Gulag

March 20, 2006

Transmission from Galvatron: My dear, a quandary has come up and I beg need of your intellect.

Airwolf transmits to Galvatron: *A pause before responding* Of course, my lord. What is it you need of me?

Transmission from Galvatron: We've received an emergency transmission from Gulag.

Airwolf transmits to Galvatron: *An even longer pause* As you know, I haven't been there in twenty years, Lord Galvatron, but I am willing to do what I can to help.

Transmission from Galvatron: We need a pilot. I would not ask this of you, however, the transmission sent the seekers in here into paranoid moves. A great deal of wing twitching.

Airwolf transmits to Galvatron: While I am not a pilot, I can certainly guide you there, my lord. I assume a rescue party is being sent? What is the nature of the emergency?

Transmission from Galvatron: Failing systems, energon leaks and a faltering placement orbit.

Airwolf transmits to Galvatron: I will leave immediately. Trypticon or IHQ?

Transmission from Galvatron: IHQ landing field. We're about to prep a shuttle.

Airwolf transmits to Galvatron: Very well. I will meet you at the spaceport.

You descend to the Nightsiege Spaceport below.

Nightsiege Spaceport

The spaceport is as pristine as the rest of the city, but it's here that you start getting your strongest indications of the sheer military presence that's housed in the Aerospace Headquarters to the north. The spaceport is divided into two distinct sections, as about a third of it is set aside for a small amount of civilian traffic and trade, and the rest is in constant motion as the patrols and strike-forces for the Decepticon Aerospace fleet scramble from one of the two landing strips. A huge stylized tower, dignified at worst and awe inspiring at best, rises over the landing strips, orchestrating all the traffic. Large hangars divide the spaceport physically. Positioned at all entrances to the spaceport are the best of the Decepticons’ security troops, who, someday hope to ascend to the ranks of Aerospace.

Fleet, Catechism, and Galvatron arrive from the Outskirts of Imperial Headquarters to the north.

Airwolf is waiting by the shuttle. While she doesn't typically enjoy going along on these little jaunts, she looks even less eager to go than usual. She fidgets, tapping fingertip claws, shifting from foot to foot, the very picture of a reluctant adventurer.

Galvatron strides into the landing pad area, optics scanning for a shuttle that doesn't look like Ramjet landed it. He is also looking for Airwolf as well. "Fleet, Catechism, can either of you pilot a shuttle?" What, him keep track of who can and can’t? Or is this a trick question.

Catechism points at Fleet and says, rather loudly, "He can."

Fleet nods. "I can, sir," he agrees as he looks around. "Airwolf," he says, nodding towards her, then scans the area to see who else might be along for this little jaunt.

Spoiler enters the spaceport, looking busy as usual, probably conducting active routine maintenance on a number of critical systems... At all events, he's holding a spanner.

Astroglide makes his way onto the landing pad, slowly moving between the others of his kind moving to and fro. He's one of those that blends into the background, even though he's BRIGHT ORANGE!

Galvatron's question answered, Airwolf bows formally to him and less formally nods to the other members of the party. After that, she goes back to fidgeting.

Earthscorch slips in as inconspicuously as possible, which isn't very, since he's about ten feet taller than last time most of those gathered here have seen him.

Galvatron nods, apparently satisfied with putting his life in the hands of a pastel coloured seeker. As long as it isn't Ramjet piloting, he's fine. "Thank you for joining us, Airwolf." He speaks, as he strides just past her, towards the ship, "Let’s go have a look and see what is causing that little station difficulties."

You board the Decepticon Shuttle .

Decepticon Shuttle 

The latest in Cybertronian space technology, the interior of the Decepticon Shuttle  is an impressive display of technical knowledge. At the front of the ship is the cockpit, with seats for the pilot and co-pilot and ringed by wrap-around screens. Inside are a variety of sensitive navigational and weaponry controls and monitors, constantly displaying information like system checks, long and short range scanners, and weapons targeting systems. Behind the cockpit is a seating section and in a separate section in the rear is a large cargo bay.

Catechism salutes Airwolf, once the obtuse conehead realises that the helicopter lady is actually there. She may be kind of quasi or something that confuses Catechism, but the conehead figures that anyone who runs a city is worth respect.

Spoiler wanders onto the shuttle.

Astroglide makes his way into the shuttle, being as unobtrusive as he can be.

Earthscorch shuffles inside along with the others, ducking a bit to make sure he has enough clearance. He eyes the seats warily. Now he is going to have to sit in the big seats. The world has shrunk all around him.

Fleet is, apparently, designated driver. Such is his life. He climbs into the shuttle and moves forward, slipping into the pilot seat. The Seeker glances around. "Have we got everyone?" he asks.

Airwolf finds herself a seat and straps in, recalling that most times she is a passenger on a shuttle, it crashes. Well, it's been quite a few years since the last time... She glances forward at the pastel pilot. Is he the one to break the jinx?

Galvatron doesn't strap in.. He does, however, stand with feet slightly spread and arms folded across his chest. Turning to look over his shoulder for a head count, he pauses a moment to make certain that all's aboard who's going ashore.

Airwolf also gives Catechism an odd look, as the conehead femme outranks her. Remembering her manners, she bows her head to the XO in acknowledgment.

Earthscorch checks who's piloting. It's not Ramjet. Strapping in will be optional. He decides he'd better do it anyway, just to be safe.

Spoiler notices the others sitting down and strapping in as though the shuttle were about to launch. Confused, he awkwardly takes a seat next to Airwolf and begins searching for the restraint harness.

Fleet does strap himself in, because he knows damned well how new he is to this task. But luckily, he follows the most important rule, usually: let the computer do most of the work. When he gets no answer, he inclines his head. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' All right. Initiating pre-flight check-out." And then he taps a button on the screen, letting it do just that.

Earthscorch realizes that he'll never have to sit by Spoiler again. He chuckles very discretely at Airwolf's misfortune. He has a certain affection for Airwolf, but not enough of one that he doesn't enjoy watching her suffer.

Astroglide takes a seat at the back of the shuttle, making sure not to crowd anyone or generally be in the way. He's good at that. As the pre-flight check happens, he switches off his optics and can be heard mumbling "...no buildings falling on me, no torture, no shooting, mangling monsters, uncontrolled fire, and no surprises... again..."

"All right. Our flight path has been cleared," Fleet says, touching a few more controls, "And the shuttle checks off. Prepare for lift off."

Spindry stands near his compatriot, Astroglide. He is also the type that tends to blend into the scenery. However, this particular seeker decides now is the time to be manly and opts to NOT strap himself in. Surely the hand-rails along the top of the shuttle are more than capable of keeping him upright in the face of escape velocity thrust. Right?

Finally locating the restraint harness, and made nervous by the sudden announcement that the shuttle is taking off, Spoiler begins a complicated series of highly improbable gestures whereby he becomes entangled, despite the fact there does not appear to be enough slack for this to logically occur.

Galvatron nods, "Excellent, Fleet." He turns to stare at the assembled. "This is a simple expedition to follow up on an emergency transmission from one of our outposts. They are having orbital troubles and we are to assess the situation, offer assistance as we can and aid them in regaining stability. This should be short, simple and without difficulty."

Fleet mostly makes use of the spaceport's magnetic and tractor assists, so the flight is pretty smooth. He's not one to hot dog things, which makes flying with him boring... but safe. The Seeker takes a moment to glance up at his Emperor but doesn't say anything about anything that might /not/ be getting mentioned, instead just entering the route into the computer.

Spoiler attempts to raise his hand to ask a question of vital importance, possibly with ramifications encompassing the future of all robotic life. Unfortunately his arm is still tangled in the restraint.

Spindry is slammed rather unceremoniously into the back wall of the shuttle, "Urk!" is about all he can manage whilst simultaneously trying to peel himself off the wall in the midst of massive g-forces and trying to look cool. He settles on 'leaning' against the back wall in a casual manner. Just don't ask him to move any time soon.

"Preparing to engage the FTL drive," Fleet announces. "If anyone wants to get themselves strapped in, now's the time to do it." Or untangled, as the case may be.

Airwolf eyes Spoiler, tempted to offer help, but knows that he's a hopeless case. At least this way, he's strapped in, in a manner of thinking. As for the flight, she *likes* boring flights, so she's happy with that.

Galvatron settles his big self into a seat. Bravado is one thing. The initial FTL jump is entirely another thing.

Spoiler suddenly realizes that he's still holding a spanner. With great difficulty he maneuvers it around to get at the bolts on his harness.

Astroglide watches as his long-time friend, Spindry, goes flying. "I told you the hand holds were just there for decoration." He slowly rubs the back of his head, remembering the last time he tried to use them for real.

Fleet takes the relative silence as a 'we're ready,' and announces, "Engaged," as he hits a button. From Uhura to Wesley Crusher. That's something of a downgrade, isn't it?

Decepticon Shuttle 's FTL engines come online and propel it into faster-than-light speed.

Spoiler just manages to get the spanner around the primary bolt when the FTL drive kicks in, and the resulting force causes the tool to sheer the bolt off, sending it rattling across the floor. Restraint now free, Spoiler tumbles, enwrapped, onto the floor and rolls towards the back.

Even seated, Airwolf fidgets, only pausing to stare as Spoiler tumbles towards the back. Amazing how he manages these things. They should have sent *him* after Unicron, because the powers of chaos would have failed him in Spoiler's presence.

Spindry's optics light up as he notices Spoiler tumbling towards the back of the shuttle. Still flattened against the back wall by the massive forces of the FTL engine, Spindry can only attempt to 'climb' the wall sideways, as one would do on a tilt-a-whirl ride, "Auuuuugh!"

The rak-tak-tak of first a bolt bounding toward the rear earns a quirked brow from the relatively quiet and properly strapped down figure in the back. However, as Spoiler collides with the rear bulkhead, one foot is snapped out to pin him in place. "Spoiler, PLEASE." Fusillade's voice is recognizable, even if the bizarre pattern of blue, purple, and green isn't. Bronze toned hands are primly folded in her lap.

Galvatron's attention is on the driver of this bus trip from hell. The kids in the back can take care of themselves.

Catechism didn't strap in. She was too preoccupied thinking about how weird this all is. So she ended up getting knocked back against a wall with a surprisingly quiet clang. She kind of just slumps there on the floor, having a headache in her whole body. She'll be fine in a bit, but for now, she doesn't really feel like getting up. A pity, because she'll probably just get violently slid across the floor shortly.

Astroglide brings his arms up to cover his face, "Oh Primus! This is it!" as he sees Spoiler tumbling backwards. He just knows that this is how this mission will end for him. Not with anything grand. Just a fellow Decepticon landing on him and knocking him out.

Fleet is a good driver. And although he hears a lot of clattering behind him, and then Fusillade's voice, and makes note of it, he doesn't turn around to look, instead keeping focus on the controls... and on shutting off that damned radio! Fleet shakes his head and grumbles. "Shouldn't be too much longer," he reports.

You move rimward, away from the center of the Galaxy.

Deep Space - Galactic Plane

Lifeless. Cold. Empty. You scan your surroundings subconsciously looking for something to focus on. No avail, for while you can make out pricks of light, none are distinct enough to draw your attention. However, after a few moments your optics do catch something...In the distant subplanar region there seems to be a star system, one that could dispel the lonesome feeling of this silent black vacuum.

Contents: Decepticon Station 

The station lists sharply to the side, apparently, the energon venting information was accurate. Its orbit appears stable enough, but its odd shape makes it hard to tell. It looks more in danger of collapsing under its own weight than anything else.

Airwolf leans forward, staring intently at the viewscreen. It looks even worse than it did 20 years ago, and that's saying a lot.

Spoiler hits first the bulkhead, narrowly missing Spindry after his spider-like move and landing just to the side of Astroglide, and is then heeled, fairly literally, by Fusillade. "Gah! Ergh...uh...wow, these new shuttles have a lot more kick than the older ones." He struggles a bit, trying to free himself of the harness.

"Coming out of FTL," Fleet reports. "This may be rough." And with that, he taps the necessary sequence of buttons to bring them back into normal space.

Earthscorch just sits quietly, observing Spoiler's antics without much concern.

Galvatron listens to the chaos in the back of the shuttle, giving a tiny shake of his head. Optics refocus on the screen. "It looks far worse than the last status report indicated." Slight anger to the tone.

Angry Galv. Well, Fleet just has to strive to keep him from getting angry at him. "Activating sensors, sir." So it's back to Uhura! Or maybe it's Data. Who knows?

The sensors pick up a small, weak signal near the docking bay. It appears to be getting closer to the shuttle...

"It's deteriorated noticeably, my lord," Airwolf affirms. "Strange, since the last time I saw it was only twenty years ago."

Fleet relays what the computer says. "I'm getting some sort of weak signal near the docking bay. It looks like it's approaching us." So, it's back to being the blonde girl in Galaxy Quest, it is!

Catechism continues to lie in a pained pile in the back of the shuttle. She needs a chiropractor! Or some common sense. Slowly, she tries to pull herself into a sitting position. Knocked about as she was, her short term memory was damaged, and Catechism surveys who all is in the shuttle. Wow. They could totally take Cybertron! The conehead smiles slightly, still not having all of her wits back.

Astroglide slowly raises a hand, hoping Lord Galvatron will see it. When he speaks, his voice is timid and wimpy. "Um, my Lord. We've scanned that for giant space monsters, right?" He suddenly feels the optics of the rest of the team on him, even though they're probably not. "I mean, it won't be like last time, right?"

Floating up, into the gravity plane of the shuttle, the chassis of an EVA equipped Decepticon hits the front of the cockpit, sliding slowly down the window... ruptured internal systems leaving a smear across the reinforced glass.

Spoiler stares at Astroglide. Giant space monsters?

Spindry pulls himself up off the floor and peers out of the viewscreen, "I have a baaaaad feeling about this." he flinches noticeably at the mention of 'giant space monsters'.

Galvatron slides forward in his seat, looking at the station while displaying ire only in the tapping of fingers. A barked response to the back of the ship, "Giant space monsters, indeed, Astroglide. I assure you this will in no way or form be like any *last* time you've had. There had best be an explanation for the state of *my* outpost."

Fleet frowns as the Decepticon hits the windshield like an oversized bug. Or Insecticon, even. "Or for the state of your Decepticons, sir?" Fleet asks, then hits a few keys. "Should we ask for permission to land, or just surprise them?"

Snagged on the sensor array, the Decepticon rattles with the movement of the ship, small globules of energon and other internal fluids floating around it. A rhythmic thumping can be heard as it repeatedly knocks against the hull.

Airwolf winces at the sight of the dead Decepticon. This wasn't uncommon during most of her time there, but things were *supposed* to have gotten better since then. Already nervous over this, the resemblance to times past isn't making her feel any better.

Spoiler manages to sit up, then slowly inches his way into a standing position next to Spindry. "This is why I hate routine maintenance," he says, nodding towards the viewscreen, and struggles again, loosening the restraint.

Astroglide looks out the view port, shaking his head slowly. Looking over to Spindry, he asks quietly, "Was that Kibble Yanks? Tell me it's not him." He looks back to the screen.

The condition of the body makes it somewhat difficult to identify. It looks like he deactivated his pressure systems voluntarily...

Galvatron rumbles, "Just dock us. If they don't know we're here, then that's another thing that needs to be answered. The how we can even sneak up on them.." The body on the windshield is given another look. "Airwolf.... Anyone you know?"

Fleet nods. He attempts to focus past the somewhat unnerving rattle as he tries to bring the shuttle in for a docking. "Uhm... just to give everyone a heads up, this will be my first time..."

Decepticon Station 

Docking Bay 

A cavernous room, the old ceiling has rusted out, merging the old storage room overhead with the bay. The room is lightless, completely dark until a light source is set up. Even then, portable units are still needed to keep from stumbling through the wreckage littering the floor. There is no gravity, and scraps of metal and oddly shaped organic waste float in the air. Heaps of rusted metal of varying sizes litter the floor, apparently loading machinery in some cases, ships in others.

Open to the cold of space, frost has crept in over some intact containers, freezing them to the floor. The walls are covered in ruined machinery of indeterminate function, now mostly frosted over.

There are several sets of blast doors on the far wall. Some are rusted shut, some actually seem to be welded shut, but only one is of any use.

Airwolf nods briefly. "He was in for theft of energon and marketing it to Empties. Reminded me of Swindle."

Eerily silent, the docking bay is pitch black, except for the limited, and passing, light from the shuttles running lights.

The landing is more than a little bumpy. Fleet's used to getting magnetic and tractor assistance from the port whenever he takes off and lands, and is forced to go more manually than he'd like for this one. Still, they manage to touch down in one piece. He looks up and around. "Erm... sorry about that, folks."

Catechism stares at the dead body as best she can from the back of the shuttle where she's sitting. After what appears to be some serious thoughtful contemplation, she mutters, "Idiot." Then, Fleet docks the shuttle, and Catechism gets knocked against the back wall again. Ow.

The jostling motions of the shuttle landing somehow manage to free Spoiler form his self-made prison. Sighing with relief, he composes himself carefully and steps forward, optics focusing on the eerie blackness of the room outside the viewscreen. "Sometimes I run into the same problem. Try jiggling the cable."

Galvatron rumbles, "Lovely.." As the shuttle docks roughly. "Now this is *not* what the last report and vidscans showed.." Scowl in place as he stands. "And I would have expected something in the way of mechanoids at least moving about in the bay."

The body of the 'Swindler' Decepticon is unhooked by the jostling of the shuttle... and begins moving about the bay. From momentum, it floats out of range of the lights, lost to sight.

"It is, indeed, disconcerting," Fleet agrees as he heads towards one of the supply lockers and grasps a light. Those nearest him can hear the faint hum as his arm-mounted weaponry is powered up.

Airwolf mutters, "It's all wrong. It wasn't *this* bad before. Badly worn down, yes, but not... not a disaster like this."

Astroglide says, "They're all dead, aren't they?"

Galvatron runs a quick check on systems while powering up weapons. "I certainly hope not. Someone needs to answer for this." And silently, he wonders about traps.

Spoiler notices Fleet going for the light and, thinking he'd best do the same, picks up a random piece of equipment from the shuttle, a pipe knocked loose by all the unfortunate action that occurred in the back.

Earthscorch comments, "If there had been corpses floating around before, I'm sure someone would have brought it up. Clearly something has happened."

Spoiler looks askance at Earthscorch. "Someone did. It was mentioned several times as we were docking."

Earthscorch hmmms. "I suppose in commenting on belaboring the point, I myself, have belabored the point." He adds dryly, "You must be a savant."

Airwolf wishes she'd brought some scanners and other equipment with her, but she didn't expect things to be so bad. Nothing that some replacement parts couldn't handle, anyway...

The rather violent landing of the shuttle has knocked loose debris from the ceiling, sending it floating around the zero gravity, in and out of range of the lights, casting long and flickering shadows...

Catechism gets to her feet, finally. She again wonders why they couldn't just let these people die. Mumbling to herself, Catechism makes sure that her arms guns are fully charged. She may have to get... creative in her use of gauss, after all.

Astroglide slowly stands, checking his arm weapons to make sure they're still there and charged.

Earthscorch looks out the window with concern and says, "We'll have to be careful, so as to be able to leave safely. That is, we should take precautions to ensure our exit remains unobscured."

Fleet checks the light. It works. He frowns, and looks out. "It... there's no way this place could have gotten in this bad a condition quickly. This looks like some long term degradation here." Then he looks at the others. "But... it doesn't match up, from what you're saying." He stands near the door, but hesitates from activating it.

Galvatron turns on a heel and heads towards the exit door, "Weapons at the ready, be on alert." As if he needs to say that. "Airwolf, stay near me. Earthscorch, bring up the rear with Astroglide. Fleet, Catechism, Spoiler, fill the middle.

The middle is, in theory, the safest spot. Score one for Fleet!

Spoiler shrugs. "There's no reason to assume that this station is on a fixed linear time-scale identical to our own. Even a small quantum variation could cause a space-time phase disassociation."

Airwolf unstraps herself with no difficulty whatsoever and rises, ready to follow Galvatron into this hellhole. Maybe not all that willing, but certainly ready.

Catechism looks rather disturbed by Spoiler's suggestion. She snaps, "So, what? They get all this extra time that they could use for the glory of the cause, and they waste it and turn the place into a junk heap? What losers!" Frowning, Catechism takes her place with Spoiler and Fleet. She gives Spoiler a bit of a funny look. Wait, she doesn't remember him! Then again, she's just been repeatedly hit on the head.

Earthscorch unstraps himself and rise to his feet with slow deliberation. He looks down on Astroglide and intones, "Be perceptive. I do not wish anything coming up behind us unseen." He pulls his rifle from subspace. "Whatever has caused damage to this place is a threat to a Decepticon, so we must take care not to underestimate it."

While corroded and falling apart... it's nothing that 20 years of neglect and hard vacuum could do, if no maintenance and all automated systems were deactivated...

Spoiler seems a little confused by Catechism's reply. "What extra time? I was suggesting the place was attacked by aliens of some kind."

Fleet stands up straight and nods. "Yes, sir." He drifts near Catechism and Spoiler... that would be... the two people who were rolling around on the floor as the shuttle was flying. He gives Spoiler a somewhat odd look. "That's generally the default assumption, since most places we've encountered /are/ on the same time-scale. In fact, it's more a case of, 'we assume it until given reason to believe otherwise.'"

Astroglide shudders, "Not ruthless, terrorist space aliens bent on universal conquest... right?" His voice shakes as he speaks.

Catechism snorts, "Why, this whole shuttle is full of *those*."

Galvatron smirks, "Let us be off." He triggers the door and heads into the desolate vacuum of a dying station.

Spoiler nods, tapping his Pee-Wee 500 Autocannons with the pipe he's holding to make sure they're not jammed. "Exactly." He glances at Catechism. "Right. And if we're here now, then we easily could have been here before, and done this retroactively knowing we would discover it later and come to the conclusion that we had initiated our future discovery of our own actions.

You disembark from the Decepticon Shuttle .

Docking Bay 

A cavernous room, the old ceiling has rusted out, merging the old storage room overhead with the bay. The room is lightless, completely dark until a light source is set up. Even then, portable units are still needed to keep from stumbling through the wreckage littering the floor. There is no gravity, and scraps of metal and oddly shaped organic waste float in the air. Heaps of rusted metal of varying sizes litter the floor, apparently loading machinery in some cases, ships in others.

Open to the cold of space, frost has crept in over some intact containers, freezing them to the floor. The walls are covered in ruined machinery of indeterminate function, now mostly frosted over.

There are several sets of blast doors on the far wall. Some are rusted shut, some actually seem to be welded shut, but only one is of any use.

Rusted Heap A large mass of rusted and corroded metal. Sharp angles and what looks to be the remains of a drive section identify this as an old Decepticon transport.

Fleet just shakes his head and grumbles, stepping out of the shuttle.

With no air, and no gravity, the room remains silent even as the Decepticons file in. the only light, again, is cast from the shuttle, occasionally highlighting a piece of floating detritus.

Earthscorch says, "I can assume hoverjet mode if you prefer, Lord Galvatron. I have searchlights, of a sort, though we'd sacrifice any amount of stealth we might have had, since I would be making so much noise."

Airwolf visually examines the darkened area as best she can, since she's without any instrumentation, and she doesn't like what she sees. "It looks abandoned," she mutters, "but what happened to the personnel stationed here? Is there any record of them being transferred back to Cybertron?"

And /this/ is why Fleet brought his own light! Zero gravity isn't exactly something he's used to, but he is equipped with boot jets and antigravs to move himself around, if a bit clumsily. "You were the last transfer on record, Airwolf. In fact, I was just speaking to a Seeker who claimed to be on this station before we began our journey."

Spoiler nods contemplatively. Standing on the floor of the docking bay, having inadvertently hooked his foot underneath a piece of rubble. "Excellent. So, Airwolf was here before. Mystery solved."

Catechism wishes she had a light. She supposes that she'll have to stick close to Fleet. Good thing she's in the middle with him, then! She suddenly wonders, "Elite Fleet, your daggers are glowy, right? Remember that. We might need them for their light more than their blades." And if this gets bad, they may need the blades, too. Those are useful things that Fleet has.

Astroglide continues to follow behind the group as ordered, constantly keeping watch. And he's obviously jittery.

Galvatron hnnns, "That it does." Pause as Fleet explains the transmission. "Records do not show any major off-postings." Powering up Mr. Creamsicle for that orange healthy glow.

Earthscorch smirks at Spoiler. "Are you implying that Airwolf did this, perhaps? That would be an interesting twist, eh?"

Spoiler nods.

Airwolf ignores Spoiler's and Earthscorch's comments and turns to Fleet to ask, "Was he or she identified?" If so, she should know this person.

"My daggers do glow, and no. They refused to identify themselves," Fleet reports, and he frowns, looking around. "We're being watched," he hisses, lowering his voice. "I'm sure of it."

Earthscorch mutters, "It would be more helpful if you could identify the location of these mystery observers instead of merely implying their existence."

Spoiler looks around, holding his pipe out. "How could we possibly tell us where they are when it’s so dark, the light is absorbed right out of our flashlights before we can even see it."

"Maybe so," Fleet growls back, "but simply knowing of their existence is more useful than /not/ knowing of their existence. However, I shall keep that in mind in the future, and make sure /not/ to tell you when I know something that might affect you until I have every detail down."

Galvatron gives a shake of his head, slowly turning to look the room over, "They did not identify but the transmission signal had the correct ID codes." Flat tone. "Fleet, shine your light around, there should be a hatch or door we can access." Or he'll make one.

Fleet inclines his head once in a nod, then complies, shining the light around the area, searching both for a hatch... and perhaps the mystery observers.

Airwolf was already uneasy about being here, so she takes Fleet seriously indeed. There's nothing that she can see, though, without proper equipment. Like others have already begun to, she also thinks about the possibility of a trap. The Autobots could have set this up to lure them from Cybertron so they could launch an assault on Nightsiege in their absence.

The doors, most of them, are sealed in some fashion. Some even appear to have been haphazardly re-enforced at some point, support struts torn down from the ceiling and welded in place. "Well that... is very wrong," Fleet hisses softly.

One, however, was left open. Either by mistake, or by design, it stands partly ajar.

Catechism watches Fleet's light illuminate the doors. She mutters, "They could have security cameras. 's a good way to watch folks." Catechism tilts her head, wondering at all the sealed doors, and she asks, tone casually morbid, "Do you think... that they wanted to keep something out, or... something *in*?"

Earthscorch observes, "It's clearly a barricade, and it was sealed from this side, so it stands to reason that they were keeping their adversaries out, but some incompetent failed to seal all the doors correctly, it appears. Or, alternatively, the area beyond the unsealed door is a continuation of their safe zone. It's even conceivable that there are survivors."

Galvatron stares at the open door and thinks trap.. But does listen to the observations of others. "I'll lead." Brave Sir Robin.. wait, wrong story...

"Or it's a trap," Fleet adds, "and they wanted to make sure we took the right path." For his part, he does not get any closer to the open door... until Galvatron goes, and then he obediently follows, making sure to stick near Catechism and Spoiler.

The door is 'slightly' ajar. Attempts were made to seal it from the other side at some point... the motors are broken or inactive.

Earthscorch shakes his head. "I find it unlikely in the extreme that anyone would sit out here in the middle of nowhere waiting to ambush us. Unless our threat is unintelligent, in which case, it will be easier to deal with."

Airwolf sighs and follows Galvatron once again. Into the breach, dear friends. Not usually aggressive, she does start a mental check on her weaponry. Just in case. This is looking more and more suspicious.

Catechism leans in close to Fleet as she follows him and Spoiler. She whispers, "Elite Fleet, if you're so sure that they can see us... might they not be able to hear us, too?" For such a cheerful soul, she's not doing a great job of injecting light into the darkness.

"We received a signal to call us out here," Fleet reminds.

With a little help, the door opens, pieces of it coming loose and floating off...

Collapsing Hallway 

The ceiling of this hallway has fallen in halfway down, cutting off most of the station. Loose cabling and broken lighting fixtures hang loosely, any energy they may have been leaking long spent. Like most of the other rooms in this station, there is no light and no power. All light comes from portable sources, sending shadows flitting over the walls and floor. Score marks mar the walls, aimed mostly at small, odd looking fixtures which are for the most part, intact. One of them has been torn open, revealing an odd collection of segmented cables, each ending in an unidentifiable apparatus of some kind.

Gravity abruptly activates halfway in, tossing whatever or whoever comes within range unceremoniously onto the floor. A single door remains intact, half open to the left.

Broken Cables

These cables are articulated and seem to end in odd implements... saws, laser torches, clamps... any number of insidious devices.

Catechism suddenly seems to be in charge! How curious. She directs, "Those of you with lights, fan them out. I want as much of this dark hole lit up as possible. I've..." ...got a spooky feeling that Fleet is totally correct? Catechism raises a hand to her chin and tries to resist the urge to spin around with her guns blazing. There's something there, or she's going crazy.

Earthscorch slips in, continuing to hold up the back with Gumby. Being farther away from the light source makes it hard to even see where the walls are. He says to Astroglide, "Remember what I said about remaining wary!"

Spoiler pulls out his knife and begins carefully cutting his pipe into slivers. He has no idea what fanning out the flashlights is supposed to accomplish, but they certainly didn't teach him to question orders in the academy.

Astroglide looks like a simple 'boo' would knock him out. "I'm always wary." He constantly looks around, optics darting this way and that. "Have a building filled with giant space monsters fall on you and see how you come out of it."

Fleet float/glides into the room and then... clatters clumsily to the floor as gravity suddenly kicks on. He grunts softly and pulls himself up, then re-activates his antigravs and goes back to floating, this time with more control. "Am... I the /only/ one with a light?" he asks, shining it around the room. The light rests briefly on the broken cables before moving on.

Airwolf remembers this place, but not like this. She lands with a thump on the floor as soon as gravity take effect, suspicious at the timing of it all. Being an engineer, she begins a silent examination of the strange fixtures, which she does *not* remember from before.

Odd... appendages float in the light... one lightly brushing against Spoiler's leg as he walks by.

Spoiler glances down. Putting his knife and the pipe away he reaches out and picks up the appendage, attempting to examine it in the dark. He steps over to Fleet. "Hey, what's this?"

Catechism inquires of Airwolf, a sense of urgency in her tone, "Is this what this place was like when you were here? Aside from being dark and messed up? Catechism scrunches up her face and pauses to stare at Spoiler. Maybe it's just dark, but she has no idea what he's doing. She's about to suggest that Earthscorch transform. Noise be tri-cursed, they know that they're here, and his light would be welcome. Catechism wants to say that, but she's distracted by a soft glow, and she squints, noting, "Something's lit up ahead. Maybe some sort of side door? "

The Cable Airwolf picks up is... odd. It's definitely of Cybertronian make. Or, at least, Cybertronian pieces. Joints and motors, of varying styles, make up the main length of the 'cable'. It ends in a claw like appendage. Its severed end is charred and burnt, perhaps from weapons fire.

The light up ahead is more noticeable now, and a low sound, hard to place, can be heard.

Airwolf looks up from her work, on edge and not happy to be there. "Ma'am," she acknowledges. "No, it wasn't like this before. It's worse now, much worse. The wear and tear was bad, but not this bad. It's like no one's done any maintenance since I left. There are extra things now..." She gestures towards the cabling. "that weren't here before."

Catechism takes a few steps towards the light. She murmurs, "I think that I heard something. Maybe." Then, Catechism shakes herself, thinking better of it all. "Earthscorch, transform. I want your lights up and active. And... thank you, Airwolf. So, they haven't kept anything in shape, but they redecorated with supremely strange cables?" Catechism holds her head. None of this makes sense!

"Not just cables," Spoiler says, holding up the appendage. "This creature here attempted to grab my leg. There's not enough light for me to identify it, though."

The offending appendage in Spoiler's grasp flops lifelessly with his movement.

Fleet shines his light at the appendage in Spoiler's hand. "Are you sure? Looks pretty limp to me."

Spoiler looks down.

...

Spoiler says, "Aaaaargh!"

Earthscorch looks alarmed as can be expected, then wordlessly transforms into his alt mode. His two fore lights (sort of positioned like car lights) which are quite bright, begins shining them down the dark halls. The down side is that his hover engines make their low-pitched scream, though they actually seem quieter than before.

Earthscorch moves into the air, pulling in his arms and legs until they are one with his body. He takes on mass from sub-space to make himself larger throughout this process. His wings fold forward, while his nosecone flips up and covers his head. Where Earthscorch once stood, there is now only a hoverjet.

Spoiler tosses the appendage on to the ground and opens fire, emptying several dozen rounds into the thing for one interminable moment of flashing lights and clamoring barrels. Once finished, he turns to face the others, a look of grim determination on his face. "This can only mean one thing... Junkions."

Catechism narrows her optics. Well, there was light wherever the strange Seeker was filming the transmission. There's a glow ahead. It's not much, but it's all she has to go on. She announces, attempting to sound calm, "I'm going ahead. I think that you should all perhaps follow." She adds, a bit sarcastically, "After all, the Junkions might get you if you stay behind." That said, she moves towards the dim glow.

Astroglide says, "I hate Junkions, too."

Hoverjet ascends so that he's above everyone's heads, and shines his light ahead. "It's NOT Junkions!"

You move through the archway.

Communications Room

The only light in here comes from the single active monitor at the far wall, still broadcasting on the emergency channels. The ceiling is buckled in, corroded, long dead power conduits dangling down. The floor curves downward, starting to collapse under the weight of the communications gear. A single intact chair is set in the floor in front of the monitor bank, the silhouette of the seeker from the broadcast can be seen sitting slumped forward.

Seeker

Turning the chair around, it becomes obvious that the seeker is no longer functional. At least in the classical sense. His abdomen and cockpit area are cracked open, a mass of cables trailing downward where his legs should be, leading off into the floor. His cranial plating has been ripped open in the back, with more thick, segmented cables connecting it to the ceiling.

Spoiler is suddenly overcome with a terrible sense of foreboding and dashes back to the shuttle.

The soft light is from a single screen, blocked from view, mostly, by a single chair. Still on, the speakers crackle with static.

"Everyone, if you're not using your antigravs, start now," Fleet says, noticing the condition of the floor in here. Ah, the lovely, lovely thing about being Decepticons. Then he flashes his light around the room. Earthscorch may have the big light, but Fleet's is still a bit more mobile.

Astroglide moves into the room like a spy in a really bad B movie. He's looking around, guns pointing at anything and everything. Semi-crouched, he holds his own arm as if it were a pistol.

Catechism enters without second thoughts and also without first thoughts. If she was thinking, she wouldn't barge in like this! She doesn't glances back, but assumes that the others have followed her. Luckily, it seems that they mostly have. As Fleet suggests, she activates her anti-gravs. Remembering the broadcast, she whispers, "That's got to be him."

Hoverjet, always eager to annoy others, shines his brighter lights wherever Fleet is flashing his. He reveals the slumpy seeker as his lights crisscross the room, and emits, "Someone ought to check on him..."

Airwolf stares at the familiar, yet unfamiliar room and then slowly hovers forward to look at the comm equipment. She stops in midair on seeing the... person in the chair. "Primus," she whispers, startled into hovering back from it. "Airlane..."

Spindry... is missing.

Fleet nods, and anti-gravity-skates nearer to the Seeker in question... or the Seeker like thing. The one who wouldn't identify himself. As he gets closer, his optics widen. Itself. "By Straxus... what in the Pit is going on here?"

Airlane (Thank you Airwolf. ;)) twitches lightly, spastically...

Catechism inquires of Airwolf, "You knew him? What was he like?" Without waiting for an answer, she 'skates' forward, anti-grav assisted and attempts to creep up on the chair and the Seeker within it. However, Catechism's not quiet, and she's not sneaky. Hopefully, she'll get a good glance at the contents of the chair and monitor hidden by the chair. Maybe she'll just die a terrible death.

"He can't be alive like that!" Airwolf protests, sick at the sight of this monstrosity. She's still backing away from the undead seeker. It takes a moment for Catechism's question to get through to her, then she responds, "Another prisoner here. He knew absolutely nothing about communications, though. Nothing. He was a laborer."

Hoverjet intones, "Friend of yours, Airwolf? I would suggest removing the body. I expect its current position is detrimental to our interests..."

The mess of wires and cables connecting Airlane's head to the ceiling flex, twisting the seeker, if it can still be called that, around to face the Decepticons.

Once Fleet gets close enough to see the Seeker's (if it can be called that anymore) condition, he gets no nearer. "Not like that, I'd wager," he hisses. He lights it up as best he can, so everyone can see the cables. "Like a puppet being controlled by... by..." Fleet stops as the thing moves.

Airlane's voice, halting, grates out from the vocabulator... the mouth however, mouths different words that what's being said. A sharp crack can be heard as the head and cranial unit is torn from the body, letting the rest of the seeker slide back, falling out of the chair to land on the floor in a heap.

Hoverjet's mini-missile launchers raise up, and take aim at the seeker, should he try anything funny.

Airlane says, in an odd, stilted voice, "Air.. wolf?" Something pushes sharply from behind an optic, extending outwards, the optical sensor at the tip 'blinking' lightly, looking her over... Another voice, emitting from out in the hall, again, familiar, but different, "You've... come... home..."

The other optic blinks rapidly, the mouth of the faceplate mouthing pleading words, different, again, from the voices say...

Airwolf almost bolts from the room on hearing that familiar voice. At least she makes it to the wall beside the archway before pausing. "You're DEAD!" she shrieks at the Seeker. Well, that's true enough, but not exactly what she means.

Catechism pauses and stares. She's not horrified, but she is disgusted that a Decepticon could allow such an undignified death to be thrust upon himself. This is all just like she thought in the first place - that they should have left this place to rot. Quite tired of it all, Catechism snaps, impeaching the ceiling, "What do you want?"

More voices chime together, "And... you... brought friends."

Fleet looks up and down, where the cables go into the ceiling, and the floor. "I think I've figured out why I couldn't give you an exact location of what was watching us earlier. It's all around us." He looks at the others. "We didn't bring anything with us to prepare for this." Then he looks at Catechism. "My respectful recommendation, Captain, is that we get out of here."

Hoverjet says, "Now, now, Airwolf. Let's not aggravate him. Can't you see he's been through a lot? Why don't you try getting something useful out of him, instead of putting on an emotional display? We can dispose of his remains in an honorable fashion or whatnot later."

"Earthscorch, do you even have your optical sensors turned on?" Fleet snaps. "Do you even see what's going on? And did you see what words his lips were forming! Airlane may not be dead, but he's beyond our help." He looks hard at Catechism. "There's nothing here worth dying for, Captain."

At the moment, while several voices can be heard, some distinct, others more in the background, one takes over... deeper, darker than the others. "We knew you... would come back. Would bring... others."

Hoverjet asks Fleet, "What exactly are you basing your feeling of being watched on? Not that I'm inclined to doubt you at this point, but trusting intuition isn't a very good thing to base important decisions on..."

Airlane's body has fallen in a heap on the floor, twitching occasionally as what remains of its energon reserves pour out on the floor. The plated cable, with his head on the end of it, is currently focused on Airwolf, one of its optics has extended out on a smaller tendril and is peering her in the face, intently. The odd chorus of voices, one over the rest, continues its litany.

"Intuition is what you get when your subprocessors have already put together facts that your higher processes haven't yet bothered to look over," Fleet responds to Earthscorch, who seems to have faded into the background anyway, as he begins skating back towards the archway, "and accurate intuition often marks the difference between a survivor and a corpse. However, I'll gladly discuss the pros and cons of trusting faster, base level processing over slower, more exacting higher level processing from the comfort of the shuttle. I'm going. I'm also the only one that can pilot that thing. The rest of you may wish to keep that in mind."

Airwolf is as far away from the Seeker as she can get while still being in the same room, her back pressed against the wall next to the archway and her retracted weaponry starting to extend, locking into a combat-ready status. "That's not Airlane," she whispers. "I know that voice."

The darker voice continues, "An... you brought me... POWER... Airwolf... I sense it... I WANT it... WE want it..."

Catechism does agree that there's nothing worthy of dying for here. After all, she has been perfectly willing all along to condemn the station and all its contents to death. However, Catechism thinks that there may perhaps be something here worth killing. She stands near the one single monitor, and now that the... creature has admitted what he... they... want, a savage snarl creeps across her features. The Seeker snaps, "Power belongs to him who can seize it, and I'm not in the mood to be seized! Elite Fleet has the right idea - let's gets out of here while we still have a ship to do it with." Grimly, she draws her standard issue knife and attempt to 'skate' back towards the entrance.

Quite some distance away, with one emerald and amethyst wingblade drawn and half-furled, Fusillade is rather gingerly floating her way down the hallway from safe point to safe point. Vivid orange-yellow optics, free of visor, squint at her surroundings. One can only speculate that her delay is loosely associated with the distraction of the peacock like eyespots all over her cobalt body. Most of these are now crossed off with duct tape to dispel their hypnotic potential. The lurid surroundings, once she's gotten out of the shuttle's hold, also help keep her attention off the new paintjob. "Quiet... but at least that means there's no screaming... yet," she remarks dryly to herself.

The cable twines closer to Airwolf, Airlane's pleading almost audible at close range. "You... have.. served... You have... done well..." it echoes oddly as other voices pick up the chant... "For this... you ... will be first..." Airlane's mouth opens, another long tendril forcing its way out of his mouth, the end opening into a serrated claw.

Airwolf fought back the last time, and she'll fight this time, too, however useless it may be. Her arm-mounted lasers swivel to lock on to the approaching cables, though she at least has the presence of mind to make sure no one else is in her line of fire, and then she blasts at the very small and difficult target.

Galvatron's moment of diversion has caused the assembled team to delve further into the station without him. After having handled a brief interlude, he's tracking cadre of cons, coming up from the hallway. A pause in said hallway to look at various doors before the one with the noise coming out of it is selected. He mulls over the need for teaching others to be quiet when they stalk then tosses that thought aside, coming through the doorway to pose on the edge of the derelict floor.

"You've got a free hand," Fleet observes of Catechism. "Here." Then he tosses her his flashlight. He's just drawn his own daggers when Galvatron fills his only exit. Fleet's optics widen only an instant before his face hardens again and he 'skates' out of the way so as to show Galvatron what the room holds, then looks towards the larger Decepticon to determine his course of action.

Perhaps it wasn't expecting resistance, but the blast takes it square on, severing the bladed claw on the head... it hits the ground with a loud thump, twitching and spasming, spewing hydraulic fluid and energon everywhere... The main section of the cable recoils, the voices chiming between a disconcerting, hollow scream, and a deep chuckle...

The voice becomes a low hiss, but still the same one overtop the others, "It... resists... It Fights! Futile... it will learn..."

Fusillade flexes fingertalons lightly at the echoing yelp. "Ah, THERE we go." Igniting boot thrusters, she abandons her slower, more cautious approach. Galvatron's backpack soon looms into sight, and as she cranes her neck to peer around, she makes a face at the milieu before her. Already rattled by the dread-filled solo trip from the shuttle, she emits a "YOW!" at the menace. Immediately, she whips around to glare accusingly at the hall behind her, expecting betrayal by her surroundings at any second.

Astroglide turns in time to see the cables the were connected to Airlane's body snake out, curling up to loom over him, the voice chuckles again, a manic edge to it, "Will... learn... the prophecy... all know the prophecy..." with little warning, the ends of the cables open up into saws, claws, blades, and fall on the Seeker, coiling around him and lifting him from the floor.

Catechism, despite often seeming clumsy, actually has excellent dexterity and manages to catch the thrown flashlight with her free hand. Catechism flashes the flashlight around the room, to make sure that no new threats have arrived, and spies Galvatron and Fusillade. Ah, they'll have to forgive her if she does not salute. She's got both hands full and her mind fuller of racing thoughts. Catechism continues trying to slip over to the door, but given the arrival of her superiors, she informs, words running into each other slightly, "Sirs! The Seeker's that radioed us is dead - but he was dead when he radioed us, too. It's a trap of some sort." She spares one glance for Astroglide - better him than her - but no pity.

Airwolf is more startled by her success - she's not used to hitting what she shoots - than the words, at least at first. "This can't be happening. He's *dead*. Years dead." She flinches back as the cables pounce on poor Astroglide and begins firing again, trying not to hit the poor fellow. Better yet, she looks for the source of the cables - in the ceiling? - and fires at that point, her aim off because of her unsettled nerves.

Galvatron takes a good look at writhing cables, rattled seekers and of all things, Airwolf shooting at something. "Back to the shuttle, quicktime." He hover-steps out of the doorway, optics narrowing as a mass of writing mess drops onto Astroglide. "Quickly."

Astroglide starts to scream, firing blindly at the cables as they begin to crush, and cut... the voice, again, echoed by a chorus of other voices, laughs again, "Until all... are... one...." with that, a single cable arcs upwards, a long blade sliding out of the claw at its tip. Striking snake like, it punches through his chest armour, turning his screams to gurgling cries, and then silencing them completely...

Fleet's expression splits into a huge grin as Galvatron... /GALVATRON/ gives the order the coward most wants to hear. He dips his head once in a quick affirmative, "As you command, sir," and raises his daggers to a ready position. Without his flashlight, he has only their glow and the glow of his own optics to see by, but in the gloom, both seem rather bright. Fleet may be a coward, but he is a coward with teeth, one with enough sense to keep his head while fleeing. He continues to 'skate' on towards the door.

"Never did like that saying," Fleet mutters.

"Not going to argue," Fusillade draughts over her vents, although she does flatten herself against a portion of decidedly inanimate wall to make room in the hallway for the others to pile out of the command center and the writhing mass of bladed, sinuous death within. The second wingblade's out now, and there's a decidedly fierce, poised tautness in her shoulders.

Airwolf is more than happy to leave this horrible place, but she pauses long enough to fire at poor Astroglide's laser core to make sure that he's truly dead. Another mercy killing to add to her list.

Catechism already agreed with Fleet when she was highest ranked one here! It's always good when one's desires are in line with the commands of one's lord. Still making for the door as best she can, Catechism mutters, "Prophecies and senseless sayings are for Autobots and losers." And the dead are losers! So it all works out tidily in her mind, perhaps the only thing tidy about all of this.

Galvatron motions for everyone to go past him, slowly raising the orange creamsicle, dynamos charging up. There's a crackle and he waits until folks are clear before backing out, weapon at the ready. A crackle and a shock of fire aimed at the doorway, to collapse it in so the tentacles can't come at him from this doorway at least. "Move, move move..."

The screams abruptly end as Airwolf's shots disintegrate what remains of Astroglide's cranial unit... they're quickly replaced by the sounds of tearing joints, cutting torches tearing the corpse apart....

You move through the archway. Collapsing Hallway 

The ceiling of this hallway has fallen in halfway down, cutting off most of the station. Loose cabling and broken lighting fixtures hang loosely, any energy they may have been leaking long spent. Like most of the other rooms in this station, there is no light and no power. All light comes from portable sources, sending shadows flitting over the walls and floor. Score marks mar the walls, aimed mostly at small, odd looking fixtures which are for the most part, intact. One of them has been torn open, revealing an odd collection of segmented cables, each ending in an unidentifiable apparatus of some kind.

Gravity abruptly activates halfway in, tossing whatever or whoever comes within range unceremoniously onto the floor. A single door remains intact, half open to the left.

Spindry waves from the end of the hallway. He breaks into a full run, turning to fire behind him...

Fleet 'skates' out into the hallway, not far behind Fusillade and Airwolf, his optics narrowed as he scans the area in front of him, glowing daggers clenched tightly and arm mounted weapons humming faintly as he searches for dangers... especially from those cables he noted earlier. To Astroglide's fate he spares no pity... but he does slow down when he spots Spindry at the other end.

Catechism fairly sprints out of the communications centre. She pauses and stiffens for a moment, listening to a radio transmission. Then, Catechism groans, the sound of fatigued aluminum finally giving way to stress. She grates out, "Just in - the launch bay's over-run! Airwolf, is there a secondary launch bay? Maybe some escape pods? Anything?"

Airwolf's first thought was to get out. Her second is to find a way to cut the station's power. If there's no power, then there will be no cable tentacles brandishing tools at them. She tries to remember where the power core for this station was... Catechism attracts her wandering attention, and she answers, "No other ways out, ma'am. And no escape pods, either. This station operated at below subsistence level for over five million years."

Fleet slides to a full stop and emits a savage snarl-growl that's as much the result of fear as fury. "This would be an absurd way to die! If we can't get out, we've got to find a way to fight it... but how the pit do we kill a station?"

Galvatron turns away from the command center door, fully expecting primus and everybody else to be haul afting it down the corridor back towards the ship. Now he can't see past all those wings ahead of him to Spindry running back at them, but he does hear Catechism, "GAH!!" Anger rising along with weapons core levels. "Airwolf!" Barked, "Power center, central processing, master computer core, something. If we can't get off, we'll shut it down. The rest of you, shoot at whatever isn't part of our boarding party."

"Any bulkheads or crawlspaces that we could cut or blast to, Airwolf?" Fusillade inquires as she hacks viciously at any non-Cybertronian items that come her way. Not really waiting for an answer, she stabs down into one of the thinner looking panels, hoping to strike a blow against any underlying nodes.

Spindry falls in behind Airwolf, his weapons drawn and ready, "I closed the door..., but they're going to make it through eventually."

Galvatron says, "Airwolf, can you remote trigger the shuttle's autopilot?" And here he's silently wondering where Soundwave went off to... "Best get it off the station before something happens to our transportation.""

"With lots of explosives," Catechism replies to Fleet, tone mournful. Fusillade might carry those, but that would probably blow them up, too. Flashing her flashlight about, she tries to look for a different door, an access hatch, anything that might lead to anywhere but here. Gripping her knife tighter, she wonders, "Even if we do get it shut down, how are we getting back?" Maybe they'll get stuck here and take to cannibalizing each other, and...

Airwolf inclines her head to Galvatron's suggestion, which matched her own idea. "My thought as well, my Lord." To Fusillade, she adds, "Just about anything would serve as a way out, Colonel, considering the state of repair. The walls are hardly better than aluminum foil..." Gesturing towards a good example of the fragility of this station, she indicates the rusty door. "That leads to Engineering. As for remotely triggering the shuttle... I can relay for you, strengthen the signal, but unless the ship is equipped with a voice override, then it's not likely to help."

"Isn't engineering, like, the laser core of a place like this?" Fleet asks, looking towards the others. Before waiting for an answer, however, he skates back, then charges right at the indicated rusted doors full force. If others are surprised by Fleet's impulsiveness, some may consider that they may have never seen him in such a certain life or death situation.

Galvatron hnnngss, "It will accept a lockdown via transmission but..." trailing off. "I don't think this one is set for remote operations. Remind me to talk to Scrapper about that when we get home." Attention tracking Fleet's charge towards a door, optics widening in mild surprise before narrowing, "Cornered seekers...."

From her angle, Fusillade nods to Airwolf as the brittle metal collapses with a thin screech as she pulls her blade out. "Could do, but it seems like the way out's already been made." And then, looking up, she eyes the position of Spindry, Catechism, and that doorway. It's dark, but... "That's not supposed to be there!" she bellows out, and lunges at Spindry and Catechism, sacking Spindry from the side, blades at the ready.

Catechism gets grabbed on the intake, since those rather block her shoulders. She just about jumps into the roof, her pointed head scraping the ceiling, fearing more tentacles. Catechism doesn't entirely fall down after her jump and instead hovers about an arm span up off the floor. She twirls around, glares at Spindry, and growls, "What's the big idea?"

Spindry looks about to explain, but is slammed sideways, spins, and hits the floor, tangled in a cable erupting from his lower back, leading back into the wall...

Airwolf sighs in resignation and follows after Fleet, but Catechism and Spindry are ahead of her, so she has to wait for them to finish. "Yes, Engineering is the center of operations," she calls to Fleet, who is probably almost through the door already. She jumps at Spindry's sudden fall, staring at the cable coming from his back. "Oh no..."

The grounded seeker twitches, pushing himself to his feet in a jointless fashion. He holds out his hand again, his palm cracked open, a long, serrated blade erupting from the center of it. Spindry's optics look at Catechism and Fusillade, a pained, pleading look frozen into them...

Fusillade performs a Captain Ahab impression, snapping one wingblade shut, and spearing Spindry between his wingroots. This process is repeated four times. One clawed hand reaches down, with a sickening wrench, she pulls out a beachball sized casing. Central processor? Core? Maybe one day she'll learn, but it won't be today. "Check your exterior for invasion by these things," she snorts out to Catechism.

If the door didn't come down the first time Fleet charges into it, he bounces back, shakes his head, and charges again.

Catechism watches as a tentacle spear Spindry from the back. She looks at the fallen gumby up and down, expression meditative and stance neutral. Catechism watches calmly as Fusillade further spears Spindry. Then, she folds her knife against her wrist and reaches out to Spindry. Then, at the last moment, she dives, adding speed to her outstretched arm and flicks out her knife, aiming to decapitate Spindry.

Spindry is skewered... gutted... unplugged, and finally, decapitated... the body twitches a few times, the cable torn from his back twitching wildly on the floor...

As Spindry is being dealt with, Fleet hits the door. Hard. The door, while not re-enforced, is very solid. It opens by sliding into the ceiling. It resists.

Galvatron spins on a heel, looking at the commotion then scowling as Fusillade goes hackity hackity. "For the love of..." That seems to be well in hand, Fleet's attempts to get the door open now demands attention. "Fleet, allow me." Fingers curling into fists as the big purple one makes his attempt to get the door open. Take one. Fists. Two involves a sacrifice and the cannon coming into play.

Catechism pauses to stow her knife for a moment, reasoning the flashlight more valuable at the moment. She still has arm guns if she needs weapons. Catechism dips and attempts to grab Spindry's severed head. If she gets it, she'll stash it in her cockpit. No, Catechism's not just being exceedingly morbid. Well, she is, but she also figures that they may be able to get some information out of his head if push comes to shove, and it's better than leaving it to the menaces of the station.

Fleet doesn't even take time to acknowledge Galvatron's orders as he ducks out of his Emperor's way. His expression is not one of statement. He doesn't resent being given so little time to move. His face is simply set into firm, grim expression, one of someone who will stop at nothing to get out of this place, and do nothing to slow them down. It is in moments of extreme Fight or Flight that Fleet is at once at his best and worst.

Still the door resists, decades of rust and frozen motors resisting even the raw brute strength of the Decepticon Emperor...

Galvatron looks.. taken aback as the door.. resists his loving advances. "GAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" Fleet may be in fight or flight mode, but the boss is in Fight mode. Pure and simple. "Open, damn you... Open!!!" Down swings the main weapon, up powers the converters and out pours energy from a touched nerve or three. Never let it be said that he was without finesse and calm under certain situations.

And the potential for /this/ would be why Fleet made /damned/ sure not to be between Galvatron and the door.

Fusillade gives Catechism a dubious look as the other Seeker stows the head, and pointedly gestures that Catechism move in front of her. She turns, flexing wingblades anxiously, ready for any other unwanted tentacular advances. The door gets assaulted by Galvatron's wrath, and she blurts out, "Would going through the walls AROUND the door work better, with the whole 'falling apart' thing?"

The heads comes off easily, and is stowed. It appears to be a normal seeker head.

"If /that/ door can stand up to /that/ force," Fleet mutters of Galvatron's blast, the first time he's spoken for a while, "I'm not sure what chance we'd have against things that /aren't/ designed to open."

Catechism gets ahead in life. Or she just gets the head of a butchered Seeker. Whichever. She checks it for obvious tentacles and appendages before stowing it. At Fusillade's dubious look, Catechism returns a fierce smile and the explanation: "Can't let the station get his head, and we may need it later." Then, she wonders, "What about going up? The floor was falling apart in places. Why not the ceiling?"

The door resists for a second, the buckles inwards, a massive hole burns straight through, molten slag dripping down from frame...

The Floor, as has been mentioned by several people, is not the most stable of structures.

For a second, it looks as though it's held up, betrayed only by a soft groaning noise...

Airwolf is a bit gun-shy at this point, and so she hovers over to the side of the newly-opened door to peer inside, ready to jump back if any cable tentacles make an appearance.

This would be why Fleet hasn't actually been standing on it.

"Smelt the ceiling," Fleet answers, crouching. From his behavior earlier, you'd expect him to dive through the door as soon as it's opened... but he doesn't. "The door's already smelted." He glances around and realizes with an inward groan that he is low man on the totem pole. Still... action is now safer than inaction. "I'm going through."

Galvatron slowly lowers his gun arm, a smirk of satisfaction on his face as he steps back in order to look at the damage he has wrought. Heel touches the softly groaning floor then levels as he shifts weight to complete stepping aside. There is a crack, a rumble and the flooring collapses in around a central point, a heavy one. and one that while ready to leap back or forwards, didn't get the upcharge, thusly falls further into the station. "SON OF A-!" More flooring crumples inwards as the purple, orange cannon toting madmech disappears.

Catechism suggests, "Perhaps we could us towlines and... oh, blast it. He's gone." Perhaps more for her own benefit, Catechism insists quietly, "Our lord will return to us. We only need to prove ourselves strong enough in his absence." That said, she follows after Fleet, going for the forced-open door.

Fusillade gives Catechism a brief nod, before the howling and cursing of Galvatron causes her to stiffen midair. Unbidden, she leaps forward to peer down curiously down into the darkness. A thin, curious, "Hellooooo-oo-o?" from her echoes off the gaping gash, before she mutters and then glowers around at those still present. "Sound off, keep moving. Airwolf, how far in do we need to go to get to a wall that joins the docking bay?"

Airwolf has confidence in Galvatron's strength, at least. And his anti-gravs. As she's right there herself, she also stares down, but has the advantage of hovering, thanks to Fleet's good example. As Fusillade speaks, she looks up again and notes with some regret, "We're going in the wrong direction. This is heading inwards, towards the station's core." Glancing back down again, she adds, "If all else fails, we can take our Lord's way out."

Keep moving? Fleet keeps moving. Right towards the door he had about been about to go through. He looks towards Fusillade and only reminds, "The docking bay is already overrun." With that, he dives through the molten hole in the door created by act of Emperor.

The doorway cools, slag pooling around the base of the frame and dripping down the hole.

It's a tight fit, but you manage to squeeze through the doors.

Engineering 

This room is a ruin. Gravity works, and every now and again a still-intact light will flicker, but this room looks like a war zone. Debris of varying kinds litter the floor, and all but one of the generators have long since been destroyed. Examining the different debris, some of it looks like Transformer armor, but torn and cut in such a fashion as to indicate an extremely violent death. From the pattern of the blast marks, it looks as though someone made a stand here, and was systematically cut down, and from the evidence, cut to pieces. A series of ladders lead up the wall, most of them corroded beyond use.

Mangled Chassis

A look of absolute horror is frozen upon this Decepticon's half corroded face. However he died, it was in extreme pain and not very quickly.

The battle that took place here was fierce... it looks like it ended with the Decepticons turning their fire inwards, towards the generators rather than let the station continue at full power...

Hoverjet continues to follow with his searchlights aimed forward. He asks, "Can we destroy the generators safely? I feel that would be advantageous..."

"That's what we're here to find out," Fleet replies, not slowing from his entry. He is not being incautious... his optics constantly scan the room, but he still moves briskly, heading right towards the one active generator remaining.

Catechism again draws her knife, now that Spindry's head has been dealt with. She flicks Fleet's flashlight around the room. Catechism murmurs lowly, "Looks like there was a battle here... and the wrong side won." More loudly, she adds, "Airwolf? Professional opinion?"

The voice grates out again, booming over a rather ominous slithering sound, "Wel..come.. Yes.. Airwolf... I think... you will watch... me tear them apart... You watch... always watch..."

Airwolf winces at the sight of yet another dead mech, one she once knew. Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, though. Strange, seeing as he was something of a non-combatant in his life. "Good for you, Passkey," she murmurs. To Catechism, she says, "This is where it was originally, but... it looks like things have been rerout..." She jumps as she hears that voice again. "Damn you to the Inferno, you're DEAD!"

Again, a low, maniacally edged laugh, picked up by other voices, the source of which can now be seen... lifeless faces and heads, in some cases, just the vocabulator, built into the ends of the cables... "Dead..? No.. we live.. we are.. one... as you... all will.. be..."

The cables strike en mass, a seething wave of blades, claws, and voices pouring in from the walls. Several grab Airwolf, wrapping around her and pinning her arms, "You.. will watch..." one wraps around Fusillade, lifting her and slamming her into a wall. Coils wrap around Earthscorch and Catechism, lifting them high into the air, laughing echoing out from the chorus of voices... Several cables shoot our after Fleet, not being able to gain purchase...

Hoverjet tries to rotate his laser turret, but it has, by intent or bad luck, been pinned with the rest of him. His mini-missile launchers twitch as he fights the urge to just start firing until he's either free or dead or out of ammo.

Fleet has always been agile, but now he moves like he's never done before. He quite literally dances between the cables, twisting, sometimes twirling completely to avoid their grasp, never allowing them to touch him, nor himself to touch the ground. If he sees the predicament his companions are in, he does not acknowledge it, instead darting steadily towards the one working generator. As soon as he gets within sight of any bit of it that looks remotely vulnerable, he begins firing. He will not die here, he will not die here, he will not die here... and if he does, he's taking this /thing/ with him.

In a fit of inspiration, Earthscorch attempts a transformation. Fortunately his new body uses subspace liberally which, paired with his improved strength allows him to shrink out of his bonds, and them rip free as they attempt to recapture him. With the extinguishing of his lights, it gets a whole lot darker, but almost immediately the darkness is broken by the rapid flashes from his automatic rifle, as he fires recklessly at the source of the tendrils. "Everybody make some noise if I get too close to you!"

Airwolf may be watching, but that's not all she's doing. First order of business is to try to get one or both of her arms free, so she can bring her weaponry to bear. If not, she'll try to snatch one of the blades from one of the brandishing cables and use it on the tentacles restraining her. Thrashing madly from side to side, her fear is overwhelmed by hatred and sheer fury.

It seems to delight in your torment, it never exerts enough to hurt.. much.

Catechism decides, once she's over the initial rush of terror at being grabbed, that she defiantly needs to study the fine art of not being grabbed by things. She stares at the optic for a bit and then allows her own optics to trace the cables that hold her to wherever they connect to the station. Her arms aren't free, but Catechism's optics narrow. Her *legs* are free. She kicks on her afterburners, full bore, and attempts to send the super-heated exhaust gasses right at the root of the tentacles holding her.

The squeak from Fusillade as she goes sailing through the air is quickly drowned out by the crack of her frame against the wall, leaving a considerably sized dent in her wake. She twists around, and digs fingers into any seams she can find, clinging to the vertical surface with assistance from her antigravs. A few methodical hacking motions from her are sent toward the already weakened surface as she panics, first notion being to GET AWAY. After the sixth strike, she responds to Earthscorch's announcement. "Free yourself, and focus fire on the generator, don't waste your rounds on random shooting!" Never mind that the glare from weapons is going to make visibility poorer... She frantically shakes out her leg thrusters, scanning for any piercing or cutting in her armor.

Overcome with the heat, the base of the Cables holding Catechism start to melt away, fusing together....

Again, that laugh. A single cable separates from the mass, preoccupied with tormenting Airwolf for a moment, the splits into a claw, running a serrated blade down the side of her face, "They.. will fall... You will see... you will..."

Airwolf tries a rarely-utilized ability, sending a burst of radio interference in the hopes of disrupting the cable's operation, but it fails. She shudders from its touch and tries to pull herself together enough to think coherently. Well, one thing she can do is warn Galvatron, so she sends out a tight-beamed broadcast warning of the trap in Engineering. Outside of thrashing for all she's worth, that's about all she can do.

Earthscorch grumbles and directs his fire at the cables that are preoccupied with Airwolf, firing at their roots in an attempt to free her. "She's not the only one here, you know! So let's see a little attention to the real threats, eh?"

It interrupts itself with a deafening shriek, starting at the cables holding Catechism, the coils dropping away... several of those holding Airwolf uncoil, and join the chase of Fleet, attempting to swat him away from the last remaining generator, "You! You.. will be... one! You will... Join!" Several explode, intercepted by Earthscorch’s weapons fire.

The cables, seeing the untouched seeker as a threat, now give him their undivided attention...

Catechism just keeps her feet aimed at the melting area and prays that her extra fuel supply doesn't run out. Afterburners are never meant to be used too long. They're just there for when she need an extra burst of speed... or an impromptu foot-mounted blow-torch. Catechism could care less what's happening to everyone else, but as soon as the coils that hold her give way, she brings both arms up and sends an intense magnetic blast at the last generator.

Earthscorch laughs. "Ha! See? Nothing's scarier than heavy arms fire. Whatever's causing the problem here can settle for being spooky. I prefer being effective, myself."

Airwolf drops briefly, until she remembers to engage her anti-gravs before she joins her Lord in the depths of the space station. The one behind this seems very protective of the generator, so that's an excellent reason to join the others in opening fire on it.

Fleet continues to fire at the generator for as long as he dares... and long enough to make sure that as many of the tentacles as possible are chasing him and leaving the others alone... and then he begins to dart away, occasionally twisting back to see how many of the grasping limbs are after him... and if it's not enough, he again feints towards the generator, than away. It almost seems as if he's trying to lead the tentacles away from the others now...

The voice changes as the generator takes fire, its connections severed one by one. The chorus breaks, one voice after another dropping away. Some cables simply drop to the floor, others flail frantically, with blades, attempting to slash at the Decepticons...

Earthscorch grumbles as he sees what Fleet's doing. "Hey, Fleet! Why don't we trade places? I'm the one who's built for destruction of ground targets. Think you can keep the tentacles off me for a minute or two?"

Many of the cables are still active, though more and more of the voices fall silent. Noting Earthscorch and Catechism, several pull away from the chase, coming back around, serrated claws at the ready.

For a moment, it doesn't seem as if Fleet's even heard what Earthscorch just shouted. He looks up, meets Earthscorch's optics for just a moment, and then, when he's seen they've stopped chasing him... he spins the daggers in his hands and leaps bodily towards the generator, this time opting for his energy weapons. Another feint? If so, it's a convincing one.

Fusillade, having assured that she hasn't been turned into a puppet with a ventriloquist's hand up her tailpipe, gets to work covering others. There's nothing attractive about being so up close, but she performs garden work nicely enough. Said garden work is tedious, and there's no end to the various nicks, spills, and close-calls that she has to endure as she hacks her way through the jungle of cables.

Earthscorch does what he can to cover Fleet, not really sure what he's up to. In his opinion, however, it doesn't look like a very good plan. But being backup in a bad plan is better than no plan at all, so he lays down the suppressive fire.

Catechism transforms. Sure, she's a bigger target now, but she also gets access to rockets in this form. For a tantalizing moment, Catechism considers just ramming the generator. However, she doubts that she could get up enough speed in these enclosed quarters. As a minor issue, barely worth contemplating, Fleet is also close to the generator. So rockets it is! As a bare courtesy to her comrades, she announces, "Fox two!" before launching her rocket at the remaining generator.

Airwolf dodges a wildly flailing tentacle and has to change position, since her comrades are getting up close and personal with her target. She pauses to take a look around the room for other potentially critical targets. The tentacles are hardwired, which implies hundreds of meters of them throughout the station. If they're not centralized in here, then where else can they be? There's really only one other place that hasn't already been checked... She briefly glances upwards, then back towards the battle. Though she has no high-powered weaponry, she fires the best she has at the generator: laser.

It IS another feint. How can Fleet hope to keep the limbs off those with higher firepower if he doesn't have them convinced that he's the most serious threat? But since he'd been expecting one of the others to try something like this, he's prepared. He twists as he leaps, using wings, antigravs, and bootjets to change direction even as he intentionally GRASPS the nearest heavy cable, trying to twist it between himself and the generator even as he tries to twist himself into such an angle that as much as the blast is deflected off as possible.

The cables, or at least, some of them, turn, and charge at the rockets, attempting to put themselves between them and the generator...

Earthscorch looks at the cables, then at the rocket, then at Fleet. He grimaces and puts his rifle away and transforms...

Fusillade is in the middle of one particularly thick patch of slither messes, when a portion bucks away from her. The elongating cylinders cause her to fall back slightly, but she quickly enough sees just where they're headed. With a fierce, determined, "Oh no you don't!" she digs her fingers into one of the grips of her hilt, and lurches forward into an upper-cutting motion.

Hoverjet just goes ahead and opens fire, unleashing a powerful stream of mini-missiles at the generator, firing them at a rate roughly equivalent to dual Gatling guns. But these are no simple bullets, each being an explosive shell the size of a typical Decepticon's finger.

Airwolf's laser isn't very effective, so she switches to another type of weapon, a disruptor. Though technically weaker than a laser, it might have more of a destructive effect on the generator.

F-35B  is frustrated at the cables batting at her rockets. She's frustrated at having to deal with cables at all. So while she decided that ramming wasn't a good idea earlier, she tries it anyway, kicking on her afterburners for that burst of speed, using the last of her afterburner fuel to propel her forwards and at the generator.

The cables close in, several being severed and falling short, some actually hitting their target, exploding with the rockets. Some are close, but are incinerated in the initial explosion from the impact of Catechism's rocket attack. Secondary explosions begin, accepted by Earthscorch's missiles hitting the chassis, culminating in a massive fireball and shower of shrapnel in the room.

Hoverjet is reasonably thin from the front and sides, not to mention being further back, so the fireball and shrapnel, leave him more-or-less unscathed. He stops firing, though not entirely sure the deed is done, so as to not hit his fellows.

Airwolf wasn't caught in the full force of the blast, but she has plenty of shrapnel heading her way. Throwing up an arm to protect her optics, she is pelted with bits of metal, which ping against the wall beside her almost musically.

Fusillade raises one arm to shield herself from the worst of the blast the shrapnel and heat pitting her surface, before scowling. It didn't look like the explosions were slowing down much. She snaps her gaze around to ensure that the living systems were sufficiently subdued. If not, she orders another round of fire into the already heaving ball of heat. Otherwise... "If all these damned things are down, it's time to collect the fallen and get back to the shuttle."

The silence is palpable, even with the ringing in the audials from the blast. The lights dim, the gravity flexes, weakens, then turns back on as the station goes on battery power. The cables, what's left of them, appear immobile on the floor...

Earthscorch says, "I agree! Let's get out of here. I'm sick of... whatever it is that's going on here. I just hope it isn't contagious. I wouldn't want to see it afflict Trypticon."

Airwolf mutters, "It's not a disease, it's a person."

And Catechism gets singed and a little torn, but does manage to outrun the blast.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Fleet croaks through a staticked vocalizer. He finally pulls himself upright, bracing himself against the wall. "You know who this is. You've been shouting about it all along. But have we got him? Her? It?"

"I recognize his voice, that's all. And it's impossible, because he's been dead for two hundred years," Airwolf growls. "His name was Fistfight, and he was the station commander."

Finally detaching herself from the wall, Fusillade still lingers near girderwork of the ceiling. Another vicious glance is cast towards a particular set of cables. While not twitching, they do have a clear path out of the room. "Fistfight, mmm, Airwolf? Did this... mech have any particular hiding holes that he favored?" One hand rises toward the ladder on the far wall.

Earthscorch mumbles, "We should just let Devastator have his way with this place..." His voice raises, "But for now, how about a hasty exit? One of you is in charge, I presume? This would be a good time to order what I just suggested."

Airwolf absently brushes away the bits of metal that stuck to her chassis. "His quarters, usually. With guards at the door so he wouldn't be interrupted while torturing the folk under his command."

F-35B  manages to pull out with just singing. Whoo! Maybe she ought to practice flying through loops of flame like those air show planes sometimes do. Straxus knows that she seems to run into incendiary objects often enough that it would be useful. Spinning on her longitudinal axis, Catechism transforms with a flip and hovers in the air. She agrees, "Yeah, I don't want to see what this guy will do with the remaining battery power."

The cables Fusillade indicate are different from the others, appearing closer to standard power hookups than the nightmarish amalgam of motors and parts that compose the 'mobile' ones.

Earthscorch walks over and looks at the cables that Fusillade's indicating. "They look functional. Best rip 'em out."

Airwolf glances that way as well. "Power couplings. Those will lead to the destination of the generator's output. And yes, I'd cut them first."

They lead along the floor to the back, up the wall, disappearing into the ceiling amongst ladders...

"Well, time to get to it. That looks like the last of them, and there's no need for us to hang around any longer than we have to. After this, we fetch Galvatron, and the shuttle, and get out of here. Not necessarily in that order," she says dryly, as she waves the others to the exit, and then raises one wingblade in a fateful guillotine swing.

The cables spark as they are severed, a quiet voice in the distance trying to scream and unable to find its voice...

With the immediate threat passed, Fleet begins to come down off of whatever passes for an adrenaline high to him. Still, as he manages to get himself upright and float towards the others, he points out, "Are we sure the docking bay is secure now?"

Airwolf stares at the ladder, her crimson optics alternately blazing and dimming. "As you wish, ma'am. I'll be along a little later... I have some unfinished business to take care of." She looks around the room and picks up a broken railing, something of a makeshift spear.

Catechism withdraws her knife and Fleet's flashlight, now that she has transformed. She glances down at her cockpit. While the glass is blackened by her close encounter of the fiery kind, she knows that Spindry's head is in there. "Spindry said it was over-run. I suppose it should be all right now, and... Airwolf? Are you certain? This place could still be dangerous."

A faint growl escapes Fusillade at the insistence of Airwolf on finishing the warden off. "Fine, but you do not go alone. Earthscorch, cover her. We all stay within line of sight of each other," she decrees. "You have a deadline. And if the docking bay is still overgrown, then we will best surmount that as a group."

The cables suddenly... are quiet and still.

Earthscorch comments, "From what I can tell, nothing operates without the connector cables, so without power, the problems should theoretically be over with. On the other hand, it's possible that smaller generators still function..." He listens to Fusillade's orders. "As you wish. If you get into trouble, Airwolf, just get out of my way and I'll deal with it for you."

Airwolf shrugs, her optics still fixed on the ladders going up. "He was stronger even than Galvatron himself, at least as regards strength. Firepower... ordinary. This... all this is not his style. He does his own dirty work. We've hurt him, I think. And now it's time to finish him."

Earthscorch winces. "Stronger than Galvatron? Great. Just what I wanted to hear. Well, do whatever it is you need to do. The sooner we're done with this place, the better off I expect we'll all be."

The ladder is precarious, but stable, and you manage to climb up.

Main Computer Room 

There's an odd feeling to this room... the main computer has been gutted and removed, in its place is an odd contraption, a mass of wires and unidentifiable systems protruding from what appears to have once been a Decepticon officer. The body has rusted almost completely away, but the faceplate remains intact, retaining a look of insane glee. Oddly, Transformer parts, obviously not those of the officer, are wired into the system, each carefully placed. No matter where you stand in the room, the officer's dead optics seem to lock onto you. The room itself is strangely intact, considering the condition of the rest of the station, having full gravity and lights.

The Commander

This body, unlike the others, looks like it died nonviolently. Wires lead from every possible outlet, connecting to the wall and to the station's systems.

A single, quiet voice, unused for a long time, emits from the room... "You... are here... I can't... can't see... my eyes, all my eyes.. gone..."

Airwolf shudders yet again at that voice, but... something's wrong here. Er, more wrong. "That's his voice, but not his body..." She steps forward to have a closer look. "It's NOT him."

Her afterburner fuel spends, rockets gone, and magnetic coils drained, Catechism feels exhausted. However, she wants to see who has turned her day into a nightmare, so she follows Airwolf and Earthscorch. Besides, she's not so sure that the shuttle will be in any shape to be flown, and Airwolf's engineering talents may be needed to get it running. Better keep Airwolf safe.

Earthscorch keeps his gun aimed at the strange form. "Are you sure? Not even partly? What happened to his corpse when he died? You did say he died, didn't you?"

Airwolf is still staring at the body, recognition beginning to filter in. "Sawbones..." She dims her optics, and then brightens them again. Yes, it's still the same mech. "I know this one, and he's not Fistfight. This is Sawbones, the station's rather shady medic. What in Primus' name have you done?" she demands of the dead mech. Talking to the dead? Well, haven't they been doing that all day?

Fusillade parks herself by the opening by the ladder, consistently glaring downwards, and at several other potential holes from where more cables and saws could emerge. "Time's ticking," she reminds.

Fleet lags behind the others, but then, he's suffering the most damage. He floats in after the others and scans the room, shuddering slightly at the voice. "Don't argue with the thing. Just kill it."

It laughs, again, "You... remember... you... left. I... rebuilt... needed... more parts... needed... to repair... station."

Earthscorch twists his mouth. "I'd say 'shady' doesn't begin to cover it. I don't really think there's probably much we can do for what's left of him... Aside from a quick death!"

Catechism says softly, dangerously, "In other words, this is just one freak aberrant, and it's not likely to ever happen again." Catechism raises both arm guns. She may be running low on fuel, but she figures that she can spare the energon for a laser shot or two, if Fusillade or Airwolf calls for it.

Airwolf glares at the revenant and would spit on him if Transformers had the ability. "You were in for grave robbing, weren't you? I suppose this is much the same. How many Decepticons did you 'assimilate', you filthy monster?"

Sawbone's voice now, softly, "All of them... they didn't... see... they didn't... follow. They... needed to...

Airwolf turns away in disgust, looking towards Fusillade. "Imperial justice is called for, ma'am. I leave it to you to decide his fate." Fistfight was a different matter. She would kill him herself... and she did, but this is not he.

"Oh, for the sake of Straxus," Fleet hisses out as his one good arm rises. It takes longer than it should for his weapon to power up, and it emits an unhealthy whine as it does, but eventually, in a sickening scream, he fires at the thing.

Earthscorch patiently waits for Airwolf to stop finish talking to the freak so he can blow it up. Actually he doesn't look all that patient, but he waits, at least.

He starts to laugh, saying 'Coward..." as bullets rip into his frame, tearing the leads that connect his core to the station, unhealthy looking fluids leaking out of odd machinery...

Earthscorch glares at Fleet, "Hey, he wasn't finished talking!" Of course he's just mad he didn't get first shot, but he doesn't want to miss out entirely, so he adds his own firepower to the shots coming at the freak's face.

Canting her head to the side, Fusillade appears to be on the verge of goading Airwolf to finish already. However, she is done, and Fleet, and then Earthscorch, execute the wretch. "We were merely waiting your word, Airwolf." She folds hands in front of her belly plating. "All of us are to return to the shuttle, now." She sizes up Fleet's ruined frame. "Airwolf, do you have piloting capabilities?"

Without the guiding intelligence of Sawbones... the station lurches, gravity flickering as it begins to collapse under its own weight...

"I don't care what he had to say!" Fleet exclaims in answer as he lowers his own weapon limply to his side. The ragged Seeker looks spent. Then he shakes his head. "Dammit... we'll figure out something, if I have to talk someone through step by step." And with that he manages to lurch towards the door, despite the fact that he's still floating, not walking, anyway.

Earthscorch listens. "That's no good. Sorry to cut you off like that, Airwolf, but it seemed like the thing to do. Anyone need assistance in leaving?"

Decepticon warriors are eager to administer justice this time, Airwolf notes. It's not her empathy that prevented her from killing the creature herself, but the fact that it didn't deserve a mercy killing. No kindness this time. However, the others take matters into their own hands, and she doesn't care. Then the station begins to fall apart, just as she was going to answer Fusillade. "No," she says hurriedly.

Hoverjet emits, "I'll see you guys at the shuttle. Maybe." He then begins the flight out without further talk.

Herding the rest to the shuttle, Fusillade makes a point to bring up the rear, still distrustful of the machinery. It may be decrepit, but that didn't stop it before, foul gurgling medic or not.

Yes, now is a good time to depart the space station of doom, and Airwolf is glad she doesn't have to write up the report for this insanity. As she's already been keeping to the air (so to speak), her anti-gravs keep her steady for now. Earthscorch already offered to help Fleet, so that's taken care of. She keeps up with Fusillade for now.