Broadwing follows them closely. Keeping one claw on Starchaser.
“I… May have…”
Brieg said nervously. Internationally avoiding the captain’s gaze.
“It was an honest mistake. An accident. Nothing more.”
The guards lay Starchaser down on an operating table. One turns to Broadwing and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry mate,” she says, “but I gotta ask you to leave now. She’ll be alright, I promise.”
Topside seemed only a hair’s breadth away from socking Breig across his jaw; the Zebra bot could see that his right hand was clenched tightly into a fist.
“I’d invite you to say that to the Autobot who was relieved of his head just a moment ago,” he says, “or to the other bot who’s gonna have to live with the knowledge that she was the one who ripped it off. Bludgeon takes enough of us each time we fight him- I don’t need you doing the job for him!”
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Broadwing gave off a low growl. Reluctantly he left the room, looking rather unhappy while doing so.
“I apologize. In hindsight the module I installed may have been… Unnecessary. I’ll be sure to leave alt mode work to those who are more qualified.”
Brieg said, desperately trying to keep his composure, as the captain’s anger greatly frightened him.
Garand looks over the technicians and equipment as the final preparations were being made.
Topside takes a sudden step forward, glaring murderously at Breig as he points a finger to two guards nearby.
“You two!” he shouts to them. “Cuff this guy; throw him in a cell.”
Thrift saunters over to the angelicons.
“Road trip?” he asks. “Ain’t we leaving soon?”
@ValkyriePrimal @BlackBeltGamer98 @meepinater @ToaNoah_Wafflemeister @Flux @ProfSrlojohn
Salvation shudders as she lurches into motion, leaving the gorge and flying along the horizon toward a tall mounted adorned with ancient cybertronian ruins: a vault containing ancient weapons for our heroes to claim. A supply ship was being prepped in hangar thirty to transport whatever artifacts may be discovered within the vault’s depths.
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Lightshift and Vigor stand back.
Thrust rubs his chin.
“Captain, if we can get Shockwave and Motherboard down here, with Brieg’s help we can fix this problem right here.”
SideStep finishes his drink, paying the bartender and heading towards the Engine room to check on the spy’s nest.
Spectrum wandered the ship after her encounter with Pixel, looking for someone to talk to.
“This clown ain’t gonna so much as look at her funny, let alone lay his hands on her again,” Topside says, pointing to Breig. “I fully intend to let Shockwave and Forcep undo whatever it is he did to her- Pit, maybe I’ll convince Facelift to lend a hand; mods are his thing, he’s probably encountered something like this before.”
The spy’s nest was unchanged from SideStep’s previous visit, it’s consoles still tapped into various security cameras around Salvation. Holo-displays project profiles of various crewmembers, himself among them, compiled into a list of some kind.
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Zepar smiles, “We have one more errand to run.” He said as he boarded the ship, directing the technicians do the same.
Garand boards the vessel as well, “Come along, you two.” He says to Epsilon and Thrift, “You’ll be helpful in making this a quick mission.”
Epsilon follows suit with the technicians.
Thrift and three technicians board the cargo ship, with the junkion lounging in the bay.
“We waiting for anyone else, or is this a first-come, first-serve kinda thing?” he asks.
“We’ll launch the moment we’re in position.” Garand said.
“Plus, I asked for a small team so we can get ready quicker.” Zepar added.
Thrift nods.
“Aye, fair enough,” he says.
“Wait what! But it was just an accident! You can’t do this to me!”
He shouted in a panicked fear.
As the medic examined Starchaser, she seemed fine physically. A few dents and bangs here and there. Nothing that couldn’t heal with time. All except for the huge open gash on her rear thigh, caused by Greasemonkey’s attack.
Broadwing waited just outside the door. Nervously fidgeting. He never had good experiences with labs or medical places. Horrible memories of being strapped down to Shockwave’s operating table flash through his mind. Being taken apart and put back together again and again. The way he broke him down to make changes after every failed attack. After every outburst.
He knew exactly what happened to Starchaser. He knew he could help. And he knew how others treated him when he did the same thing. So having to leave her side was the last thing he wanted to do.
“You can’t go around turning my crew into your science projects!” Topside shouts back.
“I just finished telling Broadwing that actions have consequences. Your guinea pig bit a bot’s head off in a fit of delirium, now we’ve gotta keep her in a prison medical bay until she’s of sound mind and body again. You’re the one who did that to her, so I’m locking you up to keep you from doing that to anybody else. That enough of a justification for you, or should I comm Motherboard and have her read you the regs that give me the authority- the _responsibility- to do this?”
The prison medic, a silver-armored Decepticon woman with a gold visor over her eyes, scoffs as she inspects Starchaser’s leg wound.
“The old ape’s still as trigger-happy as ever, I see,” she says to herself. “Even I know not to break his calm…”
“Yeah, that prim-and-proper primate’s a helluva shot alright,” another voice says from behind her. She recognizes it immediately, and smacks the palm of her right hand on her visor.
“Ugh… they sent you?” she groans, turning around.
“Well of course!” Facelift says with a laugh, taking a long stride through the door. “Who else?”
“Somebody with a working brain module?” the prison medic deadpans. “This poor girl’s had enough madmen messing with her, I say.”
Facelift lays a claw on his chest as he reels backward.
“Madman?” he echoes. “Me? Please…”
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Garand nods, “Let’s hope it hasn’t been disturbed before we enter it.”
“Or that the New Decepticons didn’t take any of the good stuff, at least,” Thrift says with a shrug. “Be a shame if they got some doomsday machine sealed-away-for-all-time or something- speaking of such, did we ever find out what it was that drove the crew of that derelict we explored insane and turned 'em all into terrorcons?”
Zepar sits in front of Thrift, “The Knights on the derelict were trying to run controlled experiments on Dark Energon.” He said, “There was a containment breach and then, well, we saw what happened as a result.”
“That’s one reason why Dark Energon experimentation has been forbidden by the Angelicon Order: it seeks to corrupt everything it comes into contact with.” Garand said, unknowingly repeating what Solus Prime said when she was creating the Omega Lock on Planet Omega.
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“Yeah, I suppose the life-force of a chaos god would that,” Thrift remarks. “Makes me wonder if there’s some part of him still around somehow. Now, I ain’t trynna say Optimus and the rest failed or nothing, but… well, Dark Energon wouldn’t be doing anything if the Antispark was gone forever, wouldn’t it?”
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“I would never operate on a fellow bot without consent. She asked me to install the new beast form! It was her idea! The behavior module was just a logical next step.”
Breig pleaded.
Starchaser began to ■■■■■ and fidget in her sleep. It seemed Broadwing’s venom was beginning to wear off.
“That is logical.” Garand said with a worried tone, “But the universe is vast and largely unexplored.”
“If Unicron,” the Angelicons shudder as the Chaosbringer’s name was spoken, “is alive in some way, it’s either in some distant, unexplored part of the universe or it’s in some other dimension and somehow still connected to his blood.”
Zepar looks at the Twilight Saber, “But, as sacrilegious as this may sound, we need to focus on our current mission: restoring Primus to perfect health with the completed Omega Lock.” He said.
“If the Creator dies, it will be a victory for our ultimate enemy that will doom all Cybertronians to extinction.” He finished.
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“Logical next step?!” Topside hisses. He looks as though he wants to say more, but storms away.
“Don’t stand 'round on my account,” he says to the two guards. “Get this guy out of here.”
The two guards approach Breig, and one moves to apply stasis cuffs to his wrists.
The prison medic sighs.
“Come on,” she says to Facelift. “Let’s keep her under.”
The two doctors work together, keeping Starchaser in stasis as the mend the wound in her leg, removing the slug wedged into the torn mechanisms and repairing the motors and pistons in the limb. When they finish, the keep Starchaser restrained, but deactivate the mechanisms keeping her in stasis.
Thrift nods.
“Right,” he says. “Right. One thing at a time, as I like to say. Find the macguffins, save the world, get the girl, then worry about the chaos god.”
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