“Well, then we’ll have quite the challenge ahead of us, for as good at adapting as we are, I’ve noticed a lot of stubbornness and pride in our military history.” Firestorm says.
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Defender nods in agreement, his face similarly void of expression as he contemplates this task.
“I’ll need the ship to link to their transmission network,” he says. “They use different frequencies, with less power than our own transmitters. May need someone skilled with their tech–“ His voice breaks off as he sees Gungnir standing across the room. He breaks into a grin.
“I believe that we have someone who can do that.”
Oreo has remained silent throughout the conversation. As Defender finishes talking, he looks up. He sees an expression form on the ancient Cybertronian that has not been seen in centuries: a concentration, a determination to complete a mission set for him. As he looks, Defender stands up, then walks over to Axis.
“Lady Prime, I would like to use your ship’s transmitter to see if I can contact the Human government about these recent attacks. They would be of great assistance in our search, as they could easily prevent more of themselves from working against our mission. With your permission, I would also have them take the hijackers into custody, as they are currently an unnecessary burden during this mission. Unless, of course, you have other plans?”
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“Possibly, I wouldn’t put it past them. Humans are factitious things, even more than we are, they will bicker and fight over the smallest differences, ideals, or mere power. Even if it isn’t the same group, i’m sure any sort of human sepratists, cultists, or even just a megalomaniac could try and put them to use.”
He thought a moment.
“Something I hadn’t thought about, but we’re assuming the party in question is actually capable of cracking it, and doesn’t just think they can. Less assumptions that way, which tends to lead towards a correct answer. Are you familiar with Occam’s Razor?”
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Axis turned to defender and responded quickly.
“I see no issue. Keeping the humans in the loop and out of the way would be a good idea. Do as you wish.”
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At this, Defender salutes the Primes, and heads for the door of the room. Oreo and Razor follow, Razor looking quite excited.
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“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t keep you, on that note” Bombasticus says. “Might wanna get your Conjux over there to wrap up this little party and get back to it.”
Armax Prime frowns as Gungnir’s hand passes through her torso, her armor plating shimmering around the intrusive appendage.
“Yes, I am indeed an incorporeal apparition,” she deadpans. “Is your curiosity now sated?”
“Yes, Pride is our people’s greatest vice, I would say,” Aethus agrees, the vapor beneath his faceplate turning violet. "Perhaps the quintessons are the universe’s way of keeping our egos in check.
“On that note, I would not hesitate to enlist the aid of the other races, should a new war come to pass,” the fourteenth Prime adds. “The nebulons helped the Thirteen close the Benzuli expanse, and my forces would not have prevailed in the Fourth War without the intercession of the humans. Build trust and look for allies… even in the most unlikely places.”
Aethus makes no obvious indication that he’s referring to Kitai in that last remark, but coincidentally, some of the more unusual or eccentric characters among our heroes are reflected on his visor: a cybertronian-quintesson hybrid, a mikesu rockstar, a member of an obscure cult, and a bot decorated with Nabisco brand logos. It takes all kinds to save creation.
Many of the visitors that were cleared out of the Tomb of the Primes have left now, at the behest of the Knights of Cybertron guarding the place. Some, like the grey-and-purple Follower and human woman writing into a datapad, have continued to linger, however.
Contacting representatives of the United Human Polities would require some hoop-jumping for ordinary citizens, but Defender may have greater ease there, given his background. The official data networks of Avalon Prime, the human heartland, may be a good place to start.
The human mercenaries who attacked the Pulsar are still secure in their makeshift cell, fortunately, and their weapons and gear are secure in the cargo hold. Their dropship, shot down by Nova, likely lies in ruins among the hills between the Hydrax Plateau and Iacon.
“The simplest explanation’s usually correct, yeah?” Salvage replies. "Are you saying we’re thinking about this too hard?
“You know, that’d be the first time anybody’s accused me of that,” he chuckles.
OOC: thank you all again for your patience.
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Nova quickly retracted her hand.
“Yes. Sorry.” She replied, somewhat nervously.
“Um, hi. My name’s Nova. I just wanted to say I really love your spear.” She said, pointing to Armax’s weapon.
Maximus nodded. “Good idea. This has been nice and all, but we can’t exactly afford to waste a lot of time down here.” The predacon smiled before he turned to leave. “It was nice meeting you. Hope you have a nice, uh… afterlife.”
The predacon turned and walked up to Axis. Before he spoke he took a moment to bow to the 12 Primes before him. When he stood back up, he looked to his conjux.
“So, have you found out everything you need to know?” He asked.
“Yes. I’d say I’m just about done here. I’ll give the others a moment to wrap up whatever conversations they might be having, and then we’ll be on our way.” Axis replied.
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Defender and the others walk over to the Pulsar.
“It appears that someone has put your ship in lockdown,” Defender says, trying to open an access hatch.
“Hey Ivory, could you unlock the ship? Axis found someone who can take the hijackers off your hands for a while,” Oreo says over the comms.
As there is no response, Oreo tries repeating himself, this time asking Salvage to unlock the ship.
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“Many hands make light work and there is great strength in numbers.” Firestorm chuckles, “plus, you make a good point; it is often from the most unlikely that greatness arises.” He remembers how Liege was a key part to the last big adventure to save the universe, “extra firepower wouldn’t hurt but I worry about present company.” He says, briefly glancing at Megatronus.
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Defender placed his hand against the keypad on the hatch. It transforms into a data connection, linked with the keypad. Suddenly, lightning arcs from his hand, throwing him backwards.
“Those are some nice security systems,” he says.
He draws his railgun from its shoulder mount.
“Open the hatch!!! Ivory, Salvage, open it,” Oreo screams into the comlink.
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“Hm. Well, thank you,” the spectre of Armax replies, tossing the ghostly spear into her other hand and twirling it once. “It served me well in life. It was human-made, actually, given to me by the Empress of the Lucillan. She was a rather unpleasant woman, honestly, but it was the diplomatic thing to do. And I suppose I learned to never again underestimate human craftsmanship, as well.”
Optimus Prime’s spectre disappears, the thirteenth Prime likely drawing himself back to Trecedim to continue his endless vigil over the moon. The other ghosts within the Tomb continue to loiter about, occasionally glancing at Axis as they did. Some regard her with a neutral expression, others a more critical stare, and others still don’t quite seem to know what to make of her yet.
As it was the Matrix that brought them here in the first place, invoking the talisman’s power again will likely send them away. Though why and how the Matrix conjured these ghosts here remains a mystery.
Megatronus returns Firestorm’s gaze. Perhaps surprisingly, he smiles, as if greeting an old friend.
Aethus picks up on the implication behind the Headmaster’s words- or what he believes to be the implication, anyway. “Megatronus taught us to not deny ourselves any advantage, ally, or asset in battle,” he says. “If you come to need the Requiem Blaster again, I’m sure that he will understand.”
“Hey, hey! Chill, guys, just give me a minute,” Salvage groans through the commlink. A second later, the cargo bay’s spherical hatch peels open, its panels retreating into the hull.
“Did the humans not teach you guys how to knock when they rebuilt you, or something?” Salvage grumbles. “For spark’s sake…”
The grey-and-purple Follower first steps forward, perhaps to defend the Pulsar from perceived intrusion, but when he sees Oreo, Defender, and Razor being allowed inside, he relents. Not far away, the blonde-haired human woman notes his reaction with intrigue.
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Armax couldn’t see, but Nova had quite the grin at that remark. Gungnir struck a bit of a pose, something that looked confident.
“Well you got that right. Humans are definitely known to impress from time to time. Though the cybertronian stuff I’ve seen is pretty cool too. And I’ve noticed a few interesting similarities between the tech around here, and the stuff I’m familiar with.”
Over five thousand years, Axis had generally learned not to question what the Matrix did. It didn’t always make sense, and it wasn’t always consistent. But trying to understand the exact mechanics of a solidified piece of Primus was an effort in futility.
Though with Optimus gone, she was quickly aware of the many gazes of the other Primes. She turned around, looking over the greater hall before her. Granted not all of them were looking at her. But even if only half of them were, that was far too many eyes.
She felt frozen, paralyzed almost. She awkwardly shuffled her feet, suddenly feeling the pressure of a thousand eyes judging her.
“Hey, are you okay?” Honeycomb asked.
“If I am being perfectly honest… no.” Axis quietly replied.
“What’s wrong?”
“You said you worked in food collection, yes?” The Prime asked, still keeping her eyes focused across the expanse of the necropolis.
The insecticon nodded. “Mm-hm.”
“Imagine for a moment that food collection is the most important task there is. Second only to the queen herself. And you’re the only one there to do it. Everyone depends directly on you to be fed. And then one day, every single food gatherer in the entire history of The Below is gathered in a single chamber. They’re all looking at you. They’re all… judging you.”
Honeycomb shuttered. “Yeah, that does sound really stressful. But I doubt that every single one of them is judging you that badly. At least a few of these guys have to think you’ve been doing a good job.”
Axis nodded. “I suppose so. I know, logically, that every last one of them can’t be so critical. That some may indeed see me favorably… but that knowledge still brings little comfort.”
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Defender holsters his gun.
“My apologies,” he says. “I think it’s been too long since I was a civilian.”
He follows the others inside, glancing with surprise at the luxurious interior.
“The Primes really know what ships to use,” he says to Salvage over the comlink. “I haven’t seen such a nice yacht in years!”
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Firestorm nods, “I wish all had the opportunity to consult the Primes like this, you have great wisdom.”
He walks to Megatronus.
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Razor sees the woman standing nearby, and begins walking in her direction. She asks, “Is there anything you want to ask us, ma’am?”
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“That shouldn’t be too surprising,” Armax tells Nova. “For better and for worse, our species have been sharing technology for eons.”
This whole time, the Knights of Cybertron guarding the Tomb have remained unmoving at their posts, somehow keeping their discipline despite all that they must have seen and heard within the last few minutes.
“Hello, old friend,” Megatronus says to Firestorm as he comes near. The softness with which he speaks is most at odds with the raspy growl of his voice, which seems to have been almost deliberately engineered to be intimidating.
“What would you ask of me? Or are have you merely come to say hello?” (@BlackBeltGamer98)
The woman quickly switches off her datapad and tucks it into her coat as Razor approaches. She’s wearing an opaque visor that makes her face difficult to read. A tiny spot of blue light above the left eye may suggest that it is currently recording video. Her apparel is rather nondescript.
“There’s a lot I want to ask you,” she replies briskly to Razor, “but I doubt your friends would appreciate you telling me anything, considering how they’ve behaved so far.”
She produces a small datacard from her pocket, bearing a sleek black casing onto which her name and contact information are projected via a hologram.
“I’m Leslie Jiménez-Hansen,” she says, identifying herself as she holds out the card for Razor to take. “Seventh Section Broadcasting. If your group ever feels like cluing the rest of us in on whatever’s happening right now, give me a call. The people of Sol are always curious about our friends from Cybertron.”
“Uh-huh,” Salvage says. “The bullet holes and the broken windows are a nice touch too, aren’t they? Gives her some real personality- a real ‘unkempt beauty’ kinda vibe.”
He laughs at his own joke, before lamenting, “Eh, Riveter’s not gonna buy that.”
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Defender recalls a scene from his return to Cybertron.
A scientist opens a massive crate, covered in caution tape and scanners. Several Knights of Cybertron stand nearby, armed with ceremonial weapons, most of which are absurdly heavy due to decorations. They stand impassively as a large, black-armored tank is driven out of the crate.
“Ah, there’s the bridge,” Oreo says, breaking off his thoughts. “Hey, Ivory, Salvage, meet Defender! Axis sent him up here to get the mercs off our hands.”
He turns to the somewhat discomfited Defender.
“Ah, yes, thank you for letting me join,” He replies. “I hope there will be no inconvenience caused by my calling the proper authorities to remove the guys in the brig?”
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“So I’ve heard. Honestly, given everything I’ve learned, its crazy how I barely knew anything about you Cybertronian guys up until a few days ago.” Nova remarked.
“Well, I think we’ve all had plenty of time to commune with the dead. Now we must be going.” Axis said hastily as she dismissed the apparitions.
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“Actually,” Razor says, “we were just going to do that. If you’ll wait a bit, we have some pirates to hand over to your military (or whoever it is that arrests people). So, yeah, you’ll be able to get some news to send back soon.”
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Salvage looks up at the enormous walking tank that has now joined our heroes’ ranks, thankful that he is- for the moment, at least, an ally.
“Uh… sure,” he says, pointing a finger at the bridge’s communications console. “I’d wait until we’re back in Iacon to ship 'em off, but letting the authorities know would be good.”
“I take it these pirates were the ones responsible for roughing up your ship,” Leslie infers, gesturing toward the Pulsar’s pockmarked hull. “Got something worth stealing, then? Or are you racing somebody for something you don’t have yet?”
@MaxinePrimal @MakutaOisli @BlackBeltGamer98 @DuneToa @Rukah @ProfSrlojohn
At Axis’s command, the spirits of the old Primes vanish. The ghostly light that has filled the Tomb of the Primes winks out, darkening the necropolis once more. The ghost of Megatronus remains for a moment longer, however, taking on the shadowy visage that some of our heroes might recognize from the events of five thousand years ago. The Dark Warrior holds himself in the material world for just another moment, so that Firestorm can have words with him.
Looking over Sentinel Prime’s journal again will reveal that a new entry has been unlocked, containing the holographic message that activated when the device was brought near Sentinel’s sarcophagus, the image of the sword and lantern (perhaps some kind of human emblem, judging by the English writing beneath it), and some scant details on the planet Lacuna, on which we now know some artifact of great importance is hidden. What this artifact is, the ghost of Sentinel would not say, though he warned of dire consequences should our heroes’ mysterious adversary manage to obtain it.
What shall our heroes do with the information that they have gleaned, and how will they prepare for what lies ahead?
OOC: college has been demanding my near-full attention these past few days. Thank you all for your patience.
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