Flashback - Central Logistics - Closed
Jul 22, 2012 23:00:45 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2012 23:00:45 GMT -5
[[Polyhex. Office of Central Logistics. Early war]]
High Councilor Ratbat was unofficially dead and that was the way he liked it.
The transition to Decepticon rule in Polyhex had not been orderly, despite his best designs. The notice he had been given was scarce, the targets of underclass wrath, many. The assault had been in enough force to make the collapse of Polyhex's defense force realistic. It had also done a significant amount of damage.
Somebody had blown up most of his local corporate headquarters. His estate had been dislodged from its perch and dropped into the smelting pool along with most of the highest-caste residential areas, although that had happened many orns before the final assault. The groundbridge complex had been barely saved from the undisciplined mob despite direct orders not to destroy it. The minicon colony had fled to the moons. The High Council promised order would be restored, but the old order had been so utterly wiped away it seemed impossible.
The parts of RatCorp the Decepticons could reach in Polyhex and Kaon had been dismembered into dozens of workers collectives, left suddenly adrift. One of the major wheels in the vast machine that was the Cybertronian economy simply stopped turning, uncoordinated and beheaded. Everybody knew that there would be nothing left after the Decepticons had passed through.
Everyone was wrong.
Fuel my army, Ratbat had been ordered. And he had smiled and slid Decepticon Central Logistics into place as if it had always been there. It was amazing what cooperation Megatron's glyph could unlock. How easy it was to stitch an economic empire back together.
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Though Ratbat was not at all keen about word of his survival getting out past a select few.
He doubted the remainder of the High Council had any idea what was going on in the underplazas of Polyhex yet. The groundbridges and warehouses were working, shipping arms from Kaon around the planet and supplying what was swiftly becoming the greatest army on the planet. The gears of war were turning.
And Kaon idiots were throwing wrenches in the works again.
This was not a new problem, though now the idiots were at least nominally on his side. It was, however, something that could no longer be ignored. A particular network in Kaon was siphoning off arms shipments for its own ends. Arms disappeared in Kaon and showed up in the black markets of Simfur. They had been offered to his procurement officers, in a move so brazen it made Ratbat's optics blaze. As if he didn't keep track.
This was not something he could deal with himself, of course. He needed a dedicated agent in Kaon, desperately. In the fragmentary personnel and surveillance files he was still organizing, he had found a mech who looked promising.
Whether he was all his file promised would need to be judged face to face. Kaon mechs were never predictable, and every interaction bore its own slight risk. If the mech had made his groundbridge appointment and followed the directions to the rather non-public office of Central Logistics, he'd be here shortly.
Ratbat glanced down towards the closed door from his high ceiling perch and then returned his attention to his work. He certainly expected Jazz to be on time. He had no use for mechs who could not follow directions.
High Councilor Ratbat was unofficially dead and that was the way he liked it.
The transition to Decepticon rule in Polyhex had not been orderly, despite his best designs. The notice he had been given was scarce, the targets of underclass wrath, many. The assault had been in enough force to make the collapse of Polyhex's defense force realistic. It had also done a significant amount of damage.
Somebody had blown up most of his local corporate headquarters. His estate had been dislodged from its perch and dropped into the smelting pool along with most of the highest-caste residential areas, although that had happened many orns before the final assault. The groundbridge complex had been barely saved from the undisciplined mob despite direct orders not to destroy it. The minicon colony had fled to the moons. The High Council promised order would be restored, but the old order had been so utterly wiped away it seemed impossible.
The parts of RatCorp the Decepticons could reach in Polyhex and Kaon had been dismembered into dozens of workers collectives, left suddenly adrift. One of the major wheels in the vast machine that was the Cybertronian economy simply stopped turning, uncoordinated and beheaded. Everybody knew that there would be nothing left after the Decepticons had passed through.
Everyone was wrong.
Fuel my army, Ratbat had been ordered. And he had smiled and slid Decepticon Central Logistics into place as if it had always been there. It was amazing what cooperation Megatron's glyph could unlock. How easy it was to stitch an economic empire back together.
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Though Ratbat was not at all keen about word of his survival getting out past a select few.
He doubted the remainder of the High Council had any idea what was going on in the underplazas of Polyhex yet. The groundbridges and warehouses were working, shipping arms from Kaon around the planet and supplying what was swiftly becoming the greatest army on the planet. The gears of war were turning.
And Kaon idiots were throwing wrenches in the works again.
This was not a new problem, though now the idiots were at least nominally on his side. It was, however, something that could no longer be ignored. A particular network in Kaon was siphoning off arms shipments for its own ends. Arms disappeared in Kaon and showed up in the black markets of Simfur. They had been offered to his procurement officers, in a move so brazen it made Ratbat's optics blaze. As if he didn't keep track.
This was not something he could deal with himself, of course. He needed a dedicated agent in Kaon, desperately. In the fragmentary personnel and surveillance files he was still organizing, he had found a mech who looked promising.
Whether he was all his file promised would need to be judged face to face. Kaon mechs were never predictable, and every interaction bore its own slight risk. If the mech had made his groundbridge appointment and followed the directions to the rather non-public office of Central Logistics, he'd be here shortly.
Ratbat glanced down towards the closed door from his high ceiling perch and then returned his attention to his work. He certainly expected Jazz to be on time. He had no use for mechs who could not follow directions.