“I’m sure,” Grommet says, waddling over.
“Unknown,” Motherboard replies.
“Ever considered settling down with someone? Starting a family…?” Thrust asked, in a much quieter and shier tone.
There is a pause.
…
…
“…No,” Motherboard answers flatly.
The first officer transforms into her vehicle mode and rockets off toward Salvation.
1 Like
gatecrasher finds the fighter bay (OOC: I’m assuming it has one) and lands. He then transforms.
@BlackBeltGamer98 @Toa_Vladin @ToaNoah_Wafflemeister @Jcton @meepinater @MaxinePrimal @ProfSrlojohn
The Cybertronian Fleetcarrier Salvation leaves the mountains and glides over the vast seas of Planet Omega, standing out against the blue morning sky like an enormous, sand-colored, metal brick. Indeed, she wasn’t the most aerodynamic in shape- her basic silhouette could be described as a twenty-mile long rectangular prism with two downward-angling fins extending from her top, which ran down roughly two-thirds of her length before blending into her wider aft section. She was once a Decepticon ship, though during her reconstruction, the Autobots had redesigned her to appear less intimidating and more heroic- she’d traded in the sharp spikes and triangular protrusions that Decepticon shipbuilders were fond of for a more blocky, utilitarian appearance. The sand color of her hull, accented- particularly on the fins and the flight deck- by a bright red, was also inspired by the Autobots. What wasn’t an Autobot design choice was the plethora of cracks, warped plates, burns, and other damages blemishing Salvation’s hull. That was the result of more than a few battles and close calls over the last month, and they had all built up to the point where she had to be set down for repairs.
Marbling Salvation’s sides were viewports of every size and shape, granting a view into hundreds of hab-suits, laboratories, storage rooms, training facilities, and medical bays, among others, illuminated by a pale glow. A few small trains ferried crew members around the ship, and some of these cars could be seen racing through long panes of transparent material. Also adorning Salvation were a large variety of the most advanced weapons yet made by cybertronian kind since the end of the Golden Age: Foldspace missile batteries, turrets that fired every kind of projectile or energy blast, and the immense barrel of the experimental Warp Cannon built into the Fleetcarrier’s prow. The weapon had never been fired, but if rumors were to be believed, the day Flyby finally found a target for it would be one to remember for millennia to come.
On the bridge, the Decepticon captain of Salvation, ■■■■■■■■■■■■, reclines in the chair that allowed him to oversee the twenty-five bots manning weapons stations, and the pilot and navigator working in tandem at the far end of the room. ■■■■■■■■■■■■ was a tall Decepticon with sliver armor and a luxurious terran alt-mode acquired in a stealth mission on Mars 15 years ago. Like many Decepticons aboard Salvation, he was still learning how to work with the Autobots aboard the ship, but he was finding it difficult to adjust, despite his efforts.
To ■■■■■■■■■■■■’s right, A stout Autobot woman named Broadband, bearing blue and white armor and a human van for an alt-mode, juggled her attention between an array of consoles and holo-screens. Serving as the communications officer for the largest and busiest cybertronian warship ever made was no easy feat, but the talkative and witty conventan was up to the task.
At the far end of the room, Breakswitch the navigator, filled in for her absent twin at the pilot’s station, occasionally leaning over to fiddle with the holo-maps and other pieces of navigational equipment at the station directly to its right. Breakswitch was a Decepticon with white and blue armor and a terrestrial alt-mode, and she hummed a pleasant tune to herself as she worked.
Salvation possessed thirty-three hangar bays in total, though only thirty-two could actually hold any ships. The thirty-third, the cavernous main hangar in the Fleetcarrier’s underside, had been permanently sealed. Where it could once hold ten warships, it now played host to a small city which the crew had humorously dubbed “Little Iacon”. Cylindrical towers extended from the floor and ceiling, with a tangled network of roads and bridges weaving between them all. Massive, pale lighting fixtures in the ceiling illuminated the city- well, most of it, anyway. One had been shot out in the last battle, and as such a portion of Little Iacon was lit only by a few fires, streetlamps, and window lights.
It was in Little Iacon that would could find Halfrunner, a nonaligned bot with large shoulders and black armor decorated with crimson flames. He owned a bar called the Antillan Sunrise, and like many neutrals was happy to see the cybertronian race largely working together again, even if it wasn’t under the best circumstances.
By contrast, Lurch, the lanky Decepticon who owned the fancier Peace and Tyranny, was a zealous Decepticon who wouldn’t tolerate an Autobot to save his life. His establishment may have been fancier, but its high prices and Lurch’s pretentiousness made it less popular than the more welcoming, if a bit more homey, Sunrise.
In hangar bay thirty, the junkion merchant named Thrift plugs a dirty cable into a socket on the refueling pad he’d grounded his ship on. Strings of old Christmas lights set up haphazardly around the platform flicker to life, along with a neon sign atop the barely-spaceworthy craft proclaiming that Thrift’s Emporium of Rare and Wondrous Artifacts, Animals, and Armaments was once again open. The red-armored triple-changer hums happily to himself as he dances among the tangled webs of cabling all over the platform running to and from his ship and various shelves, floodlights, and tables.
On Deck 11, a tall, slender Autobot woman with dark-grey armor and enough weapons to give Megatron pause flips on a sign by the shooting range. This was Salvo, the tough-as-nails quartermaster who spent her days selling weapons and equipment to the rest of Salvation’s crew. When she wasn’t on the battlefield, that is.
I wish I could get out more… she thought to herself.
…Wait, that’d probably mean the bad guys’d shown up again, and we don’t want that. What do the humans call that? Catch twenty-three? Darn.
She blasts a target to charred scraps to vent her frustration, feeling a bit better afterward.
In a dimly-lit stretch of Salvation’s network of maintenance tunnels, a Decepticon stowaway named Facelift sets his makeshift operating theater in order- a few operating tables haphazardly connected to power sources by tangled cabling, trays of mistreated equipment, and canisters containing various body parts stored in a bubbly green fluid. Facelift was a tall, purple-amrored cyclops and was… experienced in the art of cybertronian body modifications, and made a living selling his dubious services whilst hiding within the bowels of the ship.
On Deck 3, Salvation’s chief medical officer, Forcep, finishes re-attaching the severed limb of an Autobot. The misanthropic neutral took solace in the calm of the last few days- there were less bots getting hurt, after all, so less work for him. He’d had too much of that over the last month.
The black-armored medic retracts his surgical tools and dismisses his patient, walking over to a computer to update the log.
Salvation’s engineering section was a great, cavernous space almost as vast as the main hangar, with every surface taken up by giant machines- the “guts” of the Fleetcarrier that required constant attention to keep her running. This attention came from about a thousand or so engineers of every faction, living in towers hanging from the baby’s ceiling and answering to Greasemonkey, an elderly Autobot with white armor and red (greying) techno-organic fur. Currently, the cyborg wandered around the massive assembly in the center of the chamber, comprised of the main reactor, the inert transwarp drive, and the inner workings of the six engines. It wasn’t too unusual that he was having something of a one-sided conversation with Salvation; Greasemonkey’s odd relationship with his machines was well-known among the Autobot crew.
3 Likes
Zepar began to try and draft some ideas of what to say in the memorial service Topside had asked of him, reading through what information he could about those who had perished.
Gatecrasher made his way through the decks of the Salvation to the firing range. He checked in and waked to the range. He pressed a button on the side of his lane, and the target moved to the very back of the range. About 100 yards. He then transforms into his tank mode and fired his cannons. Bullseye. He transformed and move the target back to him. “Hrm…” he said, looking at the target. “I’m getting better. If only I could practice in my new alt-mode.”
Julian was on the stage in the Antillian Sunrise, singing.
2 Likes
Thrust’s face falls. As Motherboard left, he turned and trudged unhappily toward his brothers.
Lightshift patted Thrust’s shoulder.
“Hey, don’t feel down. I’m sure you can win her over.” Lightshift enouraged him.
Vigor nodded in agreement.
“Thanks guys.” Thrust said, smiling a bit. "I guess it’ll just take a bit of time.
1 Like
Daria smiles as she walks down a metal corridor looknig for the nearest way off the ship.
Blight takes a moment to register what they wanted. “Okay, well, look at it this way; we’re in a war, right? And you two are on opposite sides of this war? Well, it’s perfectly tolerable, logical, and encouragable for you to kill each other in said war. However, we are currently at an armistice, so killing each other isn’t that smart of an idea, or else you’ll get lots of people upset with you and stuff. So, why don’t you guys just not do that until the truce is over, and then go back to beat the living sparks out of each other afterwards?”
1 Like
Gronius could be seen making what seemed to be a big, dragon nest pout of fallen sticks, boulders, or other thing that he have found around on Omega.
Among the casualties were:
-The Titan Squadron: Decepticon commandos killed in the last battle fending off a heretic boarding party.
-Riot: one of the Splitter brothers. Killed by Bludgeon on the culture ark Salvation and her crew had discovered early in their journey.
-Fuse: another Splitter brother. Killed by Bludgeon on the culture ark.
-Road Lord: a mutineer killed by Ace-19
-Ace-19: died from an apparent suicide.
-Roadkill: killed by Ace-19
-Alpha: died from Dark Energon overexposure from the last battle.
“Say no more,” the nearby Salvo says. With the press of a button, the shooting range reconfigured itself to better accommodate alt-modes.
The patrons- bots of every faction- seemed to be enjoying the performance.
Most corridors on the ship shared much the same design, bearing the sand-and-red color scheme of Salvation’s exterior and illuminated by pale lights built into the ceiling.
The three would walk past the lab in which Shockwave had set up shop. The Decepticon head scientist had wound up aboard Salvation after the crew had discovered he had been captured by Bludgeon to create new and deadly weapons for his forces. Our heroes had stormed one of Bludgeon’s ships, retrieved Shockwave, and thus deprived their enemy of a vital asset while gaining one of their own.
It just so happened that the trio’s journey would take them to hangar thirty, where Thrift and his shop were.
“He’s got a point,” the Decepticon says.
After a tense moment, the Autobot lowers his gun.
“It ain’t right,” he realizes. “What I’m doin’.”
“When this war is over, I’m sure we’ll all face justice one way or another,” the Decepticon says.
1 Like
Zepar wrote down notes with a heavy heart as he remembered the brave sacrifice of these Cybertronians.
“wow! thanks!” gatecrasher replies gratefully. He then transforms into his A10 mode and takes off.
She smiles shyly, and steps down from the stairs.
A few flying targets buzz around, displaying glowing orange markers and wielding blasters discharging stun blasts.
The crowd applauds, and the Sunrise’s DJ- a junkion with a psychedelic color scheme and eyes hidden behind a black visor- gives her a thumbs-up.
Gatecrasher dodged a few of the shots. “hey! change it to ground targets! I’m not designed for this!”
She returns the thumbs up, and walks over to Halfrunner.
OOC: HA
What about Aridocara?
IC: Song was searching for Gronius.
1 Like
Salvo does so.
“My bad,” she says with a chuckle.
“Can’t say I’m too familiar with terran vehicles.”
Halfrunner was sliding drinks over to a few Autobots and Decepticons celebrating an occasion of some kind.
OOC:
He’s probably dead, too.
“It’s fine. This is an A10 thunderbolt. designed for Ground attack.”
“What’s the party about?” She asks cheerfully.
Salvo nods.
Turrets rise from the floor, firing the same stun rounds as the drones had earlier.
“Just celebrating some good fortune,” a Decepticon woman says.
“Yep,” an Autobot with pink armor chimes in. “With Bludgeon’s spy gone, he and his goons can’t track us. Once they get the ship fixed up, it should be smooth sailing from here on out, right?”
“Assuming we don’t run into any more zombies, of course,” another Autobot says.