A New Direction: Part 5
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 FIVE
Dusty watched the chaos from the wall she was propping up, then chook her head and chuckled slightly. "Crazy people... but I ain't really one t'talk. This'll be an interesting mission..."
She turned to the penguin still standing nearby. "Penji, wasn't it? What say ya t'seeing what kinda weapons this tub has, hmm?"
Vinoc glared at the retreating back of Jungle and ,ignoring the comments coming from the other Maximals, grabbed a mop out of the corner, started to mop the juice off the floor.
He then noticed Buckshot dozing while leaning on the wall. Having finished with the juice, she walked over to Buckshot, and hit him with the absorbant end of the mop. This procceded to wake him up almost instantly, "Hey, Your Buckshot, right?" Buckshot nodded an affermative "You were ordered to Sector 2 to intersept and capture an Intruder, or were you not listening to the intercom?"
*****
Tundra looked at Timber, Mimi, and Relic, and sighed, "Well, if any of us plan on eating tonight, we should probably get to the mess and see what we have to work with, dontcha think?"
*****
Rudau was running at top speed down the passage-way, and for her, that's FAST. Her wings were being held as close to he body as possible, both to cut down on wind resistance, and to keep them from slamming into the walls every time she made a turn.
Suddenly, an arm appearred out of the wall, and, due to the speed at which she was going, she couldn't stop or avoid it. She hits the arm head on, and goes for a loop-de-loop around the arm. She heads toward the ground, head first, but put her arms out and turned it into a handspring, which she then turned into a double, then triple, handspring. She drew a sword out of the sheith at her waist, and called out "All right, you coward, show yourself!!!"
A tower of flaming energy rouned the corner behind her. Solarflare stood behind her his Flame Arua at full strength. Almost like the depths of hell itself. The heat caused the sides of the hallway to seem to bend under the intense heat and pressure. The inturders eyes widened in terror at the flaming bird and turned to run but a pillar of flames errupted by her shoulder and ignigted her escape route. "I suggest you come with me." Solarflare said he flames dying down. She simply nodded and placed her sword on the ground.
Gaul was talking with Dusty over the weapons job when Solarflare walked up with his prisoner at Gun point. "Commander." he said.
"You have 10 seconds to explain to me why i shouldn't toss you out my rear airlock."
Rudau looked at him, this bot was big, much bigger than herself, he also had the look about him that suggested that he was a commander, and there was no doubt that he would do so. Thinking fast she said, "Because I could be quite an asset, watch and learn." with that, before anyone could move, her leg came up behind her in a kick, knocking Solarflare's gun out of his hand. She then turned, grabbed her rapier out of his hand, and brought said rapier up to his neck. "See what I mean?" said Rudau simply, with a slight grin on her face.
Gaul smiled and nodded slightly. Rudau smiled too lowering her and Gaul clocked her. "Meet your new companion. Solarflare she doesn't go two feet from you at anytime. Show her the ship and find somthing for her to do." Soolarflare nodded and picked the femme up off the ground.
"Come on we can go see the med station first." Solarflare said giggling.
Rudau gave Solarflare a ferce glare, which, dispite her light build, somehow managed to intimidate him, if only slightly. She and Solarflare walked towards the med station, not a word being spoken between them until they were off the bridge. She then whirled to face him, and said "All right, I know that Vinoc is on board this ship, now, I want to know how, and why, he's here, and how he got caught up in that Resistance movement two years ago... Well, I'm waiting"
"Fun!" was Penji's reply.
"Yeah.. So they say we've got the ship's external weapons to worry about, they're controlled on the bridge, and there's a weapons storeroom down on deck 3. Which one do ya want to check out first?"
".. .. Storeroom!"
They walked down to the storeroom, in silence. Penji wasn't talking, and Dusty was, well, not quite sure how to start a conversation with a monosyllabic penguin. They arrived at the storeroom, and opened it via a security scanner that had apparently already been set to approve their optic refraction patterns. They looked in.
"Fun war!" Penji concluded.
"War? This is supposed to be an assasination mission, right?"
Penji picked up one of the larger munitions, and gave her a look. Dusty was fairly uncomprehending.
"Quantum reflux torpedo!"
"Er.. That's big?"
Penji suddenly got a serious look. So serious, he transformed. "Do you know -anything- about weapons tech?" he said, in a suddenly much more serious, gruff, accusatory voice.
Relic glanced at the Chrono on the wall and grunted. “Actually, I better report to security first, I’m not bailing out on my assigned role, I’ll be along in a while to help clean up.”
An Hour Later
Relic stood in front of a sink in the mess, his clawed hand holding a rag as he dried dishes. Behind him his cloak was draped on a chair near the entrance of the room. Being an assistant assistant security officer, the onerous task of running system diagnostics had fallen to him. Once he had figured out how the damn machine worked, he had perused the ship’s security systems with a sort of morbid interest. He found that his usual task of getting past security measures had gifted him with a critical eye for the various gaps he saw in the Penance’s security. He had composed a cursory report that was one it’s way to the commander’s desk, with the promise of a more comprehensive one to follow. Then with the diagnostic happily whirring away on it’s own, Relic had found his way down to the mess.
The swordsman loathed space flight. The sense of helplessness he felt as he was forced to sit and wait while the bulk of a star ship took him to wherever he needed to go was nearly unbearable to him. This feeling was worsened by the fact that on a Star ship Relic was surrounded by computers and technology, things that he had never shown a particular interest in or aptitude for.
So, as opposed to clenching his teeth and trying to sleep through the whole thing, Relic had resolved to keep himself busy this trip, keep his mind and body occupied, his Security Duties as well as his volunteer work in the mess seemed like it might do the trick.
The swordsman continued to dry dishes keeping half an eye on the goings on around him, as his fellow resistance members and a few non-coms worked the Kitchen. Suddenly Relic spoke up looking at one of the non-coms. “Trying tilting your wrist more… they’re not frying evenly.” The bot smiled and nodded his thanks and Relic returned to work, reminding himself that he was just a dishwasher.
Suddenly he spoke up again eyeing a plate of something or other, “Make sure that gets a little more seasoning before it goes out…” to a passing mess operator and then returned to the dishes.
A couple of minutes later, Relic suddenly left the dishes and walked over to where Timber was grudgingly grinding something in a bowl. “No, no, no, round circular motions with the pestle or it doesn’t get crushed fine enough… look I’ll show you for a moment then I’ll get back to my dishes…”
Half an Hour Later
Relic stood in the middle of a storm of activity, directing would be chefs left and right even as he expertly diced something and tossed it into a pot. “Make sure that gets plenty of water!” He shouts at someone across the room.
Someone else hurries by carrying a bowl and the swordsman stops them, dipping a clawed finger into the bowl and tasting it’s contents. “Hmmmm it was left on to long, it’s not nearly creamy enough, but it’ll… HEY! That’s a GARNISH! Remember LESS is MORE!”
Relic turned back to the stunned serving man still standing in front of him, holding the bold up like a shield. “Now what do you want? Oh right, it’s not creamy enough, I told you only fifteen minutes, do it right next time.”
The assassin turns away and scoops what he was chopping into his hands, dropping them into a tray as it’s carried out of the kitchen, muttering to himself about Philistines as he pours some Cybertronian brandy onto another dish. Turning to the person next to him he clucks his tongue disapprovingly, “No, look you’ve got to sprinkle them in AS you mix if you don’t…” Suddenly a machine pings next to Relic.
“Ooooh, my Custard…”
Dusty raised a browridge at the penguin bot and gave him an inane grin, her black-opal optics glittering blue, purple and green. "Oh sure!" She grabbed one of the blasters from a rack on the wall, looked it over, then commented, "Y'hold 'em at this end and point the other end at people, then pull the trigger. Easy!"
It was all Dusty could do to not burst out laughing at Penji's rather horrified expression as she replaced the blaster in its rack. "Relax, boyo! I'm a mercenary fighter pilot, y'really think I'd be clueless 'bout weapons?" She didn't bother waiting for his answer, and started browsing through the storeroom. Penji could occasionally make out what sounded like the dingo femme talking to herself, though she was really commenting to 'Lash over her comm.
[The Charr Space Station – Undisclosed Orbiting Seat of the Tripredacus Council]
There is an old Earth saying that the eyes are the windows of the soul, and that if you look close enough, you may see the whole of a person’s life through them. All of their sadness, and joy; their triumphs and failures. The passage of time in a single glance. This saying holds true for Transformers as well, regardless of who they are.
Ramhorn squinted in the dimness, forcing tired bleary optics to focus on the display before him and wishing vainly that there would be something else on the screen when it coalesced. He had already read his share of disturbing news today, and this newest bit was the final straw. Ever so slowly the sea of tiny green letters reformed. The Tripredacus Councilman pursed his metallic lips and resumed reading, all the while biting back on the urge to crush the data pad where it lay.
‘Estimates of military unrest increased to 21%. Military readiness degraded by approximately 1 percentage point as of last report. . . to include 15% of total combat personnel, 30% of technical / support units, and tentatively 5% of the officer corps. . .Loyalty levels of Generals Virusis, Manticron, and Splicer now officially designated ‘Questionable’. Generals Combine, Fernator, Globos, Crusher, and Astensor suspected of. . .overall downward trend. . . recommend immediate removal of Fleet Captain Navator. . .threat of defection increased. . .information lost due to. . .unable to ascertain loyalties of. . .failing. . .degrading. . .failing. . .insufficient. . .failing. . .failing’ Damn Primus, the whole thing was falling apart.
The Councilman’s bloody red optics narrowed angrily. If he concentrated enough he could almost feel the power slipping away from him, just as it had been for the past two years. The though made him sick. Ramhorn pushed the pad roughly away, spinning it off the jet black table. It hit the similarly tiled floor with an expensive clatter.
For a moment there was only silence. Then, cold as the grave, another voice spoke.
“The report not to you liking?” Seaclamp asked in his deep unsettling voice. As per usual, it was more of a statement than a question. The shadowy Predacon rarely spoke unless he knew what the response would be. His heavy vice-grip rested easily on the tri-cornered table, good hand crossed over it at the wrist. Ramhorn bristled at the obvious comment. He had never appreciated his counterpart’s dark sarcasm.
“No,” Ramhorn replied after a moment’s pause. “The report is most definitely not to my liking. This information does not bode well for us. Our military strength has been the only thing keeping us alive. Now even that seems to be escaping us,”
“I am aware,” the other said simply. Seaclamp’s face was an emotionless mask.
“So you continue to say,” the other retorted. “Yet you are the picture of complacency. How can you be so unconcerned? A few more reports like this, and we may find the whole of our forces turned against us,”
“And more. I choose not to concern myself with such minutia,” the other intoned. Seaclamp turned his gaze from Ramhorn to the table’s third and final seat. It was vacant, just as it had been every other day in two years since Cicadon’s Transwarp ‘mishap’. That had been the start of this, he knew; the beginnings of the unparalleled power they now wielded. However, public opinion – Predacon opinion – had soured as his seat remained empty. The three part structure of the Council was more deeply ingrained than even he could have imagined. Only the awesome strength of their military was keeping the populace in line, and that too was beginning to flag. If the truth of their cohort’s demise should ever reach the public, Seaclamp doubted that any threat of violence could contain them. Predacons as individuals were notorious for their capacity to lie, cheat, steal, and murder their way up the social ladder. There would always be a Starscream waiting to take advantage should they falter.
“I have the utmost faith in our current plans,” Seaclamp said after a time. “What can be done has been. For the moment we can do no more than that. If we simply bide our time without major incident, the Predacon public will come to accept what we have made of the world, instead of pining for what is no longer,”
“Eliminating Croak and Grapple will not be enough,” Ramhorn said.
“No, it will not,” the other agreed. “But it will be enough to take us out of harms way. The rest we may then deal with in our own time,”
Ramhorn was forced to nod. It was a grudging gesture. “In an ideal universe, yes, that would be the case. Sadly, the one in which we hold power is far from perfect. I assume that your have been made aware of Prime’s indiscretion,”
“Yes, I have,” Seaclamp replied. “A most untimely breach of character on his behalf. Perhaps it is time that we reinforce his understanding of his place in relation to our own,”
“Most certainly,” Ramhorn folded his hands in front of him on the cool tabletop. “Reaffirmation is always useful. It would do our little High Elder well to remember how fully we have him in our grasp. Yet, the essential problem remains: Of all the units that could have been assembled for this mission, there is none more dangerous to our plans than the likes of those Maximals who made up the Endport Resistance. They were too close to what happened, and as such, can not help but ask why Croak and Grapple are to be killed. They lack the impartiality that was so essential to this mission,” Ramhorn paused. “I believe that we should dispatch our own unit to deal with matters. We will lose a large measure of deniability, but ensure that the executions are carried out. That, after all is the most important thing,”
“I agree,” Seaclamp said. “Croak and Grapple’s deaths above all. Perhaps that of the Maximals as well. Few will miss them; a collection of vagabonds and loners if I remember correctly. Many such have gone missing on the Rim. Prime will ensure that the matter is downplayed in the Citadel,” Seaclamp stood. “Give the task to one of our Delta teams. That should be sufficient for today,” The Tripred pushed through the heavy double doors, out into the hall.
The meeting was at an end.
Slowly, Ramhorn too stood. His optics said it all. Things were starting to spin out of hand. If this strike failed, or if the Maximals managed to piece together what information they had…it was almost certainly over. At the very least, he would find his own personal position much degraded. The situation could easily turn into another Endport. Which of them would be the fall-bot if that came to pass? He preferred not to dwell on it. The answer was almost always disturbing.
But then, so was everything lately. Ramhorn added it to his growing pile of concerns, and began to walk. The horned Councilman exited the room quietly, noting with special satisfaction the discarded data pad, as it was crushed beneath one steely boot.
Stir. Grind. Pound. Ahh-choo! Argghhh!!
This was so infuriating. Timber stared at the offensive pestle in her hand, its smooth rounded surface encrusted with bits of crushed pepper seeds. Those cooks on TV never had it this hard. Her hands were numb, her legs were aching, and her nose was red from all the sneezing. She dropped the mortar and pestle on the table, and turned to face Relic, who was admiring his custard with a satisfied look on his face.
"Where's the meat?" she demanded, whipping out her hatchets and shaking them menacingly. "I'd sooner chop up a whole boar than grind those pep-... pep-... pepper... AHH-CHOO!"
"No questions Timber," stated the assassin-turned-master-cook sternly. "Go back and finish grinding those peppers. Only after that can you go hack up the meat." The glint in his eyes were scary; it meant that he would brook no nonsense.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Querion stood in the hallway with an amused look on his face, as Relic bustled about the kitchen. He had never known this side of his friend; it was comical. The wolf-bot shrugged helplessly as Timber stormed back to whatever task she was doing.
The smells that were slowly starting to build were enticing, and Querion felt his stomach stir. His body, like every Transformer, ran on energon, but food, cooked food, was a luxury to his taste buds. He enjoyed the taste of red meat in both beast and robot modes; that explained why he hunted often. The wolf-bot walked off, hoping to see if Jungle was ready to give any orders.
Querion hoped that there would be enough meat to fill his palate.
Rita was at loose ends.
She’d been to the Bridge and had a chat with Burnout. She’d been to the mess hall to try to snag a before dinner snack, Relic had almost lopped her hand off when she’d tried to touch his custard. She’d found some quarters for her and some for ‘Fish. Now she was wandering the halls. She had the vague inclination to find Catfish, but didn’t feel it was too necessary since the fuzor probably wouldn’t be able to get off the ship.
Just to be safe she’d sent the rope to guard the escape pods.
Se turned a corner and heard a familiar voice.
“…then you throw the stone and hop along the boxes, but you can’t land in the box the stone landed in or crazy invisible purple aliens will come and steal your next turn away.”
“Crazy invisible purple aliens?”
“Yep! They also come if you step on a line or out of the boxes. Or if your stone landed on a line.”
“Of course.”
“Crazy invisible purple aliens are very picky. They can walk through walls too. Anyway, so you jump over the square with the…”
Rita smiled and turned around to find something else to do. She had a few games in her room, she’d install Duke Nukem or something and blow stuff up…
Buckshot yawned, stretched, and frowned at Vinoc.
"And who the red f**k are you?!" he asked irritably.
"I'm-" Vinoc started.
"It doesn't MATTER who you are!!!" Buckshot yelled, then chuckled. "Outta my way."
Buckshot ambled past Vinoc and out into the hallway to look into this intruder. As he walked, he almost bumped into an angry-looking giraffe hurrying down the hall. He briefly considered chastising him for it, but thought better of it. Guy looked pissed.
-------------
Filch hurried down the hall, almost bumping into a muscular canine on his way. He was grumbling under his breath, and furiously glancing at a checklist he held in one hand. He turned the corner and saw Catfish and Jungle walking along, the former explaining something about happy faceballs and mazes while the latter nodded at intervals.
"You! There you are! You thief, you burglar, you fiend, you sticky-fingered degenerate!" Filch said angrily, running up.
"I didn't-" Jungle started.
"Not you, good sir, this lovely yet law-breaking femme here!"
"Hi Filch!" Catfish said, bouncing up and down.
"Don't 'hi' me! You, you, you have a lot of explaining, apologizing, and more explaining to do!"
"Excuse me. What seems to be the trouble?" Jungle interjected.
Filch glanced at him, scowled, and held up a checklist.
"I was recently forced into giving Catfish here and another girl a tour of my merchant vessel, and normally I would've been all too happy to let potential customers view my illustrious wares, however, this young lady has apparently never heard of the concept of commerce! In that short amount of time, she has stolen twenty-seven different pieces of merchandise from my stores!"
"I'm impressed."
"I'm appalled! This is the company Rita hangs out with, well, I can say that I never- er- I never...um..."
Jungle blinked, wondering why the giraffe wasn't finishing his sentences, then saw Catfish was looking at him with big, luminous, sorry puppy-dog optics. Filch was quite obviously bending under their inherent cuteness.
"I'm sorry." she said honestly and adorably.
"Er...that isn't good eno- you- I can't-" Filch stuttered, trying to retain his righteous anger. "Ohhh, FINE! Forgiven! BUT, I want it back."
"Okay!" Fish said agreeably. "Which stuff was it?"
"Let's see..." Filch said, checking his list. "You need to return to me: An Antilaeitian coral necklace, a deluxe Junkion portable garbage compactor, a wreath of Barrivian turnips, a solid luminum ingot, a socket wrench, a pair of toenail clippers, a N'hexlonic ivory mirror, some Zorian skiddles dice, a tube of toothpaste, a Licestian tentacle massager, a tribble carrier cage, an Andorian feather duster, a hardcover book on the mating habits of the giant mutant guppy, a Terran hockey stick, a Horv'aam egg hatching kit, a set of plastisteel knee actuator bolts, the fan belt for a Terran 1993 Buick LeSabre, a Femmedian pleasure stick, an ink stamping pad, a bottle of aged Corellian nuftak wine, a baby womp rat exercise wheel, a price sticker gun, a Cyberdyne-manufactured android index finger, a ballpoint pen, an Inzivian tooth buffer, a set of Titanian iguana lumbar vertebrae, and a shoe."
Buckshot eventually found Solarflare. "Hey where is that intruder?" he asked. Solarflare pointed to the person going on in front of him about Vinoc.
"Oh."
"Yeah." Solarflare said putting a hand to his face at the ranting femme. "SHUT UP!" He yelled into her audio sensors. THe femme stopped talking a bit taken a back. "Vinoc is mopping somthing up, he got involved with the resistance through Tundra through an Accident i guess. I really don't know him and i don't care what you do to him but for right now you are following me and my friend here." He said pointing to Buckshot.
"Oh i don't think so! I am gonna go..." Solarflare nodded and Rudua was hit from behind with a bat and hit the floor. "Pick her up we will take her to the medic and then maybe in the furnance." Buckshot laughed. SOlarflare made a good second in command.
------------------------
Mimi had not yet crossed pathes with Relic but she just dropped a bowl of seasoning all over the floor in the Kitchen and was debating wether to drawl her sword or run and hide.
Penji, back in beast mode, looked around the room surveying the weapons. Before long he found a datapad with a complete inventory. It was.. impressive to say the least.
"Woah!" he yelled out suddenly. Dusty looked up at him, confused. "Don't open casing! Boom!"
"Oh.. k."
"Hm.." Penji said, "Dusty external weapons, Penji storeroom?"
Graphics Provided by Riboflavin
