Maximus was about to say something, but Nova stepped forward before he had the chance. The gigantic cannons on the back of her machine swung up and over its shoulders. They weren’t specifically aimed at Riveter, instead just left in a simple standby position. But the display was still plenty clear. “Our ship was attacked by a team of mercenaries while on route to the Tomb of The Primes. We worked as quickly and efficiently as possible. While the damage they inflicted is extensive, I assure you that we brought your craft back to you in the best condition we possibly could have. I would know, seeing as I’m the one who brought the mercenary ship down.” Her tone wasn’t angry per say, but it was very clear and firm. While there wasn’t seemingly any malice, nothing about her words was gentle.
Maximus stayed back during their entire exchange. He smiled, happy to see the closed off girl put herself out there for someone else’s sake.
Defender smiles. The argument reminds him of several during the war, government disputes and general confusion as the Cybertronians interacted with the Human governments.
“I believe that legally you are entitled to compensation for the damage,” he says to Riveter.
“As I joined after this fight, I can’t say how extensive the damage is, but I will be willing to help pay for repairs until any insurance kicks in.”
Oreo has appeared from behind the crates. Still scared by Riveter’s towering rage, he unconsciously fiddles around with some of his armor, and remains in the background. Beside him, Razor finishes searching for directions, and waits to leave for the Police Department.
“If you’re trying to intimidate me with that little display there, hon, you’re gonna need to find yourself some bigger guns,” Riveter says to Nova, looking rather unimpressed by the Orion mech’s hardware. “I used to build warp cannons- little human peashooters don’t scare me.”
“Forgive her, ma’am,” Overgrowth says, stepping forward. “She is a human juvenile, and thus prone to irrational actions.”
The Knight holds one hand in front of Nova and shoots her a quick, cautionary look. “She does, however, speak truly, as does my other companion,” she continues.
These humans here," she says, pointing down to the disarmed mercenaries at her feet, “are the ones responsible for the damages to your vessel, and we are indeed ready and willing to pay for its repairs.”
Riveter takes in a deep breath and holds it for a moment, the plating around her right eye twitching as she does. “Alright,” she sighs. “Let me have a look at everything that’s broken, and I’ll work out a number for y’all. But after this, you’re gonna need to go trouble somebody else if you’re gonna need a ship again.”
There is no sign of the Junkion ship that LD-L1 borrowed to reach the Tomb of the Primes, or its pilot. The vessel must have returned earlier, and the pilot must have gone elsewhere. She might hold on to those funny coins that she was given, though; she’d need proof when bragging to her friends that she played a part, if a minor one, in the latest struggle for the fate of the universe.
Firestorm discovers that much of the footage on the card is corrupted. Accessible fragments show orbital views of Cybertron’s northern hemisphere, and brief snippets of the attempted boarding action from earlier; but if there’s anything more than can be salvaged, our heroes may need to seek out help.
In ages past, the building Viktorya is staying in now was once an Energon depot. Since the end of the Great Exile, however, it’s been converted into a kind of hotel for alien tourists visiting Cybertron. The place seems comfortable enough, and a holographic sign by the front entrance proudly displays favorable reviews left by previous guests.
There is a stack of depleted energon cubes at the back of the hotel, by the waste receptacles. One of the empty metal boxes, though, lacks the grime and faded paint of the rest. Periodically, one of its panels will ripple, and a yellow robotic eye will poke out and have a look around when nobody’s watching…
Out in the hills, far from cybertronian civilization, an enormous six-wheeled vehicle sits. A massive door in its front lies open, leading into a small cargo bay in which ten cybertronians, all with black armor decorated with glowing symbols, kneel before small altars, clean ancient artifacts, or speak with their offworld brethren via transwarp communicators. These are more of the Followers of the Primes Ascendant, and this vehicle is their mobile chapel, the Anchorite. In the vehicle’s control room, another one of these cultists speaks to their leader, telling tale of what he had seen earlier in the day.
“I could scarcely believe it myself!” the Follower in question- the grey-and-purple bot seen at the Tomb of the Primes- exclaims. “At Lady Axis Prime’s command, all her predecessors came to life once more! The necropolis then lit up, as if the darkness had been dispelled by her words!”
The Adjunct Deificus, a regal-looking bot with a glowing ring laid into the top of her head like a kind of crown or tiara, leans forward in her seat, intrigued. She looks over at the other bot’s cell leader, a man she had known and trusted for some time now, for a comment.
“This is also what he told me,” the Patronica Deificus tells her. “The Matrix has been known to conjure apparitions before, in the old legends.”
The Adjunct Deificus nods, and looks back to the grey-and-purple cultist. “What happened next?” she asks him in a low rasp.
The cultist, a mere Follower de Deificus called FD-O2, shakes his head in dismay. “I don’t know,” he reports. “The Tomb’s guards escorted all visitors to the surface at Seraphicon’s command- perhaps he did not wish for these spirit’s great words to fall upon the ears of the unworthy. The group stayed down there for some time, but they returned to their ship with a renewed vigor. Some of them spoke of visiting Liege Maximo after they returned to Iacon.”
The Adjunct Deificus scoffs. “As if he would have anything useful to say,” she snorts.
“I am as perplexed as you are, Holy One,” FD-O2 says. “Regardless, it seems that Astrum is where they are going next. What shall we do?”
The Patronica Deificus looks expectantly to the Adjunct, and she leans back, resting her chin in one hand while she thinks. “I shall contact the Astrum cells,” she decides. “We know Liege Maximo is not to be trusted, even if the current Prime and her allies do not. We must thwart any attempt he makes to betray them and take this power that Lord Sentinel Prime spoke of for himself.”
“Irrational? Oh I’ll show you irrational. Just you wait, and I’ll show you just how irrational I can get.” Nova quietly grumbled to herself. Though she didn’t make any actions against the knight, letting Overgrowth handle the situation. “I never get to use my cannons…”
@DuneToa Axis meanwhile steps out of the ship and tries to get Defender and Oreo’s attention. “Are you both ready to go? We haven’t much time to waste. So if you’re both still planning on following me to the Primal Basilica, you had better keep up.”
Maximus meanwhile tried to think of the best way to get to Eukaris. He had no personal transport of his own, and renting another ship from Riviter clearly wasn’t an option. So he would have to find another way off Cybertron.
" I would not." Kitai said,looming over Razor. “But Im sure that if they were accompanied by the mercenaries being turned in, they might be a little more trusting.”
Axis made her way to the Primal Basilica. Making sure Defender and Oreo kept up as she went. Before she looked to find the appropriate space to drop off the two, she waited to see if Downburst or any of the other Basilica’s staff needed anything of her. Even though the group had been making progress to finding the answers they needed, she hadn’t forgotten that they were still in something of a crisis situation. So for the moment, anything her people or her immediate subordinates needed had to take priority. @Chromeharpoon
Overgrowth is currently leading the mercenaries out of the lot, ushering them to the exit. She taps a finger to her temple, activating her commlink to perhaps summon a transport for her prisoners. Her alternate form is not suited to carry passengers to the space bridge- if our heroes still wish for her to take them off-world, that is.
“You guys go on ahead, do… whatever it is you’re gonna do,” Salvage says to the group. Riveter walks past him up the gangplank to begin examining the Pulsar’s damages. “I’ll stay here and smooth things over.”
Leslie steps up to the Junkion’s foot and looks up at the night sky, marveling at the twin moons looming above Iacon’s towers. “Here’s a question,” she says. “I’ve always been a little curious: why did your people name your moons after ancient Greek goddesses?”
“I dunno.” Salvage shrugs. “Maybe the better question would be why the ancient Greeks named their goddesses after our moons. I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
“Maybe whatever’s on Lacuna will shed some light there,” Leslie sighs. “In the meantime, I need to get to a comm tower, let my producer know I’m staying out-of-system a little longer than anticipated. What’s public transportation like here?”
“Well, when most of the populace can transform into their own set of wheels or wings or whatever, the demand for a bus system’s a little lower on cybertronian worlds than it is on other planets,” Salvage tells her. “You could, I dunno, hitchhike, or something.”
“Tyger Pax has trains for aliens,” Leslie tells the Junkion. “Kinda surprised your capital city doesn’t.”
“That’s something to take up with the woman bearing the queenly Matrix, not me,” Salvage says, nodding over toward Axis. “I’m just the comic relief.”
“You all look like you’ve got places to be,” Leslie says. “I’ll just walk.”
“It’ll be a long walk,” Salvage warns her, but the intrepid reporter sets off for the exit without another word.
The Basilica’s guards allow Oreo and Defender to enter alongside Axis Prime. Almost immediately, they are accosted by Downburst.
“Thank Primus you’re back!” the Angelicon sighs, exasperated. “Everybody on the council wants to touch base about what’s happened the last couple of days, and some of them are a little… distressed that the Prime went off to do her own thing with her best friends and some random people.”
Downburst looks over at Defender and Oreo, recognizing neither of them among those of our heroes that she has met so far. “Aaand there’s more of you,” she comments. “That’s… not surprising, actually. Who are you guys?”
Firestorm has the data be sent on a heavily encrypted channel to the Knights’ analysts for any recoverable data and to see if anything of use could be found.
Oreo strides along behind Defender and Axis, watching the crowds on either side of the street. There are many people who would be interested in him, given the ancient logos all over his armor. Meanwhile, Defender is enjoying the walk, seeing the many changes wrought upon Cybertron.
“I love the way you’ve fixed the traffic routing,” he says to Axis. “It’s much better than centuries ago. Once we had an issue with the Seekers landing on the streets due to the landing pads being blocked, and it took a week to fix the damage. And the buildings! I have never seen such luxurious homes in all of the galaxy! You are truly blessed to be our leader in this age of prosperity.”
Firestorm’s message is sent across the local network used by Knights stationed on Cybertron and Hecate. Because of Firestorm’s reputation, it immediately receives top priority. He receives a transmission from the commander of the Order’s garrison on Hecate, a man named Bulwark:
I assume that this is somehow related to your recent activities. My forensics team here on Hecate is up to the task of reconstructing this footage, but I am curious as to its origin. How did you come by this?
Oreo and Defender both attract some attention from passersby as they walk toward the Basilica. Oreo gets some odd looks because of the brand logos all over his body, and to many, Defender looks as though he just stepped out of one of the Great War exhibits in the Grand Museum. The onlookers keep their distance, though, out of both awe and respect for this old warrior.
Many monuments to Autobot war heroes are strewn about Iacon, honoring the likes of Ultra Magnus, Bumblebee, Jetfire, and other valiant warriors that Defender may have known personally. There are also statues and holographic art depicting famous humans and people of other species who fought alongside the Autobots, such as NEST Captain Wilhelmina Lennox or the nebulon cyborg supersoldier Galen Kord.
Kitai’s massive steps thudded across the metal of the gangplank, as he stooped down and out of the ship, his wings like a dark cloak.
He observed the area around him, his three eyes surveying around him.
Kitai, noticing Axis, clomped in the path she was taking, his wings dragging slightly beneath his feet.
Axis smiled as Defeander spoke. It wasn’t too often someone praised her leadership so brazenly. And she rather liked it.
“Thank you. Though I admittedly can’t take all of the credit. I am but one part of a larger whole. I see the issues and give the orders. It’s up to civil engineers to plan and coordinate the details, and it is our architects and construction crews that make those plans a reality. I may sit at the head of the imperium, but our prosperity is not only my doing. Iacon stands as brilliantly as it does, not just because of my actions, but because of the efforts and contributions of everyone who lives here as well.”
Back to the present
Axis looked to Downburst and spoke. “These two are new compatriots of mine. They’ll be joining myself and others to help find the secrets Sentinel Prime has hidden away. But as for right now, they wish to contact human authorities to gain their support in case the situation continues to escalate. I came here to gather some of my personal belongings before departing to Astrum. But before that I wanted to see what I could do to help the current situation here.”
All the while Axis was acutely aware that Kitai was following her. Though she chose to say nothing until he decided to approach her directly.
“You could start by telling Bootleg that you’re very much alive and that he’s not gonna be the next Prime,” Downburst tells Axis. She beckons the Prime and her companions to follow her to the Primal Basilica’s main conference room, where most of the colony worlds’ leaders are squabbling to each other via hologram. Chaplain, chancellor of Hecate, however, is here in-person, along with Knight-Commander Ironclad of Primogenitum.
“As far as the rest of the galaxy is aware, nobody knows why the attackers at the Hall of Records wanted the diary of the black sheep of the Dynasty of the Primes,” Downburst says as she walks. "And the current Prime and everyone else at ground zero ran off after they were questioned without telling anybody else what they’re up to. The Council’s-… they’d like an update, if you wouldn’t mind.
“I imagine they’d also like to get to know your group better,” the Angelicon then says to Kitai, Oreo, and Defender. “Knight-Commander Ironclad isn’t exactly thrilled about all of you ‘random vigilantes’ right now- which is kind of ironic if you ask me, considering how he got his job.”
Axis couldn’t help but give a soft chuckle at Bootleg’s wild postulations. Seems the things more things changed, the more they stayed the same. But now was not the time for reminiscing. She had taken the first steps she needed to see this conflict to its end. The beginning of the path has been laid ahead of her. But before she could start to move down that path, she needed to take care of home matters. Time for damage control.
She stepped forward into her place among the council. She summoned her phoenix scepter from subspace and slammed it down on to the floor. The loud clank of metal hitting metal reverberated throughout the chamber within the basilica, hopefully catching everyone’s attention.
“Hello gentlemen. I believe you have some questions for me. I assure you that whatever you may be thinking, I have an explanation for. And I would be happy tell you, as long as you can all stay settled down.” Axis spoke with a clear and confident conviction. She waited until the council had quieted themselves and calmed down before she continued.
Defender smiled at this statement.
“I relish meeting him,” he said. “Such a leader must be very busy these days.”
Beside him, Oreo’s eyes widened. He had never been in such a situation, and the though of meeting such dignitaries was one that required some more thought than usual.
Firestorm gives a brief but clear explanation of the data’s origins and the connection to his recent actions and that the dead’s next of kin and that they be given their last rites according to their people’s traditions and wishes.
