Transformers: Core protocols

Ch 2

A sharp jolt rocked the shuttle, snapping him back to the present.

"Looks like the rebels don't want company," the pilot said, his tone casual despite the tension. "Anti-air fire incoming. Hang tight."

The shuttle dipped and swerved, evading bursts of flak exploding in the sky. 621 could hear the clang of shrapnel against the hull, but the transport's reinforced plating held firm. Through his Core's external cameras, he caught glimpses of the ground below—rudimentary anti-aircraft emplacements firing wildly into the air.

"Drop zone in sight," the pilot announced, his voice firm now. "Prepare for deployment."

The clamps holding 621's Core released with a heavy thunk, and he felt the subtle shift as his machine's weight settled onto the shuttle's launch platform. The cargo bay doors began to open, revealing the harsh, dust-laden winds of Rubicon. The canyon loomed ahead, its jagged cliffs casting long shadows under the planet's dim sun.

"Deploying now," the pilot said.

With a jolt, the launch platform tilted forward, sending 621's Armored Core hurtling toward the surface. The rush of wind roared against the machine's frame as it plummeted, and 621's neural interface synced with the thrusters, firing them at just the right moment to slow his descent.

The Core landed with a thunderous crash, dust and debris erupting around it. 621's sensors immediately flared to life, mapping the area in vivid detail. The canyon was quiet—too quiet. No signs of immediate activity, though faint heat signatures hinted at movement deeper within.

"621, confirm deployment," Walter's voice crackled over the comm.

"Deployed," 621 replied, his voice as calm and mechanical as the Core itself.

"Good," Walter said. "No time to waste. Get to work. And remember—if you see anything... unusual, call it in."

621 didn't respond. His Core's servos whirred as he moved forward, the machine's footsteps echoing off the canyon walls. The mission had begun.

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As 621 maneuvered through the narrow ravines, his sensors continued to sweep the area, picking up faint traces of enemy activity. The heat signatures grew stronger, clustered around what appeared to be a makeshift outpost built into the canyon's natural alcoves.

He paused, crouching the Core behind a jagged rock formation for cover. Switching to optical mode, he zoomed in on the outpost. Rusted scaffolding supported a patchwork of tents and barricades. Rebels moved about, some armed with scavenged rifles, others hauling crates likely containing the stolen energy cells.

His neural link flagged targets automatically, highlighting key positions—turret emplacements, patrol routes, and a central command hub.

"Multiple hostiles," he murmured into the comm. "Approaching target area."

"Copy that," Walter replied. "Standard procedure. Clear the area and secure the cells. Don't get sloppy."

621 shifted his Core slightly, lining up his primary weapon: a shoulder-mounted plasma cannon. The rebels wouldn't know what hit them.