A New Direction: Part 8
A brand mission, a brand new world where many things are not as they same and thier true objective is not even known to them.
PART EIGHT
Dusty had grabbed a couple of pastries with a brief nod to Relic as soon as she'd entered the bridge, then taken up a position against the back wall, near one of the doors. The dingo femme dropped her bag to the floor by her feet as she munched the treats, while listening with half an ear to Gaul's briefing.
She had calmed down somewhat from her earlier fuming fit, and was considering the mission objectives that had been stated, when Gaul made his final statement. Almost immediately Dusty's head snapped up, optics flaring and an almost inaudible growl rumbling in her throat. Gaul couldn't have said anything else that would have ticked off the dingo femme more. Well, except maybe some kind of disparaging remark about the Whiplash...
The copper and white femme waited till someone started asking the inevitable questions, drawing attention to themselves, then unobtrusively switched to beast mode. Once Dusty was fairly sure nobody was paying any attention to her, she picked her bag up in her mouth and silently slunk out of the bridge. If anyone had noticed her leaving, well, that was their problem.
Querion whistled, as he went through whatever little dossiers they had on Jonas and his Conformist Movement. He stared at the coloured photographs of the targets, committing them to virtual memory. The wolf-bot fidgeted a little when he came to Croak's file. He would have to try not to pummel the Predacon to death again this time. He skimmed through Grapple's info, but spent a little more time Rhommer and Plutocron and Jonas. Satisfied that he had everything down pat, he handed the file to the nearest team member.
Rita thought for a while, but couldn’t find any glaring errors in Gaul’s plan. It irked her slightly. She liked finding faults in the plans of people who were annoying and long-winded. Maybe he’d be better on the field. She could only hope.
“I picked interesting old friends.” Rita said, looking up at Filch, “Did you get back the stuff ‘Fish picked up during her tour?”
“I’m a mutineer!” Catfish announced delightedly, bouncing up and down and back and forth with enthusiastic energy. Catfish’s hodgepodge of a mind had spun out a web of connections from the word mutineer and landed on “Pirate”. This was going to be fun! She was sure she had an eye patch in one of her packs…
"Question mode!" said the penguin, and he transformed. "Ahem, I got here an inventory of our weapons locker. 18 neutron charges, 12 plasma torpedoes, 43 Class IV rifles of various makes, over 20,000 rounds of ammo.. and it just keeps going on from there. Doesn't quite jive with a covert operation the way I see it."
Rubmur had no questions for Gaul. He was just going to be excited to come face to face with Jonas. What better place to quote Weezer’s fantastic “My Name is Jonas” then to a Jonas. It would certainly be an unprecedented time.
But one question floated in his mind, and that was about the Femmedian pleasure stick. He wasn’t sure why he bought it, although Filch told him it’d be a good idea to have one. When attempting to ask Weede about it had shaken his head in disbelief at the other two bot’s conversation. Rubmur figured it must have been because of the pleasure stick, after all, Vinoc was too far away to hear what they were saying, and Rubmur was shaking the stick rather violently at Weede, but that couldn’t be it. Oh well, maybe later he’ll ask one of the Feemebots about it. After all, the named of it is the Femmedian pleasure stick, they might have some clue.
Gaul watched the penguin ‘bot transform with something bordering on amusement. So he was capable of forming complete sentences. How odd. Penji spent so much time in his Beast Mode that it was often easy to forget that he had a Robot Mode too.
He cleared his throat. “Our munitions have been stocked to reflect the type of mission we were “supposed” to be on. If we are contacted by a Conformist vessel before we reach Andronicus, they will very likely take possession of our ship in return for shelter within the movement. The ordinance is just an added bonus for them. Ideally we will use the Penance to leave the planet once our objectives are complete. I have created a very small trap door in the ship’s programming that will allow me to reactivate it’s systems without referencing any security measures the Conformists might have put in place. I hope that this answers your question. Any others?”
“Uh yea.” Burnout said, raising his hand. “Wouldn’t Grapple or Croak look over the dossiers of those entering their little group? I mean… seeing the whole crew that thwarted their plans back on Endport joining up would probably raise a few red flags, don’t you think?”
Penji seemed satisfied with that, though the sound his transformation back to beast mode made sounded strangely like someone coughing "bullsh!t!" He got a few strange looks for that, but acted completely oblivious.
Looking up in utter shock, she stared at Penji. 'I never knew he could.. well.. I never thought he was... whoa. guess appearances can be decieving...' she thought to herself...
' I hope this doesn't take long... I want to go back and *tinker* in the pilot's control room' she mused to herself.
"I got it all back- quite the larcenist you've hooked up with. Wait- why do you ask? Would you like to buy some?" Filch asked, a gleam in his optics.
"No, I'm sure I don't-"
"Oh, come on, you simply must see the deals I have! Observe!"
Filch reached into his transporter buffer and pulled out a blender. He held it in front of Rita, letting her see its shine.
"This is a rare, never-before-seen one-of-a-kind Maintenaco Mark IV Blend-O-Matic!" he told her, already well into his salesman spiel. "Observe the fine craftsmanship! Gaze at the illustrious shine! And don't you want to know how it works? The Blend-O-Matic slices, dices, mixes and fixes any and every compact, delicious meal you could ever want! And it is simple? You bet your skid! Why, the Blend-O-Matic is as easy as one, and forget the two and three! Just place any kind of vegetables, meat, fluids, grains, anything you want, within the patented homeowner-approved blending cup, secure the lid, and press the button! We have various settings of blending strength and times to suit your personal tastes, and when it's done, you have a beverage that'll-"
"FILCH!!!"
The giraffe stopped short and looked at Rita, who was waving her hands and shaking her head.
"I'm not interested." she told him, smiling.
"You never did know a good deal when you saw one." Filch replied, shaking his head. "Say! You there!"
"Me?" Phyphen asked.
"You, madam! How would you like to purchase a (practically) brand-new and ever so useful Maintenaco Mark IV Blend-O-Matic?! Observe the fine craftsmanship..."
"Good question. But Grapple and Croak aren't main palyers in these military systems yet. They are just assoicated with them. I seriously dought they will be looking over files. As for being seen just keep a low profile, it the best we can do. If thats all you have a half of cycle to get ready. Lets get this show on the road." Gaul smiled and added one final note. "Oh yes Solarflare if i could see you for a moment." With that he walked back toward the oppisite side of the bridge, the finch in tow.
The rest of the crew filitered out to their respective areas.
The ‘bots were slowly filing out of the room, to prepare to get out or what not. Cabin fever was setting in for some of them. Weede and Rubmur were standing up looking at the Femmedian Pleasure Stick, still very unsure of what it did or was for. Rubmur figured that the room word might have something to do with the female species of Transformers, so he was casually looking around for one.
“Hey” Rubmur said with vigor, tapping a blue bot on the shoulder.
“Yes?” came the reply from Catfish, big eyes gazing up at Rubmur.
“Perchance, would you happen to know what this is for?” Rubmur asked.
"Madame?"
"Me?" the fox bot stared at the giraffe, with a perplexed and slightly annoyed look on her face. "Who are you? ... You're trying to sell me a product *now*???
The Maximal crossed her arms infront of her chest - "I'm an assistant pilot. What in the name of Primus, would I do with a thing like that?"
Widing her optics slightly, she looked around herself quickly, seeing if anyone noticed that she had just cursed. Surprised at her own rudeness, she looked at the 'bot and mumbled her apologies...
"An assistant pilot? You're an assistant pilot?" Filch asked.
"Er...well...kinda..."
"Then what do YOU need this for? You, madame, need something to aid you with your undoubtedly already superb piloting skills! And let me tell you, as a salesman, if I don't have something, it doesn't exist! Now just give me a moment or two to dig up some suggested items..."
Filch began fishing around in his transporter buffer and Phyphen looked helplessly at Rita.
"Er, Phy, this is Filch, a friend of mine." Rita gestured. "Don't worry about the stuff he's trying to hawk on you, that's just how he is."
“And Filch, if you keep trying to dump your goods on me or my friends I’ll bludgeon you to stasis with the stupid blending slice whatsit thingy.” Rita informed the giraffe pleasantly.
“No you won’t.” Filch, who knew the mink and when to take her seriously and when to not, informed her back.
Rita thought for a moment, “True, then I’ll dump Catfish in your ship again for another shopping spree of larceny.” She waved in the vague direction of some of the new recruits, “Go bug them with this stuff. Sales will be easier, they don’t know you.”
Catfish look curiously at the device in Rubmur’s hands.
“It’s not a glass rose.” She concluded after a cycle.
“Uh, no.”
“Hmm…it must be a magic wand that turns things into marshmallows.” She concluded decisively.
“Really?” Rumbur asked, looking at the pleasure stick again.
“Sure! Marshmallows for everyone.” Catfish frowned and looked closer, “Nah, marshmallow magic wands are more purplish. Dunno then.”
Bridge…
This was a lot to take in. Jungle quietly wondered if Gaul had indeed spilled all the beans, or if there were still some left in the bag…
Infiltrating a radical movement and taking out targets; this wouldn't be the first time the ex-slug had partaken in such acts. This was pretty much a standard black ops mission; JJ had done many of those during his MSP days. Though why doesn't this one feel so 'standard'? Gaul brought up how he wanted the chain of command obeyed, so while we're on the subject - why hadn't Gaul informed the dark warrior about any of this, prior to informing the rest of the charges?
Rhapsody and her lover Wraith were presently conversing. Jungle doesn't bother to listen to the contents of their talk, as he walks up to them. Clearing his throat - loud enough to get them to take notice of him - Jungle motions for his second to follow him. Exchanging a quick glance to Wraith, Rhapsody follows suit… previously, Jungle had already converted back to his robot form.
Jungle grabs one of Relic's famous pastries, then they head to the opposite side of the bridge, that Gaul and Solarflare are occupying. Leaning against a panel, Jungle takes one final glance at his commander, before speaking. "The squad is more familiar with you then they are with me. That being the case, Rhapsody, I would like you to talk with each of them and find out their opinions of this mission. Focus on obtaining their doubts and questions. Report to me after you do so." Though slightly confused, she nods. "Anything else commander?" She asks. The panther nods. "Have Trance do a 'security sweep' of the ship. Let me know his findings. In the mean time, I'm going to have an audience with Gaul. That will be all, sub-commander."
Giving her a respectful nod, Jungle makes his way over to Gaul and Solarflare. The dark warrior, showing respect, stands several feet back from the pair. "Anything important going on, chief?" Jungle asks, tone sounding as light as he can force it to be.
To Jungle's suprise Gaul was telling Solarflare all most the same thing. he wanted him to see the opinions on the mission but instead of security he wanted the ships weapons ready to go. How odd. Solarflare bowed out as well. Jungle approached with his question and Gaul smiled. "This way Jungle." He said pointing out of the room.
The two heaed out into the hallway. "I apoligize for not telling you sooner but i had to keep this as much of a secret as possible. Forgive me. On the other hand somthing that i need to speak with you about is that there are alot of Predacon war ships that could be in the area. These ships are keeping an eye on Jonas's "movement."
"But of course." Jungle says waiting for the rest.
"We are classified as pirates at the present moment as well so it is possible that if we come in contact with one of these ships that we could be pulled into a battle. Please take measures to make sure the ship will be ready. There are a few other things we need to talk before we land as well.. but it can wait." Gaul said turning to look at Jungle for any reply.
Jungle gives a simple nod, in response to everything Gaul had just said. "I'll see what I can do chief. By the way, seeing how we're pirates; if an oppurtinity to go one on one with a Maximal vessel presents itself, I'd suggest we take it." With that, Jungle heads off.
Sidestep, twist, parry, spin... Dusty was in the small workout room, shadow-fighting imaginary foes and working off her bad mood as she practiced with her battlestaff. The dingo femme had dumped her bag in some unoccupied room in the quarters section before making her way here. A minute or so was all it had taken to clear the rudimentary training equipment to the edges of the room, which gave her a clear space to practice in.
Drop, sweep, shoulder, lunge... Her moves flowed together seamlessly, battlestaff almost a living extension of her body as it whirred through the air, sometimes in both hands, sometimes just in one. Dusty let her mind focus fully on her movements, letting unwanted thoughts and emotions fall by the wayside.
Slide, round, jump, kick... Dusty's face bore a look of concentration, the red in her optics gradually fading out to be replaced by their normal blue-green-purple. One by one, her imaginary combatants were felled, and finally, after something like twenty minutes, she slowed, then halted, battlestaff retracting as she automatically returned it to its holder on her arm. "Hm, need to work on that reverse sweep s'more eventually," she muttered absently to herself, pausing in the middle of the room to catch her breath, before going about returning the equipment to their normal places.
[Space]
It began as a slight distortion in the vacuume, barely noticeable to the unaided optic. The distortion intensified. Spiraling out from its place of origin, the anomaly grew wider, and started to change in color. The field halted its outward march, but the spinning remained. The center began to twist, drawing in on itself and creating a depression in space. It glowed white. It pulsed with blue.
It ripped a hole into Transwarp Space.
With a dazzling burst of color and light, the pressure of Normal Space flooded the gap to the circular edge of the field. The Penance sailed through gracefully, closing the Transwarp Gate behind it. The Maximal’s had reached the Rim. A makeshift switch was thrown and an SOS sent.
A moment later the ship’s sensor array came back online. The ‘bots gathered on the bridge glanced at the overhead monitor. One green blip in the center represented the ship. The large red one, well within weapons range, was another matter entirely. Half a second later the klaxons began to wail. Gaul almost swore aloud.
“Weapons online, and get a line up to that ship,” he said quickly. The weapons system sprang to life, and the ship’s shield flickered into place. “Let’s hope this is some good luck come early,” he added. “Do we have a link?” Retro threw a final set of switches and nodded. “Good. Put it on screen, please,”
The panorama of space disappeared, replaced by the cramped command deck of the smaller ship. A sour looking Predacon filled the foreground. He was brown in color, with the very edge of a circular shoulder brand peeking above the bottom of the screen. “This is the C.W.S. Liberator. You have entered protected space in violation of direct Conformist edict. Identify yourselves immediately!”
Gaul took a step forward. “My name is Gaul,” he said in a steady voice. “Temporary Captain of the M.S.S. Pennance. Who do you speak for?” He feigned ignorance of the Conformists and their movement.
“A higher order,” the brown ‘bot snapped in return. “That is all you need to know. What is your business here? There are no Maximal Warships scheduled to patrol this section of Batarsis space,”
“Well, we’re not exactly your normal flight,” Gaul responded. “My crew and I are seeking asylum from the Maximal government. If you can direct us to a sympathetic location we would be much obliged. If not…well, this ship outclasses yours by a good margin. If you will not render us assistance you will let us pass,” The Predacon did not have to ask what would happen if he failed to move.
Yet he persisted. “We do not take commands from renegade Maximals,” The Predacon reached forward angrily, out of the camera’s view. The onboard the Maximal ship, an alarm binged. It signaled the activation of the opposing ship’s weapons system. “One day you and all your kind will be taken care of. You are not so pure as you…” The officer halted abruptly. There were muffled words, and then a voice spoke from off screen.
“Greetings Commander,” it said in a surprisingly friendly almost familiar tone. “For a moment there I thought I would have to welcome you back to the military. I must admit, I’d never have pegged you a mutineer,” the voice said lightly.
Gaul frowned. “Who am I speaking to?” he demanded.
There was an amused chuckle as the speaker stepped into view. It was a Maximal with the Beast Mode of a Blue Parrot. Royal blue armor covered his silver body. Blue wings lay folded at his back. His head was covered by a blue ‘helmet’. Mowhawk-like feathers jutted outward from the top. It was a face Gaul had not seen in years. “Long time no see,” the figure said, grinning.
“Metallicron?...How…” The normally unflappable Gaul was at a momentary loss for words. “Why…Are you here on orders?”
“Yes,” the other ‘bot said, “But not from the Maximal Military. You don’t have to be afraid of me Gaul. I run with different circles now,” Metallicron shot a terse look at the brown Predacon. “I’m sorry if my ‘associate’ gave you any difficulty. Your arrival caught us by surprise. You see, we just broke Transwarp ourselves. Our gate closed maybe five seconds before yours started to open. For a moment there, I thought you might be an enemy,”
“Same here,” Gaul admitted. “So what now? I don’t feel like incinerating an old friend today,”
Metallicron shook his head. “No, and I don’t particularly feel like being incinerated. But you are an old friend, though, and I want to help if I can. You said you needed refuge? I think I know the perfect place. My associates on Andronicus, that’s one of the planets near here if you haven’t checked, are in the practice of catching good ‘bots that fall through the military cracks. I’m sure they’ll take you in,”
“Military desertion is a serious crime,” Gaul warned. “You know that. Helping us would make you just as guilty. I don’t want to impose that on anyone else. We made a choice…”
“So am I,” Metallicron said, cutting him off. “You’re a good ‘bot my friend, but sometimes too stubborn for your own good. I’m offering you my help. Don’t try and talk me out of it. We’ll speak some more after you’ve landed,”
Gaul nodded. “Key your ship in to follow mine,” the parrot ‘bot continued. “I’ll take you somewhere safe,”
safe
Gaul sincerely doubted it. But he pressed the switch anyway, making the Penance change course toward the distant planet of Andronicus. Only Primus knew what waited for them there. He didn’t think it could be anything good.
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