IHQ Command Center
This massive chamber lies at the core of the upper level, its ceiling high enough for even a gestalt. The walls are covered in monitors and consoles from floor to ceiling, while narrow catwalks rise from the floor to the upper areas where additional terminals and consoles are housed. At the center of the chamber is the column containing the turbolift, while on five of the walls are large double doors, four opening into the various divisional wings. Between the MSE and DCI wing entrances is a smaller sets of doors leading to the War Room. Two huge main screens dominate two of the eight walls, displaying information and images sent by the main computer. Atop the column is the communications room, accessible by the catwalks on either side of the column.
Galvatron sits at a table in here, tapping on the holomap of the area in question for this little operation. He hmms at the full plans, looking them over with a careful optic.
The clap of boot heels on the floors of the Mil Ops wing are hardly rare. Fusillade's presence isn't all that unusual, either, the dark grey and white femme usually staking out and monopolizing a terminal to the dismay of others. She's in the process of doing just that when the sheen of purple armor catches her gaze. Faintly reflective orange-yellow optics flare briefly, and she turns on one heel. The pleated layers of her wingblades clack against each other as changes course, and with shoulders squared, she slinks to a comfortable speaking distance from the High Commander. "Lord Galvatron, good cycle. I believe you ordered a meeting with Catechism and me regarding our proposal. Is now an acceptable time?" That gaze flicks over to the holographically projected image, recognition lighting up her features.
Catechism follows in after Fusillade. After all, this Seeker has some studying to do. Learn from the mistakes of history to forge a better future and all that. Then she notes that their Emperor is in the room. Her optics cycle a blink, and she snaps into a formal bow. She's about to sidle off to the side, so as to not bother Galvatron by taking up space when Fusillade's words remind her that he did want to talk to them. She pauses and waits for the answer.
Galvatron nods and waves to the chair, "Have a seat. I have asked to meet with you to explain to you the seriousness of this plan. We are utilizing many mech hours and resources in this raid of yours. It is well planned, but even the best laid plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. Therefore, both of you will be placed in personal charge of this mission. Personal. You will command it, and you will oversee it. If it is successful, you and those you note that helped will be rewarded. If you fail, you and those who aided in the failure...especially those that horribly failed you, will answer to me."
Bandit a few astroseconds later, the seeker comes into the room. His purple optics glimmer faintly in the rooms light. As the door closes behind him, he notices the three standing there and pauses almost as if he has walked into a private meeting. "Comrades...." he states in salutation to the femmes...and then he immediately brings forth a salute to Lord Galvatron. "Hail Galvatron...."
Finesse certainly does grease the wheels of interaction. "Thank you, my liege," Fusillade's alto voice practically purrs out as she drapes herself in the seat, clutching each of the armrests with handtalons. With shoulders still formally squared, her gaze unfocuses as she listens dutifully. Once he is done speaking, she nods to Catechism and Bandit as they arrive. "Good cycle." Returning her attention to Galvatron, she states, "In theory, theory and practice are the same -- in practice, they are not. I am humbled by your faith in our abilities. I understand and accept the consequences of a serious failure. I am willing to endure that punishment. I've found my conversations with Axis and Master Shockwave to be enlightening, I intend to apply that wisdom to further the influence of... your Empire." A faint twitch of a smile crosses hematite lips. "Any further words you wish to impart will be valued as the treasure that they are."
Catechism's optics widen. There is a little fear there in with the Decepticon red. She fears not so much for the personal consequences if she fails but for the consequences for the faction. Castechism wants to badly to be useful to her cause, not be a burden and a failure, after all. She's also quietly boggling that Galvatron is speaking to her of all Decepticons. Aren't there other, worthier Decepticons to lead such strikes? However, she's here, and thus, she must be worthy. If she isn't, she'll soon be dead. She takes a chair, as Galvatron bids, trying not to get her wings all tangled up as she does so. That would be a trainwreck! "Understood, sir. There is some adaptability built into our plans to deal with the unpredictability of life. Components can be dropped and shifted around without sacrificing the ultimate goal of destroying the Killarn Metal Factory, sir."
Galvatron smirks and nods, "Good, you will need adaptability, and quick thinking. The Autobots are usually on the ball when their efforts on concentrated...and I assure you, on Cybertron? They are. You will have full access to Soundwave's intelligence gathering corps to adjust your plan before implementation. You will also have access to as many troops as we can spare to send with you. Do either of you have any questions or concerns with this? Obviously..." he nods at Bandit, "Bandit has already volunteered to assist you."
It was really, really, REALLY fortuitous that Rodimus lost the grudge match. That line of thought is quickly quenched when Galvatron mentions DCI. Fusillade brightens considerably, and looks for a brief moment like a kid in a candy store. She queries, "Will all contigiency plans need to be provided to command?" A sharp nod is sent Bandit's way. "So the holo net has told us. We will brief him on the maneuver as well, there may be some details that will need reemphasizing. And... thank you for this opportunity," Fusillade says smoothly to Galvatron. There will likely be much loud, excited jabbering later to work off the equivalent of an adrenaline high. For now, calmness, professionalism.
Catechism continues to quietly boggle. Getting her thoughts vaguely straight, she suggests, tone timid, "Would it be possible to get a transport such as Astotrain or a shuttle of some sort, sir? It would allow us to bring in slower troops all at once without wasting time waiting for them to arrive, and it would allow us to make off with more supplies, sir." She glances over at Bandit and Fusillade and comments, "We may want to practise manoeuvres together, so that there are no surprises when the real deal comes."
Fusillade interjects, "We weren't gonna do that anyway?" You say, "The training room thing."
Galvatron nods carefully, "As I told you, everything that you require will be provided, as long as you put in the proper requisitions for it and we can spare it from our security neccessities. And you need only inform me of changes to the plan that will require additional resources. And you may also utilize several training simulations to prepare troops for perfect execution. We only have one shot at this, and it needs to be done right. Bandit can no doubt assist with this. Was there anything else, or do you have all that you require?"
Bandit nods his head and returns to Catechism. "My services are at your disposal comrades Catechism and Fusillade...." he nods his head in a short bow. "I can organize some training sessions in the training room if you think that would be beneficial. It could help to get our timing down and work out some of the finer aspects of group dynamics..." with that he crosses his arms but remains at pseudo attention at the rear of the room.
Fusillade then leans back in her seat. "But hey, if command knows THAT, they'll think better of us. Gotcha." She flicks optics again, but the expression fades. "Considering this is our first chance at the real deal, I suspect that we are forgetting something," she seems restless for a moment. "Hindsight is 20/20, though, I'm certain." The behavior is probably too casual for Fusillade's good. Upon hearing Bandit's suggestion, she spins around in the seat to say, "What an excellent idea! I can see why you've gained your rank in Alpha Wing." When Galvatron repeats the question, Fusillade snaps to the realization that this may be a prompt for him to go on to other matters. "Should anything else spring to mind, I'll be sure to send a communique, my liege."
Galvatron nods his head carefully, "Then I leave you to your plans. Remember, always review them continually, at different times during your cycle, and look for inherent weaknesses." he slowly rises.
Catechism nods, soaking in all the information. She says, tone quite and respectful, "Indeed. We shall keep you informed of all progress and any changes, sir." She adds to her winged comrades, "We'll have to work out a time when a sizeable amount of us don't have more pressing duties. We may also have to find Decepticons to play the role of the Autobot scum to add a thinking edge to these wargames."
When the president stands, no one sits. Fusillade also sweeps to her feet, and with a quick bow at the waist, gives a sharp "Hail Cybertron!" Once it's acceptable to do so, she'll address Catechism's idea for training.
Bandit nods and salutes as the man rises.
Catechism stands and salutes properly, as well, of course.
Galvatron returns the salute and heads to his quarters.
Catechism turns to look at Fusillade. The Seeker makes a sound like a downdraft of wind, as if some great threat had suddenly passed. It might was well be considered a sigh of relief. She comments cheerily, "That went well. I think." After some pondering, she adds, "I think we've got a chance to do as lot of good here."