Episode 2.5: A Call of Winter
Feb 20, 2017 23:24:17 GMT -5
Post by Skirmisher on Feb 20, 2017 23:24:17 GMT -5
[Episode 2.5: Week 1: Day 4: Location: Region: Antarctica: Bouyetova Island: Autobot Shuttle Delta 6]
Having crossed back to the bridge of the gunboat through several of the other shuttle’s modules, he’d taken a seat at in the pilot’s chair before having submitted a series of commands re-initializing and reinforcing both the external security measures including the deflectors built-into the shuttle’s hull which covered the entire hull including deflectors which could erect in place between the multiple modules of the shuttle itself and the internal security systems. He’d programmed the hull to reinforce itself with additional armored plating, and polarizing it in the event the shuttle had been found by someone other than Skirmisher and set the auxiliary core with a little more fuel and programmed the batteries to have remained online until he’d given the signal.
While he’d intended, and even planned the shuttle’s cores to have masked the energon signatures even against close scrutiny, he’d made sure the shuttle’s built in defenses had been capable of being called on given that the shuttle itself had been designed and equipped for war in addition to having been capable of defending itself and the crew aboard. The shuttle’s onboard weapons, including ones he’d improvised from random cargo to weapons he’d confiscated from the twisted wreckage of his former Garrison-mates, Skirmisher had made certain to have concealed them in strategic places even Decepticons might not have thought of or even checked. The weapons he’d improvised had been arrayed throughout the shuttle had been programmed to have assaulted any Decepticons that might have penetrated the hull, in any section, and while the gunboat at the bow of the shuttle had been designed with three forward fixed heavy blaster cannon installed center-line beneath the gunboat’s deck plating meaning those cannon only had an elevation above, in front of and below the gunboat’s bow. Several mixed batteries of medium-blaster cannon with sonic warheads located behind concealed panels on the exterior hull of the shuttle in the wings flanking the gunboat’s bridge and in the larger wings rearward flanking the thrusters, the star drive section and the auxiliary navigation core and while the heavy blaster cannon under the gunboat had been forward-fixed the batteries of cannon and sonic warheads had been on a swivel mount to allow the shuttle to have been covered or cover a convoy if it had come under attack. He’d programmed the motion sensors, and heat sensors both inside and outside the shuttle to detect Cybertronian signatures ranging from Autobot to Decepticons considering he hadn’t entirely trusted the members of the Autobot Garrison that the two mechs that had brought him out of stasis had described, and he certainly never minded reducing the Decepticon population. He’d programmed the tracking systems, of the weapons, to have honed in on any Decepticon or unwanted guest activity before giving them a broadside.
He’d been witness to the source of vitality the entire species had depended on for sustenance reduced to a trickle, to entire city-states demolished in a tug-of-war including his home to innocent civilians being used as bargaining chips for a mad-man pretending to have been a dictator bent on changing Cybertron touting he’d change it for the better. He’d been witness to a once beautiful planet, of gears, circuits and metallic paneling that at one time before he’d been sparked to have been capable of reaching its hand out to the corners of the galaxy through various different colonies. He’d read about it in the historical archives, and had almost yearned to have witnessed the planet at its prime. Even the worst of the night patrols within Praxus hadn’t been as bad as the running engagements committed to on both sides, but he’d chosen his side. He’d chosen the side of the Prime, the faction he’d led and hadn’t looked back. He’d make the Decepticons pay, but first he’d abide by this truce he’d learned of.
The entire business of a truce with the Decepticons had troubled him, and while he hadn’t bothered to have revealed to the two mechs that the truce had galled him. The fact the leader of the Decepticons had called for it, proposing it in the face of eradication of an human organization which had been well armed or at least devious enough to have tempted their luck while the Decepticons had rejected each treaty offered by the Autobots to have saved their dying planet by halting the conflagration. His own security clearance as an Enforcer had granted him access to those files, and even meetings or at least the recordings of those meetings. The Decepticons had, as far as he’d been concerned, lacked respect and ultimately lacked honor for anything other their own twisted perverted sensibilities. It had been true he hadn’t been one to have held grudges, but ever since he’d participated in the defense -- an ultimately futile defense -- of his home city-state and had witnessed the unbridled carnage handed down he’d harbored plans to have liquidated the Decepticon threat and had wanted to have personally disabled the leader of that toxic faction. His experiences had changed him, and in a sense a younger version of himself having taken to the streets and tunnels of Praxus may have very well been ashamed of what he’d become. He’d adapted, survived and even thrived on a planet otherwise uninhabited by Cybertronian life forms. He’d earned his right to have harbored a grudge, but he’d make certain it hadn’t affected his daily routines. He’d kept his grudge secret, known only to his inner programming and wouldn’t act on it while others had watched or even allow it to have been revealed.
Lastly, he’d overseen the locking the airlocks, hatches, vents, thrusters -- both the mains and the vertical take-off thrusters located along certain points in the ventral hull of the shuttle to have allowed it to have taken off vertically with a little help behind armored plating. He’d locked the landing skids in place, but had programmed them to have retracted into the shuttle behind armored plating in the event the Decepticons or anyone else had found it. This shuttle had been his home, and his protection for the last millennia and he hadn’t been about to simply leave it unguarded. He’d armed improvised booby-traps constructed from some of the cargo and other items he’d arrayed throughout the interior of the shuttle, and even some he’d overseen outside in concealed areas for a nasty surprise for any unlucky Decepticon. Reflecting back, he’d discovered he had more than enough time to have resorted to his own devices since he’d lacked social interactions with other Cybertronians following his being marooned. He’d been a skeptical sort, which even some might have said could have been paranoid except he’d existed longer than many younger Enforcers he’d known in the past. He’d had the time, experience and the wisdom to have used his abilities towards his survival and towards his own protection. What the ‘Cons hadn’t known would hurt them, he mused. He’d set the power to have reduced the lights in his absence, leaving the batteries and the auxiliary core with the other armaments online and on stand-by and would power-back up when he’d given the proper triple-encrypted codes. Having programmed the codes into his own internal memory and slid a remote control from the console into a concealed space or rather a small compartment in his right upper interior thigh. He'd programmed the ship's security systems to have activated, coming online to protect the shuttle until he'd returned. When he’d utilized the remote to key in the proper triple-encrypted codes, the shuttle’s defensive systems would allow him to pass and would raise shortly after.
Rising from the chair, Skirmisher had knelt down picking up the chair’s arm that had snapped off from the deck plating before having taken the time to have welded it back in place and made sure it cooled completely. Crossing to the hatch of the gunboat leading to the rest of the shuttle, he’d programmed the hatch to have sealed behind him locking the gunboat from the rest of the shuttle while he’d known the deflectors would have erected in the event the shuttle had been attacked. Stepping through the hatch, Skirmisher had felt its panels slide shut sealing behind him. Crossing through the modules amidships, he’d made his way to the star drive section before having retrieved five of the larger older-style cubes that had been more than twice the size of normal cubes and had been able to carry more than twice the normal energon from the concealed hold leaving the rest for later. He hadn’t wanted to have given away his stash too soon, and if he’d kept the rest in the concealed hold he’d have more if the Garrison hadn’t worked out. Earth hadn’t been a planet he’d found ideal, but he felt he’d at least give it a chance. Rising to his feet, he’d stepped around the five old-style cubes of stable energon before having made his way to one of the cargo hold. Emerging from the hold, he’d pushed two older-style yet untouched and still functioning hover-pallets spacious enough for the cubes.
“I felt these were more appropriate than carrying them back to this Omega Outpost. I think you might be more comfortable not having to carry such a load,” he said before having sat the larger cubes he‘d carried onto one of the older-style hover-pallets and locked it down with a few submitted command from the control-bar. “We can go, whenever you wish,”
“This shuttle saved my life. It provided shelter, but I’ve left a few surprises for any unfortunate Decepticon or anyone else that stumbled onto it. If it must be gutted, I’m more than glad that the systems and other materials will be of use to the Outpost,”
Having crossed back to the bridge of the gunboat through several of the other shuttle’s modules, he’d taken a seat at in the pilot’s chair before having submitted a series of commands re-initializing and reinforcing both the external security measures including the deflectors built-into the shuttle’s hull which covered the entire hull including deflectors which could erect in place between the multiple modules of the shuttle itself and the internal security systems. He’d programmed the hull to reinforce itself with additional armored plating, and polarizing it in the event the shuttle had been found by someone other than Skirmisher and set the auxiliary core with a little more fuel and programmed the batteries to have remained online until he’d given the signal.
While he’d intended, and even planned the shuttle’s cores to have masked the energon signatures even against close scrutiny, he’d made sure the shuttle’s built in defenses had been capable of being called on given that the shuttle itself had been designed and equipped for war in addition to having been capable of defending itself and the crew aboard. The shuttle’s onboard weapons, including ones he’d improvised from random cargo to weapons he’d confiscated from the twisted wreckage of his former Garrison-mates, Skirmisher had made certain to have concealed them in strategic places even Decepticons might not have thought of or even checked. The weapons he’d improvised had been arrayed throughout the shuttle had been programmed to have assaulted any Decepticons that might have penetrated the hull, in any section, and while the gunboat at the bow of the shuttle had been designed with three forward fixed heavy blaster cannon installed center-line beneath the gunboat’s deck plating meaning those cannon only had an elevation above, in front of and below the gunboat’s bow. Several mixed batteries of medium-blaster cannon with sonic warheads located behind concealed panels on the exterior hull of the shuttle in the wings flanking the gunboat’s bridge and in the larger wings rearward flanking the thrusters, the star drive section and the auxiliary navigation core and while the heavy blaster cannon under the gunboat had been forward-fixed the batteries of cannon and sonic warheads had been on a swivel mount to allow the shuttle to have been covered or cover a convoy if it had come under attack. He’d programmed the motion sensors, and heat sensors both inside and outside the shuttle to detect Cybertronian signatures ranging from Autobot to Decepticons considering he hadn’t entirely trusted the members of the Autobot Garrison that the two mechs that had brought him out of stasis had described, and he certainly never minded reducing the Decepticon population. He’d programmed the tracking systems, of the weapons, to have honed in on any Decepticon or unwanted guest activity before giving them a broadside.
He’d been witness to the source of vitality the entire species had depended on for sustenance reduced to a trickle, to entire city-states demolished in a tug-of-war including his home to innocent civilians being used as bargaining chips for a mad-man pretending to have been a dictator bent on changing Cybertron touting he’d change it for the better. He’d been witness to a once beautiful planet, of gears, circuits and metallic paneling that at one time before he’d been sparked to have been capable of reaching its hand out to the corners of the galaxy through various different colonies. He’d read about it in the historical archives, and had almost yearned to have witnessed the planet at its prime. Even the worst of the night patrols within Praxus hadn’t been as bad as the running engagements committed to on both sides, but he’d chosen his side. He’d chosen the side of the Prime, the faction he’d led and hadn’t looked back. He’d make the Decepticons pay, but first he’d abide by this truce he’d learned of.
The entire business of a truce with the Decepticons had troubled him, and while he hadn’t bothered to have revealed to the two mechs that the truce had galled him. The fact the leader of the Decepticons had called for it, proposing it in the face of eradication of an human organization which had been well armed or at least devious enough to have tempted their luck while the Decepticons had rejected each treaty offered by the Autobots to have saved their dying planet by halting the conflagration. His own security clearance as an Enforcer had granted him access to those files, and even meetings or at least the recordings of those meetings. The Decepticons had, as far as he’d been concerned, lacked respect and ultimately lacked honor for anything other their own twisted perverted sensibilities. It had been true he hadn’t been one to have held grudges, but ever since he’d participated in the defense -- an ultimately futile defense -- of his home city-state and had witnessed the unbridled carnage handed down he’d harbored plans to have liquidated the Decepticon threat and had wanted to have personally disabled the leader of that toxic faction. His experiences had changed him, and in a sense a younger version of himself having taken to the streets and tunnels of Praxus may have very well been ashamed of what he’d become. He’d adapted, survived and even thrived on a planet otherwise uninhabited by Cybertronian life forms. He’d earned his right to have harbored a grudge, but he’d make certain it hadn’t affected his daily routines. He’d kept his grudge secret, known only to his inner programming and wouldn’t act on it while others had watched or even allow it to have been revealed.
Lastly, he’d overseen the locking the airlocks, hatches, vents, thrusters -- both the mains and the vertical take-off thrusters located along certain points in the ventral hull of the shuttle to have allowed it to have taken off vertically with a little help behind armored plating. He’d locked the landing skids in place, but had programmed them to have retracted into the shuttle behind armored plating in the event the Decepticons or anyone else had found it. This shuttle had been his home, and his protection for the last millennia and he hadn’t been about to simply leave it unguarded. He’d armed improvised booby-traps constructed from some of the cargo and other items he’d arrayed throughout the interior of the shuttle, and even some he’d overseen outside in concealed areas for a nasty surprise for any unlucky Decepticon. Reflecting back, he’d discovered he had more than enough time to have resorted to his own devices since he’d lacked social interactions with other Cybertronians following his being marooned. He’d been a skeptical sort, which even some might have said could have been paranoid except he’d existed longer than many younger Enforcers he’d known in the past. He’d had the time, experience and the wisdom to have used his abilities towards his survival and towards his own protection. What the ‘Cons hadn’t known would hurt them, he mused. He’d set the power to have reduced the lights in his absence, leaving the batteries and the auxiliary core with the other armaments online and on stand-by and would power-back up when he’d given the proper triple-encrypted codes. Having programmed the codes into his own internal memory and slid a remote control from the console into a concealed space or rather a small compartment in his right upper interior thigh. He'd programmed the ship's security systems to have activated, coming online to protect the shuttle until he'd returned. When he’d utilized the remote to key in the proper triple-encrypted codes, the shuttle’s defensive systems would allow him to pass and would raise shortly after.
Rising from the chair, Skirmisher had knelt down picking up the chair’s arm that had snapped off from the deck plating before having taken the time to have welded it back in place and made sure it cooled completely. Crossing to the hatch of the gunboat leading to the rest of the shuttle, he’d programmed the hatch to have sealed behind him locking the gunboat from the rest of the shuttle while he’d known the deflectors would have erected in the event the shuttle had been attacked. Stepping through the hatch, Skirmisher had felt its panels slide shut sealing behind him. Crossing through the modules amidships, he’d made his way to the star drive section before having retrieved five of the larger older-style cubes that had been more than twice the size of normal cubes and had been able to carry more than twice the normal energon from the concealed hold leaving the rest for later. He hadn’t wanted to have given away his stash too soon, and if he’d kept the rest in the concealed hold he’d have more if the Garrison hadn’t worked out. Earth hadn’t been a planet he’d found ideal, but he felt he’d at least give it a chance. Rising to his feet, he’d stepped around the five old-style cubes of stable energon before having made his way to one of the cargo hold. Emerging from the hold, he’d pushed two older-style yet untouched and still functioning hover-pallets spacious enough for the cubes.
“I felt these were more appropriate than carrying them back to this Omega Outpost. I think you might be more comfortable not having to carry such a load,” he said before having sat the larger cubes he‘d carried onto one of the older-style hover-pallets and locked it down with a few submitted command from the control-bar. “We can go, whenever you wish,”
“This shuttle saved my life. It provided shelter, but I’ve left a few surprises for any unfortunate Decepticon or anyone else that stumbled onto it. If it must be gutted, I’m more than glad that the systems and other materials will be of use to the Outpost,”