“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.