Post by legios on Dec 8, 2010 19:28:02 GMT
CSAR
by
Karl Thurgood
by
Karl Thurgood
The abyss at Rollbar's feet seemed to go on for ever. In reality he knew that it could only be a few thousand metres down to the lower levels of the city, hardly enough to do any permanently irreparable damage to him let alone threaten lethal trauma to the brain module. If he fell down there he would survive, assuming anyone found him. The only problem was that the 'bots mostly likely to find him weren't exactly on the most friendly terms. He poked at his damaged leg again. He didn't really know a lot about emergency repair. He could stem an oil leak or lock his vocal processor down whilst he dug a cannon round out of his bodywork but when it came to the inner workings of the gears and pistons in his legs.... well, that was what 'bots like him kept doctors around for. That misaligned gear refused once again to snap back into position. A shame, he could have made a lot better time on his wheels than he had on his legs. He took stock of his position once again. There had been a skyway bridge across from this cluster of megascrapers to the one on the other side of the chasm once upon a time. It apparently hadn't really been up to scratch and the rigours of war had torn it loose to tumble down towards their base, just as it had put all of the elevator shafts he had tried offline. And a 'bot like Rollbar was not really built for flying unaided down a few thousand metres of 'vator shaft. If he could have walked across the bridge he could have put himself that much closer to Autobot lines and safety but here he remained, deep in enemy territory and far too close to the Decepticon interior. He needed a way across, and he needed it now. If they caught up to him with this much battle damage to contend with Rollbar didn't figure he would have a Turbofox's chance in hunting season.
******
Fugue was hunting. His sensors were cranked up to maximum as he tried to scan every inch of the planet that flashed by beneath him for the slightest sign of his quarry. He was hardly the only Decepticon who was out hunting right now, and he wasn't in the mood to allow anyone else to beat him to the Autobot infiltrator. The Autobot had come close to making him ridiculous when he slipped past the other sentries to blow up the munitions dump they were supposed to be guarding. The rest of the Autobot team may have given them the slip but this one was separated from his comrades, damaged. This one they could catch, and when they caught him they would make him pay. Fugue felt the twin tail-fins mounted at the rear of his flattened, sharply-angled fuselage bite into the air as he banked hard onto a new heading. He looked forward to feeling his combat blades bite into the Autobot''s exo-shell the same way.
******
Rollbar knew that he wasn't going to be coming up with a better idea. There simply wasn't time anymore for better ideas. This was going to be as good as it got. He might not be able to cross a bridge that wasn't there but there was another balcony area, lower down on the megascraper complex on the other side of the chasm. If he got his footwork just right it should be possible for him to arc across and make some sort of landing on that. Not that it would be a particularly pretty method of making the crossing but sometimes it wasn't about what was pretty, it was about what worked. He backed up a bit, without the extra speed of his vehicle mode he would need a bit more run up. Of course, if his estimate was off or his damaged leg couldn't manage the footwork required to throw him into the air in exactly the right spot he would hurtle down to the bottom of the chasm and an impact that would certainly be hard on the bodywork. But then, sometimes the only way out was through.
******
Evac put down the dataslate as the roar of the crowd echoed through the ready room. Above the holo-vid rig the small image of Sunstreaker took a victory bow in front of the crowd that thronged the Kalis arena. Again.
“We're on Rescue Standby for another four days,” Evac observed, “are you planning on watching that every six hours? Just for my information. You know, so I can turn my audio sensors off if necessary.” Searchgrid's attention left the holo-vid player that had held it raptly for the last twenty minutes,
“are you kidding me? This fight is a classic. It was the first one after Sunstreaker went down to a draw against Cliffhanger at Selucia. He went away and spent a whole half-year learning Kaon-style Metalikato. This was his comeback match, the one that started him on his course to a second Great Arc tournament victory.”
“Wasn't Metalikato banned?”
“Everyone always says that,” Searchgrid waved his hands in frustration, “it was only some styles that were banned, the high-impact Vosian and Iaconian styles mainly. There were lots of Metalikato styles that were used by a lot of competitors, not just Centered Pivot like Sunstreaker but Whirling Cog and Three-Link-Drive-Chain like Firebird used.” He stopped as he realised that Evac was just looking at him patiently.
******
Rollbar realised about halfway across the chasm that this wasn't going to go very well. Not that he hadn't managed to hit the right take-off mark, with plenty of momentum even with his damaged leg. Indeed he was arcing across the chasm at exactly the right rate of fall to put him down on the other platform exactly where he wanted to be. As ever, the problem wasn't going to be the fall, it was the landing that could be the killer. Whatever enemy fire had done to his leg had finally taken is toll. Something vital had broken loose as he had launched himself into the air, unfortunately it had not had the good grace to do so in such a way as to put the hydraulics out of commission. Instead his leg servo had locked solid, extended in a very ungainly which was going to make the landing that bit more difficult than he had planned for. That was alright, or so Rollbar told himself. If it was getting tougher then he would just have to get driving.
******
Stormwatcher cruised slowly at high altitude. From up here he could see Fugue and the others criss-crossing below, racing at high speed to cover ground as fast as possible as they hunted the Autobot infiltrator. Stormwatcher's alt-mode wasn't built for speed, with his broad-spanned pabble-bladed wings blended into the humped green shape of his fuselage. They might not make him as fast as a Striker aero-form but they gave him superior staying power at altitude, allowing him to loft himself and his sensors higher, a vantage point that allowed him to perceive far more than his fellow Decepticons as they dashed about at low level. He climbed higher in a lazy-spiral, carefully sweeping the ground below with every sensor at his disposal. The Autobot would make a mistake eventually, that much was inevitable and when he did it would be the last mistake that it would make.
******
Rollbar struck the platform exactly where he had planned, but hardly with the grace he had anticipated. Where he had planned to be able to skid to a stop carefully his damaged leg instead turned him over as he landed, pinwheeling his good leg down onto the surface with worrying force. Rollbar felt something give inside and knew before he even tried to get to his feet that the damage was significant. He struggled up onto his good leg, but it collapsed under him with a hiss of damaged hydraulics. One leg damaged to the point of uselessness, the other too damaged to bear weight. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the tips of the megascrapers to the night sky that they stabbed into. This situation had officially become about as bad as it was going to. He opened a small compartment on his left arm. His fingers hovered over the rescue beacon. It was an encrypted, frequency-hopping, burst transmitter that was as near to untraceable as could be made, but there was always a chance that a Decepticon with exactly the right equipment in the right place at the right time might be able to pick it up. Rollbar considered the odds, compared them to the odds of successfully dragging himself to the Autobot front-line with half a working leg and no prospect of being able to transform. He didn't normally give much credence to odds but sometimes they just couldn't be ignored.
******
“Look,” Evac said, “all I'm asking is that you turn it down a bit. I appreciate that you enjoy it but that doesn't mean that the rest of us have to enjoy it with you.”
“Oh, come on....” Searchgrid began, but he was cut off by the sudden warbling of the Ready alarm. He looked at Evac for a moment, both of them assimilating the data-packet that was being transmitted over inter-Autobot datalink. An Autobot special operator, injured behind enemy lines and signalling for urgent assistance. The still-born argument was abandoned before it started as they ran down the corridor to the launching pad.
******
Stormwatcher listened for a second signal spike. He had known that patience would be rewarded but he had hoped for more. Just the ghost of a signal across a narrow band. Encoded and unintelligible but recognisable. Enough to know that the Autobot was out there, but not enough to localise and identify his position. Stormwatcher tried to reign in his impatience and frustration, they couldn't help him now. Time was what he needed, time and patience.
******
Searchgrid was transforming even as he reached the open launching area. His arms folded in across his back even as his torso and legs became the fat cylinder of his fuselage. As they locked into place the gears in his drive train engaged with those of his rotors and the quintuple-bladed lifting surfaces began to turn. The rotors couldn't begin to turn at their maximum rate immediately and he thudded down onto his landing gear at the instant he completed his transformation. A second later the rotors spun up to speed and began to generate lift. Searchgrid was hoisted into the air with Evac just behind him.
******
Tomahawk banked hard, swinging into position ahead of the other two Autobots as all three sliced through the air towards the Decepticon front-line.
“Overwatch to Rescue One, name's Tomahawk and I am your assigned cover. Confirm insertion point is Four-Bravo and profile is CSAR?” he transmitted over scrambled inter-Autobot radio.
“Rescue One, Evac. Confirm insertion at Four-Bravo for a Combat Search and Rescue profile. One Autobot based on beacon coordinates.”
“Roger that. Lets open it up and get it done,” Tomahawk replied, opening the throttle and increasing his airspeed.
******
Rollbar rested his back against the wall of the tower and unclipped his sidearm. He had lost his main weapon somewhere in the confused retreat from the Decepticon base. He didn't immediately recollect where but he figured that at this stage a charge of 'carelessly misplacing Autobot Army equipment was probably the least of his worries. He hefted the snub-nosed pistol thoughtfully. The small focal array meant that it wouldn't maintain beam coherency very far, so if he was caught out in the open like this he wouldn't have much chance of fighting back. On the other hand, taking cover in the tower could make things very tricky for the rescuers who he hoped were on the way. In the end, he figured sometimes you just had to randomise and hope the numbers came up good.
******
The two hab-blocks, toppled so that the stubs that remained of them crossed over like an archway, that marked point Four-Bravo were closing rapidly. Beyond them a deep gash in the surface of the planet, caused by an airbursting proton missile early in the war, cut right through to some of the immediate substructure. The resulting jagged and tangled canyon in Cybertron's surface was an ideal way for an airborne Autobot to slip through the Decepticon front line unobserved – if you were agile, quick witted and had tungsten steel nerves. Fortunately Tomahawk qualified on all counts. As he shed altitude and dropped into the canyon he hoped the same could be said for the two rescue specialists following close behind him.
******
Fugue made a swift turn into a new search area, rolling out at an altitude that left him clear of the tops of the forest of towers, but still low enough that he could peer down into their roots as he overflew them. He was covering a lot of ground, it surely had to increase his odds of being the first to locate the Autobot Saboteur.
Something caught his attention for a moment, a fleeting contact on his radar – something that seemed to be airborne and moving rapidly. He started to climb and to focus his attention behind him. Yes, there it was – an airborne object so low amongst the towers that it was almost lost amongst the cacophony of radar returns from the structures. But there was no doubt that it was airborne and moving, and it there was no sign of it transmitting a Decepticon recognition signal. Which meant one of two things, either it was a Decepticon too stupid to realise what being in a free-fire zone meant, or it was an Autobot. Fugue would have laid his Energon ration on it being the latter. Their hadn't been an airborne Autobot in the group that had attacked his base, so Fugue realised that the saboteur must have called for backup. In which case he realised, the Autobot's friends might just lead Fugue straight to him.
******
Searchgrid was glad to pitch up and slow to a hover. A high-speed, low-level run always set his nerves on edge. He appreciated the fact that at low level a rotor-form had a real advantage over the usual aerodyne modes of airborne Decepticons, and the high speed of their passage would carry them through and past the effective range of any ground-based 'Cons before the latter could acquire them as a target and get as shot off. Statistically at least. Somehow, when Searchgrid was clipping along at maximum speed having to use almost all of his attention to make sure that he didn't slam into inconveniently placed terrain features he didn't really find statistics that comforting for some reason.
His speed bled off and he settled into the hover over a platform jutting out from the wall of one of the towers whose tops formed the surface of this part of Cybertron. Down among the tall trunks of the towers the airflow made it difficult to maintain a precise hover, but this was where Searchgrid always knew that he had excelled.
“I'm dropping down to make the assessment,” Evac indicated.
“You did the last one,” Searchgrid pointed out, “isn't it your turn to do the hauling?”
“Higher-rated triage specialist. Also, ranking officer,” Evac countered.
“Maintaining the hover and standing by to deploy frame,” Searchgrid knew when he was beaten.
Rollbar had almost been unwilling to believe his optics when the two Autobots had hove into view. He had heard the buzzsaw-drone of their rotors before he had caught sight of them and had prepared himself to fight if they had turned out to be Decepticons. The sight of their Autobot recognition markings was one of the most welcome sights to ever meet his optics. One of the Autobots entered the hover above him, his twin rotors stirring up an powerful downdraft below him. The other dropped down towards the platform. He transformed as he descended, his rotors folding and tucking in to his right arm. The Autobots knees bent as his hydraulics took the shock of his touch-down.
“Hi, guess you guys got my invite,” Rollbar observed.
“What's the situation?” Evac asked. Rollbar waved his hand below his waist joint,
“I think that these legs might be time-expired,” he observed.
“Ok, let me take your diagnostics,” Evac deployed the diagnostic interface from its slot beneath the lifting-gear on his left arm. He connected it to the diagnostic port on the side of Rollbar's head and systems data flowed into his consciousness.
“Looks like something broke lose in your drivetrain and made quite a mess of things. Ok, don't worry, we'll get you out of here,” Evac assured him, at the same time he was transmitting to Searchgrid across inter-autobot radio, “ok, lower the liftframe and I'll get him secured.”
“Listen,” Rollbar warned, “I don't want to worry you folks but we might be having a bit of company. There was a Decepticon aerodyne form buzzed this area a bit back. Not sure if he saw me but if he did he might be circling back.”
“You'll need to lean forward, we need to get you locked into the lift-frame.”
******
Fugue levelled his wings as he settled onto his line for his attack run. The gap between the towers gave him a straight run towards his target. It was his lucky day, not only was the Autobot saboteur there – immobilised and helpless – but two of his friends were fussing around him. They were all obviously too busy to have realised that he was there, giving him time to line up his shots. He already knew what he was planning to do, he would take out the two rotor-forms with his pulse-cannons before descending to finish of the Autobot saboteur with his twin energy-knives. Fugue was looking forward to this.
He nudged his nose over slightly, lining up the perfect shot on the hovering Autobot. Suddenly his warning radar started pinging as a third Autobot rotor-form side-stepped out from between two of the towers behind him and to his right. One of them had been waiting in ambush for him!
******
“Got him,” Tomahawk thought fiercely as he drifted out from between the towers where he had been hovering. Aerodyne-form Decepticons always seemed to think they owned the sky, but down here amongst the spires, canyons and terrain clutter was Tomahawk's territory and he never got tired of demonstrating that to them. He locked and fired a pair of missiles and watched as the Decepticon desperately broke of his attack run and tried to evade.
******
Fugue pulled up hard, trying to gain the space to evade. The Autobot had appeared as if from nowhere, right behind him. Although he evaded desperately he knew that the missiles had been launched from too close, that he didn't have time. They detonated and pain tore through him as the shrapnel shredded into his exo-structure. He pitched out of control and slammed into the top of one of the towers, transforming reflexively as he slid across the surface, colliding with piles of debris before finally coming to a stop.
******
'Haul away,' Evac ordered. He watched as Searchgrid winched up the lift-frame with the injured Autobot secured safely to it.
'Got him,' Searchgrid confirmed once the load was in place ready for transit. Evac transformed and got airborne,
'Ok, time to go.'
'Yeah, never like to outstay my welcome,' Searchgrid agreed.
'Overwatch, Rescue One, package recovered and we are on the move, Extraction plan gamma' Evac transmitted.
'Extraction gamma, heard and clear Rescue One, lets make tracks,' Tomahawk replied. The three Autobot fliers turned onto their course towards Autobot lines.
******
Stormwatcher circled, watching the Autobots go from high above. There was one thing about Fugue, he might not be much cop as a hunter but he made an ideal target marker once he managed to accidentally stumble across something. Not that Stormwatcher was foolish enough to actually make a move. He had watched the Autobot rotor-form shoot that idiot Fugue out of the sky, and he had been blessed with the ability to count. Standing orders might say that he was supposed to engage the Autobots and call for backup, but at their current rate of progress they would be back across the front line long before any backup could arrive. Stormwatcher was built for endurance, not for firepower and he knew his limits. Against three Autobots he would not be much more than target practice. Sometimes there were things it was better to just not see. Taking a moment to take another look at the downed Fugue, just for the fun of it, Stormwatcher turned for home.
******
Fixup watched the SAR team dip towards the receiving pad. Above them the narrow, spindly shape of the rotorcraft that had been their top cover was peeling and heading back to his base or perhaps to respond to another request for support, his job done now that they were safely back within the Autobot air defence envelope. He was only peripherally aware of that though, being more focused on the data that the lead SAR specialist had transmitted ahead once they had cleared the Decepticon front line. Fixup at worked with this Autobot, Evac he recalled his name was, before and had been impressed with the quality of his work. This occasion was no exception. So, they had locked out the patient's drive-train in software and used a temporary seal to prevent any further foreign bodies getting into the wound. Fixup nodded, the first rule of battlefield medicine was to make sure that the patient was stable and wasn't going to get any worse, so that was good work which put them off to an excellent start. He turned to the surgical assistant who was waiting by his side,
“I want to get him into theatre and disconnect his drive-train hardware temporarily. Then we'll see if we can do a scan to identify whatever is rattling around loose before we ship him back up the line to a proper repair bay for a systems rebuild.”
“Yes sir,” the assistant responded, hurrying away to check that the surgical bay was prepared. Fixup was earning a reputation with his insistence that seconds were like minutes and both of them should always be treated as if they were critical because one day they would be.
******
Evac checked in as they entered the Ready Room, confirming with Sector command authorities that they were back in position and ready to respond to any emergencies as required. He watched Searchgrid cross over to the holo-vid and flip the switch. Once more the roar of the crowd echoing around the Kalis arena filled the room. Evac resigned himself to the thought that this could be a very long shift.
******
Fugue's systems rebooted and he sat up. He had gone into a temporary protective shutdown when he had collided with the top of the megascraper. He sat and assessed his damages. On one hand he had come off better than he had expected. His exo-structure had absorbed much of the blast and had weathered the torrent of shrapnel relatively well. On the other hand the impact of his crash had been rather..... aversive. A quick visual inspection confirmed that one of his wings had been badly deformed in the crash – the metal twisted and stretched in all the wrong directions. Even if he could transform he doubted that his aerodyne form would still qualify as aerodynamically stable by even the broadest stretch of the definition. He clambered to his feet, realising as he did so that the impact had thrown one of his leg actuators out of alignment, leaving him dragging one leg whose knee joint was frozen in place. That would only make the long and arduous walk back to base longer and less pleasant. But all he could do was make a start on it. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was going to be coming to help him.
END.
