Forcep looks over at the hatchling, who was still being tended to by two other medics. Deus didn't seem to mind; he was looking curiously around the med-bay as the doctors sealed his leaking holes and removed extraneous pieces of armor.
"My first priority is getting him- he is a 'he', right?- stable. Right now he's a literal walking trash heap. After that... maybe some testing."
"Nothing invasive or harmful, mind you," the doctor clarifies. "But his spark popped out of a cube and slapped a bunch of junk together into a body. That warrants some investigation, don't you think?"
"We're going to the coordinates Sidewinder provided, regardless," Shatterpoint asserts, regaining his composure.
"Wouldn't hurt to properly introduce ourselves, I reckon," Topside comments.
No NPCs were currently in the area.
"I was brought online nearly a thousand years after the event you now call the War of the Primes," the AI explains. "The twilight of the Golden Age, if you will. From the historical records I've been able to access, cybertronian society had not yet regressed too severely, though it was beginning to do so."
One of the drones beeps, and medics come to place Zepar in a CR chamber. His injuries were more than what mere drones could repair.