“And for that, I’m grateful,” Topside says. “We all are, truly. But the fact remains that if we don’t get the Omega Lock put back together and haul it back to Cybertron, we’re done for. Gods and bots alike. And something tells me that ain’t near as bad as what Bludgeon’d do should he get the Lock, Primus forbid.”
Sprocket laughs.
“What’d they station you there for, anyway?” he asks. “Velocitron was something of a bad investment for us Autobots, wasn’t it? All that Red Energon research wasn’t going anywhere, from what I heard.”
“Alright. I’ll give it a few days, and I’ll come back then.”
She blasted off out of the chamber and raced through the ship. With roaring jets in her heels she came screeching into the engine chamber. It seemed wherever she went she couldn’t go without making excessive noise.
She stood by the door, tapping her foot, looking around for where Broadwing might have gone.
“To be honest, I’m not quite sure. Like I said, most of what I was doing was fixing races. I think they chose me because my Chargers make me the perfect spy on a planet obsessed with wheels.”
“That… is the plan,” Topside agrees, turning back around. His gaze now shifts to the standing walls of glass, which displayed the endless number of names of crewmembers lost throughout the voyage and our many battles with Bludgeon.
Sprocket shrugs.
“I’m no expert when it comes to wetworks,” he says. “Though I’ve pulled a few relics out of Conventus’s oceans before, if that counts, heheh.”
Halfrunner complies, sliding the shotglass across the bar to SideStep.
The screens each showed over a hundred names, rotating through many more every couple of seconds. Zepar, Garand, and Topside weren’t the only visitors to this part of Little Iacon; other bots of every alignment had come to mourn and pay their respects.
“Hey, Zepar,” Topside says quietly, “you remember when I asked if you could plan something out, back on OL-0? Some kind of service for our… for our lost? Figure they’ve been due a proper goodbye for a while now.”
“Conventus,” Sprocket repeats. “Ocean colony. Broadband’s from there. Nice weather, popular spot for intergalactic tourism, shipbuilding capitol… that is, until the Decepticons bombarded all the cities from orbit.”
Zepar nods, “Yes, I have written a general eulogy but given the high count of deaths, I was limited to honoring them as a whole and then planning to have a list go on in the background with some hologram pictures of each deceased crew member.”
At the Sunrise, SideStep would tell Epsilon was here for the familiar and relaxing environment of a bar with music, the din of conversation from various patrons and a glass of Energon to help him recharge.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, beginning to walk away. “I have to make sure we’re ready for takeoff soon; 'less there’s anything more to do on this planet, I’m fixing to keep us moving.”
ooc: thanks
IC:
SideStep took another swig of his drink, before turning to Epsilon.
“So what brings ya here to the Salvation? I can’t recall seein’ you when we first took off.” @BlackBeltGamer98
