| abstract
| - Fri Nov 16, 2033 A small province on Canada's East coast, Newfoundland and Labrador contains two seperate regions: A large island as well as a relatively barren mainland section adjacent to the province of Quebec. The provicne is rich in oil, lumber, mining, and other natural resources, and is near many important shipping and air transport lanes. Trypticon Obvious exits: East leads to Northwest Atlantic. West leads to Eastern Provinces - Canada. Windsweeper has arrived. Triggerhappy has arrived. In a transformation that is harder than it looks, Contrail rises up into robot mode. A B1-B bomber swoops down behind the F-35, then similarly transforms and hovers. "This is where headquarters is?" B-1B transforms into his Windsweeper mode. Contrail is out again trying to set up some traps around Trypticon. The Decepticons cannot expect to hold their position in Canada for very long, but the humans have been more focused on attacking Cybertron than on defending their own planet, lately, which presents an opportunity to at least make the inevitable retreat painful for their enemies. So now, Contrail wings back to the perimeter of Trypticon, and she explains, "Our main thrust on Earth, yes. I'm going to be working on setting up some mines. Here." She attempts to hand Windsweeper a shovel. This will not go well. Windsweeper eyes the shovel distastefully before accepting it, holding it away from his body with one hand. "We're digging manually? Like savages? Don't we have prisoners to do this?" "The prisoners are busy tending the smelters!" Contrail says cheerily. "Now then, labour is virtuous." Is she serious? Who can tell? She sits down, on the Canadian soil, and she pulls out her bomb-making kit and a datapad. She pulls up the instructions for landmines. Windsweeper continues to hover, refusing to touch the ground unless he absolutely has to. "Of course labor is virtuous, but it's ... well, it's rather unsanitary, isn't it? I mean, this is an organic planet," he says, nose wrinkling in disgust. Contrail shrugs and says, "As long as you don't suck a goose down your engine, you'll be fine. Or get stuck doing undercover work at an air show and have children climb all over you. Or end up dumped into the ocean. Or..." Hmm, charges slot into shell, wires go down into charges... The Lancer-former just shudders. "Sucked into an engine?!" he squeaks, reflexively covers his intakes. "What's a goose? Are they venomous?" The air show thing doesn't even bear thinking about. "Listen, maybe I can assemble the charges and you can dig, ma'am?" "No! I haven't been withold any information!" He sighs and his shoulders sag resignedly. "Where do you want the holes?" Triggerhappy comes to find Contrail setting landmines about Trypticon. The triplechanger sorta owed him some bomb-making lessons. He swoops down from above, having just left the barracks within the giant cityformer base, and transforms in midair before landing on his peds in front of the two of them. He nods at Contrail. "Contrail." Then he glances at the new guy. Another one? "Who's this?" Windsweeper's face lights up as Triggerhappy appears! "The name's Windsweeper! Delighted to meet you!" he gushes, attempting to hand off the shovel without actually touching the Targetmaster. Contrail gives Windsweeper a narrow look. Then she waves lazily to greet Triggerhappy, who has been weirdly effective these days. He killed Franklin Cross! Someone ought to give the 'con a medal for that. Contrail smiles, almost but not quite predatory, and she asks, "Triggerhappy, time for your lessons now or just passing through?" "Lessons." Triggerhappy smiles in return. Hey, electroshock therapy is effective, or so they say! He nods at Windsweeper. "Nice to meet you, Windsweeper." He was about to introduce himself but Contrail had done it already. "What kind of lessons?" Windsweeper asks, still all smiles. "Lessons." Triggerhappy smiles in return. Hey, electroshock therapy is effective, or so they say! He nods at Windsweeper. "Nice to meet you, Windsweeper." He was about to introduce himself but Contrail had done it already. "What kind of lessons?" Windsweeper asks, still all smiles. Contrail answers absently, "Triggerhappy did me a favour. So I am doing one for him. /You/ have holes to dig, Windsweeper. Here's a map." She tries to hand him a datastick. Windsweeper accepts the datastick with resignation, reading it however one reads this particular kind of datastick and beginning to dig holes. Windsweeper mutters discontentedly to himself as he digs. "So, where do we start?" Triggerhappy asks, looking to Contrail expectantly. Contrail hollers at Windsweeper, "And make some of the holes deep enough for pit traps! Autobots impaled on spikes are always great! Oh, and we can fill some of the pits with electric lava, too!" She gestures for Triggerhappy to sit down and explains, "Okay, so Bonecrusher was the one who taught me the way of demolitions, and when he taught me, he... gave me a crayon book and had me colour it in." She rusb the back of her helm. "...I may have knocked him out at one point. Revenge may have been involved. Anyway, I am going to start with the basics of proper handling and storage of different kinds of explosives." Triggerhappy nods as he listens to Contrail, but when she mentions a 'crayon book' he looks confused. "He gave you a what book?" he asks, rubbing the back of his head. Windsweeper glares at the back of Contrail's head with repressed rage. He's going to have to get over his head in dirt, isn't he? "Just focus on the decon shower afterward, Windsweeper," he grumbles to himself. Contrail pulls out the colouring book, which is sized appropriately for a Seeker and is made of something like paper but rather more sturdy. She also pulls out a half-used box of crayons, also appropriately sized for a Seeker. Contrail repeats flatly, "Colouring book. Crayons." She turns to the page on the storage of explosives, which she had neatly coloured in. In the margin, there is a little drawing of a happy Galvatron standing on top of a dead Rodimus Prime. Meanwhile, some Canada geese fly overhead. Windsweeper eyes the geese suspiciously. honk. HONK. Triggerhappy stares at the crayons and coloring book. "Oookay." he says slowly, then shrugs. "Right. Go on." Contrail goes over the different explosives listed on the page, explaining, "You use different explosives for different jobs. You see these little landmines I'm making?" She points. "I wouldn't use a dirty bomb for them. I mean, Cobalt-60? All wrong for the task at hand. You have to consider yield, density, stability, and cost." Triggerhappy nods. "Uh-huh. So...what would you use for this then?" "And what do you mean by 'dirty'?" Windsweeper has disconnected. "RDX is good for these," Contrail explains, working on another landmine. Then she pauses and checks her book. "That's cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine - kind of a mouthful. It's pretty good in an anti-armour role."" Triggerhappy nods and watches Contrail working on another landmine. "Uh, cyclo-whatever, yeah." He doesn't bother trying to say the whole name. "Hey, can I try it now?" Contrail gives Triggerhappy a dubious look. Of course he wants to get his hands on something dangerous. He's a Decepticon. She has felt the same way. Contrail shakes her head, "Not yet. I'll get you some mock materials to practise with. I can't risk ruining these mines. Have to be able to give the Autobots a warm welcome when they come knocking, hmm?" She finishes off another mine and puts it down one of the holes that Windsweeper dug. "Will you have more time later? I can get the practise materials together then." Triggerhappy pouts a little at that, and sighs resignedly. Yeah, he was a Decepticon and not only that he was Triggerhappy. "Oh, fine. Yeah, yeah sure." he says, nodding. "Just let me know when they're ready." Contrail nods. "Oh, I will. Don't worry." She smiles again. "Stay alive, Triggerhappy, and keep up your good work. The Empire appreciates your recent contributions." Triggerhappy grins. "I'll do my best...and same to you. Later, Contrail." He then transforms and ascends back up toward Trypticon, returning to the barracks.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)