Chapter 7
Despite Shadowdancer's threats of kicking them all out on their collective afts, none of the SPARTANs had any intention to leave Iacon just yet.
The orn after Xenon and Ratchet removed the dead 'bodies' of the seven SPARTANs that didn't survive the conversion to Cybertronians, Refit entered the med bay in time to hear Ether questioning Xenon about the reasoning behind the delay of the bots not waiting for medical clearance.
"Oh, that's easy." The former AI peered up at the Head of Special Ops from over the data pad the older medic had handed to her when she walked in. "Shadow' won't let them go without the proper Intel."
With a grimace at his own ignorance, Ether finally nodded slowly as he accepted that reasoning. "Makes sense. They know just about nothing of Cybertron, acquiring the information would be the first step in taking on a new assignment."
The smallest SPARTAN femme giggled at him, as he had missed the mark with his observation.
"Well, that too." At the confused looks she got from both mechs, Refit sighed and tried to explain another way. "It's more like... well... okay. First off, the individual SPARTANs are responsible for collecting the data on their city and their chosen profession. That would include maps of the city and surrounding territory, any well-known bots in said city than may be at risk for targeting by either faction or their associated supporters, a few preemptive plans for both defense and immediate escape, what their jobs would require of them beyond their own responsibility to the unit, any risks that they run in working the jobs, and so on."
When both Ether and Xenon nodded to show that they were following her explanation so far, she took a seat on one of the repair berths and continued brightly.
"Second, Shadowdancer has Spotter combing through our processors and rewriting some of our base programs, adding some blocks for certain features and actions, and working up a viable and secure communications relay so they can keep in contact even on the other side of the planet. Most of the new programs will prevent any... incidents from arising when our SPARTAN trained responses clash with the facets of civilian Cybertronian life."
Xenon nodded thoughtfully, but Ether frowned at her in confusion. "Blocks? You're going to restrict yourselves?"
"We have to. All of them are exceptional soldiers; well suited for extremely hostile situations where they need to fight for their very survival, but that won't work for civilian orn to orn life." Refit was now frowning herself, more so about the lag in reaction times both Galeforce and Knightblade predicted and the possible consequences for the safety and health of her SPARTANs. They were hers, after all. Dr. Halsey had entrusted them to her. "Anyways, once that is all set up and done, the SPARTANs have to run their collected data through Shadowdancer for approval, report here for a last system check, and then they can leave for their posts."
She now smiled up at them, noting the less confused expressions aimed in her direction, and turned her attention to her data pad.
Ether rocked back on his heel stabilizers as he processed what he had been told, looking over to Xenon in time to see the Autobots' CMO shake his helm as he returned to cleaning the tools left over from the SPARTANs' maintenance.
With a huff, the Head of Special Ops left the med bay, wondering just when Shadowdancer would have the time to explain to him the difference between 'covert' and 'special' ops if she was going to be doing all that.
\V/
The third room Rook tried in her idle search of Iacon paid off.
She had finally found Prowl, the mech was currently glaring irritably at Jazz as the silver mech tried to detour the Praxian from his work for a break. Barely containing an amused grin from breaking out on her faceplate, she chimed in with an argument of her own astroseconds after Jazz's latest failed attempt.
"Even Shadow' knows when to take a break, 'Prowler'. I'm pretty sure no bot will thank you for crashing from low energy levels when you should be working."
Prowl cast her a glare that was as impersonal as it was frosty, and Rook had to bite her lip components to keep from laughing at him. "I am well aware of my limits, Rook. I have no need for a break at this time. And my designation is Prowl."
"Look, mech," Jazz got between the Praxian and the SPARTAN and set his hands on his hip joints, exasperated look painted on his face plate, "ah know dat, she knows dat, ya know dat. But, ya were ordered ta by Zeta, an ah'm here ta make sure ya do."
"Besides," the gray femme chipped in again with a sly grin at them both, "I have a few questions about Praxus, and have been told you are the mech to ask."
Visibly hesitating, the black and white tactician looked between the two radically differently trained but eerily similar saboteurs insisting on him taking a break before finally subspaceing his data pad and turning away from the vid screen he had been stationed at to review everything from the last battle and make up reports on what needed to be looked at and what seemed to be working for the Autobots.
"Very well, if you both are prepared to be insistent about this, I will take a brief break." He ignored the huff of exasperation from the silver mech and gave Rook a mildly inquiring look. "I will answer what questions I can, but it has been vorns since I have lived in Praxus."
"Fair enough. I need a map of the city and some common knowledge about it, not really anything about recent happenings that I can't get off the news vid channels." She smirked at Jazz's half annoyed glare pinned on the Praxian's back as she stepped out of the way for the two mechs to pass her and lead the way. Rook felt as if she would be missing something if she left now, and far be it for her to not be curious. That curiosity had kept her alive more times than she could count.
Silently, for Prowl was annoyed with being forced into taking a break and Jazz was annoyed that it took another bot to convince the tactician to take one, the three made their way to a nearby rec room.
As the silver saboteur left the two at a table for energon, Prowl gave the femme another blandly curious look as they both took a seat. "Forgive me for asking, but why not just download a map from the city's information server?"
"Cause, those maps always leave off the really interesting spots and well-known local... gathering places." Rook smirked at the unsurprised expression of the other mech, and wondered silently just how Prowl had ended up as an Autobot. He had the mannerisms of a once sneaky bot, he even had the name of one, and she strongly suspected that at one time the Praxian hadn't been a strictly legal type of mech.
After a moment of quiet computation, Prowl gave her a small, wicked looking smirk of his own. "I can supply you with what you're asking for, but are you sure you want to know?"
"It's not really that obvious, but I spent my first decacycle of function in a slum of some backwater world as a street thief. It was the only way for me to survive until the SPARTAN-Projects snapped me up." The SPARTAN femme shrugged in a dismissive way as she leaned back in her chosen chair. "Nothing you all have tucked away under the city's base level will shock me after that. Besides, I need to know to steer away the really bad rift raff away, I'm going to open a type of dojo to teach self-defense as close to the slums as I think I can get away with."
The Praxian inclined his helm to her, to acknowledge the point. "In that case, can I bother you to deliver two messages for me?"
Old habits die hard, mused Rook as she nodded with a small smile. A favor for a favor was pretty much standard for ex-thieves and other unsavory sorts to trade services. "I can do that. Just leave me a name, I can figure the rest out myself."
"That is good, because I have nothing more than their designations." His small smile broadened as she chuckled in exasperated amusement.
"Quick question. Are you ever going to tell him you probably know more about being sneaky than he does?" It was a little rude, she knew that, but the question had been burning in her processor ever since the two had stepped into the ATHENS.
"Maybe." Prowl smoothed his face plate back to a neutral expression before Jazz returned with three cubes from the rec room's dispenser. "But as for your request, I will include the relevant information on a data pad and give it to Refit to deliver after my shift. Was that all you wanted from me, Rook?"
"Yep. Other than asking Jazz when Ether wanted Shadow' to drop by and answer his questions."
\V/
Taking the proffered data pad, Shadowdancer frowned at the silent mech who was the defensive specialist of the surviving SPARTANs. "I still don't like it."
{Like it or not, that's where I'm going. A few demonstrations by the Decepticon minority shouldn't prevent me from working; in fact, it should make a bodyguard of my caliber more sought after.} Silentforce shrugged as if to say what else could he do about it as she started to scowl at him rather than the information displayed. {It's not like I can't take care of myself, ma'am.}
"True, and we need a bot in Kaon." She huffed irritably out of her intakes, still feeling a little off about sending the SPARTAN to the almost contested city.
Despite the firmly ruling Autobot inclined City Council, the citizens were leaning more towards Decepticon in mentality; and the friction between the government and the masses was rising minutely every orn. Silentforce had talked to Zeta about her city of origin, and the Head of Tactical had imparted the not so widely known information about the unrest in Kaon that she had seen well before she became an Enforcer Station Chief.
A few joors at a computer terminal searching for additional information had colored a rather violent picture for the SPARTANs. As it stood, the city was still officially an Autobot city, but it had experienced more violence and riots than any of the other cities did due to high Decepticon activity there.
Making the city of Kaon the next possible territory to follow either Polyhex's or Gygax's example.
"Well, if it happens, it happens." The XO gritted her dental plates as she reviewed the relevant files on the defensive specialist's target location and projected job. "You'll just have to think on your pedes if this does happen. I really, really, don't like sending you off to such a situation, but we can't spare Trick' for it at the moment."
The metallic red and black mech nodded as he took his data pad back. {I'm sure I'll be fine. If worse comes to worst, I'll retreat and we will have a hole in the communications net between you and one-four-four and the rest of us. Best case, I'll be there until you and the assassin are set up safely and can spare one-nine-six for another city.}
"Yes well, you now have standing orders to retreat at the first sign of a Decepticon takeover." Shadowdancer jabbed her finger at his optics when a blip of static over the comms betrayed the stoic mech's surprise. "No arguments. This is probably the most risky assignment so far, besides my own and some of the other Covert Ops. You have the same orders as we do. Get out at the first sign of trouble you can't handle on your own."
{Yes, ma'am.} Silentforce shook his helm at her worry as he left, plotting out the best course of action for his arrival in the city.
Drumming her fingers on her desk, Shadowdancer glowered at the Trickflip shaped hole in her office wall. Speaking of infiltrators... "Are you going to stop sulking and talk to me, or should I continue to ignore you?"
She got a pair of orange optics glaring back at her in response. Trickflip was tasked with repairing the hole she made with his frame by kicking him violently though her office wall and the mech had a clear view into her office from where he was in the hallway. "We need a brig, or something, so War' can throw you in it when you get moody."
"You rearranged my files without permission, you shouldn't be surprised it ticked me off." She smirked wickedly at the irritated expression on the mech's faceplate. "How long have we known each other?"
"Uh..." Neatly sidetracked, the acid green and black mech blinked blankly at her. "I was a part of your training squad back on Onyx, when we were 'selected' for the SPARTAN-Program."
Shadowdancer nodded in mock approval, faceplate smoothed from showing any expression. "How many times have I caused you physical harm because you did something that set off both my glitches?"
Trickflip gave a rude sound, one more of a growl of his engine than an actually spoken curse. "More times than I care to remember."
"Why did you think you could get away with it now?" Tone laced with false sweetness, the XO gave the now trapped mech a wicked smirk. "What were you looking for?"
"Slaggit... you're even worse than you were back on Onyx." Trickflip gave the sheet of metal next to the hole a long look, wondering if postponing the conversation would help or hinder him. With a shrug, the mech abandoned his work in order to enter the XO's office and talk to her without the wall in the way. "I know you. You probably have dossiers on just about every bot we've met so far. How you can best use them, and what you think of their methods, how likely they are to act in a way harmful to your goals, and so forth. I was wondering if you have a file on all of us."
"Well, stated like that it sounds a bit creepy." Shadowdancer pinned the other covert ops mech with a bored look. "Yes, I have files on all of you. You've even seen them. They are a part of your ONI conducted psychological assessments, and you can read them for yourselves."
Blinking, the infiltrator sat down hard in the chair across from her, nearly stalling in shock. "That was you?"
"Me, or some other tactician, someone that had psychological training that worked with you, or a superior officer who's unit you were attached to." She agreed mildly, trying hard not to laugh at the other mech's obvious surprise. "The part that goes over how likely you are to obey orders in stressful situations? Any to be expected deviations from set plans, like Tigerstripe leaving an engagement to rescue some orphans? That type of slag? All of it is either from ONI investigating your past actions in the field or reports from those like me."
Giving up, Shadowdancer started laughing loudly at the mech's shock.
"Really, Trick'. How did you think they got all that?"
"I always assumed some type of freaky voodoo they pulled off during our augmentations." Trickflip shook his helm in disgust at his own thick processor. "Figures. But... if not in defense of your Top Secret files, why kick me through the wall?"
The XO smiled at him, and there was a hint of apology in it as well as irritation. "Because I spent the last two joors arranging those files, and you screwed up my system in a breem."
"Perfect... well, now that you're a little less moody, can I take a look at my file?"
"Fine, just don't screw it up now, and get the wall fixed." Standing up, Shadowdancer patted the mech on the back as she left the tiny office. "I have to go see Ether about some concerns of his, so I'll be back in a few joors."
Silently musing on the difficulties in having a secret on a ship as small as the ATHENS, the XO wondered who had told the infiltrator about that part of their files. It wasn't common knowledge, not even to Warcry, and she was the one that had to tell the CO about that part.
\V/
Peering into a half full clear container, Wheeljack added a bonding agent to the mixture and Knightblade got the last step in making the ceramic support struts ready.
She and Galeforce had already carved out molds for the ceramic mix in the shapes needed to replicate the SPARTAN's busted or shattered support struts, and the two SPARTANs were carefully laying them out in the newly cleaned cargo bay that had once held the SPARTANs for nearly sixty vorns.
Every time the inventor entered the room he had to shudder at the thought of Refit being alone for what had to feel like nearly endless vorns as she steered the ATHENS, not to mention that the only beings she could have talked to were stasis locked until she could find a planet to land on so she must of have been incredibly lonely.
The sniper smacked the back of her hand against his shin plate, knocking the green and white mech out of his wandering processor and back to the moment. "Don't let it boil, 'jack. Or we'll have to do this again."
"I remember, Knight'." Easing the first container of the ceramic mix off the heat source, Wheeljack carefully carried it over to where she was crouched over the molds to replace the XO's broken to bits left shoulder assembly. Knightblade twisted herself so she would not be in the way, deftly bending herself back so the inventor would have room to work without her in the way.
Galeforce started up on the next batch as the first was poured into its' mold. "You know, it's probably a good thing there isn't much that can damage this slag."
"That was why it was chosen for our augmentation in the first place." Knightblade only moved when Wheeljack finished pouring the mix, gingerly straightening up to her full height and flexing out her spinal support struts as she did so. "Imagine where we would be without it."
"Those 'bone' things wouldn't have helped you at all here." Vocalizer fins flashing a dull green and blue, he was sort of getting used to the SPARTANs and their odd ways of discussing things by now, the inventor set the empty container on a rack to be cleaned out and reused. "I wonder though... can this carbide ceramic recipe be improved?"
Both SPARTANs shared a long look, before smirking at the predicable response from the inventor.
"Like how?" As the SPARTANs' engineer, Galeforce figured he had to at least ensure that the mech didn't try anything that would torque Ratchet off until the green and white bot left for Crystal City.
Knightblade rubbed the area below her optics before concentrating on mixing up the bonding solution for the next ceramic batch. Despite what the SPARTAN mech thought, she was sure Wheeljack would wait until he got back to his own labs before trying anything excessive. Which meant she would have to be on the lookout when he finally got around to returning to Crystal City.
"Like if we used something else instead of the carbide. Maybe there's something on Cybertron that your scientist didn't have, and therefore couldn't try." The inventor stroked along the bottom of his battle mask as he thought it out. "There are at least three elements that could serve as a substitute; they have the same chemical reactions as carbide . . ."
The close-quarters combat specialist clapped the slighter mech on the back as he shook his helm in fond exasperation. "Let's concentrate on this first, then we can work on improving it."
\V/
"...say that again?" Warcry looked up from his cube of mid-grade energon in some surprise.
"There is a mandatory orientation for all new bots in the Autobot ranks." Ultra Magnus was trying, and failing, not to smirk broadly at the other Commander's suddenly wary look.
The SPARTAN-Bots' Commanding Officer gave the Commander of the Elite Guard an unimpressed look back. "Orientation?"
The two were in the ATHENS' rec room, taking a break from running herd on their different units. So far, Magnus had to stop three different fights from breaking out in his own ranks, but Warcry was winning the 'worst behaved unit' award with his XO kicking soldiers through walls.
"I could teach an 'orientation to warfare', but if you want me to take a group of bots that don't know one end of a rifle from the other and teach them to use it correctly, I'm calling in Shadow' to help 'teach'."
Ultra Magnus just laughed at how the tank had taken his comment. "You're not teaching."
Warcry hesitated, torn between wanting to know what was so funny and wanting to find his XO anyways, just in case.
"You and Galeforce are taking the class. It's for all new Autobots to Iacon, whether or not they have prior combat experience in the military."
"You're joking." The tank screwed up his faceplate in an expression of mock horror. "That's like... cruel and unusual punishment."
Warcry thought about how well that would go over with the rest of the SPARTANs, and started laughing loudly himself.
"I dare you to inform my soldiers of that. You think Shadow' kicking Trick' though a wall was bad; just wait until either Orpheus or Quickgrip hear of this."
\V/
Kicking at a random rock in her way, Clearsight scanned the surrounding area carefully before turning back to the other femme. "Here?"
Holdout looked around once before nodding back.
"Sure. Okay, this is what Shadowdancer asked me to look into, but I think you're a bit better suited in actually finding if this is true." The tracker handed over a data pad to the scout.
Thinning her lip plates into a straight line, the red and black femme read over the data while wondering what was up with the cloak-and-dagger approach in handing off the information. Right up until she started to comprehend what she was reading. "What the frag!"
"Yeah, that's what I said when she presented it to me. If it's true..." The bronze and black femme stared at the ground hard as the scout read over the theory again. "Well, it wouldn't be pretty. Shadow' asked if I could look into it, since she will be in the middle of the Decepticon held part of Cybertron. I can't see any reason for a supply bot to be asking these kind of questions, but I'm sure you and Knight' could ask without raising any suspicions."
Clearsight grimaced at the Supply Officer as she took in the suggestion the XO wanted looked at. "I'm not really sure about this, but I will look into it."
"That's all we are really asking." Holdout clapped the scout on the back in apology before turning around to head back to the ATHENS.
\V/
Leaning back in his chair, and very thankful he had ripped off the arms of it before sitting down to make room for his wing plates, Drax scowled up at the ceiling. "I'm bored."
Spotter spared his trine leader a quick, exasperated look from his current work. "Do you want to swap places with 'stripes? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
"I really wouldn't mind." The largest seeker of the SPARTAN trine was sitting in the middle of the bridge's floor, a few wires trailing from under his helm to the computer terminal the hacker slash recon scout was working from. "Really. This kinda tickles."
"Tickles? You have some bot in your processor, and all you can say is that it tickles?" Drax tilted his chair upright again, his pedes hitting the ground with a thud as he glowered at the bots he was 'stuck' with as trine mates. "You both are strange."
Spotter shrugged idly as he picked out more keys on the terminal, struggling to maintain his processors' link with the computers and at the same time keep up a conversation with his trine leader. "We are your trine, what does our strangeness say about you?"
"That this is one of the universe's more unfair dispensations." The dark blue and black seeker frowned irritably at his lighter painted trine mates.
"Well, think of it this way," the recon scout finally finished the programming extras the XO had requested and sent the data over the comm lines before turning to the surly seeker, "you could have gotten Nitro, Clearsight, or even Orpheus as trine mates instead of us. Who would you rather have?"
Drax remained silent as he and the other two seekers downloaded the new behavioral guidance programs and installed them to control the more violent impulses the soldiers had from more time on a field of battle than any of them ever wanted in the first place.
True, he could have gotten worse for his trine, but then again, who said they needed a fragging trine in the first place? "Are we done?"
"YES! We're done." Spotter helped Tigerstripe unhook himself from the computers. "Now, what do you want to do?"
"... I really don't know."
\V/
Knightblade and Silentforce were the first two SPARTAN-Bots to leave Iacon, one by the regular methods and the other by irregular ones.
The still silent mech had all but snuck out of the ATHENS and had disappeared into the territory of Iacon before most bots even got up for the cycle, mostly to avoid Ratchet's eventual blowup about leaving with a malfunctioning vocalizer. The sniper had to endure the brunt of the yellow medic's wrath, when she went in for her own last checkup to clear the med bay.
Warily watching the Head Medic of Iacon curse out glitching bots and those who lived with them from the other side of the med bay she leaned over to a mildly amused Xenon, who was ensuring that all her repairs were integrating as they were supposed to in her leg assemblies. "Does this happen a lot? I mean, I really don't care if he swears the sky deep blue, but if we are leaving Refit to him, the cursing she would pick up will be a bit... unnerving at first."
The Autobots' CMO suppressed the desire to laugh at her mock concerned comment.
Somehow, Ratchet had become a type of 'bot to not annoy for any reason' to the SPARTANs, and it amused him to no end to watch most of the highly trained, on occasion violent, soldier types tiptoe around the younger medic when he was even mildly irritated or annoyed about something. He knew it had more to do with how Ratchet had handled their Praxian XO right after the battle; the femme herself was more than just formidable to deal with even to her own soldiers and having those same soldiers watch as the medic yelled at her without any consequence had given the younger mech a decent amount of pull with them.
"Only when a bot does not ensure they are in working order before checking themselves out of the med bay he is responsible for."
"Right... well," the SPARTAN femme flexed her left leg as the older medic finished his check on her repairs and replaced her shin armor, "this was my last stop. I'll be leaving for Crystal City before the cycle is out. Uh... Ratchet?"
"What." The yellow medic turned the full force of his glare at her, making the sniper take a few steps back in self-defense.
Raising her hands in a mock show of surrender, she bravely pressed on anyways. "Shadowdancer has me assigned to Crystal City, I was wondering if you wanted me to check up on Wheeljack when he finally gets back there."
Ratchet paused as he considered that offer. It was probably a peace offering on their behalf, a sort of apology about the defensive specialist's actions earlier that cycle. "Fragging... fine. Once or twice a decacycle, if you could."
Still with her hands in the air, the sniper nodded as she backed out of the med bay slowly, as if she thought he would start throwing his tools at her. The yellow medic hefted a wrench at the femme's helm in response, and she bolted out of the room with a snicker. "Slagging Pit-spawns."
Xenon gave up trying not to and laughed loudly as Ratchet huffed at him.
Even if the SPARTANs were wary of the younger medic's temper, the best thing about it to the older medic was that they still teased the younger mech about it. This made the SPARTANs the favorite patients of the CMO. If they could recognize the angry front that Ratchet put up was just that, they were fine by him.
\V/
Shadowdancer checked to ensure that both Orpheus and Trickflip were ready for what was about to happen, and then calmly cycled open the door to the extra berth room they had used as a temporary prison, her face plate resembling an expressionless mask.
The one-legged Decepticon mech inside flailed around to see who had finally arrived to deal with him, and only the bindings keeping his mouth components shut kept him from shrieking in sheer terror at the sight of the femme who had cruelly ripped out his vocalizer wires. He had been in the same room for the last three orns, only occasionally visited by a silent red and black mech who would pour a ration of energon down his intakes then leave, and only once by a grayish blue and black femme who had painfully soldered his ripped vocalizer wires back in.
The electric blue and black Praxian femme took a step into the room as the door slid closed behind her, shutting out the sight of two other mechs who were guarding the door from any interruptions. "You've been all but forgotten by just about every bot. I'm sure we could keep you for a few more cycles, but the Autobots will eventually remember we have you and ask us to relocate you to their brig. In what... condition you leave us in is all up to you."
Her purring vocalizer belied her cruel claws as she ripped the bindings off his mouth components in one sharp movement.
"W-what-t d-do you-u want-t from-om me?" He shrank back against the berth they tossed him on as the femme sat next to him, flexing her claws as she drew them up the side of the bare metal frame of the odd berth with a soft squeal of shredding metal.
"Information, what else could you be good for, hmm?"
Two joors later Shadowdancer calmly left the room, flicking a few stray drops of energon off her new claws. "I've got what little he had. Trick', make the arrangements to transfer him before the Autobots remember; Orpheus, find me Spotter to... modify his memory files a little. Once we're done here, meet me in my office for the information about both Polyhex and Gygax."
The XO flicked her door-wings in a dismissal, still admiring her new features.
It had taken a bit of work, but convincing Wheeljack to make them up for her had paid off.
\V/
As more and more of the SPARTANs filtered through the med by for their final checkup and disappeared from the every cycle routines they had kept; it was noticeable when Rook finally stopped laughing every time Jazz would argue about something to Prowl and very noticeable when Shadowdancer stopped randomly scaring the bots on the way to their shifts; the rest of Iacon finally clued into the small little matter of that most of their totally unexpected saviors were leaving in groups of ones and twos.
They were only partially reassure when Galeforce and Warcry attended the orientation class for new bots to Iacon's Autobot base, and when it looked like the youngest of the femmes along with them had seemed content to stay for a little while longer.
They definitely noticed when the ATHENS left the barren planes before Iacon, the transport was anything but quiet that close to the city starting from a cold stop, and the three strange seekers that actually walked instead of using the hopping gait usual to their build became less seen around the city.
Warcry would just laugh when bots would express concern over the apparent dismantling of an obviously competent military unit that worked well together, and Galeforce just pinned the same bots with exasperated stares until they stopped talking to him, unnerved.
The SPARTAN-Bots had been a part of Iacon's population less than a megacycle, and had disrupted routines and the occasional unfortunate bot during their stay. It took another few megacycles before Iacon fell back into the usual patterns they had kept before their unanticipated arrival.
\V/
Knightblade was relieved when the terrain around the highway she was on changed to the crystal studded expanses that marked the beginning of Crystal City's territory.
With what Wheeljack had told her, it meant she was a few joors away from the city proper and the sniper was really looking forward to getting off her aching wheels and finding a 'lodge', some sort of Cybertron inn, to rent a room for a megacycle.
The Autobots had been kind enough to supply the SPARTANs with enough credits to see them through the first few cycles in their respective cities, and when they had been near Kalis some of the SPARTAN scouting around had searched through the rubble and found small catches of credits apparently abandoned when the city was attacked. Holdout had taken them and split it all up according to the financial needs of the SPARTANs, exempting the CO, Galeforce, Refit, and the trine from her calculations.
Mildly wondering if she could conserve her credits out even further, switching from a sniper trained soldier to a scientist's assistant would be a bit of a stretch even for her, Knightblade almost missed the nearly concealed tracks of five Cybertronians dragging a sixth across the road. Sheer curiosity made her slow, tracking the drag marks and paint transfers across the highway and off to the side of the road.
Idling in her alt mode in the middle of her lane of traffic, Knightblade weighed the possible consequences of interfering with whatever was going on to her sore systems and the lag that had made itself known when the non-Decepticon cities stationed SPARTANs had downloaded the behavioral modifications needed for civilian life.
With an irritated rev, thinking 'this had better be worth it' the entire time, the sniper pulled off the highway and transformed to her bipedal form, carefully activating her stealth systems to sneak up on whatever was going on. Picking her way across the leftover rubble from when the crystal towers had been crafted centivorns ago, she used the rocky lumps to help conceal the ripples her systems made in what was supposed to be empty space and peered around a hefty chunk of rock to see what was going on.
Five bots, one looked like it could be a femme but Knightblade couldn't be sure from how far away she was, were standing around a sixth, a mech who was bound and looked not too happy with what was going on. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen, and the sniper carefully pulled her Convent sniper rifle out of her subspace pocket and aimed carefully as she too waited for what was supposed to happen.
A seventh mech walked up, from the opposite side of where she was hidden, and addressed the group while ignoring the frustrated struggles from the mech on the ground. "Shockwave gave the order to deactivate him, why is he still functioning?"
"What are we going to do with his Autobot loving frame?" The femme; and Knightblade could tell she was a femme by both her vocalizer modulation and when she shifted so the dim light highlighted the angles to her frame, kicked at the mech laying on the ground. "I vote we display it, somewhere nice and public, for every bot to see."
Mentally tallying the lot of them as either Decepticons or Decepticon sympathizers by who they reported to, or at least some bots she could kill without annoying any of her officers, the sniper aimed for the apparent leader as he opened his mouth components to respond to his fellow femme.
(ooo000ooo)
Perceptor was not having a good cycle.
It had actually started out well; he had a minor breakthrough with one of his experiments on chemical additives in energon and managed to add a lead sulfide solution to an energon mix for those allergic to the main source of energy for Cybertronians.
However, when he had taken a brief hiatus in order to take in his own fuel he had been sparknapped and bound tightly, then dragged to the abandoned quarry outside of the city's walls by these rough and tumble Decepticon hopefuls. Struggling had not aided the scientist in anyway, and only encouraged the rough handling he had been suffering though.
Low on energy and sporting more than a few painful dents in both frame and armor, he had despaired of any bot realizing his predicament in time to assist him. His own associates would not realize he had been so callously disposed of until he failed to show up at another's lecture, and the usual inquires about his own work would go unanswered until some bot called in the Enforcers about a possible missing scientist. Then again, if the six bots intended to display his deactivated frame, his associates would realize he was gone a bit sooner than that.
Straining to snap at least the bindings around his wrist joints and therefore free himself before his deactivation occurred, Perceptor twisted around to shield his worst injuries when it looked like the leader intended to kick him as well, only to stall and watch in shock as the mech's helm disintegrated with the crack of a rifle's report before he could.
Four of the Decepticons twisted around, looking for the shooter in vain as the fifth, the femme, developed a hole of her own in an optic with another crack of whatever weapon had been turned on them. She thudded to the ground, energon and oil leaking freely from the hole punched all the way through her helm, as one of the mechs left traced the angle of the shots and pointed to where the shooter had to be. Only to grimace in pain as yet another shot rang out and clipped the fluid hoses in his throat supports.
The two mechs left ran for the singled out rock formation, the last one bleeding badly from punctured energon lines sank to the ground himself in a spreading pool of softly glowing spilled fluids.
The ringing clang of metal on metal rang out next, Perceptor twisted himself around again just far enough to see a grayish blue and black femme kick one of the mechs in the helm and swing the butt stock of her odd looking rifle in the faceplate of the other. The odd looking maneuver worked to unbalance the two mechs, and she shot them both through their spark chambers as they hit the ground, not even wincing when their sparks shorted out.
With an oddly blank expression on her face plates she shot the last mech bleeding out on the ground before subspaceing her rifle and kneeling next to him.
"Hold still." Since the femme had just saved him from an obviously undesirable fate, Perceptor stopped struggling as she tested the bindings holding his limbs at bay. "This might hurt; I've haven't had to do this for a while now."
She deployed a small energy knife and carefully sawed through the bindings, and as she predicted the energon rushing back into his depleted servos ached for a breem before fading to a tingling sensation.
Sitting up, the scientist took in the six deactivated frames of his attackers and the unmarred armor on the femme as he removed the clamps on his own mouth components so he could converse with the unknown femme dealing with the bindings on his legs. "Meditating on the movements you have taken in my liberation I must confess some interest to your function as well as your designation, although you now possess my gratitude in your opportune rescue nevertheless."
"Erm... I'm a sniper, and my name is Knightblade." Holding out a hand to the odd mech, she frowned at him tiredly when he just looked up at her blankly. "What?"
Perceptor hesitated for a brief moment before accepting the outstretched hand and allowed her to haul him to his pedes. "It is... unanticipated that you disclosed the reality of your function so straightforwardly to a bot you do not identify as an acquaintance or ally."
"Well, lying won't get me anywhere." The sniper shrugged dismissively as she set off for the highway, only to be halted by the mech setting his hand on her arm. She looked back at him with a good dose of irritation in her expression, not really all too happy with another delay in getting to the city. "What now?"
"May I inquire to what a sniper is undertaking this close to Crystal City," Perceptor peered at her chest armor closely for any sign of a decal or other marking, observing and dismissing the gold and silver device on her right arm as not what he was looking for, "and deficient of the faction insignias of either the Autobots or Decepticons?"
Knightblade gave an irritable rev of her engine. "My military unit is taking a break, at the most three vorns, and two if slag gets desperate."
She tapped the strange symbol on her arm that he had disregarded as if to identify the unit she had just left.
"We've been released to do whatever, as long as we corporate with the local Enforcers about our city's defenses. I am here more as a bot interested in science, rather than a sniper at the moment." She extracted herself from the mech's grip and started walking again. "Now, if you're done asking questions, I'm going to get to the city so I can finally get some recharge this cycle."
"Very well, although..." Perceptor had to smile at the rapidly growing annoyance of the femme's as she turned back to him again. "My personal designation is Perceptor, and if it would not be too presumptuous, I extend an invitation for you to take your respite within my individual living unit. It has come to be apparent that further security procedures are necessary, and I can at the very least direct your own ventures into the life of a researcher in return."
The sniper hesitated just long enough for the scientist to catch up to where she was. "That is extremely convenient, and a little suspicious. What aren't you telling me?"
"I possibly will be confronted by Decepticons again, and would certainly have need of your own quite competent defensive capabilities when that eventuality transpires."
"Ah." She looked back at the six she had already killed that cycle, then to the scientist awaiting an answer from her. "I don't see why not. Just so you know; I can be called up by either my old commanders or the Enforcers and be forced to leave for a short while."
"That is acceptable." Perceptor gave the deactivated frames a searching look of his own before continuing with her to the highway. "I am not certain whether to categorize this as an auspicious or disastrous commencement of our agreement."
"Why not both?" Knightblade just laughed wickedly when he gave her a flat look in return for her flippant comment.
\V/
Finding the bots Prowl had asked of her hadn't been as difficult as she thought it would be given the size of Praxus.
Rook found Smokescreen first, the Praxian mech was a diversionary tactician for the Praxus' Enforcers as a simple name search of the city's information servers in the Hall of Records had revealed. Working off a hunch of hers following the mech had led her to the other, a Praxian framed merchant named Bluestreak.
Smirking, she watched them from across a busy street as the two brothers, she mentally tallied Prowl as another possible brother, discussed something between them.
She was more than a little surprised when Smokescreen's door-wings twitched and he turned around to glare at her for staring at them, but not undaunted from the less than welcoming gesture. He was an Enforcer after all, something like the police back in the Milky Way, and they hadn't liked her much at first either.
Skillfully weaving through the traffic clogged streets, the gray saboteur walked up to the two Praxians with an ever widening smirk twisting her lip plates. "I've been looking for you two."
"Us? Why would you be looking for us? You don't look like an Enforcer friend of Smoky, he wouldn't be glaring at you if you were, and I don't think I've ever seen you before, so you're not another merchant, so why are you looking for us?" Bluestreak peered at her curiously, his own door-wings fluttering in confusion.
Her smirk grew into a broad grin. Dealing with their Praxian XO had given her a bit of insight about Praxians and their door-wings; Shadowdancer had downloaded the sub-language and practically forced it down the other's intakes so they could understand any Praxian they came across as well as the sub-language of the seeker frame sets even if they didn't use much themselves. Bluestreak was curious and confused, Smokescreen was confused and wary, and it was almost cute how 'Smoky' glared at her.
"I have some messages from a mech by the name of Prowl." 'Prowl' was apparently some kind of magic word. Both Praxians straightened up instantly, casting wary looks around to see who was close enough to overhear. "Relax, besides you, 'Smoky'; there are not any other Enforcers around."
Rook took a seat from a nearby table and seated herself at theirs, ignoring the renewed glare aimed at her from the Enforcer.
"Oh. Okay. What message did Prowl give to you to tell us?" Smokescreen groaned and covered his optics with one hand as the merchant all but bounced out of his chair in excitement. "Is he alright? I mean, I know he was in trouble for a few vorns, the whole... ya know, 'incident' thing. I was really worried about him being alone by himself for so long. Are you a friend of his?"
"You can read for yourself, yes, don't know, and sort of." Rook's smile softened when Bluestreak blinked at her in surprise, unaccustomed to having all his questions answered so rapidly. She passed out two data pads to the Praxians and leaned back in her purloined chair. "Met him when my unit passed through Iacon, he's a tactician for the Autobots now. It looks like he's doing well for himself."
"Unit?" Smokescreen glanced over her armor curiously, noting the lack of a faction insignia on her strangely shimmering armor except for the gold and silver glyph on her arm plates. "What unit would that be?"
"Sorry, that would be telling." Rook winked and wiggled her fingers at him before getting up. "Sides, I'm just paying back a favor. See you around, Smoky, Blue."
Bluestreak only responded to her absently, already rapidly reading though what Prowl had written to him. "Bye!"
Smokescreen had half risen out of his own chair, before sinking back into it as he lost sight of her in the traffic passing by.
"Frag it, I didn't catch her name." When his younger brother looked up worriedly, he waved a hand so the merchant would go back to reading. "I'll get it later, and see just what unit that femme is out of, if she even is from a military unit."
"She never said it was a military unit, she just said unit." Blinking bemusedly, Bluestreak looked up as his brother cursed again. "You have a physical description of her, would that work?"
"Gray isn't an unusual color for a bot to have." The Enforcer tapped his fingers on the table between them, glaring at the data pad the femme had delivered to him. "You're gray, Blue."
"True," with an accepting twitch of his door-wings, the younger merchant thought through the conversation with the femme again from a new perspective, "...it sounded like she intends to see us again."
Smokescreen frowned irritably before snatching up the data pad and subspaceing it to look at later. "Terrific. She's a possible criminal lurking around just waiting to bother us, who our brother happens to trust to deliver messages. That just makes my orn."
\V/
Frowning at the sheer mess arrayed in front of her, Holdout compared the inventory list given to her to the piles of parts and goods that stretched out in the warehouse.
Central City's Autobot base recently let go their supply personnel when it became apparent that some bot was skimming off the shipments and selling them on the streets for a tidy profit. That was a good thing for her, since there was an opening in her chosen job field, but a bad thing in that she now had to organize the mess herself. There would be other supply bots coming in, the Wrecker Commander Impactor had assured her, and she would have help before the megacycle was out, just... not quite yet.
And... oh yeah. If she could find that shipment meant for Iacon sometime in the next few cycles, it would be really great.
Optic ridge twitching in barely contained rage at the chaos before her, the SPARTAN trained tracker ignored the mess for the moment and put her skills to what she considered good use. Hunting down the worthless bot would keep her from blowing a gasket or two at the mess he left behind him.
It took her a breem of searching the badly concealed alterations to the ledgers to find where the old supply bot had sold off his ill-gotten gains, another two to assemble the shipment for Iacon, and with a quick word with Impactor she had a break during which to find the irritating bot in.
The merchant she found had no idea the supplies he had bought were stolen from the Autobots, and volunteered the information about what the bot looked like for free. Holdout was tracking a mech with green and orange paint, who had passed by the merchant during the off-cycles up until a few megacycles ago.
Tipping the mech anyways, the tracker made her way farther into the merchant's district, asking a bot here and there to ensure she was still on the right track. With half the joor she had been allotted for a break left, she found the optic smarting green and orange mech.
He had used his illegal cut of the Autobots' supplies to buy himself a living unit, kitted out with more than a few luxuries. This included more than just a few cubes of high grade, apparently.
The mech was flat on his back, recharging without a care in the world on his berth, falsely confident in how well he had covered his tracks. Holdout huffed in disgust at both the slovenly mech and the way he lived.
About to enter the room and rough the mech up for her troubles before handing him over to the Enforcers to deal with, the tracker paused as an idle thought crossed her processor. Refit was going to live with her while she attended the Academy, and this living unit was between both the Autobot base and the Academy.
With a wicked grin that even Shadowdancer would be impressed with, the tracker quietly made her way father into the room with a different plan.
(ooo000ooo)
When her break was over, Holdout dutifully reported back to Impactor before returning to the sheer mess in the warehouses. The Wrecker Commander shook his helm in confusion over her actions as he turned back to his own data work.
Not two joors later, a pair of Enforcers interrupted him when he was talking to Sandstorm about the new bronze and black femme in supply. "Can I help ya, Sergeant?"
The Enforcer Sergeant looked a bit... odd as he turned his attention to the data pad he was holding. "Err... we have a mech in the holding cells that match the description of your missing supply bot, suspected of stealing from your stores. Funny thing is, he was caught entering a bronze and black femme's flat, and she called him in for trespassing, after beating the slag out of him."
His partner was less confused at the strange turn of the conversation, having dealt with a lot of military units in his function. "We do have to request that if you're going to send that femme after any of the others you suspect may have had a hand in this issue, you at least give us a helms-up about it."
Sandstorm blinked bemusedly at Impactor, who looked a little more than just confused himself. "Uh, right. I'll keep that in my processor."
They both waited only long enough to watch the two Enforcers leave the office before making for the supply and storage part of the base as fast as they could.
They found Holdout muttering evilly under her intakes about half-clocked glitches that couldn't do an orn of honest work if his function depended on it, half in and half out of a crate trying to inventory it. She twisted around after an astrosecond to glare at them both with her odd orange optics. "Can I help you?"
"Uh... Holdout, what did ya do before ya came here?" The Wrecker Commander was trying to figure it out on his own, he knew the femme had come down from Iacon and had expressly asked for a position in supply, but anything else about her was still a mystery to every bot as she hadn't been in the city for long.
The femme blinked at him from her precarious perch, twisting a bit to get a better look at the two of them.
"I'm a tracker. My unit's taking a brief break, and I'm here trying to survive the next two to three vorns until War' calls us back." She shrugged idly, almost dislodging herself from her position. "Any particular reason why you're asking?"
"Um, yeah. The Enforcers said to give them a warning before you go after any of the others." Impactor stared in confusion at her as she appeared to consider it.
"Okay. If they want me to I will, since they asked so nicely." Holdout turned back to what she was doing, giving the two mechs the distinct impression that they had been dismissed.
Sandstorm had to be physically guided out of the room, as the mech had the weirdest look on his face plate and was nearly unresponsive to the other mech as he stared up at the back of the femme.
The Wrecker Commander was wondering if anything else would show up and attempt to stall his processor when the mech turned to him and said, "I wonder if she would go on a date with me?"