Thrust arrives from the IHQ Command Center to the south.

Thrust has arrived.

Thrust strides into the room.

A lot of Decepticons on Earth. A lot of Decepticons on Cybertron. A lot of them are flyers, and as such, organizing them would require ranking officials to be present on both sites, sometimes in the same duty cycle. The door to Fusillade's office is in fact splayed wide open, and the dark grey and white bomberchick is in fact shoving a few boxes this way and that in an attempt to rifle through a list of available units. "Of all the times to fight a two-pronged war..." The notion of ordering a trainee to move things for her doesn't appear to have occurred to her. A fierce alto "AH HA!" rings out as she snatches up a particularly useful item. She stands, and turns on her heel, making a beeline for the spacebridge -- or so she thinks.

If your hearing is good, you can pick out the grumbling coming down the hall followed by a few loud bangs of a fist being smacked into wall sections. Sure, they're dented, but do you want to tell the con coming to cut it out? Most wouldn't. Thrust strides down the hall in one of his more fouler of moods. Not having orders really burns his servos and now that he's found out who's in charge, thanks to a handy bbpost on the con network, he's heads right for Fusillade's office. He grumbles, "If there's nothing going on, there'll be the pit to pay!" He's just fifty TF sized feet from her office by now.

Catechism comes up here to use the computers, just far enough behind Thrust to have missed his grumpy outbursts. Maybe she can write a few reports, boggle at the fact she has an office... She pauses, hearing the thunk of moving boxes and decided to investigate. Perhaps she can help? After all, Catechism won't be able to get any studying or report writing done if there's moving going on.

A faint 'eh?' escapes Fusillade as she sashays down the hallway. Turning her citrine gaze to peer inquisitively at the source of the noise, she actually perks up. There's a slighty crabby hint of challenge in her voice at the beginning of her response, but it eases up and becomes much smoother as she continues, "I'm just getting started, so don't take out your anger about the lack of an Aerospace command presence on me. I already issued orders for us to start blowing the crap out of things on Earth," and at this point, she starts laying it on thick, "Why don't you invite yourself on down there to join in on the fun?" The approach of Catechism's muted bluish grey camo gets a nod from Fusillade, who still clutches the somewhat old padd, clearly not hers, in her left hand.

Thrust blinks and wasn't really addressing anyone when he said it. He didn't even know Fusillade was coming. He stops walking and pulls his hand away from the wall he just recently punched in. The black and red seeker gives a grin and says, "It's not that, the autobot body count is what I'm worried about. We're all going to earth when they pull out here?! We should follow them back to Iahex and show them the error of their ways!" He gives a small bow, "It's not to you at all Fusillade....ma'am. Besides..." he says in a whiney tone, "...I...I can't get to earth."

Catechism can see Fusillade and Thrust now... and the dent he made in the wall. Ah, Fusillade! Catechism has things to talk about with her, but she can hang around until Thrust addresses his issues with their leader. Catechism salutes Fusillade and steps to the side, out of the way, perfectly content to wait out this situation.

A resigned looks is cast to the walls and their gallery of dents -- decorations of this sort weren't uncommon in IHQ, even if it did make Scrapper and his brethern grumble. Given her rash of bad luck getting troopers to report in about any changes in their dossiers, Thrust's bow actually takes Fusillade by some surprise. Silvered fangs flash briefly as she gapes her jaw, before she collects herself and states, "At ease, Thrust. As much as I would like to secure Cybertron first, Earth DOES provide us with resources. You COULD get to Earth. BUT, why not give you what you want? Stay on Cybertron, then, and defend Nightseige by washing the ground with the insurgents' fluids! Continue to hold the line at Polyhex, Thrust. I will allocate several Seeker air groups to help you accomplish this. Is this a satisfactory start?" Fusillade waves Catechism over. "We will need to speak more about better streamlining the current objectives we have for both Cybertron and Earth."

Thrust blinks, well, it's not really what he wants. Thrust says, "Yes! Er...wait, no..." He grumbles and hates making decisions for himself. "Fusillade, order me where you want me. If you want me to go to the mudball, fine, send me there." Then he realizes that she already did that. He says, "Oh, you already did, didn't you. Well fine, I'll go to earf but I 'still' can't get there."

Given that Fusillade has acknowledged her presence. Catechism drops the salute. She nods and says quietly, "Yes, sir. As you wish." Streamlining? Well, it ought to appeal to those for whom aerodynamics is everything and drag is more than just a drag. She glances sidelong at Thrust and inquires, "What's your problem? Spacebridge not work?"

Thrust scratches his head and mumbles something about not being able to work the spacebridge. Though it's so quiet and low keyed it's hard to make out. He folds his arms and sulks with his head down. Yes friends, this is where an 18 tech comes in handy.

"Not quite, Thrust, no," Fusillade responds evenly. This had to be some kind of hazing joke, right? She leans back against the doorway's edge, "I would like for you to take those troops and to make the Autobots, Junkions, and EDC see just HOW painful and costly it IS to try to cut us off." And then she twists around to regard Catechism. "Oh, don't look so glu, you sound like you're attending your own decommissioning!"

Catechism cranes her pointy (but not as pointy as Thrust's, sob) head over at the pointer one and asks loudly, "Eh, you can't work the spacebridge, is that what you said?" She narrows her optics, wondering if she heard what she thinks she did. Then, she glances back to Fusillade, optics down-cast. "My apologies, ma'am. I shall endeavour to be more cheerful." Ah, if that doesn't sound ridiculous coming from Catechism, what does?

Thrust growls at Catechism and says, "Shut your vocalizer! You heard what I said, I'm not saying it again!" He fumes now feeling like he's being teased about his lack of mechanical and technical skill with anything from a wrench to a nail. He looks over at Fusillade and says, "Sorry, don't like to be insulted like that. Now, you said something about going to earth? Good, if one of you could take me there, I'll make sure the autobots suffer! Mwahahahahaha!"

Giving Fusillade a brief wave, as if to indicate that the bomber might wants to stay back a bit, Catechism swings her arms behind her back and entwines her hands. One can almost hear the tensor and flexor cables whine. She smiles, both as friendly as she ever is and as predatory as a hungry shark. Then, she leans in close to Thrust and inquires, ever so quietly, "Thrust. Did you just tell your Executive Air Commander to shut up?"

Very quietly from Fusillade, "Polyhex isn't on Earth... but I can't argue with the enthusiasm. I'll get..." She pauses, blinks at Catechism. "Well, I WAS going to tell you two to settle in the training room, but I'll politely step over THERE now." She jerks her head to the least dented side of the hallway. It HAD been a while since she'd seen any decent faction-mate fisticuffs. Snapping one hand up, she reiterates to Thrust. "You, Catechism, now. Then, repair bay. Then, you and I have a date with the spacebridge. Then, Earth. And suffering Autobots." Perhaps the series of events had been properly distilled now.

Thrust shakes his head, "No ma'am, I told you to shut your vocalizer. And yes, I can work the spacebridge, but every time I do it starts smoking. Last time I tried it, I sent Dirge to the bottom of earf's ocean." The location of the old undersea base. "He didn't like that and Shockwave told me never to use it without someone else around." He seems to grin at that and Thrust probably got enjoyment at nearly killing Dirge. He glances over at Fusillade and shrugs, "If you think Catechism can take me." Thrust gives a snort and says, "If she doesn't?"

Catechism just laughs. She swings her arms forward and claps one, finally steepling her fingers. She explains to Fusillade, "No worries, sir. I didn't intend to engage Thrust here. I know the ban against infighting." The she-conehead snorts at Thrust. "You're insubordinate, Thrust. If having your cone beat in will put some sense into you, we can schedule a later date." She pauses, clearly not worried in the slightest by the thought of fighting her fellow Seeker. "Alternatively, there's always mopping out the medical ward. You might even pick up some technical skill there!"

'You know this is going to wind up making you look bad' 'It'll be okay! They'll turn into drinking buddies after they hit each other!' Various thoughts akin to that seesaw back and forth in Fusillade's mind, and she says, "FINE, to the training room with the both of you. Telling you two to stop is like welding on a hair-trigger processor..." And then more nasally as an aside to Catechism, "You're not hel-ping."

Thrust looks confused and says, "I don't want to fight you Catechism. You're not worth it. I'm hardly insubordinate. You insulted me, so I told you to keep your vocolizor shut. You hardly out rank me anyway Catechism. You're just an elite while I'm a warrior and a level below you. It'd be far more 'dangerous' for me to tell Fusillade here to shut her vocolizor. I 'like' my core to stay in my body." He grins and shakes his head, "No, later I might fight you Catechism, when it's only a sparring match. 'Maybe'. Now, I'd like to go to earth, or do I have to run the spacebridge myself? Shockwave wouldn't be pleased at that."

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "Can I get MSE to come up with the best trajectory of his corpse to cause him to keep juggling in the air from the explosions? You know, land on one, blow up, fall down onto another one, making it explode, ad infinitum?"

Drinking buddies? Doesn't Fusillade remember what happened the last time Catechism got drunk? With Thrust? They'd probably figure out a way to blow up all Cybertron by trying to repaint it purple, given his technical ineptitude. She backs away, drops her gaze and mumbles, "Sorry, sir." She glares at Thrust, looking as if she'd like to beat him over the heads with his own wing. She refrains, however. The Seeker hisses out, sounding like a pressure cooker venting steam, "Thrust. I didn't insult you. I asked if you couldn't operate the spacebridge. It was an honest question and pertinent to my job which, I repeat, is Executive Air Commander. Your empennage is *mine*, Warrior."

Thrust scratches the back of his head, "Empennage?"

<Decepticon> Cyclonus considers that thoughtfully for a moment. "Very well, providing that you intend to replace the mines that he has destroyed doing so. I should hate to load you up again in the manner of a heavily pregnant flying lizard. Overstretched flanks and all."

Fusillade doesn't comment on the relative hazards of telling different people to shut up. With a faint 'ach-em', she redirects the pair's attention back toward herself. "Despite my earlier goading, I prefer if you both beat up on Autobots. And seeing as how Lord Cyclonus just decided that Catechism and I should stay here, I think it best that we all go to the spacebridge now and turn Thrust loose on the unsuspecting populace of Earth. It will give me time to think up an assignment to put the two of you on." There's a bemused glint in her optics as she turns on her heel, and points one ebony fingertalon in the appropriate direction. "Double-time it." A little bit more quietly to Catechism, "Don't let him chap your afterburners."

<Decepticon> Fusillade remarks, "I suddenly have the urge to lose the lizardskin grey camo pattern I'm currently painted in..."

Catechism pauses and just stares at Thrust. She makes little airplane gestures with her hands and then throws them up in the air with frustration. "Do you need a complete re-education or what? Empennage. You know, the tail assembly of an aircraft? Like... a jet. Like... you." She sighs and nods to Fusillade, sounding rather dismayed about the prospect of working with Thrust, "Yes, sir." With that, Catechism heads for the door.

<Decepticon> Envoy chirps, "What's wrong with lizards?"  Somebody apparently walked into the conversation late.

Fusillade moves south to the IHQ Command Center.

Fusillade has left.

You move south to the IHQ Command Center.

[travel spam]

You move southwest to the Spacebridge Chamber.

<Decepticon> Envoy answers, regardless of the question's rhetorical nature, "No...that is, if it means what I think it means.  I could be wrong."

Thrust looks confused, not terrorcon confused or dinobot confused, but a little bit of both. He's not the smartest one in the group. He walks into the Spacebridge and turns around after he reaches the middle. He rubs his hands eagerly and says, "Finally, some real combat!"

<Decepticon> Envoy comes back a few moments later...enough time to look up the definition, "No, sir, I am most definitely not pregnant."

<Decepticon> Fusillade declines to respond, citing, "A bit busy sending troops to Earth. One moment, please."  That moment will be a very long one.

"Yeah, you go get 'em, soldier!" Fusillade sounds a bit more like cheerleader at this point than a commander, but if one could get others to do work without them realizing it's work, so much the better. "You be sure to shoot down an EDC Fighter jet or two for me while you're at it, m-kay? They've been all over me the past few times I've tried to do anything useful in the field." Fusillade steps up to the dias, and keys in a few commands. "Good hunting!"

Catechism grinds out, "Your enthusiasm is appreciated, Warrior." It's a good thing that Thrust is going to Earth, and she's been assigned to Cybertron. It'd be a waste of Imperial materials if she had to feed him his tailfins. As he leaves, she mutters out, "Good riddance," under her exhaust.

<Decepticon> Cyclonus emits a low hissing sound, something like a chuckle. "See to it that you do not become so, Unit Envoy." To Fusillade, he just does not respond.

Thrust didn't hear that. That's a good thing. Thrust puts his hands behind his back and waits for the spacebridge to activate. Then the thought occurs to him, where on earth is this thing going anyway? Then he looks up at the lights. That'll distracted him good.

Thrust has left.

Thrust enters the spacebridge.

Fusillade gives her best mad scientist cackle, and slaps the big red button.

The doors slide shut and lock as the control lights flash, warning that the spacebridge is about to open and send its occupants to a distant destination!

The spacebridge doors unlock and slide open as the transport concludes and the control panel comes back up.

As the stargate, whoops, spacebridge whines back down, Fusillade drops the silliness and then turns back toward Catechism. "As much trouble as I had to go through to get that wretched stretch of highway seeded with dragons' teeth in the first place, it'd better not be cleared away by Autobots -- unless they're blowing themselves up on them..." A moment later, and Fusillade flicks optics once at Catechism. "Dragon's... teeth... that... that might be it, Number One."

Catechism just gives Fusillade a blank look, inclined her head slightly sideways She says slowly, trying to puzzle out the meaning of her Commander,. "Dragon's teeth, sir? I suppose we could ask if Sinnertwin or Hun-Grrr have any to spare." If she knew the gesture, she'd be crossing her fingers behind her back.

"This... THING I heard once, can't even remember if it was from the Junkions or one of our more... eccentric units. Jason and the Argonauts, a Terran ballade of sorts. I would LOVE to get MSE to build us an army of dragon's teeth, so to speak. They look like mines, but if an Autobot approaches, it reveals itself to be a drone that then shreds them, maybe flames them, maybe... well you get the idea! But it'd take a LONG time, and not really feasible for the short run. We'll just have to take care of them the old fashioned way. I'll definitely post on it though. C'mon, you'd have to admit if MSE could build that, it'd be cool!" Her brazen, or just outright psychotic, inpsiration strikes, and Fusillade begins to sidle out the door to file the idea. Or to amuse herself by pitting other troopers against each other, who's to say?

Catechism idly wonders what's wrong with mines that just blow people up. Still, what she says is, "If you say so, sir. Have a good cycle." Then, Catechism salutes and heads off to write some boring reports and maybe see about having MSE perform pronoun reassignment surgery on Thrust. Oops, did she think that?

Fusillade vanishes out of reality.

Fusillade has left.