Just so you know, it's your last chance to submit your entry for 'Guess The Baddie'!

The big reveal will happen in the next chapter, so if you have any last minute entries, send 'em over now!

The winner will receive their chocolate chip muffins, and a lifetime supply of high-grade!

Chapter 5

For all purposes, the craft had the air of a slumbering beast. They'd waited till the thrusters stopped flailing and firing off, and made their approach towards the enormous mass. Optimus ran a servo over the metal hide, feeling the bumps and scratches along its surface, as he walked along its port side. There were so many abrasions across the hull that the whole ship resembled something made out of stone, instead of metal, granite instead of complex alloys, masonry instead of plating. Despite the tumultuous entry into the planet's atmosphere, the ship's surface wasn't red hot with searing heat, but rather, just lukewarm. A fact Bumblebee was quick to note.

/ I thought it would be something close to a thousand degrees…/ said the scout. He too was running his digits over the scarred metal, optics wide in awe, as he stepped over charred debris. / I mean, what with the friction and everything…/

"Well, Bumblebee," said Optimus, a smile behind his faceplate, "When an object, say for example a meteorite, has been in space for a very, very long time, they will be frozen over in the vacuum."

/Alright, I follow… /

"When they enter our atmosphere, they are only present in it for about a few minutes because of their extreme velocity."

"This means," said Ratchet, "That no matter what your 'action flicks' would have led you to believe, meteorites do not have time to 'go all scorching hot and explodey' before the impact."

"Umm…Okay," said Jack, scratching his head, "I get what you mean." Miko rubbed her chin thoughtfully, leaning against the railing. "So Michael Bay is scientifically inaccurate," she mused, a smile lighting up her face.

"Naturally," said Ratchet, with a hint of smugness as he turned back to the screen, arms folded across his chest, optics shooting back and forth across grids and data feeds. The bay was quiet for a moment; save for a series of beeps and whirrs from the monitors. It was Raf who spoke first.

"But what about the cometary trail?" he asked, adjusting his spectacles, "I remember a picture my uncle took of a meteor shower, and the diagrams in my textbook, and they were on fire, and everything…"

"That, Bumblebee, is simply down to physics," explained Optimus, avoiding a burning shrub, "When the flames alight, it is simply the air around the object that is being compressed at incredibly high speeds."

"Ram pressure," said Bulkhead, as his optics inspected a particular notch in the metal plating. "Exactly," said Optimus, "The object will have a layer of air around it. It 'surfs' the shockwave it creates all the way down to the planet's surface."

"And that layer of air," said Arcee, as she drew up beside Bumblebee, "is what gets heated up and catches fire. Get it?" She smiled at the young scout, who had been paying rapt attention to everything. Bumblebee's optics crinkled in a smile. /Yeah, I get it now /

Then he tripped and fell over again.

"Although," said Ratchet, as he typed, "the actual entry does heat up the outer layers of the object somewhat."

"And in the case of a meteor," said Jack, "Those get blown off on impact. So they don't really matter. Right?" His arms were folded in a manner similar to Optimus, as he looked up at Ratchet. The medic shrugged. "Of course they don't. However, that doesn't really apply to a spacecraft."

"Force fields," said Raf, "One for combat, and one for atmospheric entry, right?"

"Yes."

"So this means," said Miko, as she tapped the railing, "That if a meteor hits, we can just pick it up and rub it in our faces?"

Ratchet ignored her statement.

Optimus skirted around a fallen sapling, optics still searching for a point of entry. They had to work fast; there was no way to tell if the Decepticons had detected the ship as well. Bulkhead deployed his wrecking ball gauntlet and smacked it against the craft's hull experimentally, looking and listening for variations in the metal's thickness. Arcee's optics turned a deeper blue as she ran a scan over the ship. Bumblebee ran scans of his own, readouts and text scrolling across the bottom of his HUD, as he tied to ignore the newly throbbing ache in his aft, and the dirt and leaves stuck between his armor plating.

The craft was not as sleek and streamlined as the newer models of ship Bumblebee had become accustomed to. Whereas the Nemesis was reminiscent of a predatory raptor, this craft reminded Bumblebee of a lumbering herbivore. It was roughly rectangular-shaped, boosters jutting from its sides, vents dotting the surface here and there, antennae poking out like hair on mammalian skin, Cyberglyphics lining the plating, and around the exhaust ports. All in all a perfect replica of a boxy spaceship from a sci-fi flick. Bumblebee also noticed that the craft comically resembled a semi-truck with its trailer attached. Noting this, Bee looked over to Optimus, stared for a few seconds and then resolved himself, shaking his helm. Nah, he thought, as he continued his scan.

Arcee heard the clicking first. She turned around and was surprised to find Bulkhead's optics skirting across the ship's surface, flashing. With each flash, the same clicking followed. "Photography, Bulk?" she asked, incredulous, "Really?"

The Wrecker jumped a little, and smiled sheepishly. "It's for Miko," he said, rubbing the back of his helm, "I thought it'd cheer her up…considering…well, you know…"

Arcee gave a small laugh as she turned to make progress on the ship. "She's a strong kid, Bulk," she said, reassuringly, "I'm sure that when we get back, she'll be hopping from one foot to the other, just like always." Bulkhead sighed and tipped his helm. Then he looked up and snapped another picture, this time of what he was sure was the craft's name stenciled on the metal, though he couldn't be certain; the dialect was foreign to him.

Oh man, Miko was gonna love this!

"Sweet!" exclaimed Miko, as her cell phone pinged. Jack and Raf threw glances at each other as the girl bolted for the coffee table and snatched up her Nokia. "Bulk sent pictures!"

"Say what?" asked Jack as he joined Miko on the couch. Raf plopped down on the other side. "Me and Bulkhead set up this network with my cell phone," explained Miko, as she cycled through menus, "It kinda works like the regular comm. and everything, but it's for images, instead of vox feed. Raf helped." Jack looked at the hacker and raised an eyebrow. The young boy coughed theatrically. On the plus side, at least it was cheering Miko up…

"Whoa, look at this!" said Miko excitedly, drawing the boys' attention to the small screen. The two huddled closer as the first high definition pictures of the craft began to buffer. The three of them stared in awe, as they caught glimpses of Cyberglyphics, bent antennae, scoured metal, and-

"What in the name of Primus, is that?"

Jack, Miko and Raf jumped, the couch even squeaking a little, at the sound of Ratchet's voice. The kids whipped around to find the veteran staring at them and the cellphone with an expression of what could only be described as astonishment on his faceplates. The three of them would probably never know how, but Ratchet could always startle people, intentionally or otherwise, be they organic or not.

Jack swallowed, and said, "Well…Bulk just sent pictures to Miko…you know, of the ship…"

"I kind of set up visual patch with Bulkhead…," said Raf, biting his lip.

"So Bulk can take pictures if I don't make it through the Ground Bridge…," finished Miko, rubbing the back of her head in a manner very reminiscent of the Wrecker. Ratchet kept staring, his faceplates still locked in surprise. "You mean to say…," said the medic, slowly, "That you have a visual of the ship?" Miko coughed. "Err…Yeah."

There was silence. Then, "Do you think we could plug your cellphone into the console?" asked Ratchet, thumbing a servo to the screens behind him.

Bulkhead hummed thoughtfully, as his wrecking ball smacked against the hull. This time, instead of a solid thud, he was met with a hollow thump. Ultrasound sensors embedded inside the studded sphere told him that there was something hollow behind the plating. "Hey, boss, I think I found a weak spot."

Optimus turned around, his faceplate retracting. "An entrance?"

"Could be," said Bulkhead, "plating's a little thin here." To illustrate his point, he smacked the hull a little more. Arcee frowned contemplatively, and said, "Might be a service duct we could crawl through." Bumblebee whistled in agreement. /I won't mind stuffing myself in / said the scout, / unless, there's an alternative, that is… /

Optimus' optic-brows creased, as he weighed his options. What they were proposing was risky, but it was definitely quicker than to simply search for another point of entry. Besides, there was always the Decepticons to consider, as well…

"Time is of the essence," said Optimus, as he deployed his weaponry, "Bulkhead, will prolonged heating soften the alloy?"

"Scrap yes, it will."

Bumblebee raised his arms, his neutron assault rifles primed. Arcee flicked off the safeties on her SMGs. Bulkhead primed his cannons. "Autobots," rumbled Optimus, "blast that plating!" Weapons charged up, their energy outputs set at the highest, for maximum burn, and full automatic fire, and they discharged, energy beams scouring the metal with searing heat. There was a metallic groan as sections of the plating began to groan and buckle. Meanwhile, the metal itself began to steadily glow red hot.

"Wait, why are we doing this again?" asked Miko, as she watched Ratchet delicately handle her phone. He held it between his thumb and index digit, as he rummaged around a crate full of cables. "Because," muttered the medic, "I can't get a visual of the ship."

Ratchet found what he was looking for. He untangled a distinctly cybertronian cable from several others. How he did it with just one servo, nobody would know. "If I can at least see what class of craft it is, I might be able to compare it with what I have in my database, and form a clearer picture of what we may find. I might even identify its designation."

"Good work with that patch Raf," smiled Jack, as he ruffled the hacker's hair. Raf smiled nervously.

Ratchet jacked one end of the cord into one of the console's many ports, while the other end compacted into a tinier shape so Miko's Nokia could accommodate the pin. Idly, Ratchet wondered why the girl's communication device had to be such bright neon pink, so bright it could hurt someone's optics…

A loading icon appeared on the screen, and seconds later, a 'device recognized' message popped up. Ratchet flicked his digits across the touch sensitive display, opening up the phone's digital files, and heading for the images. The antivirus scan he had initiated came back negative, and he dismissed it. Not that he was worried that Miko's phone could carry potentially hazardous malware, primitive technology that it was. But you could never be too sure with anything associated with Miko…

Ratchet rapidly cycled through the girl's tens of images. He couldn't help but notice that Miko was astonishingly good at this photography thing. Why, the timing on these pictures was spot on! He raised an appreciative brow as he swept past a snapshot of a sunrise over the missile silo they called home.

"Yes, I know," piped up a grinning Miko, as she pretended to check her nails, "wonderful shots, aren't they?"

"Shut up…," growled Ratchet, face twisted into a grimace. Primus-damn it, he'd let his guard down!

After what felt like minutes, he'd found the images he was looking for. He expanded the shots, so they filled up at least three whole screens, and opened up the database. He ran a recognition algorithm, and fed the images through the program. Another loading icon appeared, as the software did its work.

"Hmm…" mused the medic, optics narrowed, "This ship seems to be a transport of some sort."

"So you have data on every ship on Cybertron?" asked Raf, as he examined one of the enlarged snapshots. "Yes," said Ratchet, "Before we escaped our planet, we felt it was necessary to compile a list of spacecraft, regardless of class, function or age. It was to be a useful way of identifying a ship, should we encounter one."

"How many spaceships do you have in there?" asked Miko, as she examined a scarred engine pod. "As of the start of the Exodus? Literally thousands," said Ratchet, facing the children, "Everything there is to know about these vessels, such as armor thickness, weaponry, crew capacity, speed, is recorded in this database."

He let out an electronic cough as he rubbed his helm. "Although, we have very little information on the Nemesis…"

The console let out an electronic ping, as the results came up on screen. Ratchet turned to the screen eagerly, as he enlarged the window. "Let's see…," he mumbled, as he scrolled down.

Class: D-Type heavy transport/ cargo barge. (Manufacturer: Backthrust Drive Yards).

Hull Rating: 8.4/ 10, moderately high protection. (Modified: Hull Rating is now 9.5/ 10)

Engine Class: Mark-6 Spitfire jets. (Modified: Type 3 Lance Turbines)

Top Speed: 400,000 Kelim per Klik. (Modified: 600,000 Kelim per Klik. See above.)

Weapon Complement: None (Modified:three (3) turbolaser batteries, four (4) rear facing plasma turrets, four (4) Riptide Torpedo sets, two (2) Firestorm missile sets, and six (6) rotary guns.)

Crew Capacity: Four thousand.

Navigations, Communications, and other modules: Several. Click here for a complete list.

Designation: M.T.S Venator

"The M.T.S Venator?" said Ratchet, "That's a military designation. And all that armament, and extra armor. Why on a simple cargo ship?" The three kids stared as Ratchet ran comparisons with Venator's civilian equivalent. "Wait hold on," said Miko, who had been paying close attention to the weapons listings, "They turned that flying truck into a flying nuke?"

"Nice analogy," mumbled Jack. Was it just him, or was the Venator reminding him of Optimus for some reason?

"Semi-truck much?" asked a smiling Raf, as he looked up at Jack.

"There's something oily going on here," said Ratchet, as he typed furiously. "There is absolutely no way in The Inferno that a cargo hauler can be so well armed!"

Well, time to work on our villain's big reveal!

Remember, i'll be waiting for your entries, so comment away!

You can even PM me, if you wish!