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:

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>

Catechism lands, looking in good humour. She didn't get nearly so trashed as some of her comrades at that impromptu party, and it's hard to get her down, anyway. The cloudy Seeker's back from a scouting mission, but given that she doesn't know much about Earth, it's doubtful if she can tell a derrick from Disneyland. She scans the area, looking for her Decepticon brethren.

Fleet is idly wandering about the Central Hub, more or less lost in thought. He'd been going over in his mind some likely spots for a raid... not bigger yield targets, like some of his peers prefer, but more out of the way targets. The question was, who could he get to suggest the raid, so that he wouldn't have to take credit for it... and how?

Catechism spots the yellow Seeker, who looks like he's got his head lost in the clouds, so to speak. Perhaps he has had better luck scouting than she did, though. She hails, "Fleet! Any luck finding resources for our dear Empire to exploit?" Catechism doesn't mention her own lack of success. That would just be silly.

Fleet looks up as the sky colored conehead hails her. Perfect! He suppresses what would have been a surprisingly predatory grin, turning it instead into a friendly smile. "Catechism," he begins by way of return greeting. "Actually, I have found a couple of places that might make for likely targets... not really the sort of high yield hits that some of our brethren might prefer, but... right there... right nearby... and open, and unguarded." He shrugs and looks down sadly. "Unfortunately, it's sometimes hard to entice some of our kind without the prospect of 'glorious battle', even if *is* for the benefit of our beloved cause."

Catechism narrows her optics suspiciously and drums her fingers against the upper edge of one her wings, thinking. This talk of low yield targets isn't terribly enticing, but it's better than nothing. Every little bit helps, yeah? "I don't know... are you sure there aren't any viable higher yield targets? Of course, if there isn't anything better, I'm all for fulfilling those standing orders with a small job."

Fleet steps forward. "But you see, that's the thing... the yield isn't as great as a lot of these other targets, but it's not inconsiderable either... couple that with the fact that we're not spending the resources that we would have to for a hit that involved greater resistance, combined with the fact that this place is *so* close that we're not having to expend as much energon going to and from, and you get an overall gain of at least as much as we normally get on some of the more... aggressive raids."

Catechism frowns a hair and stops drumming her fingers against her wing. Fleet's being thinky again. Curses. As a token resistance, she asks, "If it's so close and easy then why hasn't it been done already?"

Fleet chuckles very softly. "For all I know, it has... but if so, it wasn't bled dry." Then he pauses and does something of a theatrical shrug, optics turned towards the sky, "Although I daresay the reason it hasn't been raided in my own memory," he does *not* point out just how short a period of time that encompasses, "has more to do with what I've already told you. And the very reasons you yourself are so resistant to it." He lowers his gaze, clenching a fist. "It's not glorious. It's *useful*," he grounds out the last, emphasizing the first syllable. He opens his fist and gestures that arm wide, "So many of our fellows put their own glory over that of the empire! They're not concerned with what is good, only what looks good!"

Catechism isn't about to let Fleet make her feel guilty and decides that raiding, whatever the target may be, is probably more useful than standing around and talking with the other Seeker. Quickly, so that Fleet doesn't have time to weasel his way out of this, Catechism agrees, "All right. I'm there. You bring the cube-o-matic." Catechism does have a vague rationale aside from making less work for herself. Fleet tends to watch out for himself in combat. Just about everyone does, but Fleet seems to be particularly big on that idea. The cube-o-matic is important, and if it's right there with him, it'll be more likely to fall under his sphere of protection. At least, that's how Catechism reasons it. She could just be trying to get out of carrying the darn thing, after all.

Fleet crosses his arms as though considering it, and waits a moment before returning a thoughtful, slightly reluctant nod. "Very well. Hold on while I fetch it." Excellent! She was giving the orders already... which means that it'll be logical to saddle her with the credit! Besides, the person with the cube-o-matic was usually *not* the person on lookout, and the person on lookout is generally the first to engage the enemy if anything did come up. However, he gave no hint how pleased he was with these turn of events, instead walking off at a normal, slightly reluctant pace to comply.

Almost as an afterthought, Catechism asks, "So... where are we going? You never mentioned that little detail." In headfirst and without a clue, that's her, all right. She crosses her arms and watches Fleet carefully, making sure that he does actually go get a cube-o-matic.

Fleet does go, shouting back, "Tasmania!" before he leaves. However, as his player doesn't actually know where it is, we're just going to say he runs off, retrieves the mysterious device, and returns.

Luckily, Catechism has at least consulted a Terran world map as a preparation for her duty on Earth and does have a vague idea where Tasmania is. When Fleet returns, she nods, pleased, and presses her fist into the palm of her other hand, as an, 'Okay, I've waited. Let's go raid now,' gesture. Briefly, she inquires, "Got it? Good," and then moves to transform and depart.

Fleet opens his cockpit to store the components, not to mention the energy net that he'll need to carry back any energon, before he makes to follow the coneheaded female. If she hasn't taken off by this point, he will leap off the ground (his own Cybertronian alt-mode being poorly suited for landings or take offs) and then transforms.

Fleet transforms from robot to pyramid jet.

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 soars upward into the sky.

Catechism has left.

* Spinny! *

Tasmania

The island of Tasmania is richly forested and covered in rocky mountains. Clouds huddle around the highest peaks, sheltering the deep valleys between them in comforting shadows by day, but clear away at night to reveal the stars and constellations of the Southern Hemisphere. Humanity has yet to gain a significant foothold here, but it is trying, with several coastal towns, mostly catering to the rapidly growing tourist industry of the area. To the north and west, Australia awaits.

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria.

Northwest <NW> leads to South Australia.

Northeast <NE> leads to South Pacific - Indonesia/Australian Coast.

West <W> leads to Great Australian Bight.

Fly <Up>

Catechism soars down into view from the skies above.

Catechism has arrived.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) radios Catechism the co-ordinates for a natural gas plant that he'd been surveying before turning in that direction, his flight pattern almost lazy.

<F-35> half-rolls and then snaps back to level flight. "Got it," she transmits in reply. The cloudy jet heads towards the indicated coordinates, on the lookout for trouble. Earth certainly is covered with a lot of this plant-stuff, she notes. How untidy.

The yellow tetrajet glides in towards the target gently, transforming and landing gently on the roof of the power planet. From this point on there is no longer anything gentle about his demeanor. He has gone full out into 'menacing Decepticon warrior' mode, and he surveys the area briefly with violent crimson eyes. Then he points his right hand, index finger extended, at the ground in front of him and blows a whole into the roof of the plant. He radios Catechism. "Let me know if any trouble shows," before leaping in.

"Right, I'll do a perimeter sweep," Catechism radios, seeing that Fleet seems to have the 'menace the fleshies and steal their stuff' gig down pat. Given the other Seeker's description of the area, she doesn't expect too much resistance, but it never hurts to be vigilant. She didn't expect that xeno jet to have weapons that could actually hurt her, and look where that got her.

Inside the natural gas plant, Fleet has to contend with one or two irate, brave, and stupid flesh creatures. Easily dealt with, although he makes a mental note to clean off the bottoms of his feet later. The others get the idea and promptly begin evacuation, at which point the yellow jet ignores them. Smooshing flesh creatures is not the subject of his mission, it's likely to draw more attention than he likes... and it's just plain messy. Instead he glides over to the equipment and kneels next to it, opening his cockpit to remove the assorted components and begin assembly.

F-35 watches the fleshlings flee the power station without much interest. These ones don't have power armour or spiffy jets. It does occur to her that they might report the Decepticon attack, so she makes a half-sparked attempt with her taser to pick off a few of the less-panicked ones

Fleet finishes putting together the strange device, then begins hooking it up to the generators of the plant device. His fingers fly over the controls as he activates the device, setting it to take into account source energy output, etc. The device begins humming, converting the resources of the plant into the energon so required by the Empire.

F-35 continues her circling, like a vulture around a nice decaying carcass. She ascends to higher altitude, as the height advantage can be fairly useful and it gives her a better vantage point. The F-35 radios Fleet, "Seems quiet here, except for all those escaping xenos."

A slow smile spreads across the face of the yellow jet. This was his idea of a perfect raid. No resistance, easy energon, and someone else to take the credit, while at the same time leaving himself able to prove himself useful enough not to kill. He removes the energy net and begins to scoop the cubes already produced into it, rather than waiting for more to be made first. That way, if something did come up, they could get away quickly and still not end up with a loss. Fleet radios back, "Good. Try not to finish off too many of them. The more you kill, the faster the response is. I know that sounds self-contradictory, but some will *always* get away, or we'll get spotted by satellites, or something, and if the armed natives or the Autobots think we're that great a danger to the locals, they'll be all the more determined to get here that much faster."

F-35 tilts in the air ever so slightly. There's no one there to see it who would understand the meaning, but it's the equivalent of a raised eyebrow for a jet. She responds flatly, "Really," and makes a mental note of that new information. She keeps her weapons powered up in case any real opponents show up, though. Idly, Catechism muses, "It's a pity we don't have a comms type out here. With jamming abilities, this'd be even more of a push-over."

Fleet continues gathering the cubes just as they're produced, "Comcast is supposed to be good for that, I think. A seeker spook. But I haven't managed a raid with him yet." He didn't mention that this was only his second earth-based raid. Revealing that little piece of information at this particular juncture would not be a good idea.

F-35 does the slight tilt again. Spook types are as Decepticon as the rest of them, and she's probably less scared of them than she should be, but... still. They're spooks. And rather useful, yeah. More out of a desire to do more than just circle and watch for targets than actual interest, she queries, "Is everything running smoothly down there?"

Fleet radio backs as he begins wrapping up, "Completely without a hitch, although I'll have to clean off the bottoms of my feet later. I should be done here any second."

Fleet turns off the cube-o-matic and begins disassembling it, putting each component into his cockpit. He smiles at his energon take. Not great, but far better than his first raid, and already wrapped up and ready to go. Unfortunately... because the energon net is now full, he'll have to make the flight back in robot mode to carry it. Ah, well. He radios Catechism, "All done down here. Prepare for departure." Departure. Not retreat. Damn, that felt good.

F-35 inquires, "Will you need any assistance carrying the energon? I do have some carrying capacity myself, if you are over-loaded." mentally, she notes that this is yet another reason why the Autobots are doomed to loose. Because they didn't even show up.

Fleet picks up the net and leaps out through the whole in the roof. His return message is, "I've only got one net, and I'm not sure what you can fit into your cockpit will make that much of a difference. I've got it... just, cover me if anyone does show up while we're getting out of here." In other words, if resistance does show up last second, he has the perfect excuse to run away rather than staying and fighting.

"Copy." She breaks her circling pattern to get ready to leave just as soon as the slower, energon-laden robot is ready to go. Catechism's entirely willing to stall just about any enemy while Fleet gets away, too.

Fleet flies a bit slower than usual between the energon and the fact that he's in robot mode. Luckily, he has not far to go.

* Spinny! *

Fleet touches down a bit more heavily than what he's used to, thanks to the added weight of the cubes. He looks at the conehead and sighs. "I suppose I'll get this in storage. Thanks for dragging me alone, Catechism. Would you like me to make the report?" His wording indicates that he considers the other to have been the 'commander' for this mission. Hmmm.

Catechism gives Fleet a considering look. While she's thinking, she offers brightly, "I'll help you put those away." He scouted out the site and did the work of acquiring the energon. She just accompanied and watched out for enemies, who completely failed to show. That's not impressive, and she doesn't particularly want that to be recorded. If she lets Fleet do the report, she has no control over what gets recorded. So the coneheaded Seeker suggests, "We could do the report together. It'd be half the work that way."

Damn. Although honestly, he'd have preferred that Catechism did the full report, as whoever makes the report looks like the mission leader. It doesn't really matter either way, as it's likely to be rather short and modeled after Fulcrum's... minus any mention of opposing forces, etc etc. He nods in agreement. "All right. Although it hardly counts as a two person job." He lifts the bag and begins heading towards the storage area in Trypticon.

Catechism is mentally cursing, as well. It doesn't count as a two-person job at all. Fleet did all the work. At least he's agreed to give her some input on the report, though. She delves into her memory banks and tries to remember what the proper formatting style is.

Report made on Decepticon board:

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

Group: Decepticon

Title: Joint Report

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Text only report using both Fleet's and Catechism's security code.

Raid undertaken at Tasmanian natural gas conversion facility.

Decepticon units: Catechism, Fleet

Result: 20 Energon cubes retrieved, no opposition. Yield was low due to limited resources of the target station.

General notes: Due to the general remoteness and obscurity of the target island to opposition forces, combined with its close proximity to own forces, it is recommended that Tasmania remain under consideration for future raids.

Report ends. No indication as to who is actually 'taking credit' for this particular stunt is indicated.

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Post made to the Reports board:

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

Group: Reports

Title: "Tasmania? Should We Care?"

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

A few news agencies and internet sites make references to a Decepticon raid at a natural gas based power facility in Tasmania. The deed was perpetrated by a yellow pyramid style jet and a sky camoflauged F-35. There were five deaths and three injuries: two were apparently stepped on by the Decepticon in the plant, the others were the result of fire by the F-35 outside the plant. There was minimal damage to the roof of the facility itself, and it resulted in a black out of a nearby city. This event is given aproximately as much interest and airtime in the rest of the world as major current events that take place in Tasmania generally are: almost none.

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