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."