Transformers: Alone and Unafraid

[SirNitram]

With a thundercrack, Shunt's vehicle form appeared next to the depature area. "Shunt, already there."

[rhoenix]

Farshot looked at Shunt critically for a moment as the Seeker arrived in his dramatic fashion, and then shrugged, as if coming to a decision.

An instant later, his robot form began folding in on itself gracefully, appearing in his assault craft form less than a second later. Were the assault craft even 35% larger than it was, it might be large enough to be called a small frigate. As it was, the craft's design appeared to be intended to breach atmospheres with a minimum of fuss, and at incredible speed. The three large thrusters at the rear of the craft, arranged in a triangle, only seemed to add to this view.

The design of the craft was not similar to other Seekers, or even other Cybertronian spacecraft - however, the basics of the rear wings and long spaceframe ending with the nose resembled that of an aerodynamic heavy fighter, only rather larger than usual.

The main thrusters were unlit, with no noise of engine throttling or reactor coming from his frame. Nonetheless, the still form of the assault craft appeared ready to spring into action at an instant's notice.

[Cynical Cat]

"Welcome," said Deathstrike to Farshot. "Please transform and board the craft. I want a minimum of exposure of our capabilities to the enemy's intelligence operations for as long as possible. Shunt, I am pleased to see you fully functional."

[rhoenix]

With another rapid set of movements, Farshot was once again in his robot form. He nodded once to Deathstrike. "Understood."

With that, he walked with his usual pace into the much larger craft, his optics flicking around interestedly at his surroundings.

[Dark Silver]

Grindstone had spent the past cycles waiting this moment. He had checked his systems, triple checked them, and had begun downloading and reviewing all intelligence reports available on their allies, and the GDE.

When Deathstrike called, Grindstone was ready...waiting only to board the ship which would take the team to their destination, and into the oncoming storm.

"Grindstone is prepared" he spoke, Deathstrike would know what was meant.

[Lys]

Deathstrike's response was about as good as she could have reasonably expected. Truth to be told, she had expected no response beyond simple acknowledgement that the message was received. And yet, she could not help but feel disappointed at the cold and dispassionate reply. It was accursedly irrational, and doubly so because that was the way she spoke most of the time. It bothered Blastcap, as did her earlier anger at Deathstrike. Usually it took a lot to get her past mild annoyance, and yet she'd felt the need to bitch at Deathstrike. It was troublesome, but not so much that it interfered with her duties. For now at least, she would let such feelings be.

Blastcap had spent the last few days mostly undergoing maintenance and haggling with the quartermaster corps. She had calibrated her systems, replaced worn out parts, flushed fluids, and thoroughly tested all her functions. The one thing she did not do was acquire a new coat of paint. The matte grey exterior was weathered, stained, scratched, dinged, scorched, cracked, and cratered. An older, and evidently tougher, rusty crimson scheme could be seen peeking out through the spots were the grey had given up. It was the look of one worn and scarred through battle, and that was the way Blastcap liked it.

As for dealing with the quartermasters, it went as well as it could have. Sure they'd said that her personal gunboat would place undue logistical strain on the expedition, but she had not really expected different. Everything else had been approved, officially and by the book. Normally she would have greased the wheels to ensured that outcome; bribing the quartermaster was a practice as old as war, after all. However, Fortress Optimus was not the place to do it, so it was a pleasant to surprise to find she got everything she wanted. The expedition would not lack for anything Blastcap might find useful in the execution of her duties, whether strictly necessary or not.

The aforementioned 'gunboat' was actually a Shaggone Aspis-class fleet escort; a proper warship by any standard short of Cybertron's. Her personal transport across the stars, and the closest thing she had to a home, the ship was one of Blastcap's most valued possessions. Because of this, she would rarely permit it to enter combat outside of emergencies. It was in that ship that that the departure signal found her. She had been preparing the crew for her long absence, and getting one last look at the beautiful vessel she might never see again.

"It's time," Blastcap said to her Captain. "You know what to do until I return, and what I entrust you with if I don't."

"Yesh Bosh. Good luck out 'ere." said the heavily cyberized organic.

"Thank you, Captain. Goodbye."

Moments later her vehicle form rumbled its way to the pad for the surface-to-orbit transport. She transformed into android form without stopping, inclined her head toward Deathstrike by way of acknowledgement, and entered the craft.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike inclined his head in response to Blastcap. Shimmer had gotten onboard before him, but that was to be expected from an intelligence unit. He bumped his fist off Grindstone's glacis plate. "It is good to have you," he said to his fellow Decepticon.

"And you as well Shunt. If you could join the rest of us onboard it would be appreciated."

[SirNitram]

Transforming from the curious aerofighter form back to his robot shape, and he joined the others on the transport. "Last minute configurations of the transwarp shunt. I don't need it acting up in transit, and you know they're always finicky around Spacebridges."

[Agent Fisher]

Cutter banked greacefully through the air. The landing strip next to the HQ shrank behind him. A check of all his systems to make sure they wouldn't fail, and the flying gunship was ready. He swung around a building, the jet ducts twisting as they shifted and held him aloft. His optics on the alt form locking onto the transport. The flier came in, making slow banks before flaring for a landing, his skids barely touching before his form was shifting, parts moving and he was standing tall.

"Deathstrike." He said in greeting to the other flier. While he still may have reservations about following a 'Con, Cutter was here and ready to serve. The Autobot began climbing the ramp, into the interior of the ship.

[Cynical Cat]

"Cutter," Deathstrike replied. A lifetime of war had not given much respect for Autobot flyers. The Ancient Regime hadn't had very many flyers, relying on ships and ship mode Guardians in the early parts of the war. An ideology of stasis and control conflicted with independent flyers but meshed nicely with mass transport and gunships loaded with Elite Guard heavy infantry models to crush strikers and demonstrators.

They were also slow, clumsy, and easy targets compared to the Seekers. Air Command had torn them from the skies and never relinquished control. Eventually the Ancient Regime relaxed enough to field flyers in numbers, but by that time it meant that rookies were flying against Air Command's battle hardened veterans. Flying against Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp was an unforgiven environment for a novice.

A few had survived. A handful had thrived. Most died as very young amateurs. Cutter hadn't, which meant he was both lucky and good. Better than that, because he wasn't an air superiority model which made the odds even worse. If he had been a Decepticon he would have been proud to call him a brother, but he wasn't. To Cutter Deathstrike was Murderbot and that was that.

The Decepticon walked to the ship's bridge and sat down in command throne, which transformed to contour to his body. Interface ports linked him to the ship's computer and command codes made it his. "This is Deathstrike," he addressed the fleet. "We are beginning final boarding and lift off. All vessels report in."

Doors closed and sealed. The engines rumbled as power flooded through them. Acknowledgments flooded in. "We are go."

Engines roared and the ship lifted off, hovering for a moment before reconfiguring itself from take off to flight. "Activate the space bridge."

[frigidmagi]

The Space Bridge loomed before the fleet, a vast metal circle hanging in the void of space, lit by the spot light and reflection. It seemed almost sinister.

Across the fleet from the command station crackled the communication.

"Activation in 5...4...3...2...1!"

Within the circle, purple energy crackled, as power enough to light up whole planets for nights on end was poured through. Tendrils of purple joined and swelled, spilling over the circle before settling down into a flat plane, a gateway into realms vastly distant.

"Deathstrike, this is Breakout. You are clear to begin Transmit immediately." Came the transmission.

[Cynical Cat]

Once this power had been his. Short range teleportation, FTL drives, and space bridges were all based on the same technology. Once he crossed the void, a sleek and deadly killcraft armed with heavy tac missiles and a ship killing x-ray laser. Now he was a lumbering transport gunship incapable of interstellar travel. It was a useful function, but not one he craved.

All systems checked out. He upped the output of the drive. "Beginning transition. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

[rhoenix]

Watching the progress of the space bridge, Farshot turned introspective for a moment.

He had been in fights before. He had even been in minor skirmishes before. However, he had not fought with many others for a greater cause before.

Defending the weak from the greedy strong? Yes, he'd done that. A few times, he acknowledged with a small smile. But volunteer for an extended war to do so? Not for the deceptively clear-cut causes of Autobot or Decepticon, but to, in simplest terms, help the weak defend themselves from the strong who would misuse their power?

This went beyond symbol, this went beyond faction. When the dust settles from this, there would probably be larger questions as to what it really meant to have this symbol or that symbol emblazoned on your chassis - but that was for later.

For now, he would do his part, and do it to his full ability, every time. This was for a true cause far greater than himself.

As he sensed the ship's drive powering up, he stood resolute, his gold optics darkening slightly.

Let it begin.

[frigidmagi]

The fleet plunged through the purple portal and were instantly... somewhere else, thousands of light years distant in a direct violation of most species understanding of physics. The ships moved quickly vectoring outward from the portal creating an ever expanding 3d perimeter against attack.

Roughly 4 light seconds away sat a smaller fleet. It's ships were not uniform clearly crafted by 3 or 4 different sets of guiding ideals. They were smaller and in some ways seemed unfinished, as if rushed off the shipyards. They sent their comm via low level laser across the void creating a time lag in communication.

"Unidentified fleet this is... Free World Alliance ship Zeitgeist leading 1st fleet, please to be identifying yourselves." Came the message.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike removed the chrome Decepticon badge from his chest. "All crew," he said over shipwide speakers, "remove any Decepticon symbols from your persons to avoid any incidents with our allies."

He then activated external coms. "This is Deathstrike, commanding the expeditionary force from the League of Free Sapients. We have been dispatched on a mission to aid you against so-called Greater Decepticon Empire."

[Dark Silver]

Grindstone heard the order from Deathstrike, and for a pure moment, balked at the idea.

As tarnished as the symbol had become, Grindstone still wore it proudly, doing what he could to restore honor to the name and symbol and what it originally stood for. Yet, Grindstone could see the wisdom in Deathstrike's words, and as such, removed the symbol from his right shoulder, and secreting it within one of the compartments on his personage. He would replace it only when the mission was complete, and they stood over the slagged remains of the Greater Decepticon Empire, with Starvous' laser core melted into hot slag and it's Spark cast into the Pit.

[SirNitram]

Shunt pulled the brand off of his chestplate, eyeing it in his hand. He turns it over a few times, musing. Then, he drops it, and crushes it with a foot. "No going back. We win or die." A simple, stark statement of intent.

[frigidmagi]

"League Fleet One, transmission clear. We are assigning a fleet vector to the nearest inhabited world. Please stand by... Sending... Now." Came the reply. The FWA fleet kept it's distance however and the League fleet was pinged by passive scans rather frequently.

[LadyTevar]

The obvious care the FWA took to remain out of firing range, and the constant passive scans showed that the FWA was worried about possible attack from the new fleet. Shimmer ran the possibilities and decided that the GDE probably came in as a "peaceful" First Contact, and then overwhelmed the FWA's welcome delegation. The obvious rushed designs of this fleet showed the FWA learned quickly and wouldn't trust easily again.

Shimmer sent a private message with her deductions to Deathstrike, a squirted-text message that would show up in a corner of his console screen.

[Cynical Cat]

"Acknowledged Free Worlds Alliance," Deathstrike replied. He sent course adjustments to the rest of the fleet and then into the ship's helm subroutines. "Beginning burn to match assigned vector in five, four, three, two, one. Engaging." Pulses of light and hot gas came from maneuvering thrusters as the ship changed position and then ignited the main thruster. Blue-white fire blasted out the back of the spacecraft and sent it on the new course.

[frigidmagi]

It took several hours to reach the planet. It was an intensely developed system the League flew through and fortified. Military bases and drone weapons orbited every world, sensors sweep through from every vector and angle. The world itself was on the bare edge of the liquid water zone, and it seemed barely settled. Instead, a massive ring of metal and plastic circled it with ships docking and undocking regularly.

"League Fleet I, this is FWA 1st fleet. You are cleared to dock 3 ships at the ring. Docking instructions following. You will be met at the dock." Came another transmission.

[Dark Silver]

"If this was a Mechworld...." Grindstone spoke from a sensor station on the bridge, "I would say it is most underdeveloped..."

The Decepticon warrior was plugged directly into the command ships Sensor Hub, scanning data as it was feed to him.

"Permission to begin scans of their docking facility Commander."

[SirNitram]

"I remember some theoretical stuff from my datafiles. A ring in space, connected by spacehooks. You could put most of your factories in microgravity. Not to mention easy launch costs. But this..' A shake of Shunt's head. "Is that world even colonized? It's like they built the ring for the whole usage. The planet's just a.. Rock."

[LadyTevar]

"It is quite possible the planet was chosen for the lack of settlement," Shimmer replied, reviewing sensor data as it came in. "It would allow massive mining for construction materials, as well as prevent massive civilian causalities when the docks get attacked."

The defenses throughout the planetary system were also noted, and Shimmer sent internal messages to the intelligence members of the Fleet to prioritize acquiring information on each planet they had passed. While the FWA would surely give them a review, Shimmer knew to run a proper war she would need to give Deathstrike as much information about their allies as she could.

Knowledge of the enemy was important, but knowledge of your own abilities is what won battles.

[Dark Silver]

"In the days before the Great War.." Grindstone spoke when Shunt spoke about the ring, "Similar constructs could be seen over Cybertron. There were mining facilities and and orbital factories between Cybertron and the Trypticon Asteroid Belt, a long with the Space Bridges...."

Grindstone's voice, for once, didn't sound like it normally did, the rumbling voice of a dedicated warrior, instead it was a wistful quality to it, as if it was one who remembered well the time before the Wars broke out...

"Back when Cybertron was a true Empire..before the Castes...before the Wars...."