South Central States

The South Central State region consists of Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. Oklahoma is a rugged area turned into a populated region with oceans of grass, highly variable weather patterns, the world's largest hill, and the nation's largest Native American population. The vast state of Texas has mountains, forests, beaches, and oilfields. Arkansas, possessing the only active diamond mine in the United States, also has poultry farms, lakes, hot springs, and spectacular Ozark vistas. Finally, Louisiana includes the Mississippi delta, bayous, marshy rivers, and the Big Easy, New Orleans, the leading U.S. port and the birthplace of jazz.

Contents:

Dee-Kal

Station 25

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to North Central States.

South <S> leads to Gulf of Mexico.

West <W> leads to Southwestern States.

East <E> leads to Southeastern States.

Fly <Up> Louisiana <LA> Texas <TX>

F-35 <Catechism> descends from the skies above.

F-35 <Catechism> has arrived.

Dee-Kal is enjoying a sit-down, and is sitting on the sunny side of slight hill, a laptop on her knees. She hears buzzing sounds overhead.

Dee-Kal sheilds her optics against the sun. "Helicopter mating season again..."

Buzzing? Why, this pyramid jet may be pale yellow, but he does not buzz like a bee! No, he roars, like any proper jet. And right now he's roaring towards an area of relative cover, an area where a proper, ordinary jet would not be landing in... some place with some nice, tall trees and a lake. Why? Does he enjoy the greenery? No, it is ucky. However, it hides him from the roads and allows him to take his own version of a 'sit-down', which might involve a bit of practice fire against some small targets that can't fight back. Through the powers of plot contrivance, this spot is also relatively near where Dee-Kal is having her sit down.

Dee-Kal stops hearing quite as much buzzing. Maybe one of them died in a fight for females.

F-35 <Catechism> is out on patrol with Fleet, which is hardly unusual. After being back on Cybertron for a bit, she can't help but think how badly Earth needs to be plated over with purple metal. Green belongs on Constructicons, not all over the place.

Before coming in for an actual landing, the pastel yellow and white pyramid jet climbs a bit more, then transforms, showing itself to be a Decepticon Seeker. There is a moment when he is completely still in the air, and then he falls, plummets... and turns it into a dive. Then, on the way down, he curls into ball and then straightens up, putting on his thrusters and antigravs in time for graceful landing in his little covered area by the lake (and burning the grass directly beneath him, although the area is damp enough that the fire does not spread). He lets loose a ringing laugh of pure joy, more willing to show off his dance now that he knows no one intends to shoot him over it, and then looks up at his patrol partner.

The yellow Cybertronian jet unfolds, revealing the robotic form of the seeker Fleet.

F-35 <Catechism> observes Fleet's showy landing and flicks back and forth on her longitudinal axis, as if amused. On the last flick, she doesn't reverse her direction and instead lets herself be spun upside down. Then, she gently arcs downward, tracing a half-circle with her path. Flaps up, antigravs on, and brakes protesting, she touches down and rolls to a stop, with space to spare, despite the small size the little clearing. She transforms, creaking a bit, and inquires, "So what's down here?"

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.

Dee-Kal listens. The buzzing has stopped, and the winning helicopter has left with a loud... laugh?

The little Junkion sets aside her laptop and gets to her knees. She crawls up the rise and looks over the top of the hill. Oh, it's just a couple of dancing Septics. Is it Decepticon jet mating season as well? Deeky shakes her head, trying to focus, and regards the two.

Fleet shakes his head, not yet aware of the lurking collection of spare parts. "Not a damn thing. And no people, either... even in the more populated nations of this world, there are some nice out-of-the way spots. But there are lots of animals and such... I figured we could perhaps take a break from flying and get in a little target practice or some such. If any natives do show up, we can scare 'em off easy."

Catechism ponders what they'll do if the natives happen to have exo-suits, for a moment. Then, she dismisses the thought. It's too sensible for her. She shrugs and kicks at the grass. The stupid stuff just leaves nasty green stains on her foot for her troubles. Bah. Catechism notes archly, "The meat animals can't fire back."

Dee-Kal lies down on her front and shields her optics, watching the two jets intently. Maybe jets like to relax in the country too. Then she gets hit by a flying lump of turf. It doesn't hurt much, but the thump makes her wince.

The jets do like to relax in the country, but unfortunately, Decepticons have a funny idea about what's relaxing. Fleet looks at Catechism and shrugs. "Yeah, and? I'm light limited right now, anyway... they cleared me for the skies, but if I get in confrontation, I have to fly for it. Doesn't mean I can't practice my aim, though, and /these/ meat animals not only can't fire back, they're not inclined to report things to their media or call for help." The yellow seeker raises his right arm and points it at a nearby bird, one that had returned not long after the 'Con's disruptive landing. "Of course, I can still pretend that I'm shooting at Autobots..."

Catechism nods and comments absently, "Me too...getting smacked by a gestalt takes a lot out of you." A few hundred transistors, one cockpit glass, twelve wing struts, 7 astrolitres of energon, three sets of avionic sensors...and a lot more. Catechism considers a blackish little flying creature. Would that make a good target? Hmm...

Dee-Kal sits up and looks at the big jet targeting a tiny black flappy bird. Bet she'll miss, yes. Miss a thing so small, easy, yes... Let's watch.

Fleet is /not/ targeting a black bird, not because he has more sense than Catechism (although he does, but that has nothing to do with it), but just because the first one to catch his eye is brightly colored. They stand out more, y'know. He clicks his weapon over to its lowest setting... after all, why waste energon on these pathetic little things? He mutters, "Damn Aerialbots."

Fleet fires, but the bird takes flight. He does manage to singe a few leaves, however. "Damn! Dodgy little things."

You don't wanna to know what the bird does as it flies over Deeky's head... Fortunately, it misses.

Catechism has the amazing ability to miss the broad side of a barn. It's something that only generic bad guys get. This does not, however, imply that she can hit small, erratically moving, objects, either. She can't. Catechism does indeed miss the raven, and it croaks out a cry to all the other ravens in the area to come gang up on this big, weird-looking predatory bird.

As the ravens mob Catechism, Fleet takes several steps back. He's not afraid of the things, no, but he knows what a mess it can be to clean bird-bits out of oneself, due to an unfortunate encounter some months ago. And Catechism then had been so disgusted that she wouldn't even look at him. "Ugh! That's gonna be a mess, Catechism! I think you picked the wrong type." Luckily, Fleet is a fairly practiced deceiver, and thus he manages to sound nicely sympathetic, and even avoids snickering at his wingmate.

Dee-Kal stifles a giggle. She ends up snorting instead. The ravens are doing a nice number on the femmjet.

While it's true that the birds are making a lot of noise, it's uneven, inconsistent... and Dee-kal's little snort of laugher happens at just the right time for Fleet to overhear it. He frowns and looks around, ruby optics scanning the foliage. "Hey, uhm... I'll be right back, Catechism. I have to go check something out."

Catechism is too busy being mobbed by beady-eyed black birdies to care what Fleet's doing. She can swat them, but then they splatter, and the ones that she didn't splatter just squawk and summon more. Catechism collapses to her knees with a stifled whimper. The messy xeno bits that are plastered to her armour disturb her far more than any sea of energon that she might wade through in battle, her own energon or otherwise.

Fleet is distracted from his search for the funny snorting noise by Catechism's antics. He turns around and looks at the cringing conehead. "Oh, for the - ! Come on, Catechism! I know it's disgusting, but that stuff cleans right off in acid! I mean, what did you expect? Why do you /think/ we call the things 'squishies' anyway?"

Dee-Kal is watching Cate get mobbed by an endless stream of black birds, and trying not to laugh, so she doesn't notice Fleet at first. His distraction puts her back on course though, and she hides a little more securely. (Hopefully!)

Catechism makes a soft whining noise, like an aircraft engine barely on. Now, the birds seem horribly entranced by the faux-glass of her optics and cockpit. Does Fleet have any idea what it's like to have small avian creatures fling themselves into his optics? Does he, huh? With a strangled sob, she covers her optics with her hands to protect them and chokes out, "But, but Fleeeet! They're, they're...xeno."

Yes, Fleet does! Well, not his optics, no, because he'd been in jet mode, but he knows what it's like to clean the bloody (in a most literal sense) out of his jets! He clenches his fist in frustration. "Of /course/ they're xeno! This is their planet! Really, Catechism! How do you expect to help us conquer the universe if you're not willing to get xeno... stuff... on you from time to time!"

Dee-Kal hears shouting, and perks up her head over the bushes.

Catechism just kneels on the ground, hands covering her face. The remaining ravens circle and smack into her and peck at whatever they can get their little beaks on. They like shiny things after all, and robots have ever so many shiny things! Every so often, she shakes involuntarily, disturbing the perching birds, who flap off, only to settle on her again. She seems to be in a no-win situation. Distantly, Catechism hears Fleet's admonishment. He's right, of course, but sense isn't going to reach her now. Shoot xenos? Sure. Feel their soft, warm innards dripping down your armour? Shudder.

Dee-Kal stands up in full view, and looks at the two jets

Fleet succeeds in grasping Catechism, throwing it off-balance.

Fleet grabs Catechism, shaking off the ravens for a bit, and attracting their attention as well, although he's not nearly as distrubed about them as she is. "Catechism! If you don't shake out of this right now, I'm dumping you in the water!" He begins to drag the other in that direction to demonstrate that he's serious. "I mean, come on, this is pathetic! What if someone were to see-" and at this he cuts off. Why? Because in order to drag Catechism, he has to face in the other direction, which means he has spotted the now standing Dee-Kal. "Scrap!" he shouts, dropping his wingmate.

Dee-Kal switches to automotive mode.

With a flip into the air, Dee-Kal's legs contract, sliding up against her body while her head retracts and her arms fold away, replaced by jet thrusters. A spoiler locks into place. Panels on her legs slide open and stabilisers emerge. Short rear-mounted wings swing out - voila! Hovermode!

Junki-Hovercar extends a holoprojector and applies various filters.

A rather obviouly fake Godzilla program sequence runs, and a huge ghostly Japanese monster appears before Catechism. But... it's NOT intended for her.

Junki-Hovercar uses stereo techniques to make the monster's roar stir the ravens up - and the sonics makes the air vibrate as well..!

Catechism gasps as Fleet grabs her, starts dragging her off to the body of water, and then summarily drops her. Lying on the ground in a crumpled, bloody-and-black heap, she's still dazed and feels like she wants to cube her 'gon, if you get the drift. Catechism stares at the ghostly giant reptile, baffled and says weakly, "...whu?"

Junki-Hovercar keeps up the action, monitoring the sound and image show, working for maximum raven-spooking effect.

"What the shock?" Fleet growls, startled, clapping his hands over his audios. It's doesn't hurt, it's just /annoying!/ But the performance does seem to work as the black birds are all chased off. The yellow and white Seeker, for his part, looks positively baffled as the Junkion seems to be /helping/ the two seekers out.

Junki-Hovercar glides down into the edge of the clearing, still keeping the effects up. THen as the birdies all fly away, spooked nicely, the 'gram fades, and the sounds die away.

The hovercar reverts to its former... Transformer.

The hovercar wings fold, the stabilisers and thrusters retract into the body. The nose of the vehicle extends and separates into a pair of legs. Arms emerge, the spoiler/tail folds back and a pretty head rises from within the body. All parts lock into position - where's your camera, Ma? Dee-Kal's here!

Catechism slowly pulls herself into a sitting position at Fleet's feet, wincing violently as random bird bits slide into her joints. Oh, there's just something about the crunch of bone. It's nothing like metal or plastic or anything decent!

Dee-Kal moves in without a word and opens her chest hatch - a little - reaching inside to procure a spray bottle and a large cloth. The hatch closes again with a dull clunk. The young Junkion lowers herself to her knees, closer to Cate, but waits before acting.

Fleet, for his part, looks at Dee-Kal. He narrows his optics, but isn't about to start a fight. Technically, he's not allowed to just now, anyway, but he's not about to tell Dee-Kal that! But when she approaches he does aim a shoulder rifle at her. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demands, trying to sound menacing despite the fact that Catechism just made the both of them look exceedingly ridiculous.

The seeker's optics flash a fevered red, and Catechism tries to wave one of her arm guns in the direction of the strange robot, Autobot, Decepticon, or otherwise. Her fellow Decepticons would be well within their rights to give her a beating for this pathetic display, and the Autobots don't need any reason to give the smackdown to seekers. She's quite clearly scared, despite her attempt to brandish a weapon.

Dee-Kal looks up, unaffected by having a gun in her face. She can understand the situation well enough. "Get the bits out. Eliminate nasty germs that lurk under the rim. Cleaner than clean, whiter than white. Non-biological!"

Fleet looks a bit confused for a moment, brow-ridge knitted as he tries to make out what Dee-Kal is saying. "Huh?" he asks eloquently. Finally something dawns... the symbol, it's not quite right. "You're one of those... those junk-things-people! Junkions!"

Dee-Kal nods, brightly.

Dee-Kal says, "True blue! You got it! Prize to the guys!"

Dee-Kal carefully pushes the gun arm aside.

Catechism stares blankly at the other robot, her gun arm wobbling, and then drops it to the ground, at the push. Huh, this doesn't hurt...must not be being shot, then. Weird. She looks up at Fleet and asks, her voice quiet and a bit staticy, "Junkions?" Those were in a file she had to read after she was reactivated, but she can't say that she really knows what they are...

Dee-Kal takes the initiative and smiles kindly at Cate. She takes her arm and looks her in the face again, keeping up with the nice smile. The little Junkion aims her bottle of cleaner and squirts a generous amount on the Decepticon jet's lower arm.

"Yeah. Some sort of weird branch of Cybertronians. Allied with the Autobots." Fleet lowers his weapon as well, but he keeps his optics fixed on Dee-Kal in case she wants to try something. "Haven't ever met one, but from everything I've heard, they're /extremely/ Terran tainted." This last bit is said more than a little arrogantly.

Dee-Kal doesn't really care what people say about her kind. She has a job to do, and she enjoys doing it. THe spray foams up nicely on Cate's arm.

Catechism continues to stares blankly. She tries to pull away when the Junkion gets out the cleaner, but...it's not burning and eating through her armour like acid. It seems to be, in fact, cleaner. A little more coherent now, the seeker asks, "If they're Autobot allied, then why's she..." Catechism trails off as a tuft of feathers slides down her helmet and right onto her nose.

Fleet shrugs both shoulders and wings. "I've got no clue." Optics stay focused on Dee-Kal, snarl remains on his face. Because, you know, pastel yellow seekers are /so/ intimidating. He would say more, but he knows better than to stand around talking about other people as though they're not there, not because it's rude, but because it's far too easy to forget they are there, and let something slip you don't want them to hear. "You! Why are you helping?"

Dee-Kal begins to giggle at the feathers. She doesn't bother to hide the laugh either, and enjoys a moment of fun. She looks up at Fleet. " Because it was not your fault!" she beams.

Catechism would like to crawl into a hanger and hide there for a few eons. Downed by xeno creatures that don't even have weapons and saved by an Autobot ally? Decepticons are supposed to be superior! This isn't right at all.

Dee-Kal wipes at the foam, and sure enough most of the bird-jam goes with it. Deeky opens a wrist compartment and removes a small metal pick, and a device like a small nozzle pops up, as well. The Junkette happily picks bits of bone and giblets out of Catechism's joints. "If you have nothing else to do, be useful and help out. Here. You squirt the other arm, where I did. Clean as a whistle in no time flat. Guaranteed, or Galvatron Strikes Back"

Dee-Kal holds the bottle up to Fleet, insistently.

Fleet's expression goes blank again. "'Because it... was not...'" he trails off and then shakes his head and looks down at Catechism, gesturing towards Dee-Kal. "And this is why I used to try to avoid learning about human culture. After awhile it makes you utterly incomprehensible!" When the Junkion hands him the bottle he stares at it a moment, confused, before he accepts it. He shrugs and moves around Catechism and begins spraying, although he continues to keep an eye on the stickered one.

Catechism resigns herself to her fate with a stifled sob. She sits still to make the job easier for the others and glances up at the sky, watching the clouds. Then she glances down at the Junkion, and looks at her critically before asking slowly, "Wasn't my fault?"

Dee-Kal works on one side of Cate, Fleet the other. "Not your fault. You shine and twinkle. Birds like twinkly things. Crows especially! Lighten up, lady. Most folk pay thousands to get personal service like this!" She beams encouragingly.

Wow! Fleet could actually make out what Dee-Kal was talking about that time! "I was just going to drag her back and dump her in a weak acid bath myself," he comments. "That's cheap enough." He continues to spray the stuff where there's bird gunk about, occasionally pausing to give either the bottle or Deek a suspicious look.

Catechism couldn't tell a crow from a chicken and feels that this has all gotten rather surreal. The fear in her optics is fading, replaced by utter bafflement. She states the obvious, as she often does. "I'm a Decepticon."

Dee-Kal sits back on her knees, and looks at Fleet in wonder. "Acid bath..? Ugh. Very bad for your finish!" and she baps him lightly with the bottle. Then she coaxes Cate by admiring her generally. "A very GOOD Decepticon. Stylish and swift."

Fleet often states the obvious as well, but that's only because he's convinced that a lot of folks tend to overlook it and need it pointed out to them. He doesn't think he's smarter than everyone else, but he's convinced he has more sense than most. He gives Dee-Kal an irritated look when she baps him. "Hey, it works, it's fast, and the finish can always be fixed later!"

Catechism gives the Junkion a blank look. Okay, who went and changed the rules of the universe on her? The seeker stutters, "You...you don't have a problem with that?"

Dee-Kal smiles and shakes her head. "No weapons used. No injuries to me, or to you by me. Bad luck. If you treat me like the enemy, then I give as I get."

Fleet is treating Dee-Kal like a person that he doesn't trust, but doesn't currently intend to shoot. He grunts, and then shrugs. "Whatever, but I'd be willing to bet your pals wouldn't be too pleased with what you're up to."

Dee-Kal says, "Oh, I will make a full report. Bad luck my radio does not work right now, though"

Fleet's lips curl up in a smirk. "Do you really have any idea just how stupid it was of you to tell us that?" he sneers, then steps back. Catechism is by now fairly well foamed. Despite his words, however, he doesn't make any threatening movements. Even if she has no way to call for help, a fight might attract attention anyway, and he's not in a condition to take on too many enemies.

Catechism looks mortified. 'Decepticon seeker felled by Terran fowl'. Yeah, that's going to look fantastic. What will look worse is that she didn't try to kill her enemy, due to her bird-induced panic attack. Her mouth opens in protest and then closes, as she can't think of anything coherent to say. At least Fleet is being a proper Decepticon. Thank goodness for small mercies.

Dee-Kal says, "No. You see, my radio works just fine. UNOFFICALLY."

Fleet is being a proper Decepticon while Catechism is playing pathetic coward. Wow! The rules of the universe really have been changed! He frowns at Dee-Kal's comment and then nods. "Right," he says. "Well, good. And since you're not going to use it, I don't have to make any threatening allusions to what'll happen to you if you do." He sits and watches the Junkion work, as he has no useful built in cleansing tools.

Dee-Kal says, "You seem nice folks. You have your roles, though, of Decepticons, but you are not Decepticons right now. You are just Transformers. Hey - so am I! And I help when I can, where I can, so long as it is not a factional thing."

Catechism just hopes that the Autobots won't hit upon the idea of using small woodland creatures as their next superweapon. She shudders, thinking about how devastating that would be. Y'know, she was just talking the other day about how nice it would be if they were just one big faction. Of course, in that context, it involved a lot of brainwashing. At the Junkion's comment, the seeker shakes her head and disagrees, "I'm always a Decepticon, whether or not I'm acting on orders. It's more than just a symbol and what leader I answer to. It's values and beliefs."

"I am /always/ a Decepticon," Fleet glowers, hands resting on his knees. "It's just that at the moment, I am a Decepticon that's decided it's more trouble than it's worth to cause you problems. And I am /not/ nice. I'm only polite because it confuses people." Fleet is being polite? Well, for a Decepticon, yeah.

Fleet looks a bit more alert at Dee-Kal's actions. "Hey, now! What are you doing now?" he demands, trying to once more look menacing. It's hard when you're pastel (although the Sweeps manage it despite their adorable pink nails). He's tense again, but hasn't moved beyond that.

Dee-Kal holds up the metal pick. "Ungluing the gunk in her elbows. What are you doing?"

Catechism has a highly developed ability to rationalise things. It comes of not quite believing in reality. Thus, it occurs to her that is this Junkion is helping her, she's not out thwarting Decepticon plans. That's good, right? Brilliant. The seeker smiles slightly at the thought.

Absolutely nothing useful! Can't Deek tell? The pastel Seeker narrows his optics. "Keeping close watch on you," Fleet replies evenly.

Fleet does have a habit of keeping watch, doesn't he? Though he usually does it during raids, not...cleaning sessions. Erm. Catechism figures that she can at least try to salvage this and maybe get some information, a bit of her usual cheer creeping into her voice as she asks, "So your stance on the conflict is really more neutral, then?"

Dee-Kal says, "I love the Autobots. They are extended family. Shiny and heroic - I believe in their cause. I know w hat I would wish you, too, but who would listen to me among you? You would never do it, anyway."

Fleet continues to study Dee-Kal intently, his stance daring her to make the wrong move. "Well, ignoring the fact that if we did decide to come over to /your/ way of thinking we'd be hunted by the Sweeps for the rest of our very short lives and no Autobot would believe or accept us anyway, there is also the fact that if we didn't believe in what we were doing, we wouldn't be doing it to begin with. I do not put myself at risk lightly, and would certainly not do so for a cause I was not dedicated to."

Catechism mutters, "I'd die before I defected." Being a Decepticon is part of who she is. Anything that convinced her otherwise would kill what makes Catechism who she is. Thus, death would indeed be preferable to conversion and living a hollow half-life, uranium slowly decaying to lead. Louder and with a note of challenge, she says, "Heroic? What's heroic about trying to kill the only ones who can get this mess of a universe under control?"

Dee-Kal says, "Your side tried to kill them first!"

"Oh, really?" replies Fleet. "Our own history tapes say differently. We set out to correct what is wrong, and they tried to stand in our way. Reality becomes what is written down, and Cybertron has at least two histories. No one will ever be able to prove one over the other."

History is written by the victors, and just who owns most of Cybertron at the moment? Yeah, the Decepticons. Catechism again looks to the sky. Cybertron is out there somewhere, beyond the blue. She comments idly, "If the Autobots would leave us to our own devices, there'd be no conflict. We'd go our way, they'd go theirs, and there'd be no need for all this conflict."

Dee-Kal says, "You like to fly, fight and fight again. What if your regular fixer was an Autobot? WOuld you protect that Autobot?"

Fleet gestures emphatically as he raises his voice, "As far as I'm concerned, that is how it /should/ be! Us doing the battling, they providing the support. Autobots are not right for war anymore than Decepticons are right for peace! We are /meant/ to be parts of the whole, and the Autobots betray their own natures twice over by denying this!"

Catechism gives the Junkion a funny look. Decepticon medics can usually hold their own (or better) in battle. Catechism doesn't need to worry about them. She answers simply, "As I would protect anything worth protecting." It may be a bit cryptic, but it's clear enough to her. She doesn't exacly agree with Fleet, but she doesn't want to present a divided front to the enemy, so she stays quiet on that matter.

Dee-Kal suddenly stands up and KISSES Fleet right off the bat - right on the mouth - all for a couple of seconds. The she lets him go as quickly and resumes working on Cate's gunked up joints.

Dee-Kal looks at Fleet. "If you can think that way, there may be hope for us all yet. And in hopes you DO remember, I did that. I doubt you will for get either, now!"

Fleet's optics go wide and his face completely blanks, his mouth slightly open in shock. Once he manages to get his processors working he stares at Dee-Kal for a good bit before he goes on. "Yeah, you're right about that... not leaking likely I'll forget that." He shakes his head and mutters, "Not that I got a real good idea what to make of it, either..."

Catechism stands up and shakes herself. She's clean now, anyway. She silently stares at Fleet and the Junkion for a while. Must be a weird Junkion ritual - data transfer, maybe? She nods to Fleet, "I'm going back on patrol." Then, the seeker looks at the Junkion and shakes her head. "Thanks, I guess. Pity we can't continue this chat." Then, she leaps into the air and transforms.

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.

Fleet stands up as well and continues to give Dee-Kal a very strange look. Unlike Catechism, he actually is aware of kissing. Some sort of human sign of affection, right? Yet more evidence of how much the Junkions have allowed themselves to be taken over by Terran culture. "I, also, need to return to my duties," he says, his voice polite but still cool, and bafflement still plagues his tone. "Your assistance is appreciated."

Dee-Kal puts her tools away, and smiles sweetly. "You are VERY welcome."

Dee-Kal says, "You have a nice day, and drive safely now!"

"Where's the fun in that?" Fleet answers, although quietly. With that he leaps into the air as though diving upwards, transforming as he rises and speeding off.

Fleet transforms from robot to pyramid jet.