Skeletons in the Closet

Reception Hall

This enormous room serves two functions: a place for tourists and visitors to get information and generally be impressed by the grandness of the UN complex, and a place for arriving dignitaries to be greeted and generally be impressed by the grandness of the UN complex. The black marble tile here has been polished to a bright gleam, and small sculptures and symbolic artwork are placed tastefully around the room.

To one side is a tourist information table to one side, complete with supervised tours leaving every few minutes (few visitors are allowed beyond this point without a guide). A set of giant brass doors, carved to resemble halves of the earth, dominate the far wall. A pair of UN Exo-Suits flank the doors.

Contents:

Amber MacKenzie [Hidden]

Terran Standard Troops #5864

Obvious exits:

World Court < WC > leads to World Court.

Side Door < SD > leads to Access Corridor.

Carved Doors < CD > leads to General Assembly.

Exit to Street < O > leads to United Nations Plaza.

Like any other citizen of a member nation, Amber is entitled to access the Archives and Records Management Section of the U.N., which is located in the U.N. Secretariat Building. All the records of meetings are stored here online as well as archived records on older media. After submitting her name and reason for inquiry, Amber was allowed to sit at one of a row of workstations and look up what she needs. Plugged into a USB adaptor is her 200 GB thumb drive, though she doubts she'll need that much.

Indeed, there was a Security Council meeting on the appointment of General Cross. All fifteen member states were in attendance, and it appears that the vote from the five permanent members was unanimous in appointing him. Seven of the non-permanent members also voted in his favor, but three did not. Those three nations are: Japan, Germany, and Israel.

Reasons cited for Cross's appointment were, perhaps obviously, his military experience and technical skill. Reasons against were simply stated as a desire to see a non-American servicemember leading the EDC.

You receive a radio message from First Aid:

Amber MacKenzie downloads the transcripts of the meetings, the lists of attendees including visitors or participants in the arguments, the arguments for and against themselves. As the data downloads, she scans through the information and hmmmmms thoughtfully. How did the United Kingdom vote? She recalls hearing a complaint from someone with a British accent at Cross's introductory meeting.

You send a radio message to First Aid: General Cross speaking. Who is this?

You receive a radio message from First Aid: General Cross, sir, this is First Aid. I've been ordered to report to you on Earth at your convenience.

You send a radio message to First Aid: Ah, yes, First Aid. Right. As you've seen, we need somewhere to stay due to the battle in Alaska, and your profile suggests high technical skill.

You receive a radio message from First Aid: Aye, sir. I took part in the construction of both Autobot City and Iahex. I'd be happy to help wherever I can.

Britain voted with the council. How, then, did one of their representatives come to be unaware of the appointment? Well, this sort of thing probably happens all of the time... right?

You send a radio message to First Aid: In that case I'd like to meet with you at the first possible opportunity. Time is of the essence. Construction of the new bases must be largely completed before the end of the Intergalactic Olympics.

You receive a radio message from First Aid: That's a tight deadline, but I think we can manage. I'm at your disposal, notwithstanding my duties involving participation in the Olympics themselves.

I can't find who you're trying to page with: aid

Unable to page: aid

Amber MacKenzie finds the contradiction... disquieting. She also finds the almost unanimous vote for overturning the Geneva conventions even more disquieting. 12 in favor, 3 against. For a moment, she feels a wave of sickness over humanity's loss of... well, humanity, but she takes a gulp of water from her backpack and takes several deep breaths to settle herself. This is going to take a while... Fifteen interviews, and she'll start with the UK. May as well take the three dissidents after that, but she doesn't expect to find anything out except to verify that the transcripts are correct.

You send a radio message to First Aid: I've also elected to participate in a few events, but somehow I'll find the time. I guess I wanted to show the Decepticons that we can do anything they can.

You receive a radio message from First Aid: I've worked with humans for almost fifty years, and the EDC since their inception. The Decepticons are just slow learners in this regard.

You send a radio message to First Aid: Excellent. Head to the UN building in New York and we'll talk.

First Aid has arrived.

Oh, look, that would be one of the UK representatives, Charles Wellesby, walking through the hallways even now. He has a briefcase in one hand and is being trailed by a bodyguard. And he looks a tad grumpy. Maybe he had a long meeting or something.

General Cross, coincidentally, is standing in front of the UN building at the moment with an entourage of EDC soldiers, all armed, of course. Some of the passersby give them nervous looks, though that's hardly surprising.

Amber MacKenzie sighs as she finishes her download and rises to her feet, still rather dejected. Some of that vanishes as she turns towards the way out and spots one of the people near the top of her to-interview list. "Good evening, Mr. Wellesby," she greets cordially. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you today, sir." Her eyes drift briefly to the bodyguard, and she nods politely to him before returning her attention to Wellesby. Here's hoping he's grumpy over the vote.

First Aid arrives in ambulance mode, pulling in away from the contingent of EDC troopers and their General. Transforming into robot mode and stepping out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, the Protectobot watches the situation from afar. If it were ever possible for a twelve foot tall robot to blend in the background, Aid would be doing it right now. Clearly there's some official function going on. Cross didn't tell him about it, but it's possible it was unplanned. Surely they aren't all here just for his arrival. Dutifully, First Aid slowly approaches the General, ready to stop in case anyone indicates that now is not a good time. If he makes it, the doctor fires off a remarkably crisp human style salute. "First Aid, reporting as ordered."

The ambassador gives Amber a cross (ha!) look. The bodyguard steps forward for a moment, but Wellesby holds up a hand to stop him, and his expression softens. "No, that's alright. Hm, you are... that reporter embedded with the Autobots, aren't you? Blast... I forgot your name... MacIntyre?.... What was it again... forgive me, my dear, I've had a trying couple of days lately."

General Cross eyes First Aid for a moment. Why do they insist on saluting him? Regardless, he decides to return the salute. "Excellent. Could you please transform again? I think we might be able to have a more secure conversation from the inside. It wouldn't be the first conversation I had with a vehicle, I suppose."

Amber MacKenzie gives the man a rueful smile in return. "That's me, sir. Amber MacKenzie, formerly with the EDC, sometimes with Earthwatch News, currently freelance." She lowers her voice. "I apologize for putting myself forward, but I'm very concerned and downright frightened about the recent turn of events. Is there a place we can talk, sir?"

"Yes sir," First Aid replies. The medic complies and transforms, this time slowly so the children at home can see how great his toy is and decide to buy it. Opening his passenger side door (it's more roomy without the steering wheel in the way), Aid allows Cross entrance. Assuming the General gets in, Aid lets him handle shutting the door. "A new base for the EDC? I have to admit I'm pretty excited about the possibilities, sir. Alameda has served us well, but there's something to be said for the advances in technology over the past few decades."

First Aid folds down into Ambulance mode.

Jump Tank < Franklin Cross > nods, climbing inside the ambulance. He sits down on the seat, and is surprised to discover that it's very comfortable. He had expected a crude, rigid replica of an actual vehicular seat, or something like that. "Advances in technology? I'd like to hear about them. And yes, losing Alameda was regrettable, but it makes me realize that setting up a standard military base against a foe like the Decepticons isn't going to work. They can attack anywhere in the world in a matter of moments. Staying out in the open, waiting to be fired upon... it just leads to casualties and expensive damages."

Mr. Wellesby offers to shake her hand. "Ahhhh, Miss MacKenzie, that's it. I knew I recognized you. And yes, I..." His eyes glance furtively to the left. "...can appreciate how you may have trouble adjusting to... recent changes. Why don't I take you to our nation's embassy? We'll talk there."

Franklin Cross hops out of his jump tank!

Franklin Cross nods, climbing inside the ambulance. He sits down on the seat, and is surprised to discover that it's very comfortable. He had expected a crude, rigid replica of an actual vehicular seat, or something like that. "Advances in technology? I'd like to hear about them. And yes, losing Alameda was regrettable, but it makes me realize that setting up a standard military base against a foe like the Decepticons isn't going to work. They can attack anywhere in the world in a matter of moments. Staying out in the open, waiting to be fired upon... it just leads to casualties and expensive damages."

Mr. Wellesby offers to shake her hand. "Ahhhh, Miss MacKenzie, that's it. I knew I recognized you. And yes, I..." His eyes glance furtively to the left. "...can appreciate how you may have trouble adjusting to... recent changes. Why don't I take you to our nation's embassy? We'll talk there."

Amber MacKenzie gladly takes his hand and then closes her eyes and sighs softly. "A pleasure, sir, in more ways than one. I'd be happy to visit your embassy. In fact, I may have been there before as a young child." She casually looks to the left also, as she seems to check her backpack.

"Yeah, compounded by the fact that Autobot City and Alameda were in the same city. On one hand, consolidating our power seemed like a good idea at the same time, but at other times it really let the Decepticons have the run of the place. Part of this is our fault: We're pretty cautious when it comes to moving Metroplex." First Aid pauses. He wonders if maybe he should turn on his radio and find some soothing music to lighten the mood. As much as he may dislike Cross's attitudes, First Aid can't help but want nothing less than the best for the EDC. "I'm also really hoping this project gives us a chance to get to know you better," he ventures. Already Aid is thinking this was a bad idea to bring up this topic, but he ploughs ahead nonetheless. "Honestly, I think we just got off on the wrong foot."

Franklin Cross takes a moment to answer, as if thinking about that. "Yes... perhaps we did get off on the wrong foot. Part of the reason for my appointment, you should know, is that I promised a harsher stance against the Decepticons. To be honest, I think that the Autobots should follow suit, but... that's a discussion for another time. For now, let's focus on reconstruction efforts. Yes, you're right, we can't always rely on the Autobots to protect us. Stealth might work better. What do you have in mind that might make our bases harder to detect?"

Mr. Wellesby gives the hand a good shake before releasing her. "Good, good, follow me." He steps out of the facility, paging his driver. Noticing the ambulance sitting in front, he gives it a quizzical look. "Well, that's rather odd. Is someone... sick?" His face blanches a little.

Amber MacKenzie instantly recognizes the ambulance. The driver, even faster than instantly! "Autobot assigned to Cross," she murmurs to Wellesby, casually turning her back to admire the architecture. Despite her calm appearance, her heart is pounding. "Try not to look so worried, sir. It stands out." She really hopes his car gets here soon. She hopes even more than they just go inside and out of sight.

"It's hard to argue with a harder stance against the Decepticons," First Aid replies. He knows, as he's been on both sides of this argument enough. There's obvious relief in First Aid's voice as the General is receptive to making peaceful overtures. He doesn't press his luck by continuing along this line of conversation, though. "Stealth is tricky, and to be honest the only reason we Autobots managed it so long on Cybertron was because our homeworld was a hide-and-seeker's paradise. "I remember seeing a really interesting idea of Jetfire's a while back for planetary coverage using only one, non-mobile base. General, do you know much about our spacebridges?" Aid's attention is so focused on this conversation he doesn't even notice his friend Amber walking past!

"Oh dear," Wellesby says. He does his best to keep his face neutral. "Well, I meet with reporters all the time. Nothing odd about that." A limo pulls up, and the driver steps out of the front seat. "Ah, that's my driver. Well, let's be off." He soon reaches the passenger side door of the limo, and the driver opens it for them. Wellesby climbs in first, cupping his chin in one hand.

Meanwhile, Cross sees something in the side view mirror, squints at it for a moment. "Ahem, space bridges? I am familiar with the concept. A point-to-point means of instantaneous travel across space and time. Some of it seems odd to me--is it true that it requires an intelligent being to navigate the energy stream? I would think that the transportation should happen regardless of what's in it."

Moving no faster or slower than would be normal, Amber climbs in after him and gives him a relieved and rather mischievous smile. "Well, I made a grand speech against the overturning of the Geneva conventions and the racist turn that had been taken before I resigned, sir. I don't think I'm in his good books." She doesn't turn around to look at Cross in First Aid; he might recognize her.

Ambulance < First Aid > had been very close to saying 'yes, anyone alive' but caught himself just in time. "Yes, the teleportation effect plays havoc with all normal navigational computers, and since the path is different each time... well, I'm told it's very complicated." First Aid himself isn't a space-warp theorist. "You have the gist of it, though. Transports people and anything with them from point A to point B. You can imagine the logistical boon this is. Now normally this is prohibitively expensive on power for day-to-day use, but Jetfire theorized on a cheaper, but lower range version. It would be ground to ground only. This Groundbridge could be used to project soldiers and equipment all over the globe so long as there's a receiving terminal at the other side."

Franklin Cross thinks about that. "I see. A groundbridge, then? That would use less energy?... Yes... yes. That sounds promising. Tell me, would this 'Groundbridge' be able to have the same transportation capacity as the standard space bridge? Or would we have to compromise on that? Hm. Then there's power consumption. We'd need a reliable source of energy. Maybe nuclear. Ah, but if the base is attacked, the reactor may be breached. That could be catastrophic."

Wellesby nods at Amber once she's in, bringing up the privacy screen as the driver returns to his seat. "I'm sure you did, for all the good that will do. Well, you'll have to forgive me, my dear, but I told something of a white lie. We aren't going to my embassy--probably lousy with bugs. We'll talk in the limo. My driver's got the only set of keys, so there's a good chance it's not bugged. But still, I need to tell someone about what I know. That man... Cross. He is quite brilliant, I'd say. Probably one of the smartest men alive." The limo begins to move, and Wellesby looks like he's struggling to find the words he wants to say. "I was at that council meeting, and I don't know if you've read the transcripts, but I doubt they can quite convey how harrowing that meeting was."

"Energy resources have never been a problem on Earth," First Aid replies. "Humanity is very lucky to have evolved on this planet." First Aid is well aware that Cybertron is the craphole it is because of the Transformers' fault, though. "You'd have decent capacity so long as you don't move too much at the same time. It would be really, /really/ expensive though. I'd have to do a lot of studying to figure all this out, to be honest. Would, ah, would I be allowed to have Jetfire assist us?" Aid isn't sure how many Autobots Cross wants brought in on this.

Amber MacKenzie arches a brow at the security measures, but she doesn't object. He's probably right. Retrieving her thumbdrive, she holds it between thumb and forefinger. "Just downloaded it from the archives, sir, and scanned the contents. I didn't read it yet in depth, but it sounded very strange to me... Overturning something as big as the Geneva conventions without much in the way of arguments. I could barely believe what I was reading."

She frowns, staring at Wellesby and feeling that sinking feeling in her stomach again. "Sir, may I record this? You're frightening me enough to want to keep a record of what you intend to say. I will promise that it will never see publication unless... something happens to you or I." This would sound familiar to Cyclonus.

Franklin Cross's fists tighten. Argh, more Autobots? "I've read Jetfire's profile as well. Apparently there are twenty-five documented cases of him injuring himself with some invention he integrated into himself. I'm sure he's intelligent, but I want to have someone who's a little more careful than he is. Someone who would make absolutely certain no human ever came to harm because of something he made and didn't play around with unproven technologies. You understand where I'm coming from, I'm sure. We aren't 'repaired' so easily." He hopes that's enough to dissuade him.

"Yes, yes, that's fine," Wellesby says. "I suppose a little insurance can't hurt. Well. As you may imagine, a lot of people died after the Long Night, and parts of this planet, even in my own country, have yet to completely recover. It's made a lot of our world's leaders come to conclude that the Decepticon threat has to be put down no matter the cost. But my country didn't feel that way. The cost that most of the UN wanted to pay was too high, and... well, we have issues with this man, besides. So, we decided to veto the appointment of General Cross." He raises a brow, letting that sink in.

Annnnnnd First Aid decides against recommending that Wheeljack help them out as well. "I understand completely," First Aid says with genuine concern. The Protectobot is nothing if not strict when it comes to safety, and so he finds this to be a good reason. Now... how he's going to figure out all this groundbridge techno-bridge mumbo-jumbo by himself is beyond him, but he'll figure out a way somehow. "I can have the rough plans in your hands within a week, General," First Aid says, hoping his vocalizer isn't making promises his brain can't keep. "I'm envisioning a series of underground micro-bases spread out across Earth, all with basic facilities but with at least one specialty. I'd need you to decide where these bases should go."

Amber MacKenzie retrieves her fancy camcorder and sets it up to record. Starting to lean back in the comfortable leather seat, she freezes on hearing what he has to say. She states in a hushed voice, "That's not what the record shows, sir." She's not denying that he's speaking the truth at all, no. She's quietly horrified at the implications. "If you have any background information on Cross, I'd appreciate it, sir, but please go on. I'd like to know how the United Kingdom's veto was ignored and changed to an approval." Her small conspiracy has suddenly gotten a lot bigger, and she feels lost.

Franklin Cross nods, leaning back in his seat. Ah, he could almost fall asleep in this thing. It's cozier than his tank, for certain. "Excellent, excellent. Yes, I have some likely spots to set down in. We'll focus on economic and population centers, and perhaps set up lesser facilities in more remote areas, just so the Decepticons can't set up a base in one of our blind spots."

"Oh, the veto wasn't ignored," Wellesby says. "Oh, what did that nice man from Russia say... I think it was, 'Get with the goddamn program, or else.' Yes, you see, some of the eastern countries strongly supported Cross's appointment, and they threatened to leave the UN altogether if we didn't play along. At that point, what choice did we have? We all remember what happened when the Protectorate rose to power. Nobody wants to see THEM coming back."

Faux leather interior, climate controlled, automatic seat adjustment... First Aid has it all for even the toughest of critics. "Maybe one in San Francisco to coordinate with Autobot City, maybe one in Tokyo to cover the Pacific, and one in Buenos Aires... ooh, Paris! We'll need one in Paris also." he adds excitedly. It quickly becomes clear First Aid is just listing off his favorite cities. He doesn't really have a clue on which would be best from a strategic point of view.

"Would you list them, please?" Amber asks quietly, still a bit shellshocked. "Rather peculiar that they knew enough of the man to insist on his appointment, wouldn't you say, sir? He was something of an unknown before all this." She sighs and slumps back in her seat. "A minority block controlling the United Nations? If that isn't the Protectorate all over again anyway... I assume there were others who voted against, and most of them folded for the same reason?"

"Yes... the French. I am good friends with them." Cross smiles broadly, especially for one who rarely smiles. "But those are all good suggestions. Hm. And a base in India... Australia.... maybe South Africa... Antarctica? Those damn Decepticons are always up to something in the poles, I don't know what their obsession with them is."

"Oh, for those with the right clearance," Wellesby says. "You know enough. Too much. Anyway, it wasn't a minority, sadly. The American government ought to have known better, but they went along without a fuss. And the damn French were absolutely jubilant at the chance to put this man in charge. Well, anyway, the other nations that went along, the non-permanent members, that would be India, South Africa, Burkina Faso, Vietnam, Morocco, Spain, and Bulgaria."

Something about Cross's mention of the French makes First Aid freeze as he recalls France's anti-Autobot tirade a few years back. But no, First Aid urges himself, you're just jumping at shadows. Come on, First Aid, you're making a real connection here. Sideswipe and Hardhead may be quick to jump to treachery and spying, but the doctor is convinced that simply by being kind and compassionate, they can bring Cross around. Friendship, not confrontation. "Well, the Cons are better at hide and seek, you see." First Aid jokingly answers.

Amber MacKenzie shakes her head in disbelief. "What is *wrong* with these people? Surely they realize that the EDC has always been hardline where the Decepticons are concerned. They shoot to kill. The only difference now is that prisoners can be tortured and experimented upon. And considering how few prisoners are taken, it's almost moot. They give up their own humanity for that? Thank you, sir, for being one of the few to see how wrong this is. Oh Was Cross present at this meeting? If so, how did he look? Confident, happy, pleased, even smug? Or was he pretty much expressionless?"

Franklin Cross nods. "Indeed. Hopefully, though, when this project is done they'll have nowhere left to hide."

"Desperate times, my dear," Wellesby says. "Desperate times. You see, Ms. MacKenzie, it is a wonderful thing to have laws that protect the rights of others, but the trouble is if those who are in charge no longer care to enforce those laws. Who will make them? Not every nation is a democracy, and even those that are may not be so sympathetic towards a race of robots that tried to send us back to the Dark Ages. And so, no one cares, and the law no longer matters. As for Cross, well, yes... yes, he was there. Cold as ice, that man. Barely said a word. I could just imagine him going to work on a live Decepticon for hours, days, even, ignoring his screams as he experiments on him. And he has no love for your Autobot friends, I promise you that. But he's content to use them for his own purposes."

"Well, is that all for now?" Cross says. "If so, I'll looking forward to working with you on this."

"Me too," First Aid replies. He really feels he's made a connection here with the new EDC boss, and he's much more optimistic that all of this is going to work out in the end. "That's all I have for now. I'm going to have to meet with your engineers and see what we can come up. I'll be in touch, General, and if I may say... it was nice to finally get to meet you."

Amber MacKenzie nods glumly. "I believe that's already happened, sir," she half mutters. "I fear a Fourth Reich in our future. It's already begun with the labeling of undesirables as nonhuman. For now, he is promising exemptions, but... if exemptions are needed, then there is something wrong with the definitions. I didn't miss the fact that Autobots are of the same species, and how can they distinguish between Decepticons and Autobots without that convenient symbol? You can't. It's an ethical choice, not a difference of species. For all the evil the likes of Hitler did, he was human, too."

Franklin Cross ponders. He feels a little ridiculous, like he's telling his vacuum cleaner how proud he is to be able to work with it to get his floor clean. May as well play along. "Same here, First Aid. I'll be returning to base, now, but it was good to speak with you about this. With your help, maybe this war will be over before anyone sees it coming." He opens the passenger door, stepping outside.

"That's the problem, Ms. Mackenzie," Wellesby says. "Everyone is fine with that contradiction in terms, as well, as long as it suits their purposes. Who cares if two plus two isn't five if that's the answer we'd prefer?" He sighs miserably. "There's so much I could tell you, my dear, but I fear if I did, I might not live to regret it. You'll have to be careful, too. You're going to be stepping on a lot of toes, here. But don't let that deter you." He lowers the privacy screen. "Driver, take us back to the UN building, please. I'll be dropping Ms. MacKenzie off there if that's alright."

Ambulance < First Aid > would nod if he could. "Sure thing, General. You have my number if you need it." The Protectobot activates his signal light before pulling out, heading towards the parking lot's exit.

Amber's motorcycle is back at the UN parking lot, but at least she's cautious enough to ask to let out a block away, in case You-Know-Who is there. "One last request, sir. Would you please send me everything you have on Cross? I've been working in the dark as far as the man himself." She gives the man a measuring look. "And why everyone is so afraid of him. You've said he's brilliant, and that's all I know for sure."

Franklin Cross says, "Of course. And I have yours." He walks off with his men to go back to his usual duties, and effectively exits the scene.

Before he drops her off, Wellesby says, "I wish I could, Ms. MacKenzie, but I can't. There's only a handful of people who know the full details of his background, and were I to give you more information..." He frowns. "I just can't. I'm sorry. I truly am."

Amber MacKenzie is the one to offer her hand this time. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wellesby, and thank you ever so much for your assistance. Perhaps we can have tea sometime when things are less... hectic." As soon as the limo pulls up, she slips out of the car and begins the walk to back to the UN building, keeping a careful eye out for the frightening Mr. Cross.

"Of course, Ms. MacKenzie," Wellesby says, shaking Amber's hand. "And please be careful." He closes the door, then, and his driver takes him away.

Cross is nowhere to be seen, so that's good.