Decepticon Outpost
North of the Azores
He sat in a chair in front of the computer terminal, metal fingers tapping against the side of console, his optics glued to the screen. He frowned, seeing something he didn't like, sighed, lifted a hand to his head and rubbed his temple.
His name was Scavendrill, a Decepticon engineer well known for his attention to mechanical detail. He was slightly shorter than the average Decepticon with a bulky physique; had he been human, he would have been described as "buff." The armor of his superstructure was painted primarily green with purple on his torso and a black, triangular visor over his optics. He had a grim expression on his face as he looked over the readout on his screen.
Scavendrill was part of a twelve-member team that called themselves the Eisen Dragoons. The Dragoons had a notorious reputation with both Autobots and Decepticons, not for any particular battlefield prowess, but rather for their blitzkrieg-style raids on enemy merchant convoys and frontier colonies. They were officially classified within the Decepticon ranks as privateers but were regarded by many as mercenaries at best, pirates at worst.
The Dragoons usually operated from the ocean world of Hylion Prime, but Scavendrill and three others had been transferred temporarily to a smaller base on Earth. It was part of a small-scale experiment to harass the communications lines between the various Autobot outposts on the planet and perhaps lure more of their squadrons away from other combat zones. It had been a relatively minor success; their attacks did little to cause any serious disruption in the supply line. But they had instigated enough chaos to be considered a serious nuisance and the Autobots and EDC were tripping over themselves in a vain attempt to hunt them down.
Scavendrill never went on any of the forays, would always remain behind at base. His priority was to make sure the base was in working order and to patch up those who did go out and fight. He preferred it that way; he considered himself an engineer first and a warrior only reluctantly. There were few emergencies on base and the repairs on his comrades were usually few – their targets were usually lightly armed convoys – which left him with plenty of time to pursue other, more "personal" projects.
He was currently looking over a schematic for one of many of the constructs he developed but rarely had the opportunity to actually build. Most of his ideas rarely got beyond the planning stages, usually because what he developed had little to do with warfare, but there were a few projects that even he considered too elaborate and would take far too much investment time and resources to be feasible.
He glanced over to another station, just out of curiosity, where one of his teammates, designated Novacula, was sitting. Novacula was a tall, slender, angular olive-colored Decepticon, better known as "Mad Novacula" for his penchant for charging headlong into any situation, no matter how dire. He was currently assigned to monitor the scanners and communication channels, though Scavendrill wondered if he was actually paying attention. Novacula was leaning back in his seat facing the screen, his arms dangling behind him. Scavendrill knew his comrade well, was well aware that the leaner Decepticon desired a challenge above all else. For someone with that kind of a personality, monitor duty had to be considered a complete bore, though Novacula rarely complained.
Scavendrill turned back to his own station and looked over his schematic again. He shook his head slightly and let out another sigh. Too long, it would take too long to build, even with the Constructicons' skills…
He heard the footfall of another individual approaching from behind him and turned towards the sound. He saw another Decepticon approaching him, exceptionally tall, his physique a combination of angular leanness and physical power. The outer armor of the new mech was a shade of white that was sometimes referred to as lavender, with a black internal superstructure that could occasionally be seen between the gaps in the armor. The face was colored dark silver with a clear visor over a pair of dark red optics and wore a stoic expression. His forehead bore a small crest in the center, emerald green in the center, blue on either side. On the back of the mech was a pair of long, drill-like weapons, each made up three long blades, and the chest bore the forehead of a dinosaur in the center, the exposed eyes emitting a soft red glow.
Scavendrill nodded slightly, said, "Northclaw."
The tall white mech returned the gesture, a silent acknowledgement. Northclaw was the second-in-command of the Eisen Dragoons and the commander of the small team on Earth. He was an exceptionally powerful Decepticon, extremely strong physically and bearing some powerful offensive and defensive weaponry. He was also intelligent, possessing a keen strategic and analytical mind. This rare combination of brawn and brain made some nervous, especially some ambitious individuals who feared he might be hiding aspirations of leadership under his stoic appearance. Scavendrill knew that he held no such ambitions but he and the other Dragoons kept that fact mostly to themselves.
Northclaw looked at the screen behind Scavendrill. "What are you working on?"
Scavendrill glanced behind him and shrugged. "Nothing much; just something I drew up in my spare time."
Northclaw's expression didn't change. "What is it?"
"A mobile base, similar to but not quite as sophisticated as, say, Scorponok or Trypticon."
"I see," Northclaw said. "Looks as good as other works. Have you considered submitting this design to the Decepticon Design Bureau?"
"Not really, largely because this one's on a scale that's considerably larger than even Trypticon," Scavendrill replied. "The resources it would take just to being the initial construction… well, let's just say they could be put to better use."
"Are you certain about that?" Northclaw inquired. "If I recall correctly, it didn't take long for either Trypticon or Scorponok to be complete; Scorponok was finished in under a megacycle."
"Like I said, this is on a much larger scale. Total construction time would be in the decacycles, possible even a couple of stellar cycles. There's no way it could be built in any reasonable amount of time."
Northclaw grunted and stared at the screen for a moment. He then glanced at Scavendrill and said, "Speaking of time, how long would it take for you to prep our supplies and equipment for transport?"
It was an odd question and even Novacula looked up. Knowing that Northclaw expected an immediate answer, Scavendrill replied, "Half a decacycle, at the most. Why do you ask?"
"Because it may be time to pack up this show and depart. The shipping lanes have been moved so far that to attack them would risk capture or the revelation of our base. The EDC and Autobot patrols are also getting a little better employing their search patterns; that last party got a little too close for comfort. This mission is essentially done and its time to wrap it up."
Scavendrill nodded. "I understand. I'll start downloading our records immediately."
Northclaw nodded. "I'll prepare a message for Archanubis telling him that we're closing up shop. We'll transmit it when we leave and place it on a time delay, so even if the Autobots manage to decode it, it'll be too late to do anything about it."
Scavendrill nodded silently. Novacula turned back to his station, shaking his head slightly. "Too bad; it was kinda fun wrecking havoc away from Khyos."
"We've accomplished what we came to do," Northclaw said. "We don't need to push our luck any further than necessary." He paused a moment. "Though it might have been nice if we could have targeted some of their cargo aircraft."
"We could have," Scavendrill said, "if the units capable of attaining those altitudes hadn't been away on their own assignments when we left."
Northclaw shook his head. "Probably for the best. Wingshadow might be the only one who'd be agreeable to such an assignment and we all know what a liability he can be sometimes."
"Yeah," Scavendrill said. "He's reckless to a fault, taking more chances than necessary and coming back with parts falling off him. Plus he never pays attention to his surroundings; even a Dinobot could follow him without attracting his attention."
Northclaw nodded silently. "Well, no point in reminiscing now; we've got a lot of work to do, so we'd all better get to it. Scavendrill, see if you can't salvage…"
A small alarm went off on Novacula's console and he began typing furiously. "Northclaw, we're receiving an encoded message, priority Delta."
Northclaw turned towards him. "Origin?"
Novacula worked the controls for a moment. "It's from one of the Decepticon outposts off the Grand Banks."
"The old offshore oil platform," Northclaw said, rubbing his chin. "That's fairly close to Vector Maximus's assigned station. Can you authenticate the transmission source?" He knew Vector, was well aware that deception was not part of his typical modus operandi, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. He watched Novacula typed out commands while watching the readout on his screen. Scavendrill rose from his seat and walked over.
After a moment, Novacula finally responded. "Double and triple checked. It's Decepticon in origin."
"Decode and put it through," Northclaw ordered.
"So you command," Novacula said, "so it is done." He pressed a button on his keyboard. "On screen, now."
Northclaw looked up and saw the image of a familiar looking Decepticon mech. He could only see the head and torso – the screen obscured the rest of the body – but that was enough to make an identification. The face consisted of a mouth plate and a pair of yellow triangular optics. At first, Northclaw thought he was talking to Soundwave, but then he noticed the purple hues of his superstructure.
"Datamatrix," he said flatly.
"Yo, Big White North, what's shakin'?" Datamatrix said.
Novacula lifted a three digit claw to his inhuman face. "Oh, not him," he groaned.
"Nice to see you too, Mad Nova," Datamatrix scowled.
Datamatrix was Soundwave's younger spark-brother, though it was wise not to mention that little tidbit around him as he suffered from a serious inferiority complex. His main task was to collect intelligence for the Decepticons, but more commonly he used his abilities to download the latest local music or video. His habit of referring to everyone by nicknames was considered annoying at best – though some were better at hiding their displeasure than others.
Northclaw kept his own composure, but he wasn't in the mood for this mech's antics right now. "I would presume that you have a good reason to contact us. You know that Archanubis ordered us to limit our communication broadcasts."
"Bah, that damn bounty hunter can kiss my ass. In fact, he needs to take the broom stick out of his."
Northclaw's optics narrowed slightly. "What do you want?"
"It's not what I want, it's what Big D wants."
"And that would be?"
"A-train says he's found something not too far from the Grand Banks, something big. Big D wants your team to rendezvous and take charge of a little party in the area, have a look, it's something interesting, recover it if possible. That is, if you're not too busy and all." He uttered the last comment like it was a bad joke.
Northclaw glanced over at Scavendrill and saw the same puzzlement he felt on the engineer's face. It was unusual for Dynamax to call on the Dragoons for any sort of assistance, let alone put one of them in charge. Either it was a vote of confidence in Northclaw's abilities or they were hard pressed for "better" candidates.
"Did Astrotrain provide the coordinates?" Northclaw inquired.
"Sending them to you now," Datamatrix replied as he leaned forward. Scavendrill moved to a smaller terminal beside Novacula and waited for the transmission to come in.
After a moment, he said, "Coordinates received." He suddenly frowned. "Northclaw, the location… is in the heart of an area known locally as the Laurentian Abyss."
Deep water, Northclaw thought. There lies another possible reason; we may be the only ones in the immediate region with the experience working under those conditions. "Scavendrill, how long would it take to retrofit our thrusters for equipment operations?"
"A little under a megacycle."
Northclaw turned back to Datamatrix. "Tell Dynamax that we'll rendezvous with his team in about two and a half megacycles."
"Will do, Great White. Over and out." The screen went dark and Northclaw turned his head to look at Scavendrill.
"Start your modifications, my friend, we're apparently going deep sea diving."
Scavendrill said nothing, merely nodded, turned and walked out. Northclaw turned his attention to Novacula.
"Novacula, prep the submersible for launch and load it with as many torpedoes and sonobouys as can be fit into the hold. Report to Scavendrill once you're done."
Novacula touched a couple controls, saying, "I'll get on that once I secure my station."
Northclaw nodded, turned and walked to the tactical station in the center of the room. Hovering just above the flat, table-like station was a holographic topographical map of the immediate area. The map was mostly clear, with a few lines indicating the elevation of the sea floor around the base and a few sensor contacts, mostly marine life. There was one contact that wasn't organic in origin, indicated by a single, violet dot and was moving about in long, lazy circles.
As Northclaw studied the map, Novacula rose from his station and moved towards the exit. As he passed Northclaw, the latter called out, "One more thing, Novacula, and you can do this from the sub."
Novacula stopped, glanced at his commander, curious. Northclaw pointed to the map, saying, "Bring him in. We might require his… special expertise for this mission."
"As you command."