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Who: Chromedome, Jetfire, Clutch, Fortress Maximus, Perceptor, Specter |
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Prima Congo
Further into the jungle, in what would seem like an eternity, light starts to sparingly come in overhead. Here and there, more and more beams of light make their way from the open skies to alight the path. The plant life found on the trail lightens up, as if someone had cleared a pathway some time ago. Twisting and winding, the path leads to a clearing.
In the clearing is a facility of Cybertronian design, surrounded by a large horseshoe shaped bowl that blocks it's access from the sea. Steep cliffs and mountainous terrain surround it in a half circle, small clusters of Korlonium crystals are haphazardly placed amid the landscape.
Somewhere, Autoscout rolls in his shallow grave.
Last Time on The TRANSFORMERS!!
Chromedome forged ahead with their 'crack' team, wading into Coludarr's jungled regions. After finding some ancient machinery, Jetfire decided to show up and decipher the old tech. But soon our heroes were faced with impossible odds: An army of an insectoid race, intent on ripping the Autobots open! With Jetfire dedicated to the delicate machinery, the rest of the crew was forced to try and hold off the horde of bugs. And when all hope was lost, down to their last fuel cell with little hope of snatching the day from defeat's maw ... FORTRESS MAXIMUS arrives to drive the simple creatures away. And with him, the revealing of one of the magical and mysterious lenses!
Now, we continue our tale as this team of scientists and explorers are deep within Coludarr's jungles again, in search of the Energon Refinery they've heard very little about.
Behind the 'logging' team, Chromedome has his head down in careful study. Before him is the ancient data-pad, the wretched device that started this fould goose chase in the first place! "Jetfire, while I'm finding this dilapidated device to be quite the boggle ... rest assured I've already gleaned at the very least thirteen point six eight nine repeating percent of information from it's data banks. Not to mention, corellating this information with the data we've recieved from both the automated machinery wreckage and the make-shift radio transponder ... success is assured. Well, mostly."
Needless to say, Jetfire has had many things on his mind. Following the map he was able to extract from the relay machine and coordinating it with the new bits of data Chromedome was pulling for the original instigator of the exploration was just one of them. Meanwhile, a small inset frame in his HUD was watching bits of news flowing in from earth, in hopes of getting a bead on where Menasor would appear next, though it was really no more than an idle passing so he didn't feel like he was doing nothing to help, since the time delay to Couldarr was aweful on non-faction strength transmissions. Not to mention he's got the makings of another excursion to Dyson floating around in the back of his processors as well.
Fortunately he's extremely good at multitasking. "I concur. The 'end' of this map route is within range ahead of us, and though it does not list a specific coordinate set, between our two sources of information there is only so much of an area at the destination that could understandably hold a facility of the sort we are looking for."
Clutch wasn't here with the initial team, but he was on an Autobot diplomatic shuttle passing nearby. No, not every Autobot Diplomatic mission has Kup (maybe that's a good thing). Clutch gets tapped for these as a pilot, sometimes as security, and occasionally just because he likes travelling.
Fortress Maximus follows along with the rest of the team of Autobots, although he is gradually slipping behind from his position in the group, slowly and slowly straggling to the back. His walking pace is unnatural and rigid, occasionally he bumps into things. It's as if he's preoccupied with something. Could it be the remote mapping module that's in his hands? That's half of the reason. Fortress Maximus has been remotely controlling his two drones to scout the terrain ahead, as their small size and rugged ability to traverse the environment helps provide the rest of the team with a clear view ahead. Too bad it doesn't help Fortress Maximus' own march much.
Suddenly Fortress Maximus' optics glows, "Grommet reports unstable terrain to the northwest, 5 clicks ahead. It could cause a landslide if we go too close. Gasket has mapped a path around it, that'll only create a 5% deviation off of our course." That said, Fortress Maximus starts marching ahead much faster, catching up with the rest of the team again... before slipping behind.
Gasket and Grommet has arrived.
Clutch looks up with interest at the words 'unstable terrain'. But then the talk turns to avoiding it, and his hopeful look dies down a tiny bit. He should have known it would be nothing but science and exploration (preferably peaceful) with this group of Autobots. But forcing a cheerful tone, he suggests, "5% deviation doesn't sound too bad. That's what vehicle modes are for, right?"
"It is unfortunate that Beachcomber could not accompany us. While I do not hold the same appreciation for nature that he does, this jungle really is quite lovely." He seems to be coping quite well in the surroundings, being smaller, and leaner than some of his companions. He seems to have transformed one hand into a machete, and cuts down the odd vine and tree. As much as it displeases him to do this to the forest, given Maximus' bulk, it would be difficult if not impossible for the Headmaster to make the journey without a little bit of assistance. Either that, he he would plough all the trees down that were in the way.
Stopping abruptly, Perceptor transforms, and begins examining what appears to be a simple plant. At first glance, it seems to be no different than the rest of the floral in the area. He states calmly, "Fascinating . . ." But wait, it is not the planet he's examining, a long hard look at it by a good set of optical sensors will reveal that his microscope seems to have focused quite intently on a little insect, some kind of an Ant by the looks of it. It is green with some black highlights, just enough to provide it a better camouflage against the jungle's plant life.
"Acknowledged and agreed, Jetfire. Orbital mapping that was possible, given the planet's storm conditions and interfering magnetic properties, also indicates that we've traversed nearly ninety percent of the entire island, so far." Chromdome waxes statistically for a moment more, before looking up to note their change in direction. "Fortress Maximus, we are distinctly pleased to have you and your ... abilities at hand in such delicate matters, navigating this rough terrain and dealing with it's natural hazards would have been difficult, to say the least, without you. Current course adjustment noted, and sent to the forward logging team." Of course, he's talking about the squad of gumbies in the forward section, riding giant buzz-saw walkers ... slowly clearing a path for the Autobot team.
"TIMBER!" shouts one of the gumbies up front, falling a tree that looks to be older than Kup! Tearing through the newest section of foilage, it appears that the overgrown barriers are lightening up ... even paths through the dirt on the ground gives way, indicating that -something- has passed over this soil, recently no less.
"This just in from the logging team, worn paths and scaled back vegetation deposits. Be on the ready Autobots, an excursion could lie around any corner." Chromedome states, placing a hand on his holster located on his hip. The other would most likely move there out of reflex as well, but it's cradling and hacking into the archaic data-pad currently.
The sight of ancient trees being felled for their own selfish interests invokes a wince from the corner of Fortress Maximus' visored face. Yeah, you bet your aft that he's going to shed tears about the slaughter of innocent trees. He's going to weep his heart out when no one is looking tonight, but for now, he's plays the role of a resolute member of the Autobot expedition team. If there's something that was worth the Autobots having come all the way here to find it, then by gosh they're going to find it somehow. He gives Chromedome a modest nod in response to the programmer's compliments, "The pleasure is always mine, hopefully we can keep the destruction of the local forestry to a minimum."
As the alert comes in from the Autobot gumbies, Fortress Maximus responds by remotely directing his drones back to him. If there are any dangers out there, his drones are ill-equipped to handle it, nor is his ability to maintain the mental upkeep of handling two radio controlled drones while he himself is engaged in combat.
"Unfortunately the bizarre atmospheric conditions make it difficult for me to fly at any sort of altitude that would be useful in surveying." Jetfire murmurs, though he doesn't appear to be all that uncomfortable with having to walk. He does have a rather long stride, taking one step for every two or three the others do, save Maximus. "In the end a small deviation saves us the time of having to navigate unfamiliar and unfriendly terrain. Good job, Maximus .. Hmm?" At least Perceptor is finding something to interest himself in. Jetfire turns his attention back to Chromedome for a moment, then starts picking up the pace. "This could be the break we've been looking for. We're close to the 'end' of the map route, too."
Hanging back for a moment, Perceptor continues to study the green and black Ant that sits on a nearby leaf. If one were to look through his microscopic lens, they wouldn't see anything that could be clearly defined as an Ant. He's looking at many times the magnitutde of the normal eye, examining the little critter. For a moment, he's torn. Does he abandon his newfound friend, or continue and catch up with the others. They don't seem to be waiting for him. It takes a long few moments for him to make up his data processor on the subject. They do have a mission, but at the same time, it's so hard.
Eventually, he transforms and begins to make his way through the jungle, leaping and jumping, doing everything he can to minimise his impact on this natural wonder. When at last he catches up, he announces, "I do believe that I just discovered a new variety of Ant. If only I had, had more time to analyse it." He thought about taking it for further study, but that would cruel, since it would most likely never see another member of its race, and while he is curious, he is respectful towards all life. It seems to hang on his facial features for a moment.
The logger's walking buzz-saws all power down, resting comfortably on the side of the trail ... silent. Although this one wasn't made by them, it's been here for millions of years. The expedition team isn't far behind, Chromedome the first to jog up and get a closer perspective.
Kneeling down, the Headmaster supernerd rakes a finger through the soil and brings it up for closer inspection. "It appears you'd be correct, Jetfire. My systems put his path alone at a considerable age, given the compact ratio to the soil ... off the beaten path, as Stylor would put it. And my internal sensors are going haywire, meaning..." Chromedome trails, bringing his head up and actually seeing what lies before them.
The trail goes on for about another half-a-clik, before spreading out on either side to accomodate for the large clearing. Shaped like a circle, it's 'fenceline' is peppered with glowing Korlonium crystals. Resting in the middle however, is the sight everyone has grown silent over ... a large Autobot Facility. Tremendous in size, it's worndown exterior is made up of silver sheet metal with some fist sized holes worn through them. Plasma scorching randomly placed haphazardly, the complex is a series of large 'boxes' connected by wires and access tubes. At the very front of it, two large doors that look HEAVILY reinforced lie ajar ... just a tad bit. Enough though, for a certain Headmaster to pry his hands in and open the facility. The entire complex shines in the temporary sunlight though, this area a bit deprived of the commotion and weather anomolies that the rest of the planet has. Overall, it looks like a shining beacon of SCIENTIFIC hope.
"An.. ant. Quite.. interesting." Chromedome mutters, in awe of their find.
Clutch stares in wonder at the facility. "Wow...and we had no idea that this thing was in here? Is there anyone left or is it just running on auto--"
"... By Primus." Jetfire adds in his own moment of amazement as he looks up. "To be honest, I was expecting something in much worse condition for how long it was left here... the design of the place was meant to be automatic due to its obscure location, Clutch." Despite being in awe he still has the tenacity to answer that, even a query.
"Hmmm..." There's a few holes and what looks like plasma damage, but otherwise, the place is standing and intact. Carefully he walks over, and raps his knuckles on the wall with a metallic banging resulting. "Well, no wonder it's still standing tall despite so long. Solid die-cast construction exterior. It's a lost art."
Moving up to the installation, Perceptor again transforms into his microscope mode, which gives an odd visual of him almost sitting on his knees in front of one of the walls as he examines the damage. "Judging by the age of the structure, and its locale, I'd estimate that it is approxim . . " and then he cuts himself off mid-sentence, "Oh my." He seems to examine other areas near where he began, and the more he looks at, the more confused his voice becomes, "This . . . it, this does not make sense. Some of this damage is millions of years old, while others, here, where it overlaps, is approximately six hundred years old. Another one, here, is approximately six hundred thirty-two thousand, nine hundred, and eighty four years old, give or take three months. Curiouser and curiouser."
Fortress Maximus approaches the large reinforced doors carefully, observing its surrounding design with intense concentration. He might not be a scientific prodigy, but when it comes to the engineering science behind construction and its related fields, Fortress Maximus is second to none in this field.
Fortress Maximus slides his right hand across the narrow openings of the doors, the tactile sensors in his hand giving him a rough idea of the mechanics behind how this thing is locked. "Hmm, I'm detecting a lot of advanced circuitry within this door. It looks like whoever designed this thing had concentrated mostly on electronics tampering and relied on traditional massive mass to deter physical means of unauthorized entry."
The Headmaster leader's right hand retracts and out comes a heavy duty precision drill before penetrating a very specific area in the door. After a while the drill makes it through the surface of the door and a loud clank can be heard, as if something has dropped to the ground, "Just as I suspected, I've compromised the physical locking mechanicsms." He slides both hands into the gap between the doors and begins forcibly prying the door opening. "The... rest... is purely... physical!"
Without a lock to bar entry, the doors swing open under Fortress Maximus' force applied. A loud resounding *KLANG* rolls out through the area, making for quite an echo as it reverberates throughout the encircled portion of the island.
"Correction. Upon further analysis of the data-pad Jetfire, it was retrofitted into an automated station for circumstances that are as yet, unclear. In short, some atrocity or revelation occured ... and their 'gameplan' must have changed." the Headmaster hacker notes to his superior, before ducking low under his Fortress Maximus' arms. Chromedome activates two lights atop his head, moving further into the installation itself.
From outside, the others can see the two small lights illuminating the dark insides ... until suddenly, the entire room is filled with light from overhead!
Clutch runs a few internal checks to make sure his weapons are fully charged before moving cautiously inside the open doors. "Should we split up and search the structure?" He suggests, voice sly and probably half-joking. "Er...what are we looking for in here, anyway? Clues to the energon refinery?"
"I stand corrected, then," Jetfire replies to Chromedome as he walks over once Maximus has done his job. "You make an excellent doorman, big guy." One of the few people he can say that too, before ducking into the opened doors as well, holding one hand up to shield his optics for a few moments until they adjust to the lights coming on. "... Well, we've been attacked by a swarm of ravenous insectoids, I wonder if that's related to whatever calamity may of occured, or if it's just coincidental interference from the local fauna."
If Perceptor weren't such a geeky scientist, he might have seen more movies. And if he had, he'd know that everyone walking into a formerly darkened room that suddenly gets very bright is never a good idea. He'd know that a fortress that seems to have had continuous battle for millennia with no sign of current inhabitation is something to be cautious about. He's realise a host of other things. But as such, curiosity gets the best of him, and he too follows the others. "Thank you Fortress Maximus," he states, as he makes his way in, and picks a spot in front of one of Maximus' feet, so he can see what's going on.
Fortress Maximus waits until everyone has gone in before sliding inside as well, allowing the doors behind him to slam back shut. "I respect that this is your expedition, but I would have to advise against splitting up in an unknown environment. This place hasn't been friendly so far." The external lighting on Fortress Maximus turns on, illuminating a great deal of the area ahead of him. It's great to be big and have a battle station for an alternative mode, you're never short of lightning.
enter refine
Upon stepping into the facility, the Autobots find themselves in a large foyer or greeting room. As tall as it is wide, it stretches about two cliks to the south with a large hallway that reads 'STORAGE' atop the doorframe, on a old worn down golden plaque. It looks like some sort of lounge was set up at one time, to the left. But the tables are all overturned and chairs are scattered throughout that side of the room. As much plasma scorching and bad condition the outside of the complex was, the interior is much the same ... except for minimal damage. On the right side of the large room, rests a terminal with an overrsized screen. In fact, it looks awfully familiar to Teltran-Two's much distant forefather.
Chromedome, being at the head of the bunch, turns around to look at them all. "Apparently, there is still a sufficient source of energy here." he notes, clicking off his headlights. "Otherwise, these overheads illumination devices wouldn't have activated on their own accord."
Jetfire mmhmms a bit. "That's a good sign that hopefully some portion of the facility is either still functioning. Or there's a stockpile of energon it's drawing off of. Either is what we came looking for, after all." After looking around, he nudges Chromedome on the shoulder and points towards the terminal. "Think you can handle that, or do I need to get out my 'rough of clumsily intrusive methods' again?"
Then turns his attention back to the other Autobots present. "Perceptor, examine some of those plasma burns, see if you can disconcern what sort of weaponry made them. Or how old." He's a microscope, forensics should be right up his alley after all. "Clutch, keep an optic on our backs. Maximus is right, we best not wander away from each other." After which he looks back up to the larger Headmaster commander. "Bet you never thought you'd see arcitechture of this era still intact, eh?"
Clutch nods. "Got it." He glances around the interior of the room one more time, optics lingering on the overturned tables, then he returns to the entrance and peers outside. "Looks like we weren't followed, at least. You guys let me know when you're ready to move."
"I can do that right now Jetfire. A precursory evaluation of the markings, damage, debris, taking into account weather, elements, atmosphere, floral, and fauna, over the approximate time of the facilities existence, I can conclude that this damage was not done by any single individual or organisation. The damage is too diverse, and the patterns do not comply. Either this facility has been under the attack of numerous insurgents over its lifespan, or it would be possible that the tactics and weapons employed changed dramatically over time. However, given the breadth of time between attacks, it is far more likely that this facility has come to attention of a wide variety of organisations at random intervals."
"I wouldn't have dared to bet on it, indeed." Fortress Maximus nods an affirmative to Jetfire, "I would have thought the fires of war would have claimed every single structures of this era by now. It's pleasing to see that at least some of these rugged worksmanship have survived the test of time, although it seems to have seen its share of war." The large Headmaster leader says as he takes note of the occasional battle damage behind him, "These designs were built to be tough, fit for the long run without regular maintanence. It eventually lead to the Anonium particles in our construction methods. Pity. We never were able to field sufficient manpower and raw materials to utilize such resilient building techniques since the civil war began."
Chromedome nods to Jetfire, making his way over towards the terminal. "Preliminary outlook is good, it appears to be within operating standards." he notes, resting before the consoles. With an amazing display of typing speed, the Headmaster programmer (he wears a lot of hats) enters commands at a dazzling rate, a flurry of finger meeting keys. "Perhaps my first prognosis was incorrect." he sighs, when the machine doesn't respond.
Resting back against the console, Chromedome leans back and starts to analyze the rest of the room. Behind him, the screen slowly flickers to life. First a few flashes of blue and white scrolling text on a black background. Then completely white, nigh blinding. Before anyone has a chance to react though, a crude blocky face appears on the screen ... white background dimming to lower it's volume.
<<I.. AM.. AN.. AUTOBOT ADVANCED NEUMATIC DISPLAY INTELLIGENCE UNIT.>> it booms across the room, mouth on the expressionless face moving very little. <<DESIGNATION.. A.A.N.D.I.>> the face adds, visually peering at the room's occupants. <<INQUIRY: AND YOU INTRUDERS WOULD BE?>> A.A.N.D.I. questions, <<.......>> dots continuously scrolling across the screen until they respond.
"Oh my." Chromedome mutters, turning around.
Clutch whispers in a low (but urgent) voice, "Autobot Advanced Unit? Why does it think /we're/ intruders?" He glances down at his own chest to make sure his Autobot emblem is visible.
<<STATEMENT: PLEASURE TO MAKE YOUR ACQUINTENCE DESIGNATION: OHMY. PLEASE PRESENT STANDDOWN CODES OR EVACUATE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY.>> A.A.N.D.I. replies to Chromedome, obviously not -that- advanced.
Jetfire ... Even Jetfire can't resist slapping his palm to his face when he realizes what that set of initials spell out after a moment of thought. Though it's likely just an extreme instance of coincidence considering the thing was made many million years before there was ever any human contact.
Snaps his attention to what's going on. "We -are- Autobots, A.A.N.D.I.... but not the ones that actually constructed you here, I'm afraid." He gives Chromedome a very 'stop it from blowing us up please' look out of the corner of his optics.
Fortress Maximus frowns at the abrupt activation and the subtly implied threat made by the Autobot AI. His years of working with Chromedome causes the Headmaster leader to speak instinctively, "Chromedome, if this thing is malfunctioning then I'm counting on you to make this thing better." Ah, it's almost like the good ol' days on Nebulos. ...well besides the head removing... occupation... hrm.
"This could be quite a conundrum, Ohmy." He makes light of the situation, but they could all be in grave peril if the defence system is still active. In the days that system must have been created, Cybertronians were far more hardier than they are now, with Guardian Robots wandering about. Thankfully, Maximus is with them. But still, it is not a situation he relishes. Utilising every scanning device at his disposal, searching his memory banks, and crosschecking it against probable locations, Perceptor goes over to a panel. He swiftly removes a screw, hoping that this will be the "brains" of A.A.N.D.I.
The removal of the screw goes unnoticed, and ends up helpless. Behind that panel, lies another panel with even smaller screws. :(
Chromedome instinctively slides down low towards the monitor and station, ripping at an access panel and splaying a line of wires before him. "Haste my friends, is of the essence." he asides, reconfiguring as quickly as Cybertonianly possible to 'jury-rig' the advanced what's it. While one arm handles the hack job, the other reaches above to begin a coding sequence ... all while not looking. Certainly, two heads -are- better than one!
The face doesn't react however, just peering at Jetfire. <<DESIGNATION: WEAREAUTOBOTS. OBSERVATION: THIS ADVANCED UNIT IS NOT EASILY TRICKED, PRESENT THE STANDDOWN CODES OR PREPARE TO BE EXTINGUISHED!>> A.A.N.D.I. bellows, simple facial features capable of the smallest form of displeasure.
Below him however, a tiny box popped up on the screen ... running through millions of characters that the computer would accept however. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, one string of numbers and letters stands out from the rest. It makes a tiny *PLINK* sound when found, bringing Chromedome's attention upward.
"Unit A.A.N.D.I. Stand down code 46UR-3932STO1-24OPID. Cease aggressive functions at once, and present present company with status update on facility's operational status and storage." Chromedome smiles, giving the rest of the group a thumbs up.
<<PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. SUCCESS. DESIGNATION: OHMY. STANDDOWN CODES ACCEPTED. STATEMENT: GATHERING INFORMATION ON CURRENT STATUS OF FACILITY. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING..>>
Clutch relaxes slightly. "I hope none of the other people who 'visited' here before us were Autobots who were mistakenly attacked by the AI here," he says in a lowered voice.
Fortress Maximus reveals a look of relief across his visored face and nods approvingly at Chromedome and Perceptor, "Excellent work, you two." He looks over to Clutch with a pained smile, "Let's hope that didn't happen indeed. It's simply be just tragic." The Headmaster leader stands idle near the back, the tasks that are to follow is not something that he can help with.
Jetfire lets out the proverbial breath he was holding, hissing softly as he exhales the pent up exhaust. ".. Can you get it to appropriately ask for our names before assigning designations while you're at it?", he queries of Chromedome, smirking a bit. While the system is busy processing he walks over to examine the storage room doors for a moment. Gives it a bit of a light nudge, then when it doesn't budge turns back to the face the others. "Should check out the storage facilities, but like you guys said, seperating would be a bad idea. We'll just have to wait for our ancient friend here to finish recalibrating the requests."
<<PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. SUCCESS. ANSWER: OPERATORY STATUS OF FACILITY AT ZERO POINT ZERO SIX SEVEN NINE REPEATING. FACILITIES STOREHOUSE CURRENTLY WITHOLDING NO REFINED ENERGON. COMPLEX AT EIGHTY THREE POINT SIX STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY.>> A.A.N.D.I. reports to the group, booming voice filling the room.
"I do not sound like that, do I?" Chromedome questions, nodding at Jetfire.
<<OBSERVATION: NEGATIVE. DESIGNATION: OHMY SOUNDS LIKE DESIGNATION: OHMY. INQUIRY: HAS AN ERROR OCCURED?>>
"Primus." Chromedome sighs, facepalming.
<<PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. ACCEPTANCE. GREETINGS DESIGNATION: PRIMUS.>>
"Renaming might prove to be difficult, Jetfire. Perhaps an additional inquiry might be more insightful?" Chromedome replies, lifting up his face.
Clutch gasps. "Don't say that!" he blurts out in the direction of AANDI's voice, gobsmacked. Then he turns an unfriendly optic on Chromedome. "Tell it not to call you that!"
Jetfire just facepalms again, speechless for the moment, as he leans back against the storeroom door's frame. "... Great. No energon either. Ask it if its possible to actually activate whatever refining operations the facility had..."
Fortress Maximus rubs his the bottom of his chin, amused at the whole situation, "Hmm, I don't remember AI systems being this basic in nature. Perhaps time has corrupted its logic circuits?"
<<INQUIRY. ACCEPTED. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. SUCCESS. ANSWER: INSUFICIENT RESOURCES AVAILABLE.>> the face responds blankly, to Jetfire or otherwise known as DESIGNATION: WEAREAUTOBOTS.
Chromedome gives Clutch a small glare, "While noble, I doubt the interface will appropriately apply a new designation. It appears not all of it's functions are entirely mapped, or the normal 'wear and tear' has negated such actions. For all we know, it'll start calling me Straxus!" he nods at Fortress Maximus. "For now though, I'd like to make sure the logging team and outlying forces know of our find. Please excuse me Autobots, I'll leave you to dealing with the advanced intelligence unit." he adds, with the ever so slightest hint of humor.
Clutch eyes Chromedome for a moment longer, then glances out the entrance again. He pauses and then peers more closely. "I think I saw movement out there," he remarks. "I'd better go check it out." He disappears out of the door without waiting for an answer, and soon the sound of transforming and engine driving off is heard.
Chromedome follows along with Clutch, just glad to be rid of dealing with the unit itself.
"Oxymoron there," Jetfire murmurs under his breath at the 'advanced intelligence'. Then sighs a bit as Chromedome and Clutch both head out to check on the rest of the operation. Rubs his forehead a bit. So far, this trip was turning out to be a bit of a turbogoose chase, seeing as there is neither energon or the means to produce it. Though there are the crystals in the terrain still, prehaps they will need to mine for themselves.
Finally he lifts his head back up to look at A.A.N.D.I's monitor. "Do you know what happened to the Autobot crew that initially constructed this facility?"
Fortress Maximus raises an optical groove as the two Autobots makes their leave and offers a concerned reminder to the two, "Remember, radio in the moment something seems a little too suspicious. Discretion is the better part of valour, understand?" He then returns his attention back to Jetfire and AANDI.
Perceptor breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn't have to get into the "guts" of the program. But he can't help but chuckle at Chromedome's experiences. Thinking that he'll save himself that embarassement, he decides to address the system directly, "A.A.N.D.I., my designation is Perceptor. Please display records on the most recent attack upon this facility."
<<PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. SUCCESS. ANSWER: INITIAL CONSTRUCTION CREW RETURNED TO CYBERTRON.>> A.A.N.D.I. replies, noting both of the departing Autobots with a small blank stare. Then his attention is fixed on Jetfire again, expressionless stare focused squarely on him again. Upon Perceptor's inquiry though, it frowns ... or the best it can translate with such limited facial features. <<INQUIRY ACCEPTED. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING..>>
A faint glimmer of movement behind the Operations Commander, before -something- leaps out onto Jetfire's back. At first it seems like one of the insectoid creatures, only much lankier and only bearing two legs. Upon further inspection however, it appears to be a humanoid-esque shape ... only covered in the armor covering of that bug race. The tan plates are stacked on in sections, their rough and pointy hides providing some sort of rudimentary armor? A large brown hood is slung over his head, trailing down in tatters over his shoulders and back. His face is withdrawn inside the hood for now, only two dim light blue 'eyes' stare back out, nervously looking around. One arm is wrapped around his target's shoulder, forearm coming back in to rest on Jetfire's back. The other arm lies on his other shoulder, a crude yet effective shard of strong alloyed metal is held up to Jetfire's throat. The figure wielding it leans forward, over the Autobot's shoulder and rasps.
"Who are.. you?"
Combat: Specter appears from the shadows...
Combat: Sneak Attack!!
Combat: Specter strikes Jetfire with his Knife in the dark.. (Grab) attack!
Jetfire oofs as something jumps on him from behind, lurching a bit more out of surprise than anything else from the abrupt appearance latching itself upon his person. "What the--"
... Then after a moment realizes its much smaller than himself, and just stands up, his assailant hanging off his back thanks to the grip upon his shoulders. There's a wicked shard of metal held to his neck, but the worse that's going to do is severe wiring and feul lines, which while painful and inconveniencing isn't as lifethreatening in the immeadiate sense as it would be to an organic. However, he does play it safe, and just stands up without making any sudden hostile moves. Even though he possibly throw the smaller form off, it would not be faster than he could be hurt first.
Instead he turns his head just enough to peer at the hooded visage behind him despite the makeshift blade to his neck, optics narrowing as annoyance clearly shows on his features. After what's happened the last several times with sudden appearances, can you really blame him. "You know, the whole kidnapping cliche is getting extremely trite," he drawls out sarcasticly.
Deprived from the advanced warning detection system that's only available in his battle station mode, Fortress Maximus was as much caught off guard as the rest of the Autobots here. Good thing he's so freakingly big that it makes it hard for anybody to grab his neck. It doesn't spare him from banging his head against the ceiling in certain places though. What a trade off.
The twin barrelled laser blasters on Fortress Maximus' waists rapidly unfolds and extends, readied, charged and pointing at Jetfire and the mysterious aggressor's direction instinctively. Fortress Maximus puts on his best poker face as he focuses his visored optics on the humanoid figure behind Jetfire, "We're no one who wishes to be your enemy, nor bring you harm and judging from the fact that you haven't eviscerated my comrade here when you had the chance, you're probably not interested in escalating this into unneeded violence either if it's avoidable."
Slowly the laser blasters on Fortress Maximus' waist retracts as the Headmaster leader extends both of his hands forward, open, unarmed, "I'm Fortress Maximus. Autobot commander. You are?"
Caught unawares, Perceptor turns and shrieks, "Eeeyaahh" at the thing around Jetfire's neck. No doubt A.A.N.D.I. will re-designate him something like that. He immediately goes into a defensive stance, and he raises his concussion blaster, but he's not sure if he'd be a good enough aim to get it off Jetfire. Actually, he's a very good aim. But the risk is probably too great. At the signal by Fortress Maximus, Perceptor lowers his own concussion blaster, but the rocket launcher attached to his shoulder remains in place. If he were a more militant Autobot, it'd be very useful having that attached, but he rarely thinks about shooting first, second, or even third. If the other creature responds to Maximus' introduction, he'll state, "My name is Perceptor, and our friend is named Jetfire."
<<ANSWER: MOST RECENT ATTACK BY XENOPHOBIC RACE REPELLED BY INSTALLATION'S ONLY RESIDENT.>> A.A.N.D.I. replies to Perceptor, gaze looking over towards Jetfire and his assailant. <<DESIGNATION: SPECTER. AGGRESSION NOT REQUIRED. SUFFICIENT SAFEGUARDS PASSED. THESE ARE FRIENDLY NON-HOSTILE AUTOBOTS.>>
"Auto.. bots?" Specter mumbles to himself, head already spinning from the discovery. Releasing Jetfire, the figure stumbles back down to the ground ... casting off the 'borrowed' skitter armor. Under it, a mess of wires tangle around his 'frame'. Or lack thereof at this point, basically just a main chassis husk that has four tangling appendages. Energon drips from some recent wounds, but not your normal bright pink stuff. No, it's mainly translucent with a faint trace of pink. Very likely because it's more of a crude batch, not meant for Cybertronian consumption ... however long. It's a wonder he's even standing, let alone holding makeshift knives at Autobots.
The cloak floats uneasily in the slight breeze, as Specter dashes towards Fortress Maximus. "YOU!" he growls, energon spilling down to the ground in splatters ... coming from the wounds of a recent scuffle, at an increased rate. If he felt the pain though, he's not showing it. Pulling out another crude dagger, the figure jumps in the air and at the Headmaster Commander. His hood falls off, revealing ... horror. Nothing but wiring is left of his actual 'face', all swirling around two large blue optics and a gaping maw for a mouth.
"YOU.. SENT ME HERE!" Specter roars, bringing the weapons down with tremendous force. "YOU.. LEFT ME TO DIE!"
Combat: Specter sets his defense level to Fearless.
Combat: Specter strikes Fortress Maximus with his Two Crude Daggers! (Kick) attack!
The moment of sarcasm aside, Jetfire relaxes briefly as he's let go.. but it only proves to be a pause before 'Specter' (oh sure, he gets an actual name from the machine) decides to jump the biggest target present instead. Sigh. Why can this never be very easy. Though looking at the state he's in, he's likely not going to do much to the massive Headmaster commander with those improvised weapons.
After a brief rub of his neck structure with one hand to make sure it wasn't actually damaged more than scratching, he walks over and attempts, carefully with not wanting to farther harm the poor guy's delapitated state, to grab him somewhere that's still got structural integerty and pull him off Maximus without actually hurting him. "Easy there bucko, and put it in neutral for a tick! If you would just calm down and allow use to explain everything in due order. No one even knew this mission took place until recent discovery of long forgotten data."
Combat: Jetfire misses Specter with his Familiar with restraining unruly patients (Grab) attack!
Perhaps Specter is a relative of Freddie Kouger? He does the "real ugly, grossed out looking face" deal really well and if ugly mug didn't make the large Headmaster leader take a step back, the bold accusation of treachery definitely did. The combined distractions is enough to lower Fortress Maximus guard and provide the mysterious assailant his window of opportunity to make the strike that he seemingly so desires. The assailant certainly took the advantage well, two lengthy laceration wounds appears across the right side of Fortress Maximus' visored face, "Ung. Calm yourself!"
Fortress Maximus pleas with his assailant as he attempts to steady his footing once more, only giving ground again if said assailant attempts to approach any further, "Who are you?" The Headmaster leader doesn't attempt to deny the assailant's accusations, being unsure of his identify nor is he able to make the connection of Colduarr and his past decision in the heat of the moment.
Knowing that Jetfire and Fortress Maximus are far more combat oriented than he is, and far better at handling damage, Perceptor takes up a guarded stance, preparing himself for an attack, while at the same time trying to reason with their new-found . . . friend? "Spector, please calm yourself. We are your friends. We are Autobots. You are not alone, and you are not dead. Please, allow us to help you?"
<<INQUIRY ACCEPTED. PROCESSING.. PROCESSING.. SUCCESS. TARGET OF INQUIRY IS DESIGNATION: SPECTER.>> A.A.N.D.I. notes from behind the comotion, not very helpful at all.
Landing on the ground, Specter whirls to face his hated opponent. "Shouldn't it be.. obvious? Back when you.." he replies, pointing to the turrets. "Believed.. in another solution. Back when you had.. honor. Back when you allowed.. Sentinel Prime to lead a ragtag brand of Autobots." Specter seethes with disgust, even spitting a small globule of white-pink energon to the ground. Jetfire chooses to strike with his restrainment, but he easily dodges out to the side and jumps backwards in the air. "Does that jog your.. memory?"
Pulling at a bag hung on his side, the mess of wires flings a couple of projectiles at Jetfire and Fortress Maximus both. Landing, he turns to regard the other scientist whom he doesn't know, but isn't trying to give him a hug either. "Friends? I've been left here for a milennia upon another. Autobots? Thing is, what was it.. Perceptor? I am alone, and I was left for dead! Want to help? STAY OUT OF MY WAY!"
Combat: Specter sets his defense level to Guarded.
Combat: Specter strikes Fortress Maximus with his Energon Flash-Bang Area attack!
Combat: That attack has temporarily affected Fortress Maximus's Accuracy. (Blinded)
Combat: Specter strikes Jetfire with his Energon Flash-Bang Area attack!
Combat: That attack has temporarily affected Jetfire's Accuracy. (Blinded)
Perceptor continues to try and persuade him, "Spector, a terrible mistake has happened here. Don't compound it by making another mistake. We mean you no harm, and have no ill intentions towards this facility. If you want, we will leave you here in peace. But if you wish to join us, we can take you back, to the rest of the Autobots. Sentinel Prime died millennia ago. I personally have served under Optimus Prime and now Rodimus Prime and we knew nothing of your mission before today. This place has been your home. It can be it still, or you can come with us. But it is your choice, if only you will allow us to repair a terrible mistake."
Fortress Maximus mouth widens in shock, as the heat of the moment passes and he regains the clarity of mind again. Colduarr. Specter, Tripwire, Cinder, and Overhaul. The investigation report by Searchlight that reported all members of the Autobot team sent to Colduarr being KIA. The months that he had spent knowing that he had unknowingly sent a group of promising lives to a wretched end, and cursing the twist of fate that lead to the conclusion.
"S-specter?! Searchlight's reports said you and everyone else on the team had died in the crash." The large Headmaster realizes that there might be the possibility of more survivors, "This is a mistake, Specter. We sent an investigation team to locate survivors but they weren't able to locate you! We didn't know! But now we do! We're here to bring you and the others back!" Fortress Maximus shakes his head in an attempt to shake off the effects of the flashbang, "Give us the opportunity to make things right again."
Jetfire grunts as the much smaller robot slips out of his grasp, and then blasts them with fancy lights. Gah. That's only -slightly- less annoying than one of Jazz's light shows. Muttering he thumps the side of his helm with a palm to try and knock some of the static out of his HUD.
But then Perceptor tries to talk some sense into Specter, and Fortress Maximus... drops a bombshell other than a combative one. Jetfire blinks a couple of times at that. "... I guess I missed a lot being a neutral scientist," he murmurs mainly under his own breath.
But instead of harping on that subject, he attempts to add to the talking down of the unruly stranded. "Seriously, just calm down and think rational for a few clicks. It's understandable that you are likely disoriented and upset due to your extremely long time in isolation, but taking it out in deranged violence is not going to solve the issue!"
Instead of drawing a weapon, he makes a vage gesture towards the assorted plasma burns and upturned furnishings of the chamber. "Instead, prehaps you can tell us as to what has caused the issues with this mission in the first place? And we can solve the number of mysteries as to why it has gone unnoticed for so long."
Specter grows dizzy again, not from the information and pleas to quell this violence ... but at the sudden dip in energon. "Cin.. Tri.. Ove.." Sure, all that beatnik jazz helped with his rage ... but the ninjabot who was only moments ago, wanted to rip Fortress Maximus' head off; wants nothing more than to fade away.
Collapsing on the floor in a literal heap of wires, the lonely Autobot loses conciousness and quite possibly his core in the process.
<<ATTENTION.. ATTENTION.. DESIGNATE: SPECTER REQUIRES IMMEDIATE MEDICAL AID, IF EXISTENCE IS TO BE CONTINUED.>> A.A.N.D.I. pipes in, now that they've finished their little peace-fest.
Combat: Specter damages himself.
Combat: Specter falls to the ground, unconscious.
Perceptor was doing his best to convince the Autobot to stand down, to lower his weapon, to calm himself, and it seemed to be working. That is until Fortress Maximus revealed that not so little bit of information. For a long moment Perceptor looks up at his comrade, a mixture of hurt and surprise. This Autobot was left here not because of lost orders, not because he was unwanted, but because he was believed dead. He was missing. There was no body, but the search ceased. They gave up on him. And then, while contemplating that, the form seemed to fall to the ground. Rushing over to him, his concussion blaster discarded to substance, the Autobot scientist goes to work, picking him up at first, and then at the sight of Fortress Maximus transformation, lays him on an operating table, so that he may begin checking him out. Not wanting to surprise the mechanism, Perceptor makes a conscious effort to deactivate the Autobot as he performs the repairs, only reactiving him once he is complete and whole again.
"No shit sherlock," Jetfire snaps over his shoulder at the unhelpful computer, repeating a phrase he'd heard one of the EDC humans use without really thinking about. He's already hurrying over as Specter burns out his energy in his rage and collapses, dropping to his knees next to him. "The floor is nowhere to work this sort of operation.. Maximus, can you transform in here? We need a stable elevated working station." But the Headmaster is already on the same page. Heh. He moves aside so Perceptor, being closer to Specter's size and less likely to jostle him needlessly in doing so, move him to the waiting station, following right behind him.
While Perceptor is working, Jetfire looks around, frowning. AANDI said there was no actual energon here, but... "Maybe this will help prove our intentions to help," he muses, as he opens one arm, disconnects one of his own energon lines, and plugs it into the unconcious ninja-bot's instead. The air guardian may not have the biggest of tanks, but he's also in more than well enough shape to handle a bit of depletion in order to give the poor mech a much needed transfusion.
Battle Station <Fortress Maximus> instinctively transforms into fortress battle station as he watches Specter collapse. The ramp leading to the repair bay extends outwards, ready to accept new occupants. Meanwhile at the back of the fortress, the two radio drones under Fortress Maximus' command wheels out and merges into Cog.
Cog finishes guiding the other Autobots into the repair bay before heading over to the nearby control terminals and inputting some commands. Fortress Maximus' voice can be heard coming from Cog as it types away at the computer terminal, "I believe I may have some suitable spare parts in the storage bay that we can use to repair Specter. One momemnt..."
The repair bay's automated retrieval system whirls to life as various dexterous claws reached into the storage bay and removes some assorted Cybertronian spare parts before setting it down near the operations table.
Gasket and Grommet has arrived.
Gasket and Grommet merges with each other into their combined form, Cog.
Specter is hefted up into Perceptor's arms, trailing in and out of conciousness in his horrible condition. Arm of wires raising ever so slighty, it brushes up against the Microscopeformer's emblem.
"Aut.." he whispers ever so softly, before succumbing to shutdown to save lasercore functions.
Perceptor monitors the exchange of energon from Jetfire to Specter. "You mustn't overdoe it Jetfire, we may need your help to get out of here. We still don't know what caused those blasts on the exterior of this facility." He seems reasonably happy with the levels. Of course, Jetfire is perfectly capable of monitoring it himself, but Perceptor is a big believer in that old adage about Physicians who heal themselves; certainly, when he's not the patient anyway. "Thank you Cog. Do you have an a spare neocombrian accelerator handy?"
<<COMENTARY: AUTOBOT MEDICAL PERSONELL PRESENT MUST MAKE HASTE. DESIGNATE: SPECTER LOSES PRECISELY FIVE POINT SEVEN EIGHT NINE REPEATING PERCENT CHANCE OF SURVIVAL EVERY ASTROSECOND OF HESITATION DURING SHUTDOWN.>> A.A.N.D.I. pipes in from across the room, apparently intent on seeing the only company it's had for the last ten million years make a full recovery.
Jetfire nods a bit vagely. "Maximus can fly in one of his modes," he comments. But he takes Perceptor's advice all the same, and disconnects the line once he's certain it's enough to at least keep Specter's support systems functional long enough for them to do their work properly. "He's survived this long," he reassures as he picks up some of the parts the system delivers, "I have no intention of letting him die on the operating table -now-."
And with that Jetfire throws himself into the operation with frevor... which consists with poking around in Specter's head for the most part while Perceptor is working on other systems. "Several of the neurotronic relays in his main processor cortex are degraded from lack of sufficient maintenance, his systems have been overtaxed in keeping his core integerty intact. May be partial cause to his erratic emotional state, the entire timing relay appears to be suffering from bilaterial breakdown in the exposure due to lack of external plating." As he rambles out the diagnosis he retracts a couple of finger tips to activate soldering irons to repair the bad interfaces. "Cog, I need to some replacement anodes and an electrostatic dampener to restore these flawed connections."
Jetfire looks up from his work for a moment and peers out at the computer as it rattles off the odds. Then to Perceptor. "Do I really sound -that- bad when I go into detailed calculations?", he muses, even as the parts are brought and he gets back to work restoring the systems that keep the energy flow to a transformer's neural systems properly regulated, so Specter doesn't end up having the robotic equivilent to a seizure or some such farther down the line.
No wonder people yell at him when he states the odds, it really -is- rather annoying when you don't need a reminder how dire the situation is! The 'corpse' of wires just lies there still, barely no indication that life ever existed in this husk.
<<OBSERVATION: PRELIMINARY EVALUATION INCORRECT. DESIGNATE: SPECTER HAS APPROXIMATELY LOST FOURTY FIVE POINT NINE THREE PERCENT CHANCE OF SURVIVAL CURRENTLY.>>
If Perceptor were human, he might be sweating. But as he is not, he goes about his work with care and diligence. He ignores the sound of A.A.N.D.I., although he does share the sentiment. If this program is anything like Teletran 2, then it has its own version of feelings for Specter, having watched and cared for each other for millions of years. There is a bond, a partnership if you will, almost burgeoning on kinship. He asks Cog for some other parts, and works at them. Together, he, Jetfire, and Cog will make the repairs. In truth, what was needed would be far below their combined capabilities. "Why yes Jetfire, I believe you do. But I wouldn't worry. I suspect that most of our colleagues share that view of us."
Cog runs back and forth, bringing the two of the Autobots' brightest minds the necessary tools that they require, "There's really something odd about that computer. So pessimestic." The radio controlled drone brings Perceptor the neocombrian thingiajig that the scientist had requested and returns back to the computer terminal to summon for more materials from the storage bay.
<<CORRECTION: ACURATE.>> A.A.N.D.I. adds to Cog's statement.
Jetfire picks up a space piece of metal, and lacking the time or tools to be more elaborate, just slams it down over his fist to give it the appropriate crude domed shape, and attaches it onto Specter's head. That'll keep any more contaminations from getting into his neural systems. "I've fixed the system regulators the best I can in this condition, and he's got some energon in the tank. Reactivate his core stabilization hardware and we'll start working on the rest of his repairs." It's hard to tell if Jetfire is that certain it's going to work, that determined, or just trying to sound optimistic. Quite likely all three at once. Regardless he moves to the other side a bit, and holds up a hand. "Wait, belay that thought for a moment." Reachs in to pull out a fried modulator from somewhere in what would be the lower side torso, and just hooks the various wires directly into each other. "There, for right now the less delays between power and the system right now, the better. We can reinstall the redundancy distribution safeties once he's stable."
"Same difference!" he adds in retort to the computer.
<<OBSERVATION: TERM 'SAME DIFFERENCE' IS INADEQUATE TO DESCRIBE CURRENT SITUATION. FUTHERMORE, TERM IS A CONUNDRUM.>> A.A.N.D.I. replies to Jetfire, apparently seeking to get the last word in edge-wise.
It might be the stress finally snapping, but Jetfire actually laughs at that. "Yes, I know, and you get a point for not bluescreening on us trying to compute it. Granted, this isn't a show so the points don't mean anything. Just don't try to divide by zero on us out there." With that he nods a bit to Perceptor. "He's stable enough to make it until the next solar cycle at least. Most we can do now is let his systems recoup and wait, really, before we attempted farther repairs." Idly reachs over to pat one of Fortress' walls. "Thanks for filling in for a medbay, Maximus."
<<CONCLUSION: DIVIDING BY ZERO PRODUCES.. *BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT* PRODUCES.. *BZZZZZZZZZT* PRODUCES..>> A.A.N.D.I. replies, his reply in an endless loop until the power runs out. :(
- MUCH LATER**
Chromedome briskly enters the facility, cheery disposition as not having dealt with a glitchy dusty machine for the last five cycles. "Greetings comrades, I find that you've summarily dealt with our advanced unit's malfunctions?"
<<PRODUCES.. *BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT* PRODUCES.. *BZZZZZZZZZT* PRODUCES.. *BZZZZZZZZZZZZT..>> A.A.N.D.I. shouts still in the refinery, power not out -yet-.
"Why me?" Chromedome sighs.