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[Chevaleresse]

Warden 3 took a startled step back as the mechanical being transformed before her, and another when he ceased to be humanoid entirely. "Uhh. . ." she responded eloquently, attempting to figure out how to respond to this. Perceptor had, apparently, near-fully duplicated her physical airframe in mere moments after just a cursory scan. Something told her the assurance of confidentiality was meaningless, if such detail could be gleaned in such a short amount of time. "My current callsign is Warden 3," she finally managed. "Side number 124, bureau number 167203."

She regained enough of her composure after a moment to straighten herself out and reply a bit more firmly. "How did you manage to reverse engineer an air superiority fighter that quickly?" The lack of weaponry only seemed to alarm her further; other than the payload of futuristic missiles she carried, there was nothing especially remarkable about her munitions bays or cannon save for their aerodynamic, internal locations. 

[DragonRage]

Perceptor changes back to his humanoid form with another whirl of parts, standing on one knee so as to almost look Warden 3 directly in the eyes, "There are good reasons why my species is often spoken of colloquially as 'Transformers'," He jokes, "Our ability to disguise ourselves as any machine of similar mass to our base form has been a part of us for as long as anyone can remember.  Truthfully, I did not know whether I could scan your form, or that my systems would accept it as a valid alternative mode.  That I could strongly suggests that somewhere within you still exists a fully intact and functional jet fighter.  And...  I do not think reverse-engineering is exactly the right word.  To a cursory examination, I look like your jet, but the internals?  Cybertron may have abandoned its caste system long ago, but our physical predispositions remain.  Despite my being an ancient and advanced alien mechanical life form, I suspect you would be a far faster and more agile flyer than I in this jet form, and equipped with electronics far more suitable for combat than mine.  I am also unable to alter my paint so easily as my configuration, so that radar-disrupting coating you have remains beyond me.  I am a scientist and researcher, and have never sought upgrades to move my frame from these specifications.  Cybertronian biology can work wonders that surprise even those who specialize in its study at times, but it like all things has its limitations.  A Cybertronian with a military-grade frame like my old friend Silverbolt could replicate your jet far more closely, enough to stand up to even rigorous examination as long as disassembly was not attempted, but I do not think I did."

"We got the goods," Arcee reports, "I got in touch with some old friends.  Bulkhead's taking the spacebridge in with a cargo of accelerants, Terran jet fuel, and 'advanced alloys'.  I ain't a metallurgist but he assures me it's the good stuff, and suitable for aviation.  Should be here soon."

[Chevaleresse]

"I see." This knowledge seemed to placate the fighter slightly, even if she still felt somewhat invalidated by the sheer amount of advanced technology around her. At the very least, it sounded like it took a dedicated warfighter to outmatch her capabilities as an air combatant. Arcee provided a timely distraction from this, however. "You were able to locate supplies that quickly? That kind of requisition would have taken days unless it was already on hand. . ." She looked down thoughtfully, before glancing back up. "And you're providing this before we've performed our duty?"

[DragonRage]

Arcee smiles, "Well, there's a few reasons.  First off, it'd be pretty rude of us to ask you to go risk your lives for our sake without making sure you're well supplied for it.  If you really need this stuff, and go in without it...  Well, nobody wants that.  Secondly, well, until recently we were at war.  Now, with the war over, there's a lot of military surplus laying around.  Better it gets expended here than sit around until it denatures or someone tries to steal it.  Thirdly, Bulkhead's alt mode is a heavy truck; he can only carry so much cargo."

The green oval of the Spacebridge opens up once more, and a bulky truck trundles out on ten wheels, olive-drab paint and the white star displayed prominently on the doors suggesting its human origins.  It slows to a halt, before transforming itself, into a bulky, stocky humanoid with a pronounced underbite, clutching a cargo pallet in each thick-fingered hand.  He slowly, carefully sets them down on the ground.  "That's as much incendiaries as I could get on short notice Arcee," He rumbles in a deep voice, "I'm not sure what you need this for, but please be careful.  Some of this stuff's pretty touchy."

"It's supposed to be touchy, Bulk, it's flamethrower fuel."

"You don't even have a flamethrower!"

"We're burning out some scraplets."

"Oh.  That would do it," Bulkhead nods, "I got to get back.  I'm kinda on break right now.  Watch the scraplets.  Those things are mean."  He transforms back into his truck mode, and rolls into the Spacebridge, which closes behind him.

"Let me see..."  Arcee digs into the cargo crates immediately, swiftly separating them into three piles.  "Flamethrower fuel and accelerant, should be simple enough to use," Arcee points to the first pile, "Pressurized gas goes in the gas tank, flammable liquid goes in the fuel tank, should be some adapter valves in there to make sure the seals are tight.  And then we have the jet fuel," She points to a big, black drum with several flammable volatiles stickers plastered all over it, "It was imported during the war in hopes that we could refine Energon out of fuels from Earth; we're not that desperate for fresh Energon anymore, so it's been lying in storage since.  That's all we're going to get without an interplanetary shopping trip, so I hope it's enough."  The drum looks like it should hold around 50 gallons if it's full.  "And finally, 'advanced aviation alloys'," She points to the third pile, a bundle of metal rods tied together with a tarp and some cabling, "There's spare metal lying around in every bolt hole and safe house for emergencies and enrichment, more than our current population is ever going to eat before it corrodes.  This stuff would have been recycled for building materials if we hadn't grabbed it.  Label says it's supposed to be refined aluminum, steel, and titanium, but considering how overworked the recycling facilities are these days there could be some of nearly anything in here."  She grabs a rod at random, slides it out of the bundle, scrapes a finger across it, and then sticks the digit into her mouth, "Okay, this one is definitely aluminum.  Bleck.  Not to my tastes, but I hear flyers love the stuff.  Well, quick and dirty scrounging run completed.  I hope this is enough, because if it isn't we're gonna have to make a formal requisition, and I'm not sure we've got enough time for that.  If we wait too long, the scraplets will eat something we can't fix."

[StormLord]

Tyra glanced back and forth silently following the exchange, and partly hoping her gemstones would be on the shipments.  See that they clearly weren't she looks back to Perceptor who seemed to be to in administrative charge here.
"Do you have a map we can use?  Or are we doing this blind?  and are there any other threats in the area we should be concerned with like poisonous gas, contaminations, or feral creatures?"

[cronos5010]

VerTwo slowly walks towards the flamethrower fuel, and stops to stare at it for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do next. After a while it sends its BIT to fly gently around the canister, and gently poke it with one of the BITs mechanical limbs. "This unit's BIT requires assistance with refueling its integrated flamethrower."

[Chevaleresse]

"Good to know." She frowned, considering some of the things  said while eyeing the fuel barrel out of the corner of her eye. "So there's an Earth in this world too?" That would confirm her suspicions about what "Terran" meant. It also meant a glimmer of hope, though she tried not to let her spirit soar too high reaching for it yet. "What kind of threats does the planet face as a whole?" She couldn't help the excitement tinging her voice regardless.

[DragonRage]

"A map?  Not a paper copy, but, uh," Arcee opens a compartment in her arm, sticks her entire hand in there (which does not look like it should fit) and rummages around for a few seconds before pulling out a USB drive that's been wrapped in duct tape until it's big enough around for her to comfortably grasp it.  She pulls it out, closes the compartment, and then sticks the drive into the side of her head.  She pulls VerTwo's BIT close and tries a few adapters before finding one that works and using it to clip a tank of flamethrower fuel onto it.  Then she flips the drone over, pulls the USB drive out of her own head, and inserts it into the BIT.  "There we go.  You should be able to download a map of the terminal temple from here.  It's the file labelled 'Map'.  And I think I got your fuel tanks attached properly."

"There should not be any life forms inside other than the scraplets themselves, but that's more than sufficient danger," Perceptor shares, "To my knowledge, no substances that are corrosive or toxic to carbon-based life should be present in the temple either.  We don't exactly make a habit of storing hazardous wastes inside our sacred places.  As far as the planet Earth goes, Arcee and I have both been there in the past, but not for the past few years.  When we were there last, the planet as a whole was in fairly good shape.  No major wars, plagues, or natural disasters.  Our ambassadors haven't reported any serious humanitarian disasters meriting external assistance.  If you need more, I could message the embassy while you're in the temple."

[cronos5010]

VerTwo slowly nods at Arcee, as it tries to save a copy of the file marked simply as 'Map', and tries to 'open' what is most likely a decades old and possibly deprecated file format.

[StormLord]

Tyra furrowed her brow at the mention of a lack of paper maps.  Her first thought was that perhaps they had parchment shortage due to...well the obvious surroundings.  But watching Acree using the small laminated device to pull some amount of information and then pass it to their automaton's automaton gave her the idea that perhaps they simply had more dense forms of information storage.  She made a mental note of it before moving on.
"My experience with holy places in the past has found them to have an uncomfortable tendency towards poisonous vipers and rooms with the purpose of flattening opposition."

[DragonRage]

VerTwo opens a PDF file titled "Altaris IV Vector Sigma Terminal Tourist Map".  It shows the interior layout of the temple-terminal... but it isn't especially detailed.

"What?  Why would we have any of that in the temple?" Arcee seems shocked at the concept, "Children go in there!  And tourists!  Well, when it's not infested by scraplets, but you get the idea.  Anyway, assuming I got my human file formats correct, your friend should have the map.  It's not the best, but it tells you where the stairs and rooms are, and at the bottom is the Vector Sigma terminal.  We need to get the terminal's memory core and transmitter out.  Even if they're damaged, as long as they haven't been destroyed there's a chance we can fix it.  We've got a specialist on call if need be."

"Neither should be very big, or difficult even for smaller beings such as yourselves to carry," Perceptor adds, "The memory core should glow brightly, a sphere about the size of my clenched fist.  It will be exposed, to allow its light to shine up through the shrine on the first floor.  The transmitter will be within the assembly, but it is meant to be easy to access for repairs and maintenance.  I don't have a properly sized ion wrench for your hands here, but one should be available in the shrine's tool storage.  It will taste strongly of ionized materials, so the scraplets will be unlikely to have eaten it while other sources of metal exist.  Be forewarned, the depredations of the scraplets may have rendered some sections of the floor or ceiling unstable, or unable to bear your weight."  Perceptor displays his ion wrench for reference, and it mostly just looks like a big wrench with glowing prongs made of some clear, blue substance.

[StormLord]

Tyra nods at the response.
"We should get the tool first then, and then head down to retrieve this memory core."
She carefully reaches into her cloak and retrieves a full length trident made of some dull metallic blue material, simply holding it seemed to cause sparks of static discharge between the points.  She pulls out the two small Crystal Vials she made before and looks over between VerTwo and Warden 3, before settling on the latter.
"You take these."
She gestures a bit towards the doorway into the temple using her Voltride and addresses the passive VerTwo.
"Automaton, time to move."

[cronos5010]

VerTwo slowly turns towards Tyra, and lets out a simple, "Acknowledged, this unit will lead the way," before it stamps off inside of the Temple, and makes its way towards the 'Storeroom'.

[Chevaleresse]

"So it isn't the same. . ." Warden murmured under her breath as she followed VerTwo. She'd known it was an illusory hope, and yet she still felt disappointed. There was no way the threats she faced would have gone unnoticed, and so it was clear that this was not her universe. Of course, the aliens would not have been surprised at her lack of murderous rage if it were.

The plane girl remained quiet as she deployed her airframe, wingtips still swept back into storage configuration. Her cannon appeared in her hands, the familiar weight not seeming to bother her in the slightest.

[DragonRage]

The inside of the shrine is cast in shadows, but not in darkness, as a pillar of golden light shining up from the floor illuminates the room with soft radiance.  The walls are marked by rough, semicircular tracks, cutting through intricate runes and etched murals of various Cybertronians working, fighting, and speaking.  A few scraplets, glowing eyes showing up well in the uncertain light, reveal the origins of these trails as they chomp a path across the walls, but they seem entirely uninterested in you, for now at least.

Moving deeper into the main hall doesn't seem to draw their attention either, until the floor makes an alarming creaking noise under VerTwo's heavy tread, forcing the robot to carefully step back.  It would seem Perceptor was spot-on about sections of the floor being weakened by the scraplets.