RCV. Autobot Briefing Room. Staff Meeting.
Wheeljack: But... but that's so dangerous!'>
Jazz: *totally not paying attention to what Optimus is saying during this meeting! He's busy slipping an arm around the waist of the femme next to him...*
Ironhide: *doesn't look away from the Prime, but does elbow the CO2*
Jazz: *grunts and chortles softly. Arm continues its journey!*
Recon: *pokes him in that one spot while sending reprimanding Mom thoughts over the bond*
Jazz: *inadvertently yeeps loud enough to be heard over Optimus*
Sideswipe: *sniggers somewhere in the back*
Optimus: Do you have anything to say, Jazz?
Jazz: Yeah. :D ...What were we talkin' about?
Ironhide: *shakes head and pinches nose*
Optimus: Actually, I was just about to ask for your report on the suspicious satellite transmissions from the South American continent.
Jazz: My.... Uhhhh. Oh! Yeah. It wasn' even really a transmission, just this little ghost on the radar. But Will's pretty sure we oughtta send somebody ta check it out. Only problem is, we also picked up somethin' in Australia.
Ironhide: *frowning and rumbling as his own arm absently slips around Chromia*
Elita: Didn't Lennox say a new platoon of soldiers would be arriving soon? With them we would have more than enough forces to cover both locations.
Jazz: Lady, you can't go shovin' a big bunch'a soldiers out inta outta the way places like that. Everybody'll be wonderin' what's up. We'd haveta send small groups.
Ironhide: And you wouldn't be on either of them. You're just two steps up from scrap.
Jazz: Thrrpt.
Ironhide: *turns head, frowning* Speaking of scrap, why isn't the hatchet here yet?
Optimus: He told me to start the meeting without him. Said he had some... pressing business. *his tone shows his belief of that statement is dubious, but he trusts his friend*
Ironhide: What kind of business can that old busybody possibly have?
Jazz: *snerks and thinks that it takes one to know one, but then smells something strange and good and perks, his attention going to the door*
Arcee: *blinks and slews around in her seat, sniffing*
Optimus: *knows that smell!*
Bumblebee: *beeps happily*
Elita: *sniffs as well, looking inquisitively toward the door*
Ironhide: *low rumble* What the pit...
Chromia: *softly* I dunno, but I want it.
Ratchet: *comes in with several empty missile casings under one arm, his mug in one hand, and a steaming can of something that is letting out the smell in the other* Alright, now we can have this meeting the proper way.
Jazz: Heyyyy! I know what that is! You got java!
Wheeljack: You mean the rest of the meeting? Where have you been? *zeros sensors on the steaming can*
Ratchet: *gives Optimus a reproving look* Didn't I say to wait, Optimus?
Optimus: *shuffling datapads, pretending not to notice Elita's look* I thought you said... Nevermind. They can fill you in later.
Ratchet: *as he pours some Java into one of the casings* I was listening. Here. This will do us all good.
Bumblebee: Woohoo! *bounces in his seat*
Elita: What is it? *watches as Optimus takes the casing and moves it down for her to see*
Ratchet: Oil and minerals, with a little energon. *fills another casing and gives it to Elita, and then offers a third to the enthusiastic youngbot* Settle down, Bumblebee, this stuff will spill.
Bumblebee: *rolls optics* I wouldn't have known without your expert opinion, Doc.
Wheeljack: *snerks and motions for the next cup*
Optimus: *smiles as Elita tastes her Java. Wonders how many of his officers know about the Nexus now*
Ratchet: Sarcasm will get you no strawbaby creme in your java. *gives to Wheejack, Ironhide, Chromia, and Recon. Then fumbles for another casing*
Jazz: *puppy eyes squared*
Ironhide: *busy dipping the remains of his last cinna bun in the java. Pleased rumbling as he gives Chromia a bite*
Bumblebee: Already had some. *contented deedles as he points to the now empty plate in the middle of the table, littered with the remains of cream-filled pastry delights*
Wheeljack: *now pulling out the chair beside him for the medbot* Yeah, you missed out! This is good too though!
Ratchet: *looks at the plate. Looks at Optimus* ... *gives Jazz and Sideswipe java*
Sideswipe: *burns self and spittakes*
Chromia: *sniggers*
Optimus: *trying not to laugh* We waited as long as we could.
Recon: *does laugh* You can always get more, Ratch.
Ratchet: Yes. Especially since I know how, now. *takes the spray can out from under his arm and gives all the casings of java a big dollop of something fluffy, white, and lovely smelling*
Jazz: Oooooo. *has moustache now!*
Ironhide: *dips his bun in that too, and then tastes* It's different from the stuff in the pastries.
Chromia: Really? *leans over to taste* Oooooo.
Ratchet: Alright. So, suspected Decepticon activity. *small snerk as he settles into his chair and feels Ironhide surreptitiously slip something sticky and good smelling into his hand*
Ironhide: *knows nothing about any filled doughnut. Is busy sharing the last of his bun with his wife!*
Wheeljack: *to Ratchet* You're givin' me the recipe for this later.
Ratchet: I didn't make it. *eats his doughnut with his java*
Optimus: Jazz, you were saying something about Australia as well as South America?
Jazz: *looks up, all mustachioed* Huh? Oh. Yeah. We caught a peep from the outback, too.
Recon: *sighs and pipes up* Sat one isn't as good at hiding. I've picked up bits of transmissions but hafen't been able to pinpoint seir location yet.
Jazz: *turns his gaze toward her, unaware of the creme on his upper lip* That's because there's more'n one, baby. 'N they're movin' 'round, I think. So far what we got is like these little faint twinkles. We've got about five from Australia, 'n just that one from South America... someplace up by Cuzco.
Recon: *mirth... escaping...*
Jazz: *quirky brow ridge is quirky* What? They are twinkles!
Ratchet: *shakes head and continues eating*
Bumblebee: *ques up a song from YouTube* "Baby you're right to love a mustache! 'Cos a mustache adds a little bit of class..."
Recon: *snaps a picture*
Jazz: o.0 *realization click!* *wipes mouth* XD
Ratchet: So, we can talk about this with the humans later, Optimus. Is there any reason we're having an officers only meeting? *pointed look at Sideswipe, who snorts and leaves the room*
Jazz: *singing softly about babies now as he sips his java*
Recon: *laughs and gets the remains of the 'stache with her finger*
Optimus: Other than we have one every month? Yes. *turns to Wheeljack* Did you take care of the cameras like I asked?
Wheeljack: *pushes a button on his datapad, setting the humans' surveillance cameras to show a loop* Yeah, but why the secrecy?
Ironhide: *sitting forward now, that last bite of bun forgotten in his hand right where Bumblebee can see it*
Bumblebee: *surprisingly sober, has muted the mustache song and is only tapping along under the table* *not going for that bun... yet*
Chromia: *focused on the Prime, her face holding a slight, quizzical frown*
Arcee: *doing like Chromia*
Optimus: My original point did not require such measures, but as the number of you who don't know are dwindling, I felt adding this piece of information was necessary.
Arcee: *uneasily* ...Know?
Optimus: *wasn't expecting to explain this today though he's practiced it in the mirror countless times* Our refreshments today came from a place called The Nexus. The center, if you will, of a multitude of dimensions, where any number of species reside. As you may expect such an important place creates many trading opportunities for those who visit.
Wheeljack: *spittakes* What?! Since when?
Ratchet: *calmly wipes his face, and then sips his drink again as he smirks slightly*
Chromia and Arcee: *looking at each other and at Elita*
Ironhide: *elbowing Bumblebee. Yes, we knew this. Heh*
Wheeljack: *wipes his own faceplates* You mean Ratchet and I could've had adequate parts this whole time?
Optimus: We did not know of this place until it was brought to our attention about a month ago.
Elita: *to her sisters* I didn't know until a few days ago.
Chromia: *nods absently to Elita* I think that's about as long as I've known.
Jazz: Where'dya think those good parts we jes' got came from, 'Jack?
Elita: *blink* You too?
Wheeljack: *grumbles* Yeah, but do you know how many explosions could've been prevented with the proper equipment?
Bumblebee: *snickerfit into his drink!*
Ironhide: *smug rumble, though he's also snorting at Wheeljack* Since when do you worry if it blows up?
Jazz: We got any pizza, Op? *grin*
Wheeljack: *proud pout* Usually I don't, but this substandard human equipment just doesn't stand up to explosions... *grumbles* Plus they earn me visits from Portman...
Blaster: *over the PA* So... we can get the stuff to make me back into a bot instead of a ghost in the walls?
Jazz: *looks up quickly* Hey, Blaster, long time no see.
Ratchet: *quietly* Yes, Blaster, it could mean that. *and now he's squaring his chin at the thought of finally being able to get the intel bot out of that spark support pod*
Optimus: That was my second point, actually. Jazz has discovered a few options in the Nexus to finally... bolster our population. Including possibly obtaining new protoforms.
Elita: *wide-opticed, did not know about this!*
Ironhide: *actually gasped as he sat up, his optics wide and bright with old memories*
Chromia: *hand to mouth*
Prowl: *paying attention now*
Ratchet: *eyeing Jazz narrowly*
Elita: So... even with the Allspark destroyed...?
Optimus: *hopeful* We need not go extinct.
Ratchet: How long have you known about this, Jazz?
Jazz: *shifty look and hunkers down a bit without replying. Hides face in java*
Ironhide: *abrupt, sharp, demanding* How does it work? When will the first batch be started?
Wheeljack: Ironhide, we don't have the resources for younglings! Not until we get 'em from the Nexus first.
Recon: Ve can't tell se humans about se Nexus.
Bumblebee: *disappointed whrr*
Ironhide: *seems to wilt, he droops so badly* Well let's get the resources.
Optimus: Getting those resources will be a delicate process. As Recon said, we cannot tell the humans about the Nexus. At least not now. I barely figured out how to hide your last shipment of medical supplies. *looking at Wheeljack and Ratchet*
Elita: He's right. If we do this too fast they'll get curious.
Chromia: *nods, her hand still up over her mouth* *voice soft and shaky* They... they're right, 'Hide.
Ironhide: *hangs his head, fist clenching absently*
Bumblebee: *soft hand on Ironhide's arm... he's squishing his bun!*
Optimus: *pain in his optics as he continues the bad news* My friend, you know humans are mistrustful of anything they do not understand. And I have had numerous arguments with Mr. Portman about our not "breeding" here on Earth.
Wheeljack: *annoyed* As much as I try to tell him we can't...
Ironhide: *bitterly* We should leave.
Recon: Vat about se Decepticons?
Ironhide: What about them?
Prowl: *thoughtfully* Up to nine youngsters might be successfully integrated into the existing population without any human being the wiser about their age and origin.
Optimus: *blink*
Recon: Vhat about vhen se start staggering around se base getting used to seir legs? Or seir alt modes?
Prowl: Springer wasn't so steady on his feet when he first got here either. And how long did it take Sunstreaker to ungarble his English files?
Wheeljack: And when they ask why the sky is blue? *many a parent has dumped curious younglings on him, hoping they'd turn out as genius scientists*
Jazz: Hey... I asked that question.
Wheeljack: *grumbling* You know what I mean!
Elita: No, I don't think we need worry about that. Only that none of us let the secret slip. Including these theoretical younglings.
Jazz: *slight perk* Hormah did say the babies that came from the stuff she was talkin' about wound up pretty smart. 'N she mentioned special chips with data on for kids.
Optimus: Now wait. Before this conversation goes any further, I want to ask yourself: do you really want to bring new lives into a world still plagued by Decepticons?
Recon: *pipes up, but isn't happy about it* Our intel shows seir gearing up for somesing...
Jazz: But if they ain't supposta happen now, why'd Primus tell us about 'em now?
Ironhide and Prowl: *STARing at Jazz*
Elita: *to Optimus* You did say you talked to Primus...
Recon, Wheeljack and Bumblebee: *STARE at Optimus*
Ironhide, Chromia, Arcee... yeah, and everyone else in the room other than Jazz: *STARE at Optimus*
Optimus: *ooooh how to explain this?* Yes, yes I did.
Prowl: ...How?
Optimus: Though a Servant of Primus in the Nexus' temple.
Chromia: *glances at her sisters and then her husband* ...Servant of Primus?
Jazz: *quiet and subdued but cheeky* Yeah, 'Mia, you might even learn some new cusswords from 'er.
Prowl: *looks at Jazz like he just grew another head*
Optimus: *snerk* That's not the one I met. But there seem to be several bots who devote their lives to the work of Primus. They communicate with him every day. I cannot quite explain it, only that it felt as natural as the Matrix I hold. *thoughtfully touches his chest*
Chromia: And you actually talked to him? To Primus?
Optimus: Indeed. And, I believe, so has Jazz. You set my appointment.
Jazz: *unusually quiet grin for the CO2* Yeah, I talked to 'im. And... he showed me kids. This serious lookin' kid. Silverbolt.
Recon: *wait, Jazz... kid.... Jazz...?*
Optimus: He mentioned that name to me as well. And another as I was worried about him being an outcast.
Jazz: Yeah, Silverbolt's the name he told me when I tol' him a kid made from me 'n Conny'd be somethin' weird.
Recon: *processor meltdown! Now catatonic*
Optimus: Oh? *smiles*
Elita: What do you mean, "made from you and Recon"?
Jazz: *worrying about his mate! Didn't hear those questions*
Ironhide: ... *watching*
Ratchet: *scanning Recon*
Recon: *no damage, just a bit... overwhelmed by the news. Will be fine in a minute or two*
Ratchet: She's alright, Jazz. Nearly rebooted. *gentle pat for Recon's shoulder*
Jazz: *heaves a big sigh of relief and puts his head down on the table*
Wheeljack: *laughs* Nice to be seeing that reaction again!
Elita: *giggles* Now, Jazz, what were you saying...?
Jazz: Huh? Oh. He said if I tried this treatment the kid that it made'd be made from my code 'n Conny's, because she's part'a me.
Wheeljack: Really? *intrigued*
Elita: *unsure* Isn't that a bit like forcing yourself on your children?
Jazz: Uh... When I told him it was weird, he said that's where baby bots came from in a lotta realities. o.0
Elita: *blinks*
Optimus: It's true. I was told that in many realities Cybertronians have genders just like organic beings. Two seperate bots are needed for reproduction.
Wheeljack: O.o *can't wrap his processor around this*
Ironhide: ...Tell me they don't do what I saw on that movie last night.
Jazz: 0.0 Urk. No. Not that he said. Just that the lady's spark'll bud after she bonds with somebody.
Bumblebee: *seems dismayed by this*
Wheeljack: But... but that's so dangerous! *looks to Ratchet*
Ratchet: *looks at Optimus* Did you learn how that works? *kinda dismayed himself*
Optimus: *relieved* No, only that we may choose which method to use. There are some which involve only drinking a vial of water.
Jazz: That's the one that'd make Trance. *stops and glances at Recon, wincing*
Recon: *just now coming back online*
Optimus: Trance? I thought you said it was Silverbolt?
Jazz: *embarrassed* No. Silverbolt's the kid that wouldn't have my and Conny's code.
Optimus: Oh, I see.
Wheeljack: Wait, now you're confusing us. How many methods are there?
Jazz: I got told about three we could use. One was this kinda water. That's the one that'd make kids from us. Otherwise there's a couple people that make new sparks or whole new bots for other folks.
Optimus: I was also told about a gas which needs two parents. Of course it will be up to the parents to decide which method to use.
Elita: *head swimming with paperwork* We'll have to appoint a Youngling Assignment Committee! How on Cybertron are we supposed to determine Fit Parentage now?!
Prowl: I think in our circumstance that following the old human adage might prove the most favorable method and also help us to slip the sparklets under the humans' radar.
Wheeljack: And which adage is that?
Recon: *seems to be ok now, is following the conversation if a bit distantly*
Prowl: "It takes a village to raise a child."
Ironhide: *frowns and rumbles* Chromia and I already earned our parent license. And if Primus is offering youngsters to Optimus and Jazz they must have passed too.
Optimus: *sheepish* I'm sure if any of you talked to Primus he would offer you sparklets as well. *thinks* I suppose we could do away with the license restrictions, in this case...
Ironhide: ...Just don't let the twins near them. We have enough idiots on base.
Elita: That also brings up the question of how we tell everyone without the humans finding out. *looks to her sisters for suggestions*
Chromia: *blinks* Do we have to tell everybody?
Arcee: ...Locked comms?
Optimus: We should offer the chance for offspring to everybot, to be fair.
Wheeljack: Encrypted briefing?
Bumblebee: ........ Party!
Ironhide: Fair is one thing, but any child put into the twins' care would be in danger. *pause* Party?
Jazz: Where? *looks up from pat patting Recon*
everyone else: *stares at Bumblebee*
Bumblebee: Nobody monitors a party. *would grin if he had a mouth*
Recon: Loud music, jovial atmosphere... I sink he has a point.
Prowl: And I feel we should inform Daniel Lennox and Robert Epps of our plans.
Optimus: At least Major Lennox.
Prowl: For all his bravado and foul language Sergeant Epps has also proven trustworthy. *nodding*
Jazz: *plays a snatch of music, his brown optics twinkling now*
Recon: *wary of that particular twinkle now*
Chromia: Ironhide, we won't have to steal Annabelle all the time anymore! And Bumblebee will stop running at the sight of you and a basketball.
Ironhide: o.0
Bumblebee: *beeping indignation! He never runs, and you can't prove it!*
Arcee: *laughing at her friend and her mentor*
Elita: *also laughing, and allowing herself to muse about how it would be nice to finally settle down...*
Optimus: *mental hug for his mate*
Ironhide: *thoughtful look comes to his homely old mug* Silverbolt, huh?
Jazz: Hey, it might sound dorky, but that's never held you back.
Ironhide: Why you... *swing!*
Bumblebee: *meep! Tries to hold him back*
Recon: *ducks and pulls Jazz with her*
Jazz: *gleeful laughter as he falls under the table and takes Recon with him*
Ironhide: *growl, rumble. ...Snerk* Stop that. I see what you're doing under there.
Elita: *more giggling* The meeting isn't over yet...
Wheeljack: *has that plotting look* Whadda'ya think, 'Ratch? We could finally train up a few more medbots.
Ratchet: *startles and gives every sign of having been light years away* Huh?
Wheeljack: *lightly smacks the medic's arm* Medbots, 'Ratch! We could get some assistants! Or maybe a replacement for when your knees give out.
Ratchet: *scowl* Why should my knees give out?
Wheeljack: *facepalms at the medic's obtuseness*
Ironhide: *bumps into Wheeljack with his skidplate as he stoops under the table to get Jazz and Recon out of there*
Recon: *pushes Jazz over to get dragged out, and gets back into her chair by herself, giggling*
Chromia: *leaning out of the way and grinning at Optimus. Is drinking her mate's java now*
Prowl: ...Do we have anything further to discuss, Optimus?
Optimus: *muses, thinking of all the meeting notes they forgot about... again* Only when to schedule this party of Bumblebee's.
Prowl: Parties are usually Jazz's area.
Jazz: *cheezy grin from where he's squished against the table by Ironhide hand*
Bumblebee: *is excited, wants to help!*
Jazz: *offers the youngbot five* Should we get Knockout too?
Ironhide: *growly squish squish the Jazz*
Recon: *half-glaring at Ironhide, a warning against squishing her mate too much*
Ironhide: *just smirks and squishes a little more. Has energy he hasn't felt in years, and he's got to cut up a little*
Ratchet: I'll have the infirmary ready for when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker arrive.
Ironhide: *noooo idea what you're talking about, Ratchet!*
Recon: Alright, sat's enough. *shoos the weapons expert off to his wife*
Bumblebee: I'll tell Blaster too!
Jazz: *perks* Hey, yeah. *stands up* Blaster? Man, you still live?
Blaster: Hearin' you loud an' clear, Jazzman.
Jazz: Sweet! *high five for Bumblebee, quick peck for Recon, and then barrels out of the room with music preceding him*
Bumblebee: *chugs the rest of his java and follows Jazz, already sending out the chain comms with the first announcements* //PartyParty!//
Recon: *sighs, wondering what will become of all this*
Ironhide: *quick hug for Chromia, and then he follows the others. Ratchet will soon be beating dents out of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe*
Ratchet: *deep sigh and rolls his optics at Wheeljack as he too departs*
Prowl: *watches the exodus, then looks up at Optimus* ...Trance?
((Written by ssjmihoshi and random_xtras.))