Epsilon (along with Daria (@Jcton) and Spectrum (@meepinater)) would have been in the room to hear the warnings of Decepticon warships appearing in orbit. The captains and the other new arrivals, however, would not know of this.
Corona once again explains the visions she had received through her prophetic abilities: of a throng of cybertronians fighting the Heralds of Unicron, among them Nova Prime.
“We were able to recover some of Nova Prime’s original body,” she says. “No doubt some devoted follower of his fished it from the Acid Sea before it could be completely dissolved, and it had been changing hands ever since. We then found this planet, and knew it would be the perfect place to rebuild it.”
At the far end of the room, four pilgrims man a round machine in which the hot spot cube had been inserted. Silver rings around the device begin to rotate as four cylindrical mechanisms extend from the walls, all pointing to the center of the room.
“We’ve only lacked one crucial element needed to return Nova to life,” Corona continues.
Zepar was quiet for a few moments then stepped up to Corona, “If he gets out of line, he is going back to The Pit.” He said, more warned as Angelicons didn’t like the idea of bringing back Nova due to his great heresy.
Epsilon looked nervous and told the captains what he heard. “Unless we can speed up those repairs, we’re sitting ducks.” He finished.
Onboard the ship, SideStep paced the hallways.
“Where is everybody? They always leave without me”
The Splitter brothers look up at the Decepticon ships, assuming they can see them.
“Oh, no. They’ve found us again.” Thrust groaned.
Lightshift rubbed his forehead. “How?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Facelift exclaims in protest. “You don’t just ‘speed up’ shell making. The little lady and I’ll need a few more days.”
“We only have a few hours, at most,” Sidewinder counters. “We have to begin the resurrection now.”
“Well, what’s the rush?” Topside asks, still unaware of the incoming threat.
Gatecrasher could not see the fleet just yet. There was still time to prepare for their arrival, then.
The Twenty-sixth fleet was not yet in visible range, though for the sake of not having to retcon the post, we’ll say that word travels fast from the south continent to the spaceport. The quiet atmosphere of the village below is replaced with a grim inentisty as the pilgrims begin to prepare defenses. Many of the weapons of the starships they had used to construct their abodes appeared to still be functional.
If SideStep was aboard Salvation, he’d quickly become conscious to a miraculous occurrence:
The cybermatter field that was repairing the massive Fleetcarrier was also working its magic on him- and to a greater extent than the few drops of the stuff that had leaked from the Omega Key a few days earlier.
“I imagine there’s a-” Forcep begins to say, before a shrill alarm catches his ear.
“What in the Allspark…?” he mutters, looking around.
Forcep and Juliana had left Blight, and he was now talking to no-one in particular.
The medic would be able to notice a change in the atmosphere of the city. The pilgrims were running through the streets, grabbing weapons and deploying massive gun emplacements from the buildings. They seemed to be expecting an attack.
Pixel would be able to see the floating field of debris that was currently Salvation fairly quickly… and he would also hear a great commotion from the city below.
" 'Cause he’s the chosen one or some slag," Facelift quickly rambles, clearly irritated at how things were proceeding.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Forcep quips. Such sights had become commonplace over the past 500 years.
The guards keeping watch over the prisoners deploy their weapons, now on high alert. Many of them didn’t know exactly what was going on, but clearly the pilgrims were expecting less-than-pleasant company.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Topside quips, taking a step forward.
“Ma’am,” he says to Corona, “you and yours’ve treated us well up 'til now- for which I, for one, am grateful- but I’m afraid I can’t you do this.”
“At least wait a frakkin’ minute for me to finish up his T-cog, for booting up cold!” Facelift pleads.
Corona walks over to the machine in which the hot spot cube was held. The technicians operating it flip a switch, and an iris opens in the device, revealing the artifact within as an array of spindly mechanical claws dismantles its geometric form.
Conduits on the four cylinders protruding from the ceiling emit blue, green, red, and purple light, as the pit in the center of the chamber fills with a bright white aura, the platform above it rising slightly as a ring wrapping around its diameter begins to slowly spin.
“I apologize for my deception,” the prophet says. " and I’m sorry we cannot see eye-to-eye on this matter, captain. But we are soon to be out of time. Bludgeon’s ships will be upon us before the night’s end, and I must do this if Primus- if our race- is to have any hope of salvation."
■■■■■■■■■■■■’s optics narrow as ■■■■■■■■■■■■’s eyebrows raise.
Song makes a few steps backwards, meditating upon Corona’s doing. Was she really willing to revive a past evil for the race’s good will? Was this pure foolishness, or a true act of heroism?"
“Look,” she says. “Everyone’s making like Megatron himself’s about to land on their doortstep…”
All throughout the city below, buildings shifted as great cannons rose from. Missile turrets swivel around to aim their racks of munitions up toward the sky, and the pilgrims were all grabbing weapons of their own.
The Omega Key continued to do its work, reshaping the spaceport when it needed to in its efforts to rebuild Salvation.
“…This course of action his most illogical,” Shockwave declares after a pause.
“Agreed,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ tersely affirms.
At once, he and Topside lunge forward, ready to stop Corona, but the rotund neutral and his four-armed friend step in their way, seizing hold of them. The two captains begin to fight against their captors. Electricity crackles as ■■■■■■■■■■■■ activates his gauntlets, and a clang! echoes through the room as Topside deals a blow to his opponent’s face.
The technicians strip away the final layer of the hot spot cube’s surface, revealing a tiny yellow gem, no bigger than a pebble, floating in a nebulous cloud of bluish Allspark energy.
Reaching into the machine, Corona takes the gem- which Song might remember as being a shard of the Emberstone.
Facelift steps between the Prophet and half-finished body of Nova Prime.
“You wanna bring back your ‘chosen one’ in a half-finished body?!” he yells. “What good’s that gonna do, eh?! You had your cronies kidnap me to finish the job for 'em, so let me finish, d*mmit!”
“We should find out what the fuss is about, I reckon,” Salvo suggests.
Corona staggers.
“Get off!” she growls, attempting to shake the Autobot off.
The four technicians rush to her aid, running over to lend the prophet a hand. One deploys a submachine gun from her forearm.
Facelift takes a step back, turning toward Thrift.
“Well, this is most definitely not how I thought today would go,” the mad doctor comments.
“Mmh, indeed,” Thrift replies, nodding his head.
“Uh, hey,” the junkion calls out to the pilgrims, “Assuming a peaceful resolution is achieved, and Bludgeon doesn’t kill us all, can we keep all the cool stuff you gave us?”
None of the NPCs were listening to him- they were focused on the conflict throughout the chamber, many deliberating on which side to join.
Primus, Zepar thought, Why Nova? I know the Covenant says to offer second chances but he refused it and…you know what happened after. Please, show me a sign of your will, if Nova is to save you, I beg of you, please, make it known as clear as day on Velocitron.
“Shoot me and she inevitably enters your range!” she yelled to the goons.
Song then wrapped one of her arms around Corona’s neck, one around her waste, and she used to other two to press the first arm upon her neck, trying to suffocate her.
“Listen to me and you listen closely.” Song whispered. “I’ve been searching for something like that shard for thousands of years.”
Lightshift commed the captains. “Captains, we’ve got a situation back at the village. We’ve got no visual yet, but apparently several warships have entered the atmosphere. My brothers and I can run some scouting runs before they get close.”
SideStep blinked.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” He poked his arm, some of the rust falling off and revealing glossy green armor. “What?”
The light in the pit flares as the cylinders’ lights brighten. Beams of cybermatter shoot from them and strike the central platform, causing the liquid sentio metallico around Nova’s body to froth and churn.
“You there!” Lurch calls to Zepar. “You of all bots wouldn’t let this happen, would you? Give me a hand!”
Lurch was fighting off a pilgrim wielding a knife. The Decepticon barkeep swung at his foe with his claws, but he seemed hesitant to fully commit to an attack.
“I’m a good shot,” the gun-toting technician warns Wildsong. “Release Corona, or I’ll demonstrate it…”
The other three technicians attempt to grab onto Wildsong.
Being a fully mechanical cybertronian, Corona had no need to breathe, and thus trying to choke her was futile.
“That makes two of us!” the prophet hisses. “It’s the only thing that can restore Nova’s spark!”
Salvo steps away from the window.
On the miniature of the spaceport in the center of the room, various holographic displays showed readouts of the spaceport’s various mechanisms, and the repairs and upgrades being made to Salvation.
Forcep looks around.
“If we’re expecting… company, we’ll need to move the prisoners. They won’t be safe here out in the open.”
Lightshift only gets a burst of static in reply. Wherever the captains were, they were out of range of the coms.
Emerging from the cliffs nearby was the control tower that the Omega Key had recently unlocked. The Splitter brothers wouldn’t know if its significance, but it stood out as being one of the only ancient towers in the spaceport whose mechanisms seemed to be online.
The longer SideStep remained within the cybermatter field, the more the substance would restore his body and mind to health.
Far below the Fleetcarrier, alarms sound as the pilgrims prepare for battle.
Aboard the Super-Worldsweeper Armageddon, Bludgeon watches the glistening seas of Planet Omega from orbit, standing on the bridge of the ten mile-long warship. The glowing fissures of cybermatter puzzled him, but nonetheless he found the sight beautiful. It reminded him of the radiant light that shone within the Well of All Sparks on Cybertron.
It was his intent to see those lights shine once again, upon a Cybertron free from sin and heresy- a perfect civilization the likes of which Megatron could only dream.
The Decepticon lord turns his head to look over his shoulder at Thunderblast, his de facto second-in-command.
“We will soon be upon the coordinates our agent provided,” he speaks in a low, rumbling voice. “Have Obsidian and Strika prepare the troops.”
Thunderblast (hiding a dagger that she had been intending to use before Bludgeon turned), bows her head.
“It will be done, my lord,” she says. “And- if you would be so generous- I would like to participate in the coming battle personally, my liege. It’s been so long since I’ve left the bridge of the Vigilant…”
Bludgeon’s optics narrow. Thunderblast was always scheming; she rarely did anything on a whim.
“…Very well,” he says. “Indulge yourself.”
The lord then turns to his apprentice.
“Wake Lockdown,” he commands. “It’s time for him to earn his pay.”