Dragoon Submersible
North Atlantic
Scavendrill's modifications were completed within the megacycle and the Dragoons' submersible was loaded and launched. Novacula sat at the helm, piloting the small craft as it cruised under the surface of the Atlantic. Scavendrill sat to his right, keeping an eye on the minisub's systems and the structural integrity. Northclaw stood behind them both, arms crossed in front of his chest, silently watching the viewscreen. The sub had picked up an escort of fish as it traversed the ocean, the animals using the craft's slipstream to save energy on their own journey.
The submersible was a retrofitted Decepticon long-range shuttle that had originally been designed to handle the depths of space but modified to operate underwater. It still had capacity to fly if necessary; the Dragoons had traveled to Earth on this ship. The vessel had been adapted to the point where, at least according to Scavendrill, it could handle the intense pressures found at the bottom of the oceans of Hylion, where sea depths could exceed even the deepest point on Earth. Still, even Scavendrill could make mistakes and Northclaw found himself glancing at the nearest bulkhead at the slightest creak or pop.
He another reason to be worried. The Laurentian Abyss was right off the east coast of North America, well within the range of the local naval patrol. Northclaw was most concerned about the American and Canadian attack submarines. The Dragoons' minisub was not designed for combat, and despite their cargo of torpedoes, there was no way to deploy them. Most of the offensive weapons the shuttle had carried before it had been modified had been removed to make room for ballast tanks, extra bulkheads and other equipment. The reinforced bulkheads were little protection against even the torpedoes used by humans and the weakest point was the cockpit itself; a direct hit there would cause an instant implosion. Northclaw didn't even want to think about what would happen if a lucky shot hit the hold.
'How ironic,' Northclaw thought. 'After all these years of combat on other worlds, neither side has perfected the art of naval warfare. Are we all so arrogant?
"What's our ETA?" he inquired, bringing his thoughts back to the present.
"Ten point zero four cycles," Novacula responded.
"Scanners pick up any contacts?"
Novacula checked. "Nothing but a bunch of fish out there."
Northclaw looked up at the screen again, the wheels in his CPU turning. 'So far, so good. No combat submarine patrols encountered… yet. Like the natives say, 'Better safe than sorry.''
"Take us down and bring us within two hundred meters of the ocean floor; I'm not ready to bottom the sub yet, but the deeper we are, the less likely we are to be detected by local patrols."
"Understood," Novacula said. "Flooding ballasts."
Northclaw felt the sub nose downward steeply and instinctively reached up for a handle on the bulkhead above him. The only seats on the submersible were the two at the helm, which were occupied, and fold-up bulkhead seats in the back, which were too far for anyone to see what was going on. Northclaw liked to know what was going on first hand, not by some second party.
It would take a few cycles before the sub attained its target depth, but the crew noted the change in depth almost immediately. During most of the trip, they maintained a depth just above five hundred fathoms, but as they entered the bathyal zone, the deep dusky blue field they were used began to darken and it wasn't long before the sub was enveloped by darkness. Now there was nothing to guide them to their destination except for their scanners.
The compartment was silent except for the sounds of the hull popping and creaking as the weight of the water around them increased steadily. Looking over from the corner of his optics, Novacula noticed Scavendrill glancing at the bulkheads nervously and saw him mouthing something silently. So, even the master engineer was praying that his work was impeccable. Novacula turned back to his own station, keeping a close optic on the depth gauge. After the needle passed a certain depth, he slowly brought the sub out of its dive. Once they were completely level, Novacula called out, "Distance from ocean floor, two hundred fifteen meters. Forgive me if that's a little high, but I figured we could do with some, as the fleshlings say, 'breathing room.'"
Northclaw nodded slightly. "Continue on course to the rendezvous point; our hosts are undoubtedly waiting for us. In the meantime, tune the passive sonar and the thermal scanners to their highest gain. I want to know what we got out here."
"Can't be that much," Scavendrill said. "Maybe the occasional deep sea fish or crustacean, but even the humans don't make combat vehicles that operate this deep." He checked the scanners. "I've got a number of high thermal readings, but that could be nothing more than volcanic vents."
"Keep an eye on it," Northclaw ordered. "If there's anything down here isn't supposed to be there naturally, notify me immediately."
"Gotcha," Scavendrill said.
Northclaw folded his hands behind his back. There was nothing to do now but to wait. He considered ordering that the sub's external lights be turned on so he might be able to see what kind of animals were out there. The oceans on Hylion were teaming with all sorts of weird and unusual creatures, some of which could put fear into the sparks of the orneriest of Decepticons. He'd been curious about Earth's sea creatures for awhile and wondered how they measured up to the animals back home. There'd been no time during their raids and Northclaw knew that doing so now would be a waste of power. His curiosity would just have to wait for the time being.
"Approaching the rendezvous site now," Novacula reported after a few cycles.
Northclaw nodded slowly and turned towards Scavendrill. "Anything on the scanners?"
Scavendrill checked. "I've got about ten contacts on the IR sensors, moving slowly around the ocean floor. Sonar's also picking up a medium-sized submersible in the area." He paused to look at his readout. "Oceanglide-class."
Northclaw's optics narrowed; he was all too familiar with that class. The Oceanglide was a type of submersible shuttle used by the Autobots that, unlike their own retrofitted ship, had been designed and built from the ground up for undersea work. Northclaw knew that they were unarmed vehicles, meant to be used in scientific research, but that didn't mean their crews were defenseless. The Dragoons had managed to steal a pair less than a decacycle earlier and had turned them over the nearest Decepticon posts for study and possible use. However, that wasn't nearly enough time to modify the ships enough to distinguish them from the craft the Autobots were operating.
"Can you identify the smaller contacts?" Northclaw asked.
"I've been trying," Scavendrill answered. "But the outside temperature, pressure, and the natural properties of sea water are refracting the transponder signals to such a degree that all the transceiver's picking up is one or two big masses of electronic garble."
"Comforting," Northclaw said, the wryness slipping out. He had encountered this problem on several occasion back on Hylion. The equipment the Decepticons used in their combat sensors just weren't designed to work in a deep sea environment and started acting up below eight hundred fathoms. From the few intelligence reports he'd been allowed to read, the Autobots experienced similar problems and both sides were purportedly working on a solution.
"What in the Pit…"
Northclaw turned to Novacula, who was staring at his screen with optics wide. "What is it?"
"Sonar just picked up a large object several meters ahead of us," Novacula replied. "Something big."
"'Something bit?' I need a better description than that."
"Sorry, but I can't do any better than that. All I know it's as big as a small mountain… and metallic."
'Well, this certainly makes this situation all the more interesting,' Northclaw thought. He suspected this new contact was the reason behind why they had been brought out, but he'd have to investigate later. He had other concerns at the moment.
"Novacula, bring us down slowly and hit the lights. I want a closer look at who or what is down here."
"You got it," Novacula said and responded. The hull popped and creaked again, the familiar indication that they were descending. After a couple of cycles, Novacula called out, "We are now fifty meters from the ocean bottom; activating external lights."
Northclaw looked up and the main screen and watched as beams of light from the shuttle's quartz lamps lit up the darkness, revealing the ocean floor. Sand and sediment extended endlessly into the darkness in all directions, not all that dissimilar from Hylion's ocean floor. He saw crustaceans and small fish sitting on the sediment and caught a glimpse of a large shark-like creature swimming slowly away from the light. He was mildly surprised to see an animal that big down here. He glanced over the screen, saw only sand and organics.
"Scavendrill, do you have a fix on those thermal readings?"
"I've got three about a meter or so in front of us."
"Ahead slow, Novacula," Northclaw ordered. "I don't want to pass right over them before we can see who 'they' are."
Novacula complied silently and the sub crawled forward, causing the fauna below them to scatter. It didn't take long before the lights caught a glint of metal in their beams. Northclaw waited patiently as the source was slowly revealed; three advanced robots standing on the ocean floor and looking up in the sub's direction, their hands raised to shield their optics from the lights. If he had been capable of breathing, Northclaw would have exhaled in relief; they were Decepticons. He recognized Datamatrix right away, standing to the far right of the group. He saw an unfamiliar green colored femme-con, no bigger than the average human, standing to the left and slightly behind Datamatrix. To the right of her was another femme-con, larger and more imposing, primarily red in color and standing with a somewhat regal posture. He recognized her immediately.
"Well, it looks as if we will again be graced by the presence of her royal pain in the skid plates," Novacula said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. Northclaw caught Scavendrill glare at Novacula disapprovingly, but he could also see that the engineer was also wasn't thrilled to be working with "her royal pain in the skid plates."
The red-femme con was Dynabreaker, the spark creation of Dynamax, the commander of all Decepticon forces on Earth, himself a spark creation of the late Megatron. The Dragoons knew her well; she had once been a part of their ranks, an attempt to escape the shadow of a heritage she utterly despised. She hadn't been particularly popular within the team, not because of she came off as a spoiled child of royalty, but because she of her hair trigger temper. She had a tendency to snap at the slightest umbrage and her tantrums were almost always violent; anyone and anything that got caught in her crosshairs could become a victim. Her outbursts had worn on even Northclaw's legendary patience and though he tried to teach her some self control, Archanubis was not nearly as tolerant. A few incidents in which potentially lucrative hauls were completely lost thanks to her temper was all the excuse the Dragoons' commander needed to have her shipped back to Dynamax.
"Dynamax must have sent her so he could have a moment of peace," Novacula grimaced. "Lucky us."
"We work with what we have," Northclaw stated. "We don't always have the luxury of choice."
"If you say so," Novacula said with a dismissive shrug.
Northclaw ignored him; he didn't have time for arguments now. "Move us closer and turn the ship to bring the aft airlock around," he ordered. "I want them brought aboard; no sense in subjecting the integrity of their superstructures to the ocean pressures any more than they have been already."
"You want me to set this tin can down as well?" Novacula inquired.
"No, but bring her down to within five to ten meters of the bottom," Northclaw replied. "Flood the airlock before you bring them aboard as well; I don't want to chance an inadvertent implosion."
"Makes things a little easier," Scavendrill commented.
"Indeed. Once we're in position, contact our comrades and invite them aboard. I'll greet them at the hatch." With that, Northclaw turned and walked towards the rear of the sub.
Novacula leaned over towards Scavendrill and whispered, "I am not looking forward to seeing Dynabreaker again, are you?"
"Not really," Scavendrill admitted. "But I'd rather deal with her tantrums than to have to look into Northclaw's optics and wonder if he's thinking about tearing out my circuits for my impertinence."