going to tell me what you're looking for, or do we have to start all over again?"

Catechism doesn't even know she's won. Le sigh. She points a finger at Fleet victoriously over his admission that the idea of him being psychic isn't so absurd, though. Maybe she should start wearing a tin hat or... "Fleet, will you help me find my bucket?"

Fleet stares blankly at the Conehead for a moment. "All of this is about a bucket?!" he exclaims. Sweeps are EASY to deal with compared with Catechism.

Catechism bristles and tosses her head from side to side. She exclaims, "Oh, I knew you wouldn't understand! But look, it's important to me, and yes, this is all about a bucket!"

Point for Fleet! But Catechism started ahead, already having a point on the top of her head. The pastel Seeker sighs and looks once more skyward. "You're right. I don't understand... nor do I see why you can't just get a new bucket. Wouldn't something like that be in your quarters?" he adds. After all, that's where /he/ keeps Foxfire's leg.

Catechism looks at Fleet like... like he was actually normal for once. Given how he is, that'd be horribly odd! She shuffles her feet and glances at an unspecific point in the distance. Cautiously, she asks, "Did I say I was saving the rest for something?"

"Uhm... no. No you didn't." Or if she had, Fleet didn't bother to remember. "But, uh, Catechism... buckets are pretty inexpensive and easy to come by. Hell, you might even get away with just requisitioning one. Claim you need it to clean, or something like that." Silly Conehead!

Catechism claps and her optics light up. She fairly squeals, "Fleet, you're a genius!" Compared to the conehead, most of her fellow Decepticons are. Blasted high average. "But... it wouldn't be my bucket. It'd be one on government loan."

And that's a problem? Why not just make it, like, a permanent-type loan? Surely Catechism doesn't expect that the lack of one bucket will seriously impede the Empire's war effort! Fleet is about to voice these thoughts when he stops himself. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past her. So instead he offers another solution. "Well, then... couldn't you just use it until you either found your old one, or such a time as you'd be willing to actually pay for a new one?" he suggests.

Catechism looks at Fleet thoughtfully. She scratches her chin and says slowly, mulling it over, "That could work." She adds hesitantly, "Yeah, I'll go file a form for that now." Vaguely, she feels tricked somehow. And there's a reason she can't just go buy another bucket.

But the good news is Fleet, who wouldn't have the first idea where Catechism might have stashed her bucket anyway, is saved from having to help her look for it. Hurray! Fleet wins after all! "Good idea. Now, if you'll excuse me," and with that he steps into the air and returns to his earlier perch to once more get back to enjoying his time off.