[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Supply Raid: Boarding Party [Coldwind, Starkrieger]

[Megatron]

Episode 3.5 | Week 2 | Day 4 | Open (With Permission)

Cantabrian Sea, Atlantic Ocean - 4:00 AM Local Time

Seventy-four nautical miles off the shore of Spain, in the middle of the Cantabrian Sea, MSC Flor-de-La-Mañana, affectionately known by its crew as simply La Mañana, rolled powerfully across the calm, morning waves. The freight ship was soon to complete its long voyage across the Atlantic Ocean, carrying in its containers an impressive sixty thousand tons of industrial-grade steel worth over fifty-four million dollars. Its captain, Alvaro Condenar, was an undaunted serviceman of thirty years. He stood proudly at the center of a bridge with a crew of Spain’s finest navigators and engineers, perched high above hundreds of containers—neat rows and narrow ranks—a veritable city’s worth of cargo.

The smell of heavy fuel oil and salt permeated the air. Today was to be an uneventful day.

Several hours ago, on the opposite side of the globe, two alien warriors were entrusted with a simple, six-phase plan. Phase 1: Board La Mañana. Phase 2: Interrupt the freighter’s voyage. Phase 3: Secure its cargo by any means necessary. Phase 4: Prepare the cargo for transport via GroundBridge. Phase 5: Dispose of all evidence. Leave nothing to chance. Phase 6: Exfiltrate.

Designation: Coldwind, Seeker Lieutenant.

Designation: Starkrieger, Seeker Soldier.

They were personally assigned to this mission by Starscream and Megatron, their progress will be monitored and recorded. This was a call that could not be refused, a duty as iron-clad as the tyrant on whose behest they were to perform it. At exactly 4:00 AM Local Time, two jets entered the Spanish airspace. They were not invited. They were not registered. Their countries of origin at a discrepancy. Their pilots were unknown. Their presence was also unknown—for the time being.

They were the harbingers of a catastrophe in the making.

Whatever else would occur over the Cantabrian Sea today, tomorrow articles about a costly industrial disaster would fill the front pages of Forbes and not one living soul would be any wiser about the secret war between Autobots and Decepticons. Tomorrow, regardless of outcome, Special Agent William Fowler would wake up a few gray hairs older, his desk overflowing with freshly inked paperwork.

But For now? For now, it was time to breach the cloudline, to descend—to open with Phase 1.

The voice of the Decepticon leader crackled through a communications channel to herald their coming, a single word commanded in a powerful and decisive voice: “Begin the operation.”

Unknowing, Captain Condenar checked his vintage pocket watch. The crew was on the clock now, but it gave the steely man no pause whatsoever.

Today, after all, was to be an uneventful day.

[Starkrieger]

Above the cloud cover, the Seeker team was bearing down on their target. An unlikely pair of jets by the measure of their human alts. Even at their elevation, dawn had yet to break. Only the pale glow of the moon could grace what white colored the ‘European’ fighter boasted. Aside from this? The mostly black coloration of a Eurofighter Typhoon blended into the darkness of the night sky.

Flanking Coldwind, Starkrieger had taken position to her left as he had fallen inline. Inflight, on a mission, in formation, she wasn’t his Täubchen. No… the sole mecha before him was ‘Lieutenant’, ‘ma’am’. Not that she had yet been made aware of this directly, as her wingmate hadn’t spoken since they took flight. There had been no playful rolling, or eager flourishes to instigate some semblance of entertainment. Only deviations in flight conditions, or changes the lead Seeker herself initiated, would cause his path to shift, in utilitarian fashion.

Dipping his right wing, the Seeker minimized his encounter with a thermal, maintaining a smooth course, to keep to his place. There was little to process over the water, his most important stream of concrete data was the rapid ticking away of the clicks that would mark the conclusion of their ETA. It was his only way to know how far they were from the objective, until it came into range of their standard sensors. Once they got closer would the ‘bright’ mass of unliving tech pick up on his specialized sensors, not that they’d really be needed. Larger watercraft (especially the non-sentient kind) weren’t nearly agile enough to be a challenge. If not for the need to hide their existence, it would have been too easy

::Orders?:: The first word he had commed, the request issued in Vossian military code. He knew the mission, but out in the field it was her game. Should she wish to attempt to board by stealth, deception... or violence it would determine how they ticked off each phase. If she wanted a distraction to occupy the humans was another factor. Unless she possessed a means to scramble their communications, it was probably better to either prevent the humans from catching on too quickly… or prioritizing eliminating their chance to call for help. Pity Void and Strike weren’t here, they’d had abilities that would have made this far easier... Void… would have loved to give him slag about following orders from the heavy-hitter femme.

However, it wasn’t time for reminiscing. He had a job to do.

Deferring to Coldwind didn’t mean he wasn’t anticipating possibilities. As soon as La Mañana was within range, specifics on potential approaches and strikes were being considered. Of course. There was always the possibility that she would simply direct him to act independently, not exactly what he would expect, but if she did? He had a couple of tactics in mind.

[Coldwind]

While the human cargo ship continued its steady voyage under the clouds, below and ahead, the gray-blue Seeker soared with Starkrieger at a determined pace. She maintained her altitude steadily, paying her wingman on the left only enough attention to retain his position in her mind's eye. Otherwise? Coldwind spent the flight in uneventful silence. Yet as the minutes passed and their target grew ever closer, action would be inevitably upon them soon.

It was time for strategy.

::Orders?::

An old code she did not have to use in many years, but one that felt second nature to her. No. Not even second nature. The spoken word was second nature, perhaps even third after the language of fists and blood. This was the first. Vos military code, drilled into her incessantly from an early age. It would've been easier for her to forget how to walk than how to use it.

::Descend. Maintain cover. Land. Drop anchors on the fore.::

The blip on their scanners drew nearer and nearer, and already the outline of the human vessel shaped itself under a thin cloudline below them. Coldwind had a rough plan of operations prepared. Though she was ever ignorant of her allies, she always carefully studied the enemy. She would already know where to strike to halt the ship and prepare it for a GroundBridge. However, she could not plan beyond that quite yet... 

It would all depend on how the humans aboard responded.

The chances of them being able to maintain perfect cover for the duration of the entire operation were slim at best—nearing zero, given her regular approach. For the sake of her own amusement, she hoped they'd notice soon and put up a decent fight. Maybe the scent of fresh blood would even attract some Autobots. 

Now, that would be something.

Already, the thirst for carnage supplanted her better judgement. Briefly, she visited a violent wonderland with blood on the seas and the corpses of her enemies mounted on jagged shipwreck spines.

But she was getting ahead of herself. First, it was time to weaken the prey.

::Begin.::

The hunt was on. Coldwind began to descend sharply, rapidly, and the trifling shape of a cargo ship below them grew tenfold each passing second. No longer a blip on the radar. They have arrived. They would act.

[Starkrieger]

::Acknowledged:: The reply came without hesitation. Somewhere, stifled behind battle protocols, buried beneath his moral compunctions, there was a certain thrill, but it remained a faint impulse, nothing to dwell on or drive his decisions. Falling under the cloud line Starkrieger broke formation, wasting no time in diving straight down some distances from the target yet.

Hard data was leveled at the Lieutenant, relevant vectors and trajectories marking for his superior his intentions as his actions unfolded, and keeping her informed of his relative position.

Rolling to keep the wind pressure against his wing shifting, preventing him from being diverted off course. The crashing waves below approached fast. Pulling out of his fall, the Seeker shot over the water in a wide approach from its aft. Opening his flaps, a soft, ‘tap of the breaks’ was issued, just enough to slow for a quick transformation. Reverted to root, he was heading for the port side - momentum slowly dropping as he maintained lower speeds in his true form, but also ran quieter, and with greater precision.

With an update sent as he closed in along his projected arc, the now reduced calculations likely clarified his intent if she'd missed it previously. He wasn’t going for the deck with its vast rows of stacked shipping containers, nor boldly setting pede on the forecastle, where any angle of approach would likely expose him to watchful eyes monitoring from the bridge. He was aiming to fly into the ship itself.

Coming in low, below the top of the raised forecastle, the Seeker cut the back lighting that usually distributed across his whole optic, so only the sight mechanisms shone in the darkness, precise, low light ringed adjusters that circled around a brighter center might still be discerned despite his flight visor, but it was far less likely to be noticed.

His right servo shot out, claws piercing into the metal at an angle meant to embed without breaching the surface, his grip tightening instantly, to halt his progress. Though gravity took hold once velocity was sharply halted. Krieg was unconcerned, this was sparkling play compared to the force of another flier trying to shake him. The deep metallic clang of his frame hitting the hull resonated through the ship. Hardly silent, but with the curvature of the bow, the forecastle’s outcropping ensured no human would be able to lean out to spot him. He remained motionless a moment, audials adjusting to the pitch and frequency of the beating of waves against La Maña. They would be written off, as inconsequential as the rush of atmosphere, so he could better listen for more important sounds. He had no way to know if crewmen were currently stationed in the section above, their goal, if they intended to get to the windlass and drop the anchors. He knew at least that much. How did the mechanism themselves work? Well he'd bet Coldwind, with her greater mechanical knowledge, would be able to direct him, if he didn't manage to sort it out himself.

Listening, he reengaged the full light of his optic, as he reached with his free servo to get ahold of the nearby anchor, poking out of its housing, experimenting with a firm tug. He wasn’t expecting to have the strength to outmatch the machinery holding the massive weight in place, but there was no sense in not getting a feel for the resistance while he listened for traffic overhead. Whatever scurrying there was within to be sure a breach hadn’t occurred was no concern to him.

… Though, if a hole were to be put into the vessel it might keep the humans occupied.

::Vessel Boarded:: Whether Coldwind would agree with that assessment had yet to be seen, regardless, it would be but a short climb over the lip of the bow and he’d be properly 'on board'. Meanwhile, it was probably a good idea for him to confirm that he hadn't ended up in the ocean. It wasn't as if she'd witnessed him executing a similar strategy before. 

[Coldwind]

An unorthodox approach, but one that assured Starkrieger wouldn't be discovered under any circumstances—at least not until she did her part. While he kept Coldwind appraised of his location, she halted her descent just short of the bridge—a massive, anvil-like tower presiding over the entire leviathan watercraft. Suddenly, she slowed down, ailerons and speed breaks straining against the pressure of an ocean wind. Her pace matched the vessel's—entire orders slower than her usual flight speed. Finely adjusting as well as she could, Coldwind would cant her body to the side, until she was close enough to the VHF tower jutting prominently from the bridge. A many-limbed device, antennae and dishes emerging from its metal skeleton, frequencies stretching across vast distances.

The plates and wings of her alt-mode began to shift, parting and rearranging on the back of an altogether monstrous, humanoid form. Suddenly, her thrusters rocked her changing form, propelling it wildly into the side of the tower. A vile claw reached out from within the emerging figure ere the transformation concluded, and violently ripped into the structure, then another, and two massive pedes.

Hanging off the side of the tower, Coldwind tore into it, again and again, ravaging the dishes and antennae until none were left. It was over in seconds and the humans were yet to realize they've lost signal. This was their window of opportunity. With Starkrieger still hidden on the side of the ship and her hanging off its tallest peak like some vast, predatory bird, they were poised to stop La Mañana.

::Enemy comms neutralized. You may break cover. Regroup at the anchor mechanism.::

Red optics stared down at the windlass from across a vast distance. By the standard of its creators, it was a massive, industrial contraption. Thick metal chains balanced on steel scaffolds many times larger than the average human, who would have to operate a mechanism this brutish solely through the use of an analogue interface and heavy machinery. A few of them surrounded it. She could tell from afar. Dots, little insects scurrying about. Were their machine to break, they could scarcely stop it with their tiny bodies. Fortunately, their Cybertronian forms afforded the Seekers certain leeway in that regard. Damaging the mechanisms at key points should loosen the anchors from their secured positions, where they'd be far too heavy for even Coldwind to manipulate through physical strength alone—much less the humans, who would be at their mercy.

Already, Coldwind was picking out where to strike when suddenly, she leapt from the tower, landing down below somewhere amidst the web of cargo containers. The Mañana rocked as if though a wave crashed into it. Perhaps Coldwind was no longer concerned about the humans spotting her. After all, what could they do? They had no radio, they were trapped here with her—in the shadow of their little industries, amidst a vast ocean.

::Approaching.:: A final comm to Starkrieger before she broke into a sprint, slow at first, but rapidly picking up in momentum. She would be at the windlass soon, though perhaps not before him.

[Starkrieger]

The squeal of rending metal, a distinct sound he discerned over the thrashing of the waves, alerted him to Coldwind's position. Those within the bridge likely felt the pitch prickling their flesh down to the bone as it stabbed their ears, surrounding them from all sides as the walls shuddered. Starkrieger had other matters to focus on, then the plight of the organics.

He could break cover… great.

With a deep vent, he steeled himself, resolved to do what had to be done. Abandoning the anchor in favor of something useful, he buried his free claws into the hull, and proceeded to hoist himself up. The short climb was hardly a challenge, the weight of his frame handled that much easier as he employed both limbs.  Whatever happened once he reached the top, didn't matter, not until the mission was complete.

If the crewmen manning the windlass weren’t already alerted to the situation, they wouldn’t remain ignorant long.  Dark claws reflected little light with their matte finish, rising wickedly from beneath line of sight, to blindly drive into the deck. The surface warped and broke beneath their points, tearing as they dragged, leaving deep ruts before managing to curl inward and find proper resistance. The shrill cry of La Maña at her abuse would be answered by the scrape of metal against metal, as the Seeker pulled himself up onto the deck proper, unphased by the layer of finish his chassis swapped with the hapless vessel.

Behind his flight visor, he assessed every lifeform he spotted, marking their positions, as he stood his wings remained lowered. They should be secure, out on the ocean with the target's communications down, and yet the urgency didn’t let up. They needed to move, and ensure the transfer stage of their operation was underway before anything had a chance to go sideways. Sparing not a word to the crew, the whirr of transformation culminated in his left servo rearranging into that of his blaster, which he pointed at any organic that might have been made stupid by the shock of their arrival. A weapon tended to have the effect of getting people moving, and he wanted them out of the way, so he didn’t have to worry about stepping on them… or having to proactively remove the obstacles.


::Confirmed at rendezvous:: Treading carefully, he observed the device that was meant to be their target. Coldwind would likely be there soon, and thankfully so. There was no telling what kind of trouble someone like him could get into, left to his own devices with a working machine. Even if destruction would be their method, breaking the wrong thing the wrong way could cause a disaster. Still, there was no harm in him looking over what appeared to be locking mechanisms, fail safes. Stalking the side of the machinery tasked with controlling the port anchor, he wasn’t completely ignorant to how it worked (a functioning processor could sort out a bit of it logically), but knowing where...whatever prevented the chain from lowering… was located was another matter entirely. Near the source of lift or the drum that it traveled over? He didn’t know. His attention was caught by one of the manual controls. A brightly colored wheel, wide enough that a man would need to spread his arms wider than his chest to grip and turn it.  It was roughly the right size for him to place two digits between the spokes, which he did. A slight turn tested the resistance in the braking mechanism. With the chain stopper engaged, not a whole lot would happen even if he had fully released the brake.

::On standby:: What part of standby included him poking around with the machinery? It was probably a good thing she was moving quickly. Disciplined though he was, he’d grown unused to having another Seeker (a ranking one at that) to rely on during missions. Without direction keeping him actively engaged, it was difficult not to feel pressured to figure it out himself, but at least he had sense enough to keep his ‘testing’ to a minimum.