It's A Gas Gas Gas

Triton(#3530TOen)

The largest moon of Neptune and the seventh largest known moon in the Sol system, Triton is known to be geologically active. Geysers erupt nitrogen and other trace gasses. Mysterious tectonic terrains covers the surface. There are trace amounts of methane here.

Decepticon Command Shuttle &lt;CONE-1&gt; has arrived.

Ramjet leaves the Decepticon Command Shuttle &lt;CONE-1&gt;.

Ramjet has arrived.

Fleet has arrived.

The sound of CONE-1's engines can be heard fading from several miles in every direction. The cloud of Triton dust kicked up by its berthing begins to settle. Primary blast-doors have retracted, signaling its access ramp to lower. Within is a small contingent of Decepticon Aerospace Troopers and the packaging of a Class-B 'Initial Planetfall Base Structure' Build-A-Kit.

"Alright, Troops." Ramjet says as he steps onto the ramp. His cone glances from left to right, letting his optics slide across a landscape of nitrogen geysers and rock formations. "Scouting formation. By the numbers and on the bounce. Anti-gravs only. Use nothing that creates a burn. Find the Executrix a place to set up shop." Ramjet turns back to the exposed belly of Cone-1, at the assembly of Decepticons. He waves back to the landscape of Triton. "Move out!"

Fleet stands at attention and gives Ramjet a Decepticon salute. "As you command, sir." Then he scans the landscape, lips pulled back into a frown. His long distance sensors are in his vehicle mode. Ah, well, nothing to be done for it.

Catechism smiles over at Ramjet, quite nearly beaming. She rubs her hands together, looking around. Catechism enthuses, "Thank you for helping me with this, Air Commander! I'm glad that you see the benefit of extracting fuel from an area that the Autobots... really don't give a hoot about." She salutes and directs some of the generic Seekers in their unloading.

Fleet leaps into the air, careful not to activate his jets, and begins to scout for a good location to set up. Oh, hey, that training in surveying he got awhile back is useful, after all.

Ramjet bobs his cone at Fleet's salute. He has no idea why the buttery Decepticon has just frowned at him and merely tenses his brow at him to acknowledge the expression. The Air Commander chalks it up to Fleet not being fully sound after going native on 'Al-Zeph,' as the Pilots have begun truncating it. "Fly well, Wing Leader."

"The fewer Autobots, the better." Ramjet tells Catechism as he places a hand against the threshold of CONE-1's entryway. "More yield for less overall footwork. Plus... you don't need to be an engineer to know what'll happen when a dogfight erupts over a methane-studded atmo." Ramjet elicits a loud sniff with his angular nose structure. Pushing off the threshold, Ramjet walks past Catechism and her Troops, heading in the direction of the ship's command center. "Going to switch the networking circuits on. Relay your findings through it."

Catechism explains, "There is a lot of nitrogen in the air, sir, and that's an inert gas. It... might help if there's a firefight here. It's only like, hmm, 0.01% methane, I think?" She pulls out her travel brochure and checks it over. Where did she get one? No one lives here! "Still enough to be worth extracting and processing into sweet, sweet energon. Don't you get sick of Earth energon, after a while? This will be a change."

"I get sick of Earth in -general-, Executrix." Ramjet mutters as he climbs the short flight of stairs to exit the cargo bay. His complaints continue, "I didn't enlist in the Empire to be stationed on some blasted backwater, in some forgotten end of the galaxy, for the better part of forty mega-cycles..." He moves out of listening range as he enters the command cabin. Ramjet stops at the communications station, pressing some buttons and flicking toggles the opposite side to slave them over to his command chair before settling in.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet clicks in, "Chief."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "Hello, Ramjet. Went off the grid briefly?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Still off. Need to pick your smarty circuits for a micro-cycle."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "What's the situation?"

Fleet does a quick fly-about, examining the area for the best location, or at what looks like the best to him. He flies low and remains in robot mode, but he also flies quickly, and returns shortly. At the last moment, he flips, his heels going over his head, touches down gently on his feet, straightens, and salutes. "About 250 astroyards north by north east looks to be a good location, sirs," he reports.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Working on an energon-gathering op. Brought a standard-issue base build-kit to facilitate gas gathering. Might need something more substantial depending on our yields. Might need something to hide those yields if they're substantial enough. What've you got that'll keep this op off enemy radar if they don't go snooping around too much?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "To hide the gathering force or hide the energon once acquired?" &lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Uh..."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Yes."

Catechism sometimes does wonder why they bother with Earth and Cybertron at all. Certainly, the Autobots would then be free to mechanise the humans into their own private fighting force and would be allowed to run rampant on Cybertron like retrorats, but... conquer some worlds. Grow their numbers. Come back a few thousand years later and just wipe the Autobots out entirely. It's an appealing idea. Catechism directs, "I'll go with you, Fleet. Show me this spot."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "I can have a tech crew line the cargo hold of whichever shuttle you're taking out there with a dampening material. It'll limit the amount of space available, but if that's an issue you could always just bring a second ship."

Between the bursts of words over Decepticon long-range, Ramjet listens to Fleet's report over the interior sensors. He flicks a switch with his finger and transmits into the cargo bay, "Understood. Feeding data into ship systems. Catechism, you g-- yes, do exactly what you've just said."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "What about the op itself, Chief? The aim is to hide the gathering facility from inquisitive Autobots."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "Is this operation in deep space or near Autobot outposts?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "I will not go into specifics on over the long-range. Op is within a star system full of unfriendlies."

Fleet turns back in the direction indicated. "As you command," he answers, tone even and... pleased. He gestures with his right hand. He smiles, and it's that same slightly secretive smile that has shown up from time to time since his return. "This way, Catechism." Then, he leaps into the air, although he doesn't fly very far ahead of her. In fact, he seems to be trying to keep her in sight.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Scrapper says, "Alright, we'll have to overhaul a shuttle for the operation, then."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "..O..kay.."

Catechism flies after Fleet, using just anti-gravs. That smile of his should probably worry her, but Catechism doesn't worry about those details, even when she should. he is her old friend, returned to her from exile! She inquires, "So, what makes you think this is a good site?"

Fleet answers Catechism's question totally honestly, providing information his player doesn't have.

Ramjet shakes his cone in private. Artists. A hand rises to rub the side of his face, fingertips pressing against his brow in some furtive gesture of massaging his cranial circuits. "Hoobah..." he mutters in exasperation. Ramjet rises from his seat and starts making his way out of CONE-1. As he strides out on wing-lined legs, he passes by the familiar sight of a Decepticon with the parts of a blue A-10 Thunderbolt on his chassis. "Keep an optic on 'er, Ensign," he says in passing.

"Aye-aye, Sir!" Tailwind salutes Ramjet with one hand. His other hand is holding an energon cube with a curly crazy-straw leading up to the corner of his mouth. He pauses for a moment, taking in a loud slurp of energizing juice.

Ramjet arrives beside Catechism and Fleet not too long after. "What've you decided?" He asks with brow-ridges raised. He read in a report that asking with a matching facial expression displays interest. Interest that one does not even possess.

Catechism listens along to Fleet's totally honest, informative answers. She agrees, "Right, this crater rim causes shadows so that it's hard to see what's inside from the air, and gasses tends to collect at the bottom, so we can set up the filter and convertor units down there." Catechism answers Ramjet, "I have decided that this spot that Fleet has found will do, sir! Lots of bounce."

Fleet did good! Because other people totally picked up his player's slack. He touches down at the edge of the crater, dips his head in a nod, and turns back to Ramjet, before looking again at Catechism. "I suppose, then, I should return to assist in the equipment transport."

"Yeah?" Ramjet's expression looks a little more interested. "We have any projections of what the energon yields will be?" he asks Catechism. He'll spare his complement to Fleet until after he figures how much this venture will set them up.

Catechism explains, "Shockwave suggested this venture, sir. You'd have to ask him for the exact math, but it'll more than pay for sending us out here." Catechism sagely defers the task of giving Ramjet an actual yield total. "I think it comes out to something like one an hour? I know, that doesn't sound amazing, but considering that we don't have to fight Autobots to get it, we can just leave it here and come back for it later, when the cubes have racked up. Also, we could set up more production stations if this one works out well."

Fleet is off at the ship gathering up supplies to return with. Will be back in interaction range shortly!

"Hnn.." Ramjet purses his lips in thought. "..twenty-four cubes in a standard galactic day? Hundred sixty eight in the span of the galactic week." His cone tilts back and forth in thought. "Suitable enough for a location we can classify as low-risk. I approve." Ramjet lifts his hand up to the side of his cone, near where his 'ear' might be. His fingertip presses against a panel, activating the circuit to Fleet.

"*klssht* Good work, Fleet. I'll transmit commendation when we return to base," Ramjet says aloud and over the circuit.

Fleet, well out of hearing range of the two coneheads, says a few curses by the seven bright suns and the one dark moon. Then he replies over the circuit, tone appreciative and enthusiastic, "Thank you, sir. I try my best." He shuts down the circuit and starts cursing again, though he's all sworn out by the time he returns with more supplies.

Catechism watches Ramjet do math. She is so proud of him! Next, she will teach him logs, and then he will conquer space. Catechism moves to help Fleet unpack the supplies. She muses, "We could try more of these ventures. There are an awful lot of suns out there, and it wouldn't be too difficult to just rig up some arrays to soak up solar energy."

Ramjet's cone nods at Catechism. "I'll put in an order for more thorough geological surveys. Any ores we can yield from these ventures is an easy double-whammy for our benefit."

"Didn't we used to have a device that sucked energy from a star more actively?" Fleet asks as he unpacks equipment. "I mean, sure, it rendered the star unstable, but if we were to just start picking stars that the Autobots aren't occupying the planets of..." he trails off, assuming his point is taken.

Ramjet has the most blank expression on his face when Fleet starts talking. "Uh..." He makes the sound, "... I don't... know? Put an inquiry in with the Chief."

Catechism points out, "Exploding stars get noticed, and there has been a rash of them lately. The Autobots would come rushing in and frown meaningfully at us, and then we would have to beat their faces into the ground. That gets so tiresome!" She does, however, suggests, "But you could remind Scrapper, Fleet. I mean, we could randomly blow up a star as cover for something else we were doing that was actually important." It's a bit horrific, how she treats stellar geography so casually.

"..and if I have to deal with that Sky Lynx sticking his ugly, fragging beak into my affairs one more time..." Ramjet grits his teeth and mutters darkly.

Catechism looks aghast, and she inquires, "Oh, did he interrupt you and Scrapper, sir?"

Ramjet looks back at Catechism and glares.

Ramjet turns his cone /away/ from Catechism! "I don't have the -faintest- of what you are talking about!"

"Couldn't we just blame any new exploding stars on whoever's doing it now?" Fleet suggest helpfully. As if the rest of the galaxy weren't already blaming the Decepticons, anyway, even though for once it really isn't their fault! He frowns and rubs his chin. "I imagine it would be a fairly effective distraction, though." At the exchange between Catechism and Ramjet, he looks back and forth, but decides that this may be one of those 'don't ask' situations.

Catechism whistles innocently. She continues to help unpack things, and she chatters, "We don't know who is doing it, though, Fleet. Or if there is even a 'who'. " She pauses and asks, "What makes you say there is a 'who', Fleet?"

Fleet shrugs his right shoulder and wing both as he pauses in his work. "Isn't there usually a 'who' in something like this? Besides, they don't generally go on their own. Well, at least the sorts of stars and planets that have been going don't. And then there have been those reported attacks." He finishes another box, then moves to the next. "Maybe it's us, after all," he suggests. "Perhaps we're raiding our own past!" It might not seem the greatest of plans, but hey, cartoon Megatron was going to attempt it in War Dawn!

Ramjet moves his glare to Fleet at the mention of raiding one's past.

Catechism ponders, "Say, what was up with those Desolon and Subponor Seekers, anyway? Maybe we just have random bunches of Decepticons dating back to the Straxus era out there who aren't connected with our main group." She does not, however, deny Fleet's idea. Instead, she pulls out the assembly manual.

"The Decepticon Empire has a long, rich history." Ramjet explains as he slowly pulls that glare from Fleet. "At the height of our inception, we fought on multiple fronts. Both at home and abroad. Straxus had always been concerned with rapid expansion among the stars. He felt it was a sign of a fragile powerbase. But.." Ramjet's rifle-mounted shoulders rise in a shrug. "... many Decepticons were sent out. Few returned. Those who did not were written off as M.I.A. Numbers that would rise in the interregnum after Megatron chased after the Autobots's Ark Expedition."

"Sorry," Fleet apologizes for his wild theories. "I suppose I've gotten in the habit of jumping to odd conclusions, what with my time on Zephyr." He pauses his work to gesture at Catechism. "I mean, after all, that *is* the planet you broke causality from, Catechism."

Catechism grouses, "Fleet, you make it sound like I did it on purpose! Yes, it's ni....nyargh." Yes, it is nice to have Fleet back. No, she's not going to say that. "Cyclonus says I'm not allowed to break the laws of physics anymore, anyway." She inquires, "Ramjet, sir, who do you think is behind all the planets that claim they know us?"

Ramjet makes a face. He feels the answer is obvious. "Who else do you think? Other Decepticons. Shockwave couldn't keep every Decepticon under his optic. There were others. Regional warlords who moved the moment we lost contact with the Nemesis. Living under an energon shortage is an easy way to motivate a Transformer. Many left. Some with Shockwave's blessing. Whole fleets dispatched to find energon-rich space sectors and harvest them in the name of the Empire. Remember what I said about the numbers of Missing-in-Action increasing in the interregnum?" Ramjet shrugs, "Couldn't tell you who was blasted into ten thousand pieces and who found a better life somewhere else. Run across something that could power you alone for the next couple of millenia? Well. Straxus always said that sometimes, the strength of the one was better than the strength of a huddled weak."

Catechism snorts and points out, "Sir, it could have been clones, Quintessons, insane Autobots... or any number of oddities. Though yeah. Could just be our long-lost cousins. Wish they'd leave us a note or something. I can't read 'exploding stellar bodyese'." She unfolds the instructions and looks at them critically before moving to start setting up the filtration unit.

Fleet listens to the assorted theories in silence. He gave his idea, after all. Then he shrugs. "Those are all viable ideas," he agrees. And far less outragious than his own! "I'll be interested in seeing how this pans out." He pauses, frowning. "Preferably not from an exploding system," he adds, voice now a murmur. Ramjet immediately points a wary finger at Catechism. "Any Decepticon you come across that doesn't recognize current command codes is a Decepticon you point a weapon at. They're deserter until proven otherwise." He grunts, folding that finger back into his hand so that his knuckles can collide with his palm. "And I don't take kindly to no desertin' slop of parts after that several million stellar year-long dark age." Ramjet's cone turns as he gives Fleet a sideways glance, "Present company excluded."

Catechism figures that Fleet can defend himself and busies herself with putting Tab A into Slot B. The filtration unit is actually starting to look like something. Thank goodness for Ikea's subdivision that caters to evil conquerors. "Right, right you are, sir. Shoot first, ask questions later. Are we going to do anything about that Desolon guy?"

"I was /there/ for the Dark Age," Fleet shrugs. Of course, he was doing nothing important and not getting noticed, but that's beside the point. "And I certainly wouldn't call what I found 'some place better.' Alkorian fuel tastes bitter and doesn't go down easily." The Seeker makes a face at the memory. He lifts his head at the mention of Desolon. "Should we have shot him first?" he asks.

"Oh," Ramjet's optics flicker in a blink. "He still functions?" Those rifle-studded arms rise again. "If his programming is sound after Soundwave debriefs him, he finds a place in this Transformer's army. If not, he receives a state recycling with full honors. Maybe end up as plating on the new baseship. Easy as that."

Catechism shrugs and replies, "I have no idea, really. I bailed out through the spacebridge, hoping that the humans would get eaten by turbo-wolves. Seemed more efficient than wasting the energy to kill them myself." She checks over the connections on the filtration system. Everything seems to be tight and in order. She moves onto the actual cubulation system.

Fleet glances up at Ramjet, then goes back to his work. No doubt that would have been his own fate, had his mind been too far gone. Maybe he'd better watch his Alkornese swearing. The Seeker stands up and backs away, dipping his head in a nod. "Would be nice to think they had been, wouldn't it? But sadly, there's always more of the germs."

"They're a plucky strain of pain-in-my-airbrake," Ramjet angrily mutters on the subject of the Terrans. "Hnh. I blame their sexual reproduction designs. Not terribly efficient but... hnh... effective enough to propagate the species. Once we've restored manufacturing and unique lasercore stamping, the Empire will be able to return our people to prominence again."

Catechism comments idly, absently, "I'm authorised to lead a team to look for Vector Sigma." Granted, she thinks that Vector Sigma is evil and that she's probably a Hollow Man, so she really wants to find Vector Sigma to shoot it in the non-face, but if Vector Sigma is actually not-evil, then they could use it to pump out lots of Decepticons. She starts laying out the parts for the cubulator.

"I /know/," Ramjet groans. "I was /there/ when Cyclonus gave you the go-ahead, Miss-Goes-Over-My-Cone." He emphasizes this with another healthy dose of glare-stare at Catechism. Taking a step back while she goes to work, Ramjet moves to press a concealed button on his left forearm. Shortly after, a purple Decepticon Air Warrior shows up and salutes the three uniquely-colored jets. "Bring us the gas-collection hoses and air pumps," commands the Air Commander.

"Yes sir!" the Air Warrior confirms with one more salute. He turns and flies back to CONE-1 for parts.

Fleet says, "Vector Sigma, eh?" Fleet asks, tone curious. "Why'd you do that? And wouldn't it be on Cybertron, somewhere?""

Catechism smiles up at Ramjet rather widely. She tsks and insists, "You need someone to challenge you, sir. To keep you sharp. Honed. Like a razor." Just be happy that Catechism doesn't jump out of closets and attack you, Ramjet. She is, however, rather concentrating on putting together that Ikea cubulator, given that no one with actual technical skills is here. She looks up briefly at Fleet and replies, "Hmm, did I say I was going to look off-planet, Fleet?"

"Nope, but you haven't organized any searches on Cybertron yet," Fleet replies cheerfully as he starts to set up a partial cover to put over the cubulator. It's a simple thing, and more or less the color of the area surrounding it.

Catechism notes, "I did explore the tunnels under Polyhex, but that was before you were recovered and before I had that mandate." She pauses and bites her lip. "I don't recommend them." Catechism does not go into more detail. "Cybertron... we're going to need to start hitting the fringes of Autobot territory. No more response time testing. Actual properly destruction."

"I'm not even sure what is Autobot territory these days," Fleet answers absently as he finishes with the cover. He steps back and stands very still, expression bland as he examines his handiwork. "Has it changed much?"

Catechism pulls out a datapad and brings up a map. ( http://tf2005.pbwiki.com/f/cyber_img.gif ) She answers briskly, holding the datapad up, "Here. This is the one I've been using. I'm thinking we ought to hit the area outside the memorial soon." The cubulator seems to be together. She checks it over, uncertain of her handiwork.

Fleet examines the map, a frown etched on his expression. "So the... lines haven't been redrawn at all." Then he shrugs. "Ah, well. Better than taking losses, I'm sure."

Catechism mutters, "They will be, soon." The lines, that is. Catechism, again, does not go into details, but what they do, here and now, will help redraw those lines. In energon. She smiles to herself. The cubulator and filtration unit are assembled. Now, she just needs the tubes to link them, and Fleet can put the cover over them. Then they will be good to go.

Hey, some helpful Seeker has set some tubes here! Fleet walks around the device, kneels, and picks them up, absently handing them to Catechism. "So long as it's to put more purple on the map, I'm all for it," he answers, not prodding for details.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Man, I'm sure popular on the internet now."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Is this what... friendship... is?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Soundwave says, "Negative."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Galvatron says, "I require neither friendship /NOR/ the Internet!"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; &lt;:D Catechism says, "Friendship is when you hate another Decepticon so much, you refuse to let anyone else kill him."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "...That's true."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Galvatron says, "SNAPDRAGON, report -- on your... ech... /online activities/."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Dirge will be dead by my doing and my doing alone!"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "That'd be Apeface. GWAH.  Just kidding.  I don't care /how/ he dies."

Ramjet seems to be occupied by ranting about Dirge.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "GALVATRON, I currently have 13,327 human friends on the internet and counting. My power grows by the day, and all I have to do is write poorly-worded messages subtly attacking their fragile self-esteems."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Galvatron says, "Such a pathetic species."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; &lt;:D Catechism says, "Can you convince them to spay and neuter themselves?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Indeed. Several of them send me poor-resolution photographs of their various glands and organs, as if to impress me."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "... Are you impressed?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Wait. I take that back. You would need to possess -motivation- in order to be impressed, of which you have none."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Exactly."

Catechism thinks that helpful Seekers are the best kind of Seekers, personally. She grabs the tubes and inserts them where the manual says that they go. Then, she orders Fleet, "Time to put the camo cover over it." She dusts off her hands.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "You... hnnh."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "It's like, why even turn on your vocalizer if you're just gonna waste everyone's time, Ramjet."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Shut up and go rant on the Terran Internet about someone who has wronged you, Shut-in-dragon."

Ramjet pauses as Catechism mentions the camouflage cover. "..Wait."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Do you want me to defriend you, Ramjet? Do you really want to harm the Decepticon Friendspaze Club that much?"

"Sure thing," Fleet answers cheerfully. It takes but a moment, as he was already prepared, and then he turns towards Catechism and Ramjet. Then Ramjet says something, and he turns completely towards him, lips pulled back into a subtle frown. "Sir?"

&lt;Earth&gt; A reporter says, "It's complete chaos in Alabama -- Decepticon leader Galvatron has touched down outside a tungsten plant, attempting to steal valuable American tungsten! Won't someone... /do/ something?!"

Catechism stares at Ramjet, tilts her head to one side, and echoes Fleet, "Sir?" She frets - is Ramjet SPACE allergic to camo?

"We.. may have brought the wrong color camouflage-netting," Ramjet realizes. He begins tapping lower lip in thought. "Better check it before you start throwing it around." &lt;Public&gt; Earthscorch hehs!

Catechism looks over at the camo that Fleet been working on and then over at Ramjet, before shrugging. "Uhm, sir, Fleet seems to have found the right colour?" It looks okay to her! "I know that we have that pink and purple camo in the back, but trust me, Fleet isn't using that."

"Oh." Ramjet's optics flicker in a blink. "..Well. That is a relief. Carry on!"

Fleet posed that he had the right color! Really! Mostly because it gave him something to do to be useful. He examines the netting, then looks back at Ramjet, and shrugs. "It seems fairly close to the correct color, at any rate, and in this area we'll be harder to see because of the crater's edge, so that'll help make up for what difference there is."

Catechism looks at her handiwork, which is not hard to see, thanks to Fleet's handiwork. She declares, "I think we're good to go! Shall we move out?" She does feel a little empty, though. It's an... honest day's work. No cheating. The only deception is that camo net. No *violence*.

Ramjet gives Fleet a look as he explains the rightfulness of the netting he's picked. This kind of look can easily be described in the Decepticon Hand Manual as, 'I-was-thinking-of-something-else-don't-correct-me-as-it-will-make-me-look-foolish-and-I-correct-that-with-shooting-you-and-very-long-run-on-sentences-concerning-metapose-descriptions-of-the-looks-I-give-you.'

Ramjet promptly turns his cone to the direction of CONE-1. "I am returning to the ship to report on our status. When everything is operational, station a detachment and ready for liftoff."

Ramjet skirts off on a cushion of anti-gravity.

Fleet quails in fear at Ramjet's run-on metapose. However, he recovers quickly. He, of course, suffers none of the misgivings Catechism does. After all, he brought the cammo, and the cammo automatically makes their task *underhanded.* Good enough for Fleet! "It seems like a good idea, Catechism," Fleet answers her question, then activates his anti-gravs to get him out of the crater.

Fleet has left.

Fleet enters the Decepticon Command Shuttle &lt;CONE-1&gt;.

Catechism wanders on back to the CONE-1, which is fabulously retro.

You enter the Decepticon Command Shuttle &lt;CONE-1&gt;.

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Snapdragon says, "Zzzz."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Frenzy says, "Heya Ramcone. I mean Conejet. RAMJET SLAGGIT! Lissenup! I just got handed dis by da boss, and he wants me to read it. DO IT YERSELF YOU SLAGGIN NUMSKULL! Heehehehee I made that part up. But yeahs, seriously, do it yerself. Kapeesh?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "Transmit it to CONE-1, Frenzy."

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Frenzy says, "Yeeeah uh.. hows about I transmit it to your face?"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet says, "TRANSMIT IT TO MY SHIP YOU MENTAL MIDGET!"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; Frenzy says, "What's that boss you want me to OW SLAGGIN SLA--*chhk*"

&lt;Decepticon&gt; D-56 Ramjet waits on his report from Frenzy.

================================= Decepticon ================================= Message: 2/97                     Posted        Author ATTN: Desolon                     Tue Sep 30    Ramjet -- From the files of Ramjet!

FROM: ramjet@aerospace.decepticon.mil TO: soundwave@dci.decepticon.mil RE: TROOPER DESOLON DEBRIEFING

"Soundwave, an early-model Decepticon Air Warrior designated 'Desolon' has been recovered. Dispatch an agent to find him and debrief him to determine if he is still combat-worthy or the recycling bin."

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==================== Decepticon ================================= Message: 2/98                     Posted        Author REPORT: Triton Gas Mining         Tue Sep 30    Ramjet -- From the files of Ramjet!

FROM: ramjet@aerospace.decepticon.mil TO: command-list@command.decepticon.mil (Galvatron, Cyclonus, Scrapper, Scourge, Shockwave, Soundwave) RE: Triton Gas Mining Operation is Go!

"Acting on past data procured by Commander Shockwave, I have taken a squadron to the moon of Neptune designated 'Triton,' in the Terran Sol System. We have located and constructed a basic distillery that is converting the methane gas prevalent in Triton's atmosphere into energon cubes. Conservative calculations rate a yield of 168 energon cube conversions per galactic-standard week from just one gatherer. An additional supply ship has been posted to ferry the energon to the ABSOLUTION project."

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==================== Decepticon ================================= Message: 2/99                     Posted        Author Personnel Update                  Tue Sep 30    Ramjet -- From the files of Ramjet!

Wing Leader Fleet (L. Zulu Wing) has received the following commendations,

Awarded by: Air Commander Ramjet, Galactic Date: Tue Sep 30 2029, Location: TRITON, TERRAN SOL SYSTEM
 * FOR KNOWING HOW TO LOOK AROUND

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==================== Decepticon ================================= Message: 2/100                    Posted        Author Personnel Update                  Tue Sep 30    Ramjet -- From the files of Ramjet!

Executrix Catechism (C. Cybertron Occupation Force) has received the following commendations,

Awarded by: Air Commander Ramjet, Galactic Date: Tue Sep 30 2029, Location: TRITON, TERRAN SOL SYSTEM
 * SHE KNOWS WHY, FRAG IT

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