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| - The Great Auditorium is a gigantic domed room, huge even for Transformers. It is here that the great and good of Nebulos gather, it is here that the Council of Peers wisely debate and rule Nebulos, and it is here that any captured Transformer will be hauled to the Council to answer for accusations of war crimes against this peaceful world.. Contents: Arcana Astrotrain Duros Llyra Spasma Spoilsport Zarak Obvious exits: South leads to Entrance Hall. Tall, blonde, and super hot. Pretty much everything you want from a princess. Well, except for the whole 'love and peace' thing she has going on. Never one to dress modestly, Llyra makes sure to look just a little nicer than a space hooker. Duros is a Nebulan. There is no mistaking him for human since his skin pigment is green. If you are color-blind or perhaps just don't see people in terms of color like Stephen Colbert, than perhaps his green skin will not be noticed. Otherwise everything about him on the surface appears human. Last night the sky fell on Nebulos. The sky was alive with the roar and flash of spacecraft falling like comets, and this did not do much for the mood of the Nebulon Lord Zarak. The Council of Peers was the gathering of the great and good of the planet, and by far the greatest of them was Zarak. Currently he reclines in his seat in the council hall, looking across at the other Councillors as he studies news reports, and then towards his wayward daughter, Llyra. "All I am saying" he repeats curtly "Is that you should strongly consider joining the Sisters of Chastity" Looking very displeased at this suggestion is, naturally, Llyra the super hot princess. Did I mention she's super hot? She totally is. Seriously, just look at those bazookas. And those legs. Excuse me a moment. Llyra sighs and crosses her arms, "Daddy, you /know/ how much I despise chastity!" Duros, head of the council guard, stands still and silent at his post off to the side of the council members seating. Armed with what are usually a cold and unused but nonetheless well maintained set of weapons. Several of his men are spread out all around the grand auditorium. More are stationed outside. And even more lay in waiting to bring in whoever or whatever the council calls forth at a signal from his radio. Spasma is among the various Nebulon nobles. His family is a declining one, but his status is nevertheless secure on the council despite the downfall of his inheritance's riches. One you're a member of the old boy's club, it takes a while to fall out of it, even if your influence is practically nil. It is only a matter of time before he is edged out, though, and Spasma knows it. Of course, he can't help but overhear Lord Zarak's conversation with his beautiful daughter. He bites his lower lip nervously, and does his best pretend like he's listening to the man across from him talking about the new boat, or car, or spaceship, or whatever it was that his megacorporation bought for him. Arcana, as something of a war hero thanks to his service in the Resistance, and also being quite the medical genius, is amongst the council peers. He lifts his visor--which vaguely resembles that of the fictional X-Man, Cyclops--up so that he can look about the chamber with his own, two eyes. They dart about the room haphazardly as he takes in everything and everyone. "Ahem, Lord Zarak! Not to interrupt these, ah, family matters. I can understand your concern for your daughter. But we have important things to discuss, yes yes! There is no TIME!" Nightbeat is bound in chains, forced to kneel in the middle of an auditorium. His injuries are many, shrapnel piercing his frame and blast scorches dirtying his paintjob. He is leaking energon slowly, a glowing pink pool forming on the floor around him. The pain that wracks him immense, but what's worse is that he seems to have been the only one to survive, so far. Why him? Survivor's guilt. He crawled to Koraja, hoping to find help, and they trussed him up and dragged him to this kangaroo court instead. Leakin' wonderful hospitality. Nightbeat scowls and spits out a piece of broken metal, waiting for the session to begin. Astrotrain is actually not here. At least not in person...no, he's featured on one of those rolling news reports right now! The first footage of the triplechanger shows him shortly after coming out of the swamp into which he'd crashed, and though the video clearly shows he's been damaged, one entire wing shorn off, one of his arms hanging loosely at his side, the news reports demonstrate just how dangerous he has been to the locals nonetheless. Several different images show him in action, raiding a power station and siphoning energy from a huge power capacitor into his banks; painfully undergoing the transformation into his locomotive form, thundering along a roadway in pursuit of several supply vehicles that frantically (and futilely) attempt to escape him. Oh yes, Astrotrain is injured, and stranded, but he's not been sitting by idly. Detective Muzzle has been summoned to court of law to present some evidence. He is a medium-dark fellow with lively, inquisitive orange-brown eyes. The detective is kitted out in a blue trenchcoat, fedora, tie, and a nice pair of slacks with a yellow button-down shirt and snappy shoes. He seems perhaps a little dishevelled, as if he was in a hurry to get here. A sheaf of papers is tucked under his arm. Spoilsport, like others here, gained a name and a reputation for himself as a member of the resistance in the recent struggles. Unfortunately, his reputation was not so great as to keep him from being saddled with a horrid nick-name for being a dull, duty-bound stick-in-the-mud. As Arcana speaks up, he can't help but nod in agreement. "These robots seem to have brought down yet another crisis on our heads." He eyes Nightbeat suspiciously. "Although why this one would try to come /to/ us, I admit, is something of a mystery." Llyra /sighs/ at the entire situation. Does she really need to be here? She should be off doing important things, like showering. Or frolicking in a meadow. Or making flower bracelets. "Daaaadddddyyyy...." she whines, "can't you just throw that dirty robot in the trash?" Lord Zarak glowers with displeasure at his daughter and then flicks his attention to Arcana. "Time?" he growls. "Time?" And he descends into a coughing fit, blood specking the handkerchief his shaking hand brings to his mouth. "Do not speak to me of time Arcana. I will not sit idly by and... aah" As the news cast of Astrotrain's rampage flickers over his head, his full attention is taken by Nightbeat's entry. Well, nearly his full attention. "Spasma!" he hisses to the nobleman sitting nearby. "I will deal with affairs of state, you convince my daughter of the merits of chastity and social isolation, I hear you are a great follower of those concepts." Slowly, shakily he rises from his chair, hand gripping a walking stick to stay upright as he gazes down from his raises platform at Nightbeat. "Almost a year!" he booms. "Almost a year since your race left our planet a burnt out cinder and now you have returned. What now Cybertronian. What more would you have of us. Speak, for your life is now ours." Then he looks aside at his daughter. "Don't worry sweetheart, I will, I will..." Duros pays attention to all and minds his own business. That's his job. The dirty laundry so openly airred or so shrewdly concealed by council members is not his to speak of. What a tool. Duros' utmost focus is upon the robotic prisoner in the center of the auditorium. A source of quickening of his own life-force. The break in monotony. A risk. Arcana stands up, his hands gesticulating wildly. "He came to us for medical attention, Spoilsport! Look at him! He's bleeding... fuel, or lubricant, or something, all over the floor! We should get a mechanic over here to treat his wounds!" Lowering his visor, he looks about the room as he sits down. "We don't force even the most vicious Nebulan criminals to attend trials if they are injured, now, do we? For as much damage as these robots have done--" He gestures to the news cast, featuring the New Adventures of Astrotrain. "--that does not mean we abandon all civility and decency!" Spasma's gaze drifts away from Llyra (reluctantly) and towards the robot bound in chains and kneeling in the middle. How does Zarak ignore the robot so well to talk with his daughter? Spasma drinks his water (alcohol makes him feel lightheaded) and watches the proceedings. "Mmhmmph.." he replies in a non-committal manner to the guy he's supposedly talking to. He heard something about a vacation to Spendora. All expenses paid as a bonus for his corporation doing so well. Fraker, Spasma thinks. Rubbing it in. That's what he's doing. In reality the portly and somewhat jolly looking Nebulon seems oblivious to Spasma's discomfort as he goes on and on. "Ahhh!" he starts as Lord Zarak suddenly calls him. "I-i-i have to go!" he stammers to the other man, who graciously nods. "Of course, of course. Hail Lord Zarak." "Yes... hail Lord Zarak," Spasma mumbles. Standing up, Spasma walks over to his Lord Zarak. "Yes, my Lord?" he asks, summoning up all his courage. When he hears about his task, Spasma turns a few extra shades of white. "A-are you sure you want me to do that?" he asks Zarak, fighting the dizzy spell that's overcome him. Nightbeat glowers at Llyra's words, but really, she's being nicer about it than some have been. The names he was called while the Nebulans were chaining him up and hauling him off? He wouldn't repeat them, and considering his vocabulary, that's really saying something. He looks up at Zarak and, wishing for once that he was a bit more diplomatic, he replies, "Look, I'm real sorry about this whole mess. We didn't wanna crash and wreck up your whole planet, but we were over by the Demascus Anomaly when some Decepticons destroyed the guidance system of our ship. We couldn't control it." He grimaces and glances over at the news. "That there is Astrotrain, a Decepticon. See the purple badge? See the red badge on me? That means, if you do get a mechanic in here an' fix me up, it's my duty as an Autobot to make sure Astrotrain doesn't hurt any of you." Random images still show Astrotrain's rampage across the local countryside. A few show attempted pursuits by armed military vehicles, thrown off each time as the triplechanger has retreated back into the swamp. Each time the triplechanger is seen in a new report, he is clearly becoming stronger as he replenishes his energy supplies, and is even starting to regain some use of his damaged arm. The jagged edge where his wing used to be ensures that he won't be getting back into orbit anytime soon, but for now, as he has been replenishing himself to something almost akin to normal, his crimes against the people of Nebulos are clearly shown in every newsreel that's caught him on camera. A fuel depot burns as he helps himself. A convoy has been run off the road, as he gleefully picks through the remains. A woman shelters her ugly baby as the triplechanger points and laughs cruelly. "Ugh, serves that woman right," Llyra says with disgust. "That baby is hideous." Duros remembers overhearing about Llyra's nose-job... and other more extensive enhancements. He has never spoken of it, not even to pacify his wife at home when she gets in a mood and on a rant. Spoilsport frowns, arms crossed, as he listens to Arcana and studies Nightbeat. As Arcana appeals to his civility and decency, he looks down, away from the robot, uncertainty creeping into his expression. Then, as his attention is called to Astrotrain's rampage, he hardens. "How can we be sure he's telling the truth? That he's not one of them? Just because a little symbol is different?" He shakes his head. "So far, we've sufferred for every involvement we've had with these aliens. What's to change now?" Zarak is about to speak again when Spasma interrupts his flow of thought. "/What?/" he hisses as an aside to the nobleman. "If I was not sure I would not have asked you, now do not interupt me again or I will have Duros take you aside." His eyes glance over to Duros in a 'kill him' motion. And then he turns back to the auditorium at large. "Indeed Arcana, indeed. Your wise words belay your wise years, and I am sure that your words will be taken under /advisement/. But do not be fooled. These creatures are not like us, they are not flesh and blood to be injured at will, they are as far removed from us as we are from the Drolo lizard." "You will find no friends in this room" he glowers down at Nightbeat, putting words in the mouths of everyone. "When our world was suffering we saw no aid, your conflict is not as black and white as you would have us believe. Why are you here, what are your plans for invasion? How many of you are there? Speak now and your life may be spared." Detective Muzzle watches the news a bit distractedly, frowning, and he straightens his tie. He listens along to the machine's words, weighing them carefully. Muzzle meets a lot of sinners in his trade, hardened criminals and scum of the basest sort. He's put a lot of them behind bars. He pays attention to detail. He's gotten good at calling liars. However, machines are a whole different ballgame. Is this one lying? He doesn't know, but he does know what the evidence tucked under his arm says. He waits to be called to speak, leaning casually against a wall. Nightbeat is certainly feeling the heat, or maybe he's just feeling fevered from lack of energon as his life bleeds out onto the floor. He grits out, "There ain't no plans for invasion! Autobots don't invade places. Maybe the Decepticons got plans, but if they do, I don't know. How many of us? I... I'm the only Autobot to survive the crash." He hangs his head in shame. Then, he looks up, and he warns urgently, "But up to ten Decepticons could have survived, maybe more. Think Astrotrain's bad? They get worse. You ain't seen nothin' yet." "Daaaaadddd... It's still here..." Llyra continues to whine from her seat, not bothering to look up from her pocket mirror. Arcana leaps back to his feet, arms flailing around as he yells, "No, no, maybe he's right! The badge is different! And why did he just walk up to the city, trustingly, instead of looting it like the other robot? Perhaps he's different? Yes, the Autobots, different from the Decepticons, opposed to them! Yes, yes, he may be our only hope!" He points a shaky finger at the news feed. "Great Skaht, look at that one, the one causing the devastation! This robot, if he's truly not dangerous to us, may help us stop him! Please, Lord Zarak, surely retribution is not worth endangering our people?" At Zarak's 'look', Duros shifts his stance angle oh so subtly but the sound of his shift and replacing of his boots is almost like the sound of a gun being cocked. Duros knows it highly improbable that there will be any further threat issued, let alone a call to actually carry it out. But the hard look of his face at all times is like stone. Immovable and unforgiving. His eyes unwavering. Unflinchable. "Oh God," Spasma says as Zarak dresses him down. "Of course... my apologies, Lord Zarak. It won't happen again. I swear it..." He gives a halting bow to the Lord before turning towards Llyra. Before he even gets to facing towards Llyra, however, his gaze crosses path with Duros first. He withers under the glare from the soldier and he casts his eyes downwards, shuffling over towards Llyra. At least she is easier on the eyes than Duros, Spasma thinks with a cynical mental smirk. "Hello, Llyra," he says in a soft tone, trying his best not to leer at her. Llyra continues to stare into her pocket mirror, lips puckering as she applies another layer of lipstick. She blows a few kisses to her reflection, pockets the mirror, and then stares at Spasma with the most apathetic look possible. "Do I know you?" Lord Zarak stares impassively down at Arcana, and then across to Nightbeat again. But it is not them he speaks to as he turns back to his daughter and her mirror. "Soon Llyra, soon I will be gone and you must take my place. It is important to learn the ways of state." Then the aging statesman fixes his impassive gaze upon Arcana. "You would make a deal with the devil Arcana? We must learn to be strong and stand on our own feet. We must learn self-reliance and deal with what comes out way by ourselves. WE must be the MASTERS, not these soulless abominations." He speaks as if Nightbeat is not even in the room. And then he shuffles his paper. Detective Muzzle, I believe the Justice Department has laid much of the responsibility for this... thing upon your shoulders. Make your report and make it GOOD." Somewhere on the newscasts, Astrotrain pushes an old woman in the mud, and kicks a yapping dog-like creature over the horizen. A drog. Brainstorm balls up his fists, and his arms twitch and fidget a bit, almost like he's having a minor panic attack. "But--Lord Zarak! See for yourself! The purple robot keeps getting stronger! Meaner! And nothing we have can stop him! It's just like during the days of the Resistance. We're virtually helpless against the Decepticons!" Resigned, and having calmed down abruptly, he slowly sinks down into his chair. "Helpless." He glances up at the screen, muttering, "That poor drog... I had one just like it..." Spasma rubs the back of his head. Normally he would be attempting to listen in on what Zarak is telling the court, but with Llyla here... well, he cannot take his eyes off her. "H-hi," he says, repeating himself. "Oh yes, we've met before. Uh... well lets see," he presses a finger against his other hand's palm with each item, counting upwards, "There was the council picnic in the Sunny Valley... uh, we also met at the annual Koraja Ball just last year... you said that you thought my outfit looked like it was fit for a Femaxian..." Spasma tries to laugh a little bit as if he and her were reminiscing about the old jokes that friends always have with one another. "Oh, and then we ran into one another when the councilors toured that ruined village just outside the Sunny Valley. Th-that wasn't really a social gathering, though." Spasma hesitates as he tries to change the subject. "Oh, I saw you on Entertainment News Weekly. You had on a very lovely dress..." Detective Muzzle straightens his tie and steps forward. He sets down the sheaf of papers on a nearby table, and he holds up a printout of some plotted trajectories, "Lord Zarak, some of what the suspect says does jibe. Our ranging satellites are, ah, not in the best of shape," blame all the conflict, "but the plotted trajectories for the two ships which crashed in the Folassian Forest and swamp indeed show a course that takes them nowhere near Nebulos, more over toward the wormhole in Demascus Anomaly territory. They were docked, then. It's only on the undocking that they start heading toward Nebulos. The ship in the forest shows signs of damage prior to the crash, as if it had been attacked." He holds up a picture of the damages. "Haven't been able to get any men over to the one in the swamp," he frowns. "Something about a giant bat screaming about 'tee-vee' shows scaring them off. Also, the men who took in the suspect report that he came quietly for, and I quote, 'a soulless piece of filthy war machinery'," that was one of the nicer comments. A snapshot of Nightbeat being chained while Nebulan cops make rude gestures. "From cursory examination, the suspect would appear to have been a fight prior to the crash." "Oh!" Llyra claps her hands and points excitedly at Spasma. "I think I remember you! Yeah, I totally do! From the, uh..." She snaps her fingers a few times, "Oh, right! From that one time! Derrick, right?" Arcana balls up his fists, and his arms twitch and fidget a bit, almost like he's having a minor panic attack. "But--Lord Zarak! See for yourself! The purple robot keeps getting stronger! Meaner! And nothing we have can stop him! It's just like during the days of the Resistance. We're virtually helpless against the Decepticons!" Resigned, and having calmed down abruptly, he slowly sinks down into his chair. "Helpless." He glances up at the screen, muttering, "That poor drog... I had one just like it..." Spasma brightens as Llyra looks at her. That is a wonderful smile she has. He can't help but feel excited right along with her, up until she tears him down again. "I..." Spasma looks devastated. "No, no, it's Spasma, actually," he mumbles. Duros slips his eyes towards the footage and softly growls at the part with the drog abuse. That is all the self expression he allows himself, however, and his trigger finger remains off trigger at safety position. Monzo, a retired 'sports entertainer', now a prominent nightclub owner, bangs a hammy fist on something nearby, "Well, where's all of our giant robots?!" he demands, "We've been put on the mat by these things twice and we ain't even got giant robots of our own to fight back with? What're my tax dollars goin to?" Nightbeat eyes the evidence as Detective Muzzle makes his report. He could have just told them all that - and he did, didn't he? But it's like he's not even here. Except for all the guardsmen with weapons at ready all staring right at Nightbeat ofcourse... "Oh!" Llyra exclaims, bringing a hand to her lips. "Sorry. You just look like a Derrick, you know?" She smiles and pats his hand in a comforting manner. "So, back to how pretty my dresses are.." "Docked..." Zarak rolls the words about in his mouth thoughfully. "Why would you dock with your enemies, Cybertronian?" He waves a shaking hand around the Council chamber, pointing at each individual present. Even Spasma. "By the law of the Council of Peers, I open the accused to questioning by any Nebulon who sits in this chamber and has justice in their hearts." And then, quieter, he looks in the direction of Arcana. "You cannot rely on others to fight your battles for you /all/ your life, Arcana" Another newscast springs into life on behalf of Grax Broadcasting, showing a helicopter view of the Plains of Thok. The normally placid plains are smoking, flames flickering around a huge crater smashed into the ground and at the bottom like a beast from hell, the fuzzy camera image shows what can only be described as a gigantic robot scorpion, smashed and damaged and on fire, but still moving. Then picture then cuts off as the creature hurls a skycar at the camera copter. Arcana looks at Lord Zarak, open-mouthed. "What? Why, now, that isn't fair! I've been in my share of danger, and much of the resistance would be dead if not for me! *You* might even be dead, Lord Zarak! But that's not important. Detective Muzzle has been quite efficient in preparing his report. The "Autobot" seems to have told an honest tale. Perhaps that alone is not enough to trust him, but it is a good start, isn't?" At the prospect of asking Nightbeat questions, though, he becomes hyper-active. "Ask him questions? Questions? So many questions! Oh, where to begin!" "Yeah..." Spasma sighs in the world's most miserable tone of voice. When Llyra smiles, however, Spasma can't help but feel better. When she pats his hand he feels the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. "Oh, it was this little blue dress that had little beads running up the side," he gushes, "And it had a curve rig- I mean, it barely cov- I mean..." he stammers. Nightbeat has to resist snapping. He just barely manages a cool tone, "I didn't have any say in the docking. The Decepticons forcibly docked their ship to our and boarded us. That's how they ruined our navigational gear." At least this Arcana fellow seems to be on his side, for whatever good it will do. Detective Muzzle rubs his chin and notes, "That is a possible explanation. Lord Zarak, the docking mechanism of the ship in the Folassian Forest does appear to be damaged, as if there had been forced entry and a malfunction in separation." Llyra throws her hands up and gasps. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I remember that one! Oh, it really was special. Unfortunately, I had to burn it because, tee hee, well, you just /can't/ wear the same dress twice. You know?" She looks down at her current outfit and sighs, "I'm not sure I like this one. I mean, it's a little tight.." "Yeah," Spasma sighs, though this time it's of heavenly bliss and happiness that he's actually having a real life conversation with Llyra that doesn't involve her saying 'oops I spilled my wine on you'. "I- wait, I mean no. No, I don't know about... I... I mean." Spasma starts to sweat. "I think that dress is beautiful on you!" "Your job is to investigate, Detective Muzzle" Zarak hisses down. "Not make excuses for /criminals/. Let us see what he has to say for himself." Then he leans back to Llyra, giving a disapproving glare at Spasma. It is a glare that threatens eunuchhood. "Llyra my dear, why don't you ask the criminal robot a question? Show the others how it is done." Astrotrain is the victim of sweet, sweet irony. When he crashed, his radio was fried as well. If he had -any- inkling that there was a gigantic scorpion on the loose with the same coloring as that Scorponok guy, he probably would have tried to link up with him. As it is, the triplechanger blissfully goes about his business, unaware of the fact that he is not the only survivor of the battle. Spoilsport falls silent as Muzzle gives his story and Arcana begins his questioning. He rubs his chin and studies the courtroom throughtfully, weighing the evidence in his own mind. Finally, he says out loud, "Robot. Autobot. Were you freed and repaired, what would your... proposed planned be to deal with this," he gestures towards the screen showing Scorponok, "or /this/," he gestures to one showing Astrotrain. "You speak of defense, but... forgive me, but you are only one." Llyra pats down her chest, "Hmm...I don't know. I /still/ think it's too tight. I mean, just look at it!" She practically thrusts herself in Spasma's face. "It's like, what the heck, right? Like I'm just going to pop out! Tee hee hee!" She sighs when Zarak starts saying things to her (she doesn't really listen), "Okay, daddy..." Duros silently admires the detective's attention to thorough investigation and calm following of protocol. Police have a much rougher tme of things than soldiers. And without the regiment of discipline and life of training. Holding it together shows quality of character. And the alien in chains, it is damaged, but seeing the progress of the other one on the monitor, Duros suspects that the prisoner might just be able to over power his captors and do some real harm here before escaping if it wished. His curiousity is raised. Spasma doesn't hear Zarak. He is enthralled by this living symbol of Venus sitting next to him and talking to him. He is a puppy in front of her. "I think it's perfect," he says in a dreamy voice. "L-llyra," he says, summoning up his courage. "I really think that you'r-" suddenly Llyra is addressed by Zarak, and Spasma blinks, remembering where he is. He looks around the auditorium, eyes darting back and forth. Oh God, what did he miss? Arcana gasps at the continuing footage of the Decepti-rampage. "Look, look! Now there's another one! Another one! It's even bigger! Great Skaht! Ah... robot..." Lifting up his visor, Arcana gives Nightbeat an imploring look. "Yes, yes, what Spoilsport said! And if you couldn't stop them yourself, can you summon reinforcements? We had enough trouble with ONE of them, but two...!" "Reinforcements?" gasps Spoilsport. He /stares/ at Arcana. "Listen, Arcana, I'm open for aid, but you're inviting invasion!" Detective Muzzle notes mildly, "My job is to see justice done, Lord Zarak. I'm not saying the suspect is a saint, but it sure isn't a sinner, as far as I can tell. All the evidence points towards the crash being unplanned and accidental, and the suspect has made no violent actions toward anyone here, despite clearly being capable of it if it so desired, despite its injured state." Nightbeat considers, thinking fast, and he answers Spoilsport, "Just me? I'd lay a trap for the lot of them. Most of 'em only fly in robot mode, unless they're jets or shuttles, which helps. Maybe some kinda entangling net trap. If you let me call in reinforcements," a glance over at Arcana, "I could do more, but there's a radio interdiction field here." He awaits Llyra's question, clearly unenthused. Llyra pushes her seat back and rises, a look of nothing but seriousness on her face. Slowly and deliberately, she struts up to Nightbeat, heels clicking and clacking against the floor as she draws closer and closer. Then, as she stands before his chained form, she spreads her arms and.. ..twirls. "What do you think of my outfit?" Nightbeat looks at Llyra critically. Man, for a tiny squishy, she's got great gams. He replies, quite honestly, "Sweetheart, you're a real knockout. You know how to dress for success, huh?" "Quite" Zarak leans back in his chair, straddling his fingers. "I would not tolerate another invasion of our world. Your war does not concern me Autobot, all that concerns me is the safety of Nebulos and to protect our..." Llyra asks her question "...future..." Spasma remains where he is. He sits down in the vacant chair next to where Llyra - lovely Llyra, luscious Llyra, lavish Llyra, lithe Llyra - Spasma sighs again as he watches her bravely walk up to the robot. It is a wonderful view of her tight dress as she walks away from him. Llyra giggles excitedly while jumping up and down. "Oooh, like, wow! You're totally a lot better than I thought you were!" She twirls around again. "Oh, Daddy! I changed my mind! Don't throw him in the trash!" Spasma's heart skips a beat as Llyra twirls. He can't help but smile again. Spoilsport's shoulders slump as Llyra asks her question. He shakes his head, covering his blue face with his hand. Then he looks up at the Autobot again. "All assumptions here assume /no backup/," he states sternly. Arcana nods, eagerly, the attractive young woman's antics lost on him. He's in full "Doc" mode, focused on gettin' it done. "Yes, yes! All we have to do is lower the interdiction field? We'll do it, right away! I move that we lower the interdiction field, and invite more Autobots to repel the invaders! We'll just have to hold out until they get here!" Duros can only speculate the circus the council will become the day Llyra takes a seat. The guardsman, meanwhile, is inclined to believe the prisoner about his way of being here and his intentions. Else why destroy a pair of war ships to invade? Duros considers the power these machine-people possess, and what their warfare may be like.... and Llyras jumping... But no, he's a married man and on duty. Keep your eyes on the prisoner. Astrotrain is still featured in rolling news reports, showed side-by-side with Scorponok's own rampage. Granted the triplechanger isn't as grandiose in the scale of destruction, but he's doing rather well for himself after having replenished his energy stores. The news reports finally give way to status reports no doubt put together by military eggheads, a 3-dimensional wire image of Astrotrain's robot and locomotive forms along with data showing estimated destructive potential, physical strength capabilities that he's displayed, and his speed. That terrible, terrible speed. No doubt a similar analysis of Scorponok is being made and will be displayed in a much more impressive manner, but the triplechanger's stats are no less impressive, or terrifying to those who could be on the receiving end. And that's just estimations. Nightbeat has a way with the ditzy dames, apparently. He allows himself a weak smile and replies, "Thanks, sweetheart. You seem like a great kid." Air-headed as frag but great. To Spoilsport, he suggests, "Then yeah. A lot of traps. I'd use myself as bait. I owe to your people." "ARCANA!" Zarak may be old, he may be dying, but when he shouts and slams his fist on the council bench, it is /loud/. "The interdiction field will remain. Nebulos will be left free of these cursed robots by any means necessary." And then Nightbeat makes a mistake - a fatal mistake by hitting on his daughter. "ENOUGH!" His voice is picked up by the communications relay and echoes throughout the room. "This is quite enough. Autobot you have proved yourself beyond doubt to be a /liar/ and now you attempt to /corrupt/ my innocent daughter. As is my right, I call upon my power of Council Veto to judge you GUILTY of all offenses. You will be henceforth taken from this place and executed by having your head removed from your body and buried in an unmarked grave." His vision sweeps the hall. "I trust this is /agreeable/ to all present" Detective Muzzle takes off his fedora, holding it over his second heart, and has to protest, "Lord Zarak, this is a miscarriage of justice! There is no evidence the machine has transgressed in any way. Please, let me and the boys take it down to the impound lot and put a clamp on it until we can get this whole affair straightened out." Llyra gasps and runs to her father in that very dramatic, very 'princess-y' way they do in Disney movies. "Daddy, noooo! You can't do that! If you do that, then...then...then I'll start an enviromentalist club!" Spoilsport's jaw drops and he shakes his head. "It is /not/! Now, I don't agree with dropping the interdiction field, either, but nor am I convinced that the Autobot is a liar. Certainly not 'beyond doubt'. We are in a tight situation," he gestures towards the screens, "and we need to consider... consider radical alternatives!" Arcana leaps to his feet again, papers flying about the room. "Nooo! No, it is not! Dammit, Lord Zarak, people are being killed by those two Decepticons, and here we have the one thin glimmer of a chance of stopping them, and you won't let us take it?" He looks to the others--Muzzle, Spoilsport, Spasma, even Llyra. "No no no no no! As a councilmember, I move that we free the machine and restore him to an operational status!" Arcana sputters, "Who is with me!?" Duros awaits the final word or gavel strike... "Interdiction?" Spasma asks in a timid voice. He hasn't been paying much attention to all this. As Llyra runs back to her father, Spasma hesitates, unsure of whether he should stay here or go back to where he was seated before. Wait, what did Zarak even tell him to do originally? Oh God... Duros always figured Spasma would only be fit for peeling Taytor-roots if he were ever taken into the military... Nightbeat is gonna be executed by some two-bit rheumatic politician, huh? Don't that beat all. He survived the crash that killed the lost crew of the fabled Steelhaven, and it ends here? Doesn't seem right, somehow, but death rarely does. He looks right over at Zarak, looking him right in the eyes, searching him. Nightbeat really does hope the Nebulans can defeat the Decepticons here, but he doesn't have high hopes for planet ruled by a man who presides over a kangaroo court like this.
* THWAM* Zarak impassively smashes his gavel down as the howls of protest fall upon deaf ears. "If the people forever got their desires, then there would be no taxes and every day would be a national holiday. Robots do not get due process Arcana, I would not expect missives and musings and legal wranglings over every malfunctioning gadget in your lab you decided to dispose of." He glances across to Spoilsport. "And yes, I agree, /radical/ measures are needed, but putting ourselves at the mercy of these creatures is NOT the way forwards. Nebulons will never again be slaves and so the creature must die. Duros, see to it!" He bangs the gavel down again. "SO SAY WE ALL!" Detective Muzzle is just a copper, not some fancy council member. He gathers up his papers and looks over at Arcana helplessly, having already made his opinion plain. He puts his hat back on and says simply, "Sorry, Councillor Arcana." "S-so say we all," Spasma mumbles. He awkwardly stands up and creeps back to his original seat. The man he was talking to at the beginning of this court session seems firmly in agreement with Lord Zarak. "So say we all!" he declares, thumping his hand down on his desk as Zarak brings down the gavel. Arcana falls silent for once. He does not verbally reply to Muzzle--he merely nods to him. Sitting down, he rests his head on his hands, rubbing his head. He can only hope that Duros makes it quick. Llyra begins to sob hysterically. "Daddy nooooo! Why? Why?? WHYYYYYYYY?" Then her cellphone goes off and she completely forgets about what was just happening. Duros knows in open court, Lord Zarak's will, no matter how much bickering protest is offered, is the final power here. Duros respects the sheer might of Zaraks word. As a mere soldier, he is subject to orders, and not in a place to give any above directing the troops under him to carry out the will of his superiors. Duros subsequently signals his men to take the prisoner away. With no further interference from the Nebulan leaders, Nightbeat may be doomed... Spoilsport's frown deepens as he remains utterly unconvinced on the course of action. He glances at Muzzle, then down at Arcana, then up at the robot. Though he does not trust the creature, this... this mockery of justice does not sit well on his shoulders. So it goes. So an Autobot will die. Nightbeat steels himself. He could have died in the Steelhaven crash. Nightbeat could have been murdered by Kup for his past actions. Thunderwing could have killed him. He could have died on P-19170167 in a prison uprising. People like him are always living on borrowed time. He really should say something diplomatic, that he forgives Zarak, something to improve relations for Autobots to come here later, if there are any, but he's Nightbeat, and he can't. As he is dragged away, Nightbeat says coolly, "See you there, Zarak." In Hell. As Nightbeat is taken away, Zarak returns to his seat, a shaky hand leafing through some papers. He simply arches an eyebrow at Nightbeat's words. "Very well" he mutters. "And Detective Muzzle?" He raises his head. "I hear the unemployment line is rather... fulfilling this time of year. Get to it." "Oh, now... that's just uncalled for," Spoilsport protests. By the heavens, for what have they saved Nebulos, if it turns them into /this/?! "The Detective was only doing his assigned task!" Detective... unemployed Muzzle is taken rather aback. What? Fired? But... 'buts' won't cut it now, he's sure. Muzzle wanted justice. Zarak just wanted a machine to execute. A regrettable conflict of desires, that, and he should have known better, but that's how Muzzle is. He just can't help himself when the truth is on the line. He flips a sarcastic salute at Lord Zarak and breezes out of the auditorium. Unmarked grave, huh? There isn't a better investigator on all of Nebulos than Muzzle, and that unmarked grave won't be unmarked for long. Spasm sits back down. He feels a mix of helplessness and elation. The first for having no chance to give his opinion (which he doesn't even have) at court, and the latter because he and Llyra had a real connection just there. He waves to her, though she might not see him as she's on the phone. As Zarak rubs in Muzzle's employment into his face, Spasm smiles thinly. It is nice to see others suffer the way he constantly must. You can be sure that schadenfreude is indeed a word in Nebulese. Arcana sighs sadly. They have lost the battle to save this robot, and perhaps, in the process, the battle to save Nebulos. Then... he bolts to his feet. Still saying nothing, he rapidly scoots across the council chambers towards Spoilsport. He tries to keep his expression calm, but he's very fidgety. Clearly, he's come up with something. Spoilsport watches Arcana approach him, expression mixed of confusion and suspicion. Arcana's clearly up to something, and not knowing what it is has the old soldier unnerved. Llyra shuts her phone off and throws it across the room. It's out of style by now anyway. She looks around, obviously confused. "Like, wasn't there a robot in here?" Duros radio checks with each guard post that things are going smoothy. He then checks in with the defense co-ordination against the Decepticon plunderers. His heart is heavy at the lack of good news. With peace restored to the chamber, Zarak continues to leaf through his papers. "Arcana" he mutters. "I want you to take Duros and the rest of the guard and investigate the remains of the Autobots crashed ship. Ensure there are no survivors and take any technology you deem appropriate." He then looks across at Llyra. "Llyra, I have booked a nun to speak to you in 2 solar hours, I am sure it will be enlightening" Llyra groans, "Daaaadddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" The screen showing Astrotrain's wire model winks out, going back to footage of the triplechanger on the rampage. This time he's not actually destroying anything, he's in his locomotive form, rumbling ahead straight at the camera which is in the path of the runaway freight train. Man, it would suck to be -that- cameraman, wouldn't it? Except that this is no newsreel footage. This is live security camera footage, showing the street leading up to the Council Hall. To all inside the building, there is the sudden ominous rumbling through the floor, the heavy telltale *CHUGCHUGCHUG* of a giant locomotive on the run... ...and then the entire far wall explodes inwards, sending a few unlucky guards flying, and a shower of debris and rubble spraying across the interior of the Chamber. The front ram prow of the Locomotive glints evilly, before Astrotrain transforms and rises up into his robot mode. "Hah! I know a government muckity-muck type building when I see it! Alright you disgusting little turborats!" he calls out, "Who's the most important fleshbag in this room!?" Arcana finally reaches Spoilsport, leaning over to him. He whispers, "There's one chance we can save him, just one! We need to speak to Galen! He'd never stand for this! And he's one of the World Watchers. Duros would respect him! So, we'll pretend to play along, but we must do something, even if we get thrown in prison!" Out loud, he declares, "Ah, yes, Lord Zarak! That would be quite a lengthy task, going through that wreckage, however. Could take us... weeks, days? But yes, yes, we'll get right in there, we'll take care of it!" Then the wall explodes. "GREAT SKAHT!!!" Arcana yells, throwing himself to the ground as plaster and wood fly everywhere. Live from the Nebulan News Network! A strange and terrifying blue robot has been captured by the brave armed forces and will be executed for its war crimes! The beheading is swift, brutal, and gruesome. There are clapping and cheers from the crowd. Next news item: Llyra's new cell phone. Cute or /totally awesome/? Duros stands at attention with a click of his boots coming together. The guard detail do likewise. "Fall in, we're m.." Duros dives from the exploding wall and rolls back up into combat ready, his firearm levelled and safety off. "To arms! Protect the Council!" He puts himself before Arcana, the nearest member now. "Stay down, sir." The guard contingeant in the auditorium, what is left of them, rise and spread out to cover the council of peers as best they can. Spasma watches as Nightbeat is led away. Good riddance, he says. Now maybe things can get back to normal around here. "So anyway, we were thinking about the Monacus Star Light Cruiser, but then we figured, hey, why go cheap, right?" the councilor opposite Spasma starts up again. Spasma winces. Oh God, kill me now, he pleads. His gaze shift around before he sees the newsreel as if for the first time. Wait... Suddenly the wall explodes, and Spasma is knocked from his chair. He shrieks like a girl as he ducks and covers. Zarak tuts at Llyra. "Now now Llyra, you must trust me, I know best. Now that robot is gone, nothing can..." And then Astrotrain does his best impression of the Kool-Aid Man, and Zarak is on his feet. "By the Rings of Nebulos, this is INTOLERABLE!" He points a finger at Astrotrain. "Leave this place now or face the same fate as your friend!" On the news station a little kid cheers as Nightbeat is decapitated. "I'm glad the mean robot is dead!" he cheers Llyra shrieks like a girl. What else is there to do? Spoilsport frowns, listening to what Arcana says. He's almost ready to aid him when Astrotrain bursts in. The old soldier automatically covers his arms and head, but when he looks up again, his pistol is in hand. Though he doubts it will do much against the armor of such a beast, Spoilsport's aim with such a weapon is legendary - he's not shooting for the armor. He lifts the gun, preparing to snap off a perfectly aimed shot to the eye. Combat: Spoilsport takes extra time to aim its next attack on Astrotrain. Spoilsport fires. :P Arcana pops up to his feet, peering over Duros's left shoulder, then his right, at the evil triple-changer. "Terrifying, yet astonishing!" he declares. Astrotrain raises one arm (yes he's got full functionality in both arms again) to brush away some stray debris that almost falls on his head. The shot from Spoilsport strikes true and impacts right against one of his vermillion optics! There is a sudden shower of sparks, and a crack appears in the casing, but the optic remains functional as it still stands up to the blast from the small-scale weapon, one huge hand rising up to shield his face for those few seconds. "GYAH! You little vermin...get outta my way!" In return, the triplechanger's huge rifle raises up, and unleashes a thick blast into the ceiling right above where Spoilsport and his fellow Nebulans are gathered, sending a shower of plaster in their direction. Astrotrain's strategy isn't so much to single out who did it, as bury them all or scatter them in the process. "Alright enough fun..." His glare takes in the chamber, and though he may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer at times, Astrotrain can logically pick out where the most important people would be. That being the raised dias upon which the angry Zarak and screaming Llyra are located. The ground shakes under the big Decepticon's tread as he moves up, Zarak's response being a rough shove of one large, purple hand to simply swat him out of the way, the other hand reaching out for Llyra, "I get it. Royalty eh? C'mere princess! We're goin on a little trip!" Llyra continues to shreik. "LIKE, OH MY GOD, NOO. PURPLE IS SOOOO NOT MY COLOR!" Spoilsport scrambles back and covers his head, but he's still unable to avoid being partially buried by ceiling. He doesn't shout uselessly, or shake his first, or make empty threats - instead, he calmly, quietly, gets to work in pushing the debris off him so that he can move once more. Mr. Grax, representing the interests of Omnicorp, leaps to his feet in outrage as Astrotrain literally brings the house down, masonry crashing down all around. "I strongly object to this giant robot's presence! Zarak, I hope you realize the liability issues at stake here if you don't get this creature under control!" Duros gives Arcana a shove. "I said stay down." He takes his Nebulan-shield duty seriously. But as the ceiling is blasted, Duros grabs hold of Arcana's arm and yanks him away towards one end of the auditorium... some of his men just as well trained doing the same, their best to protect their Council charges, including the Lord Zarak and his daughter from harm.... seperating those who were relatively closely grouped before the break in... a division line? "Duros!" Zarak shouts. "Spoilsport! Stop hi - hhnf" Zarak may be a powerful political figure, but his body is weak and he crumples in a heap in the corner, steely eyes watching up helplessly at Astrotrain. With a look of horror on his face, Spasma begins crawling away from Astrotrain. He hopes Llyra is alright, but he isn't going to risk his neck on her account. As lovely she looks... as perfectly smooth her skin is... as heavenly musical as her voice is... there's more bitches in the sea than just her! Astrotrain's large fingers curl around Llyra, her petite form and that dress making her look like the leading lady in a Kong remake as the triplechanger takes her in hand. "Pathetic and useless. This planet's even more limp-wristed than Earth, and that's sayin alot!" He snarls, lifting Llyra up to look at her optic-to-face, "You might be my ticket off this mudball, sweetheart." With that, he turns and takes his rifle in his other hand again, pointing it straight up and blasting a huge hole in the ceiling, shielding his head and Llyra from the showering debris a moment later. And then? He takes to the air, lifting up as his anti-gravs hum loudly, carrying him and his captive straight upwards as he goes, cackling the whole while, "Hyah hah hah! See you later, pusbags! Have fun doing whatever useless and insignificant things you do!" Brainstorm flails around in Duros's grip, but he can't escape the burly Nebulan. "Ah! Wait!" he cries as he is dragged away, just in time, from a support beam that would've crushed him. "You... you have to stop the robot! It just injured Lord Zarak, and now it's reaching for his daughter! Oh, no!" Arcana flails around in Duros's grip, but he can't escape the burly Nebulan. "Ah! Wait!" he cries as he is dragged away, just in time, from a support beam that would've crushed him. "You... you have to stop the robot! It just injured Lord Zarak, and now it's reaching for his daughter! Oh, no!" As shes carried off, all Llyra can do is scream empty threats. "I AM SO WRITING A NASTY SPACEFACEBOOK BULLETIN ABOUT YOU GUYS!" Spoilsport finally gets himself out from under the ceiling, but it's far too late. His fists clench and unclench at his helplessness, then he turns to look over at Arcana and Duros. So much for not accepting aid, but if there's anything of interest to be found in that crashed ship? Spoilsport wants to know, too. As Astrotrain escape with his daughter, Zarak slowly rises to his feet, clutching the side of his chest in pain. "Duros!" he shouts out as much as he can. "Find him! Bring my daughter back to me, and /kill/ that wretched Transformer. You may go to /any/ length to ensure it is done, but make it swift and hard" Duros tends to agree with Arcana, but there is no clean shot at the rapidly rising robot. By the time the fallen debris dust clears enough to see Astrotrain, he is too high a target to risk the hostage's life on. He turns to see Zarak rise.... that's the man all of Nebulan respects. The man all aspire to be as strong as. "Yessir!" He turns moving into action. "Evacuate everyone from the auditorium, it's a death trap. You, you and you.... get to the wounded. See to Lord Zarak and the council." Then he turns to the brain-guy he just saved. "We have our orders... Councillor Arcana, sir. We really need to get a move on finding a way to fight these things. The lady Llyra's fate depends on it... as does our world." Arcana tries to slip away from Duros, but the big guy is still holding him fast. Doesn't stop him from bouncing like a maniac, though. "Alright, fine, I agree! Yes, yes, we should get going!" Louder, he yells, "LORD ZARAK! Please contact me if you are feeling unwell!" Arcana may be angry and disappointed with Zarak, but he is still a doctor first and foremost. "Oh, yes, Spoilsport," Arcana says, waving to him with his free arm. "You will want to come with us! Yes... we must go... BACK TO THE CRASH SITE!" Grax maintains the appearance of outrage. "This is completely unacceptable!" He's talking about his ruined suit, not the loss of life, but close enough. "You, you and you... bring my car around, and draft a letter to the High Council expressing our displeasure and threatening to withdraw sponsorship!" he shouts, pointing at a few interns. Spoilsport nods. The space ship? That's /exactly what he wanted to see. Spoilsport hurries after Arcana. "Yes. Yes, I do think I'd like to accompany you." Besides, they can always use someone else with his aim along. ~Scorponok appears on screen doing various attack things and transforms: "The Transformers will return after these messages." ~Fortress Maximus appears on screen doing similar transformation with camera zoom in: We now return to The Transformers.~ The Folassian forest stretches out for miles over the surface of the planet. Grassy fronds have reclaimed much of the devastation laid upon the world from the Decepticon occupation, and leafy trees now stretch high into the sky to swat at the sun. Raccoon and squirrel-like creatures scurry about collecting nuts and berries and birds sing sweetly in the undergrowth. Contents: Arcana Autobot Heavy Cruiser Duros Gort Spoilsport Obvious exits: North leads to The Nursery -- Nebulos. South leads to Lookout Point -- Nebulos. West leads to Sunny Valley -- Nebulos. East leads to Koraja -- Nebulos. We zoom in from an aerial angular view showing the party at the ship crash site... Duros returns to the party. "The perimeter is secure... we can proceed." The guard lets himself eye the titanic vessel, impressive even in its wrecked state. Arcana walks rapidly as he approaches the site, but he keeps pace with everyone else due to his stopping every now and then to gawk at something. "Look at this technology! To think: This spaceship has nearly traveled through space, but between the stars themselves! You cannot even conceive of the distances involved! If only there were no crisis. I would dearly love to examine the mechanism by which it defies all the laws of physics!" Despite the image of the worn veteran that Spoilsport portrays, he can't help but look around the vessel in wide-eyed wonder, awed by the scale. "It's... it's /huge/," he notes. Arcana can go gaa-gaa over the technology - Spoilsport will just gape over the physical aspect. Muzzle pulls up on an unmarked hoverbike. Tracking Arcana down was easy-peasy for the ex-detective. He has some news for the good doctor. Muzzle whistles as he takes the wreckage. He's seen it before during the investigation, sure, but blast, that thing is massive. He dismounts the hoverbike and stalks over nearer to Arcana, explaining, "Found that unmarked grave. Thought you might wanna know, and since I'm currently unemployed..." he glances around at the other gathered Nebulans, "what do I got to lose, here?" In order to even out the number of Nebulans to match the number of Autobots, Gort has come along to check out the crash site. Why wasn't he there before? Animation error? He doesn't say much right now but his eyes sparkle with interest. Duros tips his head towards the expelled detective. Not breaking any laws nor crossing any of Duros' orders, Muzzle is welcome company to this disaster recovery operation. In fact he notices the entire party seems to consist of the more reasonable members of the community and council. Conveinient? Most convienent. Spoilsport approaches the ship. "Well, if it's cleared, I suppose we should get a look inside," he points out. Yeah, that's it. Zarak never said, 'Muzzle, definitely do not track down the unmarked grave of the executed machine.' Yeah. Muzzle glances back and forth shiftily, checking to see if he was followed. Arcana spins as Muzzle brings him the good news. Perhaps too eagerly, he clutches at the detective's shoulders with fingers whose strength may be fueled by madness, albeit a benign variety of it. "You did!? Good, excellent! You'll have to show me where he is later. He was beheaded, but he's a machine! So, there is a chance--a small chance!--we can save him!" He turns to Duros, looking at him, shiftily. "Ehm, that is, once I convince Lord Zarak of the merits of... my proposal. We have to consider all of our options, you know. Ahem. Well, yes, I agree, Spoilsport. Let's go inside." Stepping up to the ship, he points to a section of the section of the ship which appears exposed. "That... that seems to be some sort of hangar bay. I don't think they managed to close it up before they crashed. But, that's good fortune for us. It means we can get inside without having to blast it open!" Muzzle winces just a little, taken aback by the doctor's obvious enthusiasm. He suggests, "Hey, keep cool." he still has his sidearm, and he reaches up to finger it, looking at the ship thoughtfully. "Could be dangerous. I'm in." Arcana has left. Arcana boards Autobot Heavy Cruiser . Duros seems unphased by Arcana's baldfaced lack of surity of his duty here. "Whatever it takes. Fast and hard. We have a world to defend and lives to save, including but not limited to the lady Llyra." He marches to the gaping hangar escorting the party. He makes the initial climb and then secures a climbing line to safely get everyone else inside more easily. Spoilsport has left. Spoilsport boards Autobot Heavy Cruiser . Duros has left. Gort has left. Duros boards Autobot Heavy Cruiser . Gort boards Autobot Heavy Cruiser . Before you hangs the Autobot Heavy Cruiser known as the Steelhaven. Shaped more like an ornate spire than a ship, this lance-shaped starship blasts through space with the help of the huge booster engine affixed to the back. Due to the design it is more suited to space flight, though it can handle atmospheric landings due to small tripod legs that can unfurl out. Only moderately armed, its main advantage is the extreme speeds it can reach, getting to scenes of trouble quickly to deal with what may lie ahead. Muzzle boards Autobot Heavy Cruiser .========================[ The Steelhaven ]========================
The hangar bay of the Steelhaven is moderately sized, having room enough for several Autobot shuttles. A huge pair of airlock doors are inset against the wall, enabling either shuttle launchers or for Autobots to leap out into space. From the walls comes the loud humming of the powerful starship drive. External ship broadcasts for this room are ON Type +shiphelp for help This is a ship entrance/exit room. Use the AIRLOCK command to leave the ship for it's current location: Folassian Forest -- Nebulos Contents: Arcana Autobot Shuttle Duros Gort Spoilsport Obvious exits: North leads to Steelhaven - Laboratory. From Outside: Muzzle has left. Mr. Grax enters the ship from Folassian Forest -- Nebulos. Mr. Grax has arrived. From Outside: Mr. Grax has left. Mr. Grax's car pulls up a bit later than everyone else's arrival. He had to change into a fresh suit- the other one had his secretary's blood on it. He walks in behind the soldiers as if he owned the place, understandable since usually he DOES own the place. "There could still be dangerous robots in here," he points out to Duros as if Duros didn't know that. Arcana scrambles up the line with far more vigor than an old man like himself should be entitled to. Once he's up, he gawks at the hangar bay. Though medium-sized by TF standards, it is amazing to him. "Wow! Look at all of this space, in here! They even have room for another starship in here!" He starts running over to the Ol' Rusty, but stops abruptly as he finally catches sight of the wounded Autobots strewn about the room. "Oh, dear me..." In particular, he looks at Fortress Maximus, who appears to be... headless. "It may be too late to help them..." he says, sadly. Spoilsport walks in, doing his best to hide his nervousness, and looks around. He studies the headless warrior, then the other bodies near it. Then he shakes hishead and glances upward - towards sky, thanks to a hole in the hanger. "Didn't you just say that since they're machines, headless may not be fatal?" Muzzle steps carefully through the wreckage, always testing before he puts his weight on anything. There is still yellow police tape around some areas, and he picks his way past it. His memory is nigh-photographic, but settling make have changed the layout since he was last here, and he takes in everything. Muzzle glances over at Mr. Grax, frowns thinly, and reaches out, trying to tap Arcana on the shoulder. "If I was a robot I certainly wouldn't keep my brain in my head," points out Mr. Grax. "Heads are vulnerable to breaking, puncturing, smashing, cleaving... all variety of things. Heads are more fragile than most people think." Grax asides to Muzzle, "Present company excepted of course, Detective." He winks cheerily. Arcana rubs his forehead, grimacing. "I don't know, it's possible it's not fatal! Mr. Grax might be right. They may keep their brains in a better protected part of their body. But then, again, they *might not.* Until I learn more about these "Autobots," I have only speculation--and hope--at my disposal." As he gets tapped, he looks about, then leans in towards Muzzle. Muzzle has long suspected that there is a whiff of blood about Mr. Grax, but the force had always been unable to touch him, through the barricade of lawyers. He agrees, with forced cheer, "Oh, yeah. I've seen a lot of 187. Very messy, head trauma." Muzzle mutters to Arcana, "... guard.... plans." Muzzle whispers, "Just be on guard. And maybe not so talky with the big plans," to Arcana. "Until you know more?" Spoilsport asks uncertainly. Then he gestures towards the bodies. "There we are! Better to start learning now. We haven't got much time!" Duros silently skulks on the fringes of the party, circling as their protection as the brains do their thing. He is a hammer, and for now he can only wait for a way of becoming a better hammer is formed by the brains. The addition of the business success story Mr. Grax is noted as one more important figure he must protect in this alien environment. He is glad Muzzle and Spoiler are capable. That only leaves Arcana, Gort, and Mr Grax... and whoever else might have been dragged along but remain lineless in this scenario. Grax's interns are lineless and look like they wish they were just about anywhere but here, but they really want permanent full-time positions. Arcana hmms thoughtfully as he listens to Muzzle. While the Doctor may be an eccentric, he doesn't exactly have a very bad reputation. On the other hand, he's a little more familiar with the wrong side of the law than some people might give him credit for. "Hmmm. Yesssss," he mutters thoughtfully. To answer Spoilsport's question, he says, "Well, yes, we've accounted for these bodies. I count... hm... three? I think we should check out the other rooms, see what else is in here. We might even find more of them, and, with any luck, we might gain access to their..." He wants to say, "Med bay," but keeps it to himself for now. "Er, let's just continue looking, shall we?" Mr. Grax crouches down and fingers the edge of the stump curiously. "It certainly seems dead. Or inert, I suppose. Saaay, what's going to happen to these bodies?" Mr. Grax offers, "I'll beat anyone's bid for a salvage operation here. You wouldn't want just anyone handling this. There could be any number of terribly dangerous chemicals just ready to leach into the water table if this wreck was salvaged inexpertly." Duros replies, "Whatever is necessary, by order of Lord Zarak. If they are worthless to defeating the enemy threat, then that is up to later debate. In the meantime, their our best chance at figuring out away to carry out Zaraks orders and thus confiscated by the military." Muzzle notes coolly, "Lord Zarak has authorised the good doctor there to go to any length to stop the menace. My bet? All of these stiffs end up over at the Ministry of Science for reverse-engineering." He crosses his arms, frowning. "No one's bid yet," Spoilsport says gruffly, "and no one's going to. We were ordered to make what use we could of the technology. And to get back Zarak's girl any way we can." He looks around. "If we can figure out how to do both at once?" He shrugs, essentually agreeing with Duros and Muzzle before moving further into the ship. Spoilsport has left. Arcana begins to shuffle towards a door which is, by his standards, gigantic. "Ahhh, yes, well, I imagine they will be recovered for study, as Muzzle suggests, though I guess we will have trouble finding the time to do that while Nebulos burns. If your company can do the job before we're all dead, then, yes, you'd be a good choice, I imagine..." He disappears into the darkness of the ship, yelling, "Come along, everyone!" Arcana has left. Duros has left. Gort has left. [Commercial Break]========================[ The Steelhaven ]========================
The command deck is sterile and businesslike. Monitors are dotted around showing various vistas, and the room is divided into various command pods, each semicircular and covered in controls. The ceiling is lined with strip-lighting to give the room a very bright, white look. External ship broadcasts for this room are ON Type +shiphelp for help Contents: Arcana Duros Gort Obvious exits: South leads to Steelhaven - Laboratory. Mr. Grax has arrived. Spoilsport has arrived. Duros gazes about, his weapon leveled and then lowered at ready again. More bodies, if you can call giant machines in humanoid configuration bodies.... eyeing what looks like weapons on them just as he saw from the bodies further back. These aliens arm themselves as walking weapons, not just carrying them. Mr. Grax sucks his teeth thoughtfully. "Ahh, yes, Zarak's girl. I'd forgotten." He nudges one of the robot bodies with the toe of his glossy shoe. The bridge is filled with wreckage and more bodies from when the roof caved in. Present are the bodies of Hardhead, Highbrow, Brainstorm, Pointblank, and probably a *master or two that the animators forgot to put into the scene. Budgets are limited in cartoons, you know. "Yes... just like the hangar bay," Arcana says as he steps into the pitch blackness as if he can see perfectly. And perhaps he can, with that crazy visor of his. Which reminds him... "Oh, sorry, the rest of you can't see as well as I can with my invention. Here, one moment..." He puts away the visor's wearing, then, from his cape, or a pocket, or... *something,* he pulls out another, which appears to have two large round goggles on it. He flicks a switch on the side and the goggles project light, just like a flashlight! "There we go! Now, let's see what we've got..." His head darts about the room, looking at this and that, briefly illuminating objects for a few split seconds before he looks at something else. Muzzle has been paying attention to the details, and he comments, absently, "Y'know, there's a trail of blue and yellow paint scraped onto the floor from here," he points to a spot on the floor, "all the way out of the ship. That machine we executed," yes, 'we' - he couldn't stop it, so he has to take responsibility, "really did crawl all the way out." Muzzle wasn't making stuff up at the trial. Neither was the machine, apparently. He looks at the bodies, such as the grotesquely skewered Pointblank, impaled by pipes. Might as well be a car crash with no passengers inside, for all it moves him. Spoilsport observes. He doesn't have the eye for detail that Muzzle does, but all it takes is one glance around the room, backed by the light-goggles, and he's picked out the major targets and where he'd need to point his gun to hit them. "So we've got one executed, and the rest already dead." He grunts. "So much for reinforcements." He sighs, adding, "Guess this means I'm active duty again." Duros rummages into his soldier pants pockets and pulls out some snap lights. He cracks and shakes them and they burn to life, lighting up the bridge in round banks of cold lumination for several meters wherever one is planted. Muzzle notes idly, "Eh. Could always lower the radio interdiction if we really want those precious reinforcements that badly." The idea will never fly, he knows, but he's out of work at the moment, and after that fiasco? He'll be out of work for a long time. He's feeling pretty lippy right now. Muzzle withdraws a penlight, looking at some of the injuries in more detail, trying to estimate the bore of some these weapons, to leave blast marks that way. Arcana mutters, "Oh, I knew that robot wasn't a liar, after having listened to him for a moment. Yes, what a terrible thing we've done. Even if we find a way to revive them, we may have lost their trust as a result of that farce of a trial." He wanders over to one form, trapped under a pile of wreckage. An open hand pokes out of it, and Arcana squats nearby, sighing. "Well, that looks very likely Spoilsport, at this point. I was hoping that maybe... Yes, and I already tried that, Muzzle. Zarak was adamant about leaving it up." Then, suddenly, the hand twitches, and clenches unexpectedly, just shy of Arcana! "Great Skaht! That one... he might still be alive!" Duros smoothly raises his weapon and joins Arcanas side. Mr. Grax leaps backwards, startled. "You, peon!" he hisses to one of the interns. "Duane, sir." "When I care what your name is I'll call you by it!" counters Grax. "Go to the car and get me my chainsaw." Muzzle snorts. "Yeah. I was there, Doc." Attention flicking over to the twitch, he withdraws his sidearm and cocks the hammer, readying himself. It's old-fashioned, just the way he likes it, but lasers aren't any great shakes against these robots, either, as Spoilsport showed earlier. Duros furrows his brow at that peculiar announcement from Mr Grax... and he's probably not the only one. Arcana holds out a hand to Duros and Muzzle. "No, I don't think he was trying to attack me. Might've been a reflex. Involuntary." To the hand, Arcana says, "Ah, hello... are you alright? Can you hear me...?" His query is rewarded by a slow, pained groan. A robotic voice replies, "No... not really... uh... what happened... where are... the others? I can't see..." Arcana informs him, "Your ship crashed, my friend. Ah... you are trapped under some wreckage. It may take some effort to get you out. As for the others, ahhh..." He looks about the room with his flashlight visor, and struggles for words. "Blast, how can we tell him that?" he muttters. Muzzle has a bit of experience with informing families that their loved ones are dead, but he's also in a particularly bad mood right now. He opines, "Just tell him the truth. He deserves it, doesn't he?" He lowers his sidearm but does not put it away. Over by weapons controls, or rather just that tall out jutting consol that resembles other tall consoles to the short squishies, the green body of another robot, who's middle fingers seem locked in extension, shifts about with a spark of energy surge muttering, "you arn't getting..." Then he goes offline again. Gort gingerly peeks at a blue and tan robot that is slumped over a console. Still unconscious. Not trapped under anything though. "This one shouldn't be too hard to repair or pull out of here, I think." Duros turns and aims at the other moving stiff. No sweat or sign of nervousness, just reflexive training. "That one's got some kick left it looks like..." Mr. Grax stays well out of the way while he hasn't got his chainsaw. Muzzle observes, "The green one? Kinda matches you, Duros. Wrong shade, though." His attention snaps over to Gort. The robot trapped under the wreckage coughs out, "Wait... was that Hardhead? Hardhead, where... unnngh." Arcana sighs, and fidgets. Yes, the Detective is quite the realist, and quite right. "Of course, yes. Your... your friends appear to be... incapacitated. Only one of them managed to get off the ship and tried to get help. It was, ah, a blue one, I think. But... he was... he didn't make it." True enough, for now. Ah... maybe we could save the other one, too, but we may need your help. I am Arcana. What is your name, my friend?" "It's... it's Brainstorm. If you could... enhh... if you help me out, maybe I could fix my friends?" "Yes, of course," Arcana says, rubbing his chin. He glances to the robots Gort and Duros are investigating. "I certainly hope you can. The Decepticons are rampaging on our planet. We need your help." "As Autobots," Brainstorm says, "It's our sworn duty to protect sentient life. Heh, sapient life, actually. Heheh. *kaff* But yes, we can help you." TO BE CONTINUED...
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