Seibertron.com Energon Pub Forums

Communique to All Aerialbots Excluding Silverbolt from Slingshot onboard the 22

"Slingshot to Fireflight, Skydive and Air Raid. Looks like we've got our own friendly haven to call our own. Meet on Deck 6 of the Ark 22. We can bring this space up to our standards... before Fearless Freap returns from his little scouting assignment."

Quarters

Fireflight looked up as the transmission from Slingshot came in, even though no one in the room was actually speaking to him at the moment.

So...he was going to have to get up from here in order to go laze about on some other ship.

Alrighty then.

Fireflight sighed, stretched his gears and then got up from his bunk and headed out to make his trek over to the Ark-22.

>>"Copy that. On my way, Slings."<<

Corridors

With a devious smirk plastered on his faceplates, Sideswipe gestured for Sunstreaker to follow him further down the corridor and out of the reach of prying optics and audials. If he wanted this prank to go off without a hitch he needed to make sure no one was privy to it save his twin. “Okay, this is probably good enough.” Sideswipe took a quick glance over his shoulder and spotted a lone door. “On second thought…” Before his brother would have been able to protest the red mech took hold of Sunstreaker’s wrist and tugged him along and into the storage closet.

After the door slid shut he turned to face Sunstreaker, this time a mischievous grin had replaced the devious one. “You’re gonna love this, Sunny.” Sideswipe tried, tried but failed to contain his giddiness. “What would you say if we put Hoist in a very precarious and foul situation?” Sideswipe rubbed his hands together as he began to nearly bounce up and down on his feet. “And when I mean foul I mean we stinkify the mech but good.” The red warrior tried desperately to hold in an excited giggle while he waited for his brother’s response.

Medical Bay – Proper

Still seething from his blow up with Ratchet, Axle stepped out of the surgical suite and into the med bay where there were several mechs waiting for help. Although he was prepared to see each one of them the field medic was just not in the right frame of mind to put his all into any repairs.

Axle stood stock still in the center of the room, a series of heated curses slipped past his lips as he attempted to put to use a few relaxation techniques. They weren’t working, not even remotely.

The black and green medic looked over his shoulder as he heard Saferoute address him. He sent the femme an intense glare, but it quickly softened as he realized that the bus-former was not the source of his anger. “Yeah. I did, Saferoute.”

Axle offlined his optics as he rubbed his hand over his forehead. He needed to get some more information. And in order to do that he had to find out just what Hex had been up to recently. But first he had to find out where his ward had settled in.

The field medic lowered his hand at the same time he onlined his optics. Axle looked to Hoist, who was obviously sent out of the surgical suite by Ratchet in order to keep an eye on him, and gave the mechanic a reassuring smile. “Look, Hoist, I know Ratchet sent you out here to protoform-sit me, but I’m alright.”

Axle waited a moment and then made his way slowly toward the door. “I need to do a few things. I think if I get out of here and clear my head…” He stopped and waited the brief astrosecond before the door slid open revealing the corridor beyond. “Besides, I won’t be alone. Uh…” Axle took a desperate look around the corridor for anyone, anyone he could convince to help him. But when he spotted Bluestreak, the lone mech anywhere to be seen, he nearly groaned, but the gunner would have to do.

The black and green medic cast a grimace in the chatterbot’s direction before reaching down and grabbing Bluestreak by the upper arm and hoisting him to his feet next to him. “Bluestreak’ll be with me!” To the, obviously now, confused mech by his side Axle flashed Blue a reassuring smile. “Sound good? Okay? Come on, Blue. Let’s get a move on.”

Axle quickly exited the med bay before Hoist could protest and finally released Bluestreak’s arm. The medic sent a heated glare down at the gunner. “I need your help. Don’t ask why, don’t ask anything, just…don’t talk.” Axle let out a heavy sigh and offlined his optics. That request would probably last half an astrosecond and Axle knew it. Blue would only keep quiet for so long before his mouthy would just go into overdrive. It didn’t matter, as long as Axle had someone to help find out what Hex had been up to. “Ugh. Come on, Blue.”

Corridors outside Medical Bay

Bluestreak’s conversation with the maintenance drone was one-sided, but it did not matter in the slightest to the chatterbot. Most of his talks with other regular mechs were one-sided, as well, mostly because the gunner wouldn’t let anyone get a word in edge-wise. Of course, another reason was because many simply were trying to ignore him with the hope that he would just go away and leave them in silence. In this case, the mindless drone was helpless, only able to utter a few senseless beeps here and there as if to say, “Shut up!”

What Bluestreak was going on and on about was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was keeping those Primus-awful memories at bay. The destruction of his home city so long ago, the cries of all those who suffered and died during the attack, everything of his previous life were all pushed back to the farthest reaches of his processor. It was like nothing bad had ever happened, which gave the black and silver mech a reason to smile while babbling incessantly.

If the maintenance drone had a consciousness, it would’ve been elated to see the arrival of Axle from the depths of the med bay. Interrupting Bluestreak’s eternal mouthpiece, the field medic pulled him to his feet by the upper arm and announced that the black and silver mech would be his companion on whatever little adventure they were now going on. “Uh, sure thing, Axle. No problem. I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need. I’m your ‘Bot, no doubt about it! And you’re certainly better company than Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, let me tell you.”

Once the med bay doors had closed all the way, Axle let go of Bluestreak’s arm and told him in no uncertain terms not to ask any questions and basically just to shut the frag up. It was something the drone would’ve done had it the ability to speak. Fortunately for the drone, the resident field medic had come along and done so for it. Regardless, Blue wouldn’t remain silent for long as he cared more about keeping the ghosts of the past where they belonged than he did upsetting a fellow Autobot.

Quietly nodding his cranium in reluctant agreement, Bluestreak followed Axle down the corridor. The gunner had no idea where they were heading and the urge to ask was growing harder and harder to resist. After less than a breem of walking, the chatterbot finally unleashed his mouthpiece as though a dam had suddenly broke under the duress of massive flood waters. “Okay, Axle, I know you don’t want me talking or anything but I gotta ask, where are we going and will it take too long? You see, I would like to get back to the med bay by the time Howlstrike comes out of stasis if possible. That was the reason I was waiting around. I want to make sure he doesn’t go off half-cocked on whomever decapitated him, that’s all. I guess others could keep an optic on him, but I just don’t fully trust that his Predacon side won’t send him into a violent fit of uncontrollable rage, you know? I’m sure you understand, right?”

Corridors

Tentatively Tracer had made her way through the docking ring, but stopped just before taking that final step out and onto the Guardian. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. What if she couldn’t find the way to her own quarters? What if she’d never remember? All of those thoughts brought out a low moan of torment from the femme as she raised a hand to her forehead and rubbed.

After a long moment of contemplation and deep thought Tracer took a good look around. First to the right and then down the center corridor. Last her attention moved to the left. Each one could have been correct for all she knew. Nothing seemed familiar. Her optics moved again, from one passageway to the next until finally she settled on the left.

Tracer’s head tilted slightly to one side as she concentrated on the corridor that caught her attention. Yes, when she walked down this hall it was from the right and continued left since the docking ring was never here. She would continue down until…
A bright smile formed on her face as she gripped Smokescreen’s hand tightly and began pulling him along. “This way! This way!” She tried to reign in her excitement but that was probably going to be impossible.

“Down here. A left…” They pushed to the left. “And another…” Another turn and Tracer stopped. Her jovial expression seemed to fail for a moment as she took in her surroundings. With her free hand she began to point to each of the doors that lined the walls. “One. Two,” a moment of silent counting and then, “Twelve. That one!”

With a hard yank, Tracer pulled Smokescreen along until they came to a stop outside of the door she had indicated. The blue and white femme cast her companion a brief look before she placed her free hand on the door. It was locked, of course, and she was unsure if she could recall the access code. But she was determined to try. “The security code…what would I use…” She nearly whispered to herself as she tried to access the memory files in her processor.

The search was frustrating, so much so that it was causing actual physical pain. Tracer released Smokescreen’s hand and brought both actuators up and pressed them firmly against the sides of her head.

Several long moments passed before she let out a pained groan. Why was it so hard to remember? Tracer lowered her hands from her head and placed them against the door. The femme then leaned in and placed her forehead against the smooth metal of the obstruction. “I can’t…I can’t remember the damn code.” She let out a heavy sigh. It was funny that she could remember just about everything when it came to Smokescreen, but everything else was just so much more difficult.

Tracer quickly pushed away from the door and nearly scrambled to the keypad where she input a series of keystrokes. And to her absolute delight the door easily slid to the side.

The femme looked over at the rallybot with a broad smile plastered on her face. She didn’t keep optic contact long as she turned back to the door and took a step inside. Her eyes swept over the room and her smile faded. “Wow. I guess I’m not a very good housekeeper.”


Corridors near the Med Bay

Ushering Bluestreak up and away from the Medical Bay was an amazingly easy task, but then the ‘Bot was probably dying to be with another sentient being if only to annoy them to deactivation. That was fine with Axle, as long as Blue kept his babbling to a minimum, the medic would more than welcome his company, and more importantly his help.

And for a time Blue was quiet. And for that time Axle had time to actually think about his next moves. Unfortunately that silent lucidity was shattered in less than a breem. It was totally expected and instead of stopping his advance to berate the mech, Axle simply gathered his fractured thoughts and tried to explain the method to his current motions of madness. “Something happened on the planet, Blue. Something that involved some of our mechs…something that involved Hex.”

Axle finally stopped in his tracks. The medic looked up to the ceiling before shutting down his optics. So much had happened in the past few orns it was getting harder and harder to sort through it all. Axle let out a heavy sigh and slowly lowered his head. For a moment he kept quiet, but before long he onlined his optics and turned to face his companion. “Blue, I need your help. I need to find out what Hex was up to before he latched on to Hot Rod, or Rodimus, or whoever.” The medic took a long slow gaze at the hall they were currently standing in.

“This is probably where he’d settle down.” Axle said before casting his optics on a large ventilation grate. With a small smile he pointed to the covering just behind Bluestreak. “There. That’s it.” Before he even finished Axle had moved past the silver and black gunner and began working on removing the covering. “Hex doesn’t use habitation suites. Too open. He’s comfortable in very closed, very tight locales.” He explained as he began removing the bolts that held the grating in place. The bolts had recently been loosened further confirming that he had, indeed, located his ward’s hideaway.

“After being captured and locked in that communal cell with the rest of his team and watching while they were...he developed a fear of being in the open. So he finds tight places to hunker down in…closets, small spaces between two walls, and ventilation shafts.” With a satisfied grunt the black and green mech pulled the vent cover from the frame and gently laid it on the floor. Axle then squatted down low and stuck his head in to take a quick look around. “Yeah. This is it.” He pulled his head back and looked back to Bluestreak a small smile etched on his faceplate. “Blue, I need you to go in there and have a good look around.” Axle rose back up to his full height as he took in the gunner. “I can’t fit; my frame’s just too bulky. You’ll be able to make it in…it’ll be a bit snug, but you’ll fit.”

Axle paused and placed his hand gently on Bluestreak’s shoulder. He sighed heavily as he shook his head dejectedly. “I should have been keeping a closer eye on him. If I had one mech would still be alive.” Axle gave Blue’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Please, Blue, I need your help. I need to know what happened to him. I need to know what happened to him and Hardhead.”

Camera Depot

Jazz waited for a response from Red Alert calmly. He hated attacking his own, but sometimes, this time included, the matter at hand simply required it to get one to calm down. In this case, Red Alert was the one who needed to calm down and think, and judging from his response, Jazz could tell that the paranoid security officer had.

"Good. I'll copy the tape so we can show them our evidence." Jazz said, releasing Red Alert from his grip.

The Special Operations Director then began to run the tape back and record it over three tapes. One for each of them and one to hide, just in case the tapes were confiscated by a Prowl who wished to save face.

Dispensing the datapackets from the recorder, Jazz tucked one beneath the table and jammed it into a corner, keeping it in place.

"For safe keeping." Jazz mumbled, then tossed Red Alert a datapacket.

He then proceeded to move across, and then out of the room. Once outside of the stuffy room, Jazz turned back to the security chief.

"I'll get this to Ratchet, you get your copy to Prowl." Jazz gave out quick orders, and before Red could respond, he transformed, speeding through the corridors toward the Med Bay.

Med Bay

Tires squealing, Jazz transformed, somersaulting into the room. He jumped up and jogged over to Ratchet, panting.

"Ratchet! I've got something you need to see!" Jazz put his hand on his knee and handed the CMO his datapacket.

Camera Depot

Red Alert calmly got himself up off the table as Jazz released him, the ringing in his audio sensors clearing. As the special ops director made copies of the necessary data he went to putting his rifle back together and unjamming the missile in his launcher, slowly and in full view so as to not cause any further misunderstandings.

"Smart thinking.", Red Alert agreed as Jazz hid one of the datapackets, just before catching the copy that was tossed to him.

Before the security director could say anything else Jazz gave him an order to give the information to Prowl, then quickly left the room and sped off to deliver his to Ratchet. Red Alert soon followed suit, placing the datapacket into a compartment the leaving the room, transforming into his Lamborghini mode and speeding down the corridors.

Medical Bay- Proper

Hoist felt some relief as Axle admitted that he needed some time to sort out his thoughts about his protege. It wouldn't do any good to have a medic try to fix anyone up when their processors were too focused on other things, after all.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that.", Hoist agreed.

Whatever reassurance Hoist felt towards him was soon gone, however, as he watched the medic suddenly grab Bluestreak, explaining that the gunner would be with accompanying him. The green mechanic raised an optic, as this behavour cried of desperation, and seemed like some kind of excuse to get Hoist off of his back. But before the green mech could say anything Axle walked hurried out and the door shut down behind him.

"Oh dear.", Hoist said to himself, shaking his head, "That wasn't encouraging at all. Maybe I should tail behind them and keep an eye....."

As Hoist was about to walk out of the med bay, he remembered the wounded that were still in there that needed some attention. As troubling as Axle's behavour may have been, he still had his duties to perform.

"All right then, I guess first thing's first.", Hoist said to himself, and went over to Blades, who had already administered some minor repairs to himself.

"Well it looks like you've already done most of the work for us, Blades.", he commented as he did a quick scan of the Protectobot street fighter, trying to keep the mood light and upbeat, "Keep that up and you might just put us out of a job, ha ha. A little time in the CR chamber should finish things up for you."

Hoist gave Blades a friendly pat on the shoulder, then moved on to the other mech that was waiting.

--------------------

Saferoute was taken aback when Axle looked at her harshly, though his looked seemed to soften just before he replied to her. She didn't really blame him, though, she couldn't imagine how hard the news of Hex must have hit him, though she had wished he would have stayed a little longer so she could tell him what had happened.

Before long Hoist came over to her to take a look at the damage.

"Goodness, Saferoute, it looks like you took quite a beating.", the mechanic said to her politely as he scanned her, "But the medical drones seemed to have done a good job patching you up. You seemed to have taken quite a bit of damage to the back, though."

"Yeah.", she bluntly answered, "I took a missile from Hardhead."

"Oh..... I'm very sorry to hear that.", Hoist replied awkwardly, but sincerely,, "For the physical damage you just need a few breems in the CR chamber.", the mechanic then gently placed a hand on her shoulder, "But if you're suffering any emotional damage from this entire ordeal, just know that I'll be happy to lend an audio sensor."

Saferoute gave a weak smile to the green mech and nodded. Spending so much of her time helping and thinking of weaker species, it was easy for her to forget how friendly some bots could be.

"Thank you.", she replied with a nod, then walked over to the CR chambers.

The chamber opened with a hiss as she activated it. She slowly sat down inside, grimacing as her damaged back touched the smooth metal surface. Shutting her optics down, she went offline as the chamber began to do it's work.

-----------

Once the wounded had been tended to, Hoist's focus went back to Axle. Ratchet had asked the green mech to keep an eye on the medic. Despite the fact that he had left the medical bay, his latest actions seemed worrisome.

He may not be able to hurt any injured now, but who knows what he's planning to do. Just the fact that he grabbed Bluestreak voluntarily is suspicious enough.

Hoist went to the door, quickly moving to the side as he narrowly avoided running into Jazz. Stepping out the door he looked around, then realized he hadn't the slightest idea where Axle was.

"Oh slag. Where could he have gone?"

Corridors

Red Alert sped down the corridors, though now he had an actual plan that didn't involve simply running around. He remembered being told earlier that Prowl and many other mechs were transferring to the Ark-22, and that was exactly where he was going.

If I'm going to report all of this to Prowl, I need to do it right. I can't just rush in and make accusations like I've been doing for the past few cycles. Before I confront him, I'll need to go to my office and make an official report of everything that I know so far. I've worked with him long enough to know that that's the only way he'll take me seriously on this whole matter.

Before long he had reached the docking ring, and he didn't slow down as he entered the Ark-22.

Corridors leading to Tracer’s Quarters

With his actuators firmly intertwined with hers, Smokescreen followed Tracer through the docking tunnel until they had reached the Guardian. The troubled femme then paused for a few moments as she looked in every direction trying to remember which way to go. The rallybot remained quiet as he didn’t want to disrupt her concentration. It was difficult enough as it was for her. He didn’t need to add any extra obstacles to her own memory banks. Come one, Trace, you can do it. I know you can.

Smokescreen’s thoughts were confirmed when Tracer finally remembered the direction she needed to go, her audible exclamation reinforced only by her sudden tug on the diversion expert’s arm before she dragged him to the left and down the corridor. Again, Smokey remained silent, focusing instead on trying to keep in pace with the increasingly excited femme as she recalled each hallway along the path to not only her quarters but to her hidden memories, as well.

So far, so good, Smokescreen thought as Tracer began pointing to a series of doors down one particular corridor. They were almost there and had thankfully not encountered anyone yet, especially Axle who was likely still in the med bay. Considering how quickly she was moving, it didn’t take Tracer long to reach the door that belonged to her, the twelve one. Another hard yank and Smokey almost crashed into her locked quarters, but he managed to steady himself by placing his free hand on the wall to the right side. He then removed said hand and watched as Tracer tried desperately to remember the access code to her room, allowing her actuators to slip away from his own digits.

Pressing her hands against both sides of her cranium, it took Tracer a bit longer than when she had tried to remember which direction to go once she had crossed the docking tunnel. Smokescreen almost wanted to help her this time as it seemed as though the troubled femme wasn’t having much luck accessing that part of her processor. Instead of saying anything, he simply placed a reassuring hand onto her shoulder plate. That gesture alone seemed to work as Tracer practically leapt at the keypad and typed in the correct code, the doorway opening before them.

Her initial comment regarding the mess that was her quarters elicited a slight chuckle from Smokescreen. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be too worried about it, Tracer. I’ve seen worse, much worse,” the rallybot replied as he stepped inside and took a look around. “I guess now’s a good a time as any to tidy up. Not only will the room look better but it’ll allow you to do what you came here for.” The diversion expert then turned to face the drug-addicted femme. “I’ll help you to clean if you want, but I think it might be best for you to go through most of your stuff on your own in order to help jog those concealed memories of yours. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Corridors leading away from Med Bay

For a change Bluestreak quieted his vocal processor and instead listened as Axle laid things out for him. The field medic didn’t go into a lot of detail, only saying that something had happened on the planet below, something very bad, and he needed to know exactly what Hex had been up to before he got involved with Hot Rodimus. The black and silver mech nodded his cranium as Axle looked around the corridor they were currently standing in and quickly located the likeliest place that Hex would call home, a ventilation shaft.

“I don’t understand,” Bluestreak began to say as he stepped out of Axle’s way. “Why would anyone want to live behind a grate where cyber-rats would make their den? It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Of course, from what I’ve heard of Hex, he’s a bit on the strange side anyway. But if you really think this could be....” The chatterbot’s comments were quickly interrupted as the field medic explained why Hex lived in such conditions, all the while working on removing the metal covering from the wall. The reason for living in tight spaces made sense considering what the young ward had gone through. In all actuality, it wasn’t that much different from the reason why Blue always talked non-stop. Both of them simply wanted to forget the past and avoid anything that would bring back those horrible memories.

Once the grate had been successfully removed, Axle stood back up to his full height and addressed the Autobot gunner, asking him to crawl into the ventilation shaft and have a look around. The concern in the field medic’s optics spoke volumes, even more than what Bluestreak could say verbally, which was quite a bit if given the opportunity. There was no way the black and silver mech could say no to such a request, nor was there any reason to. “Okay, Axle, I understand now. Hex may be a bit strange to some, but there’s a reason for it. I get that now. I’ll be happy to help you out in any way that I can. Hopefully, together we’ll be able to find out what exactly happened to him.”

Bluestreak felt Axle’s hand on his shoulder plate as the field medic blamed himself for whatever happened to his ward. The gunner shook his cranium as he cast the former doctor a reassuring smile. “No, no, it’s not your fault. Hex may be young but he is responsible for his own actions regardless of his past. I’ve got a dark past, too, but I don’t go around doing bad things, especially not to others on my own team. Don’t blame yourself. After all, you can’t always watch him, you know. You’ve got your own responsibilities to worry about. Hex has got to learn to take care of himself and walk the right path without being told what to do.” Blue then cocked his cranial unit to one side at the mention of Hardhead. “Wait, Hardhead’s involved in this, too? Primus, has everyone gone mad around here? I know things looked pretty grim down in the med bay, but I had no idea just how bad it was. I can see Hex going off the deep end, but Hardhead? None of this makes any sense.”

Letting out a defeated sigh, Bluestreak got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl into the ventilation shaft that Hex called home. If there were any answers to be found, it would be in here. The gunner’s door-wings scraped across the top slightly, but left no major damage to speak of. Blue simply folded them over one another until they hugged his backplates, giving him more maneuverability in these cramped quarters. A few astroseconds later, the black and silver mech found himself in a slightly larger area, a connection hub where other smaller shafts intersected. It was still a tight space, but not quite as bad as the shaft, itself. This is where Hex kept the majority of his things, or at least it appeared that way.

“Okay, Axle, I’ve reached the spot where Hex made his bed so to speak,” Bluestreak said as he glanced around and looked back down the tight tunnel where he could see the field medic’s concerned visage peering inside. “So, what exactly am I supposed to be looking for in here, anyway? There’s a lot of stuff strewn about. Anything in particular your want me to search for?”

Message from Wheeljack:

>>”Perceptor, Iron Fist, Hoist, Blaster, this is Wheeljack. Under orders from Ultra Magnus, himself, we are all reassigned to a special science team that has been given the important assignment of developing and constructing new technologies as well as rebuilding old ones in an effort to establish an Autobot colony down on the planet Earth beneath us. Please meet in the science lab on the Ark-22 for a further, more detailed briefing and a subsequent brainstorming session on what needs to be accomplished. See you all there soon. Wheeljack out.”<<

Bridge

Blaster was still awaiting Kup's arrival when Wheeljack's transmission came through. Ultra Magnus was reassigning him to a science team? Had to be better than sitting on this bridge for orns while waiting to hear back from that cantankerous old timer. Standing from the command chair, Blaster looked over to Ramhorn, the only one of his cassettobots that had actually returned to the bridge after the panic of finding Howlstrike.

"Hey, Ramhorn. You have command of the bridge while I'm away until Kup or Hot Spot comes to relieve you. If the others come looking, tell them that I'm in the science lab on the Ark 22. Counting on you."

Ramhorn gave the smallest of nods of acknowledgement. Satisfied, Blaster walked out of the bridge, thinking about which technologies Wheeljack could have meant. His curiosity was piqued. While by no means was Blaster a scientist like Wheeljack or Perceptor, the communications officer knew he could be of service. Perhaps he'd get a chance to frustrate Soundwave, his nemesis. That was always a plus. Blaster walked through the corridors of the Guardian with long strides, wondering if the others would be opposed to a little Earthling motivational music. Blaster crossed over to the Ark 22 with this thought in mind.