“Hrm… I’ll have to talk to her about that. Can you complete the first request then?”
The AI shakes their head.
“No. There are no recordings of Corona’s voice that I can find to compare with the transmission we received three days ago.”
“Odd… why would those be restricted… I really need to talk to Motherboard.”
“I do not fault her, Gatecrasher,” the AI says. “Her actions are perfectly reasonable, and I will comply with them.”
“Says the AI to the AI…” he mutters. “Fine. Anything you need?”
The AI shakes their head.
“No, thank you.”
“Right then.” And he storms off to the bridge to have a talk to Motherboard.
“Tadaa?” Spectrum tried a third time.
She transformed her arm and waved it at Blight, running a diagnostic.
Most likely, it would not show Blight having any unnatural symptoms.
Nonetheless, he still looked (and felt) like he was about to suffer the Cybertronian equivalent of cardiac arrest.
Spectrum frowned.
“HuG?” She asked.
Blight says nothing, his eye twitching uncontrollably.
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Spectrum looks at Pixel worriedly.
“N0t w3ll.” She said, motioning towards Blight.
@Toa_Vladin @meepinater @ToaNoah_Wafflemeister @BlackBeltGamer98 @Jcton @ProfSrlojohn
The bridge crew was largely silent as Flyby gently slows Salvation to a stop between the two cliffs. The dark-grey rock faces were adorned with miles-tall statues of the original twelve Knights of Cybertron, consumed by rust and overgrowth.
Between the monuments were the empty moorings and docking cradles of an expansive spaceport, rusted by age and neglect. Catwalks and bridges run between them all, connecting to grey-silver towers and platforms jutting from the rock faces, bearing the extravagant and complex architectural motifs of the Order of the Knights of Cybertron and the Golden Age. Below the spaceport, along the shores of the two islands, was a makeshift city crafted from the hulls of more modern starships, aglow with artificial light.
Moonlight washes across the top of Salvation, while the blue aura of a jagged ravine in the water below the Fleetcarrier creeps up her sides, illuminating the many burns, cracks, and warped plates on her hull. A low, rumbling hum echoes throughout the area as arcs of blue energy race across the spaceport, jolting the ancient machinery to life. The moorings begin to reach out toward Salvation, reforming themselves into a gargantuan docking cradle large enough to properly accomodate her. Titanic rings curve upward and wrap around her width, as over a hundred bridges connect to her hangars and airlocks. Anyone and everyone in the proximity of a window could see this taking place, and many crew members stare at the proceedings in awe.
In Grommet’s lab, the Omega Key suddenly deactivates the map, and the flow of elixir ceases. The holographic planets and stars slowly fade away.
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“What a sight…” Gatecrasher says.
Topside nods.
“Our ancestors definitely had a certain… flair for the dramatic, didn’t they?” he says as the spaceport continues to reshape itself around Salvation.
“That they did. By the way, where’s Motherboard? I need to have a word with her.”
“Speak,” says Motherboard suddenly; she had somehow managed to sneak up behind Gatecrasher.
Gatecrasher jumped visibly and turned around. “Don’t do that!” he exclaimed.
Motherboard nods her head.
“Acknowledged,” she says in her usual monotone.
“Okay, I need to ask, why are you blocking the Inquisitive Savant from accessing the database?”