Arrival: Earth

[al_octane]

It's a long way to Tipperary, and an even longer way to Earth, but Von Octane's Express is finally underway. Sandstorm's holding down the bridge while Octane finishes processing the last of the contaminated fuel and catching up on his reading. Frostbite and Fatima are busy putting the two Stunticons and Elita One back together, while everyone else

Comments

[al_octane]

After receiving clearance from the EDC, the Express enters Earth orbit, while Octane calls for approach and landing clearance from Autobot City. Below the ship, blue-white Earth looms--a vast polar weather system sprawled across northern North America. It's been a day or so, and the vast storm is evolving naturally and moving as impelled by the jetstream and Earth's rotation--the Great Lakes region is getting hammered by heavy snow and ice storms.

Octane is only concerned with the weather around Autobot City--it's clear and cold, safe for landing.

// Autobot City, this is the Free Trader Von Octane's Express, Octane commanding. Request immediate clearance for landing. We have one human medevac case and three Transformers medevacs. Human is a small child with severe pneumonia and will need immediate hospitalization. Transformers are stable, but not self-transporting and in need of further repairs. Octane over. //

re

[dirty_halfdozen]

Swindle and Vortex fidget anxiously as the ship enters Earth orbit, waiting for the ship to touch down so they can leave and rejoin their teammates.

//You coming to AC, Ons? Or you want us to bug out once we land or what?//
Swindle asks, for what is the third time in as many minutes.

//We'll come to get you,// Onslaught says. //Then, we'll see what happens from there.//

//Okay, sure,// Swindle says. //I just think we're waiting for clearance now, so you might wanna get a move on, y'know? I mean, if you wanna be here when we get here.//

//We'll be there as soon as I can get clearance for our arrival at Autobot City,// Onslaught says. //If they won't give it, meet us at the following coordinates ASAP after landing.//

//Sure, sure,// Swindle says, then radios Octane. //How soon until we land? I mean, you got any kind of an ETA?//

Re: re

[al_octane]

Octane, who is busy setting up the re-entry path on his console, shakes his head irritatedly at the query.

// Swindle, we'll land when we land. First I got to get the slagging clearance, then figure a re-entry path that isn't going to send me into the path of some jumbo jet flight from Tokyo. Figure a couple of hours, tops--unless the EDC bureaucracy throws another hissy fit. //

Re: re

[dirty_halfdozen]

//Just asking, we don't usually bother with clearances when we come in, so I got no idea how long this piddly slag takes,,// Swindle snaps back.

To Onslaught: //Couple hours, Octane says. Should give you guys plenty of time to get to AC.//
(Reply to this)(Parent)

[al_octane]

Talifeyah turns toward Octane from the communications console and informs him in Arabic, "We have approach clearance from all relevant authorities and landing clearance from Autobot City. In addition, the American government is asking the status of Ambassador Witwicky and has offered us an escort to our landing site, once we pass through the blackout zone."

"Sweet!" Octane starts punching up his plotted re-entry vector and touches the shuttles maneuvering jets. Just a short burn, and they begin to de-orbit. "Let's get this baby on the ground and our passengers home! Tell 'em we're fine, we don't figure on any trouble hereon in, but we appreciate their concern. If it makes 'em feel better to follow us around, fine."

//All hands--and that's you, too--we're beginning atmospheric re-entry. Prepare for some turbulence--which is to say, strap in to a seat or at least grab something, and don't bother suing me if you get hurt because you were doing something dumb, I warned you! We'll be entering communications blackout in about ten minutes

[attair_al_fada]

The last of the fiery shock-wave fades from the Express's nose just as the first hail breaks the communications black-out.

// OCTAAAAANE! // Starscream's call is high and cold and shrill, cutting through the static on the standard Decepticon hailing frequencies like a bucket of cold-water in the face.

On the bridge of the Express, Octane nearly jumps out of his chair. "What the slag? How'd he--? He's here? Talifeyah, switch me to that freq!"

// Screamer? What the slag are you doing here? // Octane comms back.

// *laughter* Making sure you get down in one piece, idiot! Look just off your nose. //

Octane looked, looked and saw. // Uh, Screamer? Did Unicron give you an upgrade or what? //

// *Again, laughter* No, this is much newer than that! I'll tell you on the ground--hopefully over some of your Libyan high-grade! // The brightly colored F-22 jet rolled and cork-screwed the length of the Express--making sure to hold position in front of each row of portholes for a nice, long, camera-steady interval.

// Octane! What have you