The Energon Pub

Hoven-Shuttle

“Okay, so I managed to pull the fuel cells from these explosives.” The violet and gold femme began, turning her attention back towards the group and her task at hand. “We can use them and turn this stuff into a crude Energon substitute which would be good for those who have lost a lot of it back in the fire fight. However, that would leave us with very little to get the ship back up and running...”

“Thoughts?”

Rotorstorm had been staring at the screen still in awe of the discovery, when he was finally broken out of his daze by Nautica's words. Leave it to a brainy femme to come up with something that could potentially save them. Her question was a good one. He hummed to himself and rubbed his chin, spinning his chair half way around to meet her gaze, and the electric blue and pink chopperbot would tell her,

"You know Nauti, you're a genius. The fight was tough, that's for sure. Still, don't worry about me. If anyone else wants some fuel, let them have it. As for me, I'm all for getting the ship back up." That was his personal view on what should happen with it, nothing more. Still, what if they could use that big ancient ship instead....that is, if it even worked? That was a really slim chance, right?

In the Ark

Lancer moved along with he others in the team, careful not to slip and fall as one of them already had. It sure helped that the lights worked, as odd as that was. It was either a blessing or an omen. Either way, exploring this ship and finding out if it was useful in any way seemed to be the only way they could enhance their survival rates, so there was no turning back now. Whatever awaited them in the bowels of the old metal monster, they would face it. Hopefully though, nothing bad would happen. There were already in a bad situation after all, and up until now, things were just get worse and worse.

Elita and Windblade moved farther ahead of the group to talk about something, Flash was yelling loudly into the ship, and Hurricane approached a large door, upon after wrenching it open and popping his head in, he exclaimed the following,

“Spawn of a glitch…”

Lancer, keeping quiet and drawing her lance launcher, neared the door and moved to one side of Hurricane, asking him,

"What is it, soldier?" as controlled as she could. She was scared, but she didn't want to show it. She gritted her teeth and awaited a response. Did he find the occupants of the ship? Was it old Nova Prime and his crew stuck in stasis? The suspense was real.

“Okay, so I managed to pull the fuel cells from these explosives.” The violet and gold femme began, turning her attention back towards the group and her task at hand. “We can use them and turn this stuff into a crude Energon substitute which would be good for those who have lost a lot of it back in the fire fight. However, that would leave us with very little to get the ship back up and running...”

“Thoughts?”

Boss squinted his optics at what Nautica said. It was a hard choice to make. He knew ultimately Thunderclash was the decision-maker, but Boss did have some say so.

"You know Nauti, you're a genius.

"Agreed, Rotorstorm," said Boss.

"I say tend to our wounded. Especially Thunderclash. I could use some as well from my cranium injury, but I'll live. Our survival is first and foremost with our escape in tow."



Moonracer simply stared up at the ceiling and walls in wonder. How did such an ancient ship still have power though? It didn't make sense, and it was creeping Moonracer out.

"Uh, guys.. This is really really weird. Either someone has been living here for a really long time, or this isn't what we think it is. Yah, I'm creeped out."

“Spawn of a glitch…”

Moonracer's face turned to an expression of worry when Hurricane said that. She hoped it wasn't any dead he was seeing. She didn't like seeing long dead things. Recent was whatever, but long dead was just.. really really creepy.

Shuttle

SillyMcGilly wrote:
"Agreed, Rotorstorm," said Boss.

"I say tend to our wounded. Especially Thunderclash. I could use some as well from my cranium injury, but I'll live. Our survival is first and foremost with our escape in tow."

"Look, if you're all worried about Thunderclash then the solution is obvious: I can sure, by the pit, make more emergency repairs. It's not a question of 'can I do it'. Of course it can be done. Well, mostly be done. The question is how much are you all willing to let me go through to get the big mech back up and running? I've got the means, I've got the tools...question is how much can we manage to get together to fix him." Creepily and casually Patchwork, making his intention clear as day.

Thunderclash was functional and online but that had require surgery both to him and to his own medic, no less. Painful, messy surgery which had come at a cost to the medic's body.

"That said I'm pretty sure he's not the type to let one life be sacrificed for another so my own dissasembly just ain't an option, eh? If turning my whole chassis isn't in the plans then just give me a new order so I can have something to do beside limping around!"

The Ark

Windblade looked up at Elita, wide-eyed. Being called a "mission objective" would have been an insult, had it not been the best -- if only -- compliment that she had ever gotten. It meant that the Autobots expected nothing, and as such could never be disappointed. Windblade felt a relieved smile slide across her crimson lips as she let out a relieved, girly laugh.

"Thanks, Elita. I will." Windblade remarked sofly, her wings drooping as they relaxed.

It was then when Hurricane opened a hatch, letting the stale air roll from its depths. Cold, foul, dead air. Windblade felt a chill drip down her spine, and Energon began to run faster through her veins. The tense air would have made anyone jump a little, but it was Hurricane's reaction that caught her attention. Her hands wanted to shake, her knees buckle, but instead her instincts took control once more.

She slid her hands to the hilt of her longsword, and her knees bent to a readied stance. She felt optics on her. Something was there, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know who -- or what -- had managed to stay alive for so long in such isolation. If whatever Hurricane saw was even alive at all.

In the Ark

There were a few times Firestar had questioned why she had come alone, not because she was scared, but because she couldn’t help but worry about the other left in the shuttle. Patchwork had done an admirable job, but was it wise to separate on a planet they knew nothing about?

I should’ve offered to drive them here, she thought, shaking her head as she followed the rest through the corridor of the Ark.

It was like a miracle that they found their way inside before they were exposed to the cold much longer. She’d been about to say something about turning back before much longer when Elita and the others found the entrance and pried it open. The warmth was a welcome change from their trek through the tundra, but that brought more questions to mind than answers.

Like the others, she’d heard the legend and stories, and she doubted any of them would’ve been functioning by the time it was discovered. Still, that didn’t mean the discovery didn’t have merit. All they had to do was figure out why it still had power. That would solve a great number of mysteries and maybe help them get off this rock before they froze.

With that thought in mind, she turned her attention to a small console set into the wall. The relays showed it was powered, but would it work? She was reaching out for it when Flash banged on bulkhead and yelled,

“HELLO!” He yelled into the quiet, “ANYONE ALIVE?!”

She jumped, smacking her hand on the console and killing whatever connected it to its power source. Scrap!

She glared at the decoy for a brief moment before turning from the console. “So much for that idea,” she mumbled and continued following the others.

Hurricane wrote: “Spawn of a glitch…”

She turned toward the mech, hoping if someone was injured it wasn’t beyond her ability to help.

Downed Shuttle

Rotorstorm looked from Boss to Patchwork. Like himself, Boss was more worried about getting the hell out of here than getting any fuel right now. Patchwork on the other hand, as admirable a handymech as he was, was suggesting something that no one would agree to, mangling himself more and possibly taking himself offline just to fix Thunderclash. The neon helicopter bot sighed, looking towards their mechanic with concern, and he told the old medic,

"There's no need for you to harm yourself more, though I admire your gall. You know what I think you should do though? I think you should take a load off for a while and relax. If there's anything that needs to be done around here, let me and the others take care of it. You've been a tremendous help as it is."

That being said, Rotorstorm turned to Nautica and asked her, "Can I help you do anything while we wait to hear more from Elita and her team?"

The Ark

"Thanks, Elita. I will."

Elita nodded. That was easy enough. Whatever concerns Windblade seemed to have when they first boarded the ship seemed to have been addressed.

Onward, then.

>>"I'm headed for the bridge,"<< she commed to the rest of the team, whether they were in audio receptor range or not. As she did, she took time look at the walls and the floors and simply take in what a historic ship she was walking through.

Shuttle

“Okay, so I managed to pull the fuel cells from these explosives.” The violet and gold femme began, turning her attention back towards the group and her task at hand. “We can use them and turn this stuff into a crude Energon substitute which would be good for those who have lost a lot of it back in the fire fight. However, that would leave us with very little to get the ship back up and running...”

“Thoughts?”

“Do it,” Thunderclash ordered with a firm nod at Nautica. “Our best and perhaps last hope lies with the Ark. To that end...we’ll need all of the strength we can muster. I’ll tolerate no more sacrifice from any Autobot.” Straightening a bit, he glanced at the others within the shuttle. “Once we’re prepared, we’ll make our way to the Ark. We have a better chance of the Decepticons not finding us that way.”

Not to mention, a shuttle can’t exactly make the longer journey needed to get to any form of help. If they could use the Ark...now that would be something. At the very least, they could make another beacon. For now though, Thunderclash decided to hold his head high and continue forward.

The Ark - Interior

”Spawn of a glitch...”

“What is it?! Lemme see! Lemme see!” Flash inquired with the excitement of a toddler, eagerly shoving his way past the others until he was up right by Hurricane. He did what he could to see over his fellow Turbomaster’s shoulder armor. Inside what Hurricane guessed what could’ve been the bridge, Flash could only see it was in the same condition as the rest of the ship. Ice and snow managed to creep its way aboard, some of it freezing the Ark’s ancient crew to their last known position. Some were pressed against the bulkhead while another was fused to their seat with frozen Energon trickling down their gray-toned faceplate.

“Primus above, it looks terrible in there!” Flash commented, easing off Hurricanes shoulder. “C’mon, let’s finish opening’er up so we can go inside.” Flash grabbed the edge of one of frost-covered doors and began to pull at it to help Hurricane pry their way inside.

Crashed Shuttle

Nautical appreciated the barrage of compliments that came from Rotorstorm, in-fact it practically filled her spark with a bit of warmth that helped combat the encroaching cold, but the praise didn’t exactly help give her a proper answer as to what to do in their situation. That was until Thunderclash jumped into the conversation again. Seems the injured mech was putting all his hope in that derelict ship the others had discovered. He had a point but Nautica doubted if it was necessary.

“Alright well I’ll get to work on churning up some of the synthetic stuff. Shouldn’t take me too long.” She commented as she began to get to work at retrieving the energy cells. “Are you sure we should we should venture out? How do we know if the Ark is in any better condition than this hunk of junk is?”

Shuttle

"If that's not too much to ask and, well you know, not too...out of line." Patchwork said, dragging himself and limping on his single working lower servo. "Then I'd like nothing else than go and board that Ark! If not for the sake of having some rambling old bot stories later, then at least to feel like I'm of some use. There's only so many materials I can harvest out of that shuttles or myself. Please, sir, please Thunderclash: let me go there. While I may be fine with rotting in a corner like a piece of junk you'll need all the servos and handybot you can get if ya want us all off this rock!"

In the Ark

Flash wrote:“Primus above, it looks terrible in there!”

She had already been moving toward Hurrican’s position when Flash’s comment reached her, freezing her energon flow and causing her to pause for a pump before continuing toward them.

Please, Primus, don’t let it be as bad as I think it is.

Given the condition of the Ark, her imagination sent hundreds of images racing through her processor. Despite her not really wanting to know what had caused the outburst, it was her duty. Especially if another mech was injured in some way.

Crossing her transistors, she slowly approached the partially opened doorway Hurricane and Flash were trying to pry open and peered over their shoulders.

Gasping, she covered her mouth and backed away. Her reaction surprised her more than the sight. She’d expected this, had seen as bad or worse throughout the war, so why did this get to her so much?

She shook her head to pull herself together. Come on, girl, you got this. Don’t fall apart on Elita and the others.

In the end, her determination won out and she pushed any remorse deep down. There’d be time to deal with that later. Muttering, she said, “So much waste.” Then louder, she asked, “Need a hand, boys?” she asked, where was best for her to get a handhold.

I should’ve brought a laser torch

Her spot chosen, he gripped the door near where Flash was pulling and heaved when he did.

Shuttle

“Are you sure we should we should venture out? How do we know if the Ark is in any better condition than this hunk of junk is?”

“It’s likely that a majority of its systems have been preserved. The Decepticons could appear at any moment besides,” Thunderclash answered calmly. He turned to Patchwork as the medic requested leave to explore the Ark. “Besides, I’m confident with experts such as yourselves. I’ll inform Elita-1.”

Turning to the communications console, he locked onto their signal once more. >>”Elita-1, do you read? We’ve decided to move to the Ark. The temperature keeps dropping. Once we fuel up, we’ll be en route.”<<

Thunderclash looked to those that remained in the shuttle. “Autobots, fuel up and roll out!”


In the Ark

Chromia stuck close to Elita’s side as they ventured into the corridors of the fabled lost Ark. She cast an occasional glance back to the others as they wandered their separate ways. She had to wonder how good of an idea that was. There could be bad things lurking in the dark corners of the Ark. She doubted it, but that paranoia niggled at the back of her processor.

Descending deeper into the tilted ship, Chromia slid into a door leading to the lowest part of the ship. Banging on the console to get it to open a few times didn’t work. Probably didn’t register them as crew. She glanced to Elita and just shurgged.

“Guess we bust it down?”

Hoven- The Ark

>>"I'm headed for the bridge,"<<

Lancer received the comm from Elita, thinking, 'Well, that's good.', while still wondering what the slag was in the room she was at the door of with Hurricane. She couldn't see inside, but whatever it was had to be pretty bad. Then Flash came up to them, basically shoving Lancer aside. She felt that he was rude, and gave him a glaring look of disapproval, but soon let it go. It wasn't like he was causing any harm. The excitable mech just wanted to see what Hurricane had discovered, just as she had wanted to, and that was a reasonable desire, though however dreadful it might turn out to be.

After this, the boys started to pull the door open. It was rather stuck, like the front door had been, but not nearly as bad. This door was easier to open because it was inside, protected from the harsh elements. The only thing that made it difficult was age and some rust. She had come back to help with the pulling open as she, Hurricane, Flash, and now Firestar were determined to open the door. As they did, all of them were shocked and horrified. Lancer covered her vocalizer to stop herself from letting out a scream.

“So much waste.”

, Firestar had stated, before offering her help to Hurricane and Flash. Lancer, her head down in sadness at seeing the sights inside, said solemnly, "Indeed." She would raise her head regardless though. She held respect for these fallen crew members of this old and mighty ship, but where they had fallen, this team of theirs that was here and now, online and ready to go forward, would be the new torch bearers to light the way from this point on and take the steps towards the greater reaches that lie beyond this desolate planetoid.

Clearing her voice and opening her commlink, she spoke to the rest of the Autobots, particularly to Elita-1 and Chromia, >>"We've found some fallen crew members. We haven't entered the room yet, but who knows, it might be important for you to come and see. Maybe we've found the bridge."<<, Lancer said. Being the brave warrior she was, she opened the door up the rest of the way and stepped past the boys, her headlamp's light shining into the room, over the bodies of long stilled mechs and their frozen energon. Like Flash had noticed, snow had gotten into the room. There was a crack in the ceiling high above them. Not very big. It could be mended easily and wouldn't prove to hinder the ship much even without repairs. Looking more at the area as she entered in slowly and cautiously, she noticed seats and mechanical equipment. It was still really dark though, and not everything was easy to see. Why had the lights she had turned on earlier not turned on in here? She walked towards a wall and searched for a light switch panel. However as she did this...her hand rubbed over a smooth surface that sent a chill down her central circuitry, and she gasped and backed up.




Shuttle

“Do it,”

, came Thunderclash's voice, in reply to the proposition made by Nautica about using the fuel cells from the explosives. Rotorstorm turned his attention to their leader and looked at him with respect, listening to what else he had to say.

“Our best and perhaps last hope lies with the Ark. To that end...we’ll need all of the strength we can muster. I’ll tolerate no more sacrifice from any Autobot.” Straightening a bit, he glanced at the others within the shuttle. “Once we’re prepared, we’ll make our way to the Ark. We have a better chance of the Decepticons not finding us that way.”

Rotorstorm grinned and Thunderclash, and pivoted towards him on one heel, clicking his heels, and giving his senior officer a firm salute, "Aye aye, Capn'!" He was starting to feel a great rush of warmth overcome him...the warmth of hope. Even though, Rotorstorm would prefer to see others better off before him, their team's leader was right. They all needed their strength to get out of here. Makeshift energon it was then, and then...off to adventure to meet up with the others and see what mysteries await them, and hopefully a way off the ice ball!

“Alright well I’ll get to work on churning up some of the synthetic stuff. Shouldn’t take me too long.” She commented as she began to get to work at retrieving the energy cells. “Are you sure we should we should venture out? How do we know if the Ark is in any better condition than this hunk of junk is?”

, came both assurance and skepticism from Nautica.

Rotorstorm commented to her, "Better than staying here. Where there's a will, there's a way!"

"If that's not too much to ask and, well you know, not too...out of line." Patchwork said, dragging himself and limping on his single working lower servo. "Then I'd like nothing else than go and board that Ark! If not for the sake of having some rambling old bot stories later, then at least to feel like I'm of some use. There's only so many materials I can harvest out of that shuttles or myself. Please, sir, please Thunderclash: let me go there. While I may be fine with rotting in a corner like a piece of junk you'll need all the servos and handybot you can get if ya want us all off this rock!"

"Now that's the spirit! WOOO!!", Rotorstorm whooped with excitement. In his mind, he was starting to think of all the great times he had had, being a hero and all, being a Wrecker, and man, this was gonna become a good story too, he could feel it in his servos. 'We're gonna make it out of this, even if it's by the allow on our teeth, we will. I know it!', he told himself.

Shuttle

"Rolling you say? Well, can't say I've done that in a while." Patchwork said, preparing to transform, something his old carcass hadn't done in a while. A horrible, high pitched squeak filled the shuttle, grating to all audio receptor. It then changed to a discordant grinding of metal as Patchwork's body folded and unfolded before finally collapsing on itself into an asymmetrical, lopsided vehicle due to his stripped-down leg. Or maybe it was already an ugly, beaten mismatched thing to begin with.

"What are y'all looking at?!"

The Ark--Corridors

>>”Elita-1, do you read? We’ve decided to move to the Ark. The temperature keeps dropping. Once we fuel up, we’ll be en route.”<<

>>"I read you. If you can, give us half-breem signal check-ins until you get here. There's still a lot of unknowns about this whole thing. Of course, look who I'm telling, heh. Just, yeah. You know the drill."<<

Smirking, Elita-1 clipped off the comm and trekked through the ship with Chromia. As expected, their trek was not going to be seamless.

“Guess we bust it down?” Chromia asked.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Elita agreed, as another comm came through. This one was from Lancer.

>>"We've found some fallen crew members. We haven't entered the room yet, but who knows, it might be important for you to come and see. Maybe we've found the bridge."<<

Elita's optics widened. So....the ship wasn't abandoned. Holy Primus on an altar. What is this wasn't a filler crew that lucked upon this ship just like they had? What if these were the originals, locked in ice, frozen in time? They had not only found the legendary first Ark, but the lost Prime.

>>"Copy that. We'll be there as soon as we can."<<

If urgency hadn't been written all over Elita-1's optics before, it sure was now.

[The Ark - Bridge]

After having pried open the door wide enough for a mech to fit in, Hurricane became the first to enter what looked like the bridge of the ship. Maybe it wasn’t the bridge, but there were mechs sitting on seats. Rusted and frozen over, of course. A chill filled his systems, both metaphorically and literally. He looked around to see if he could find anything of interest.

“Surely, if there’s still some power left, we could try onlining these systems. As for these mechs… well…” He took a step back and attempted to inspect one of them. No factional insignia as far as he could see. He looked at another, only to be met with the same answer.

A variety of faces. Most weren’t pretty to look at though. Corrosion, rust, frost, the elements of nature had taken their bodies over. Hurricane offlined his optics for a second and put his fist over his chest, as a memorial salute to the deceased.

It felt a bit wrong to be here. In this place. In this room. But did they have any other option? It was either getting refrigerated alive, or attempting to stay indoors until the power ran out. Neither seemed like an optimal solution. It was time to scavenge this place for whatever it could hold. This was their only possible exit ticket. They had to make the most of it. Apologies, gentlemechs, for robbing your grave. Rust in pieces.

The white Turbomaster adjusted himself to the bridge’s surroundings. It was a bit archaic in terms of technology, but nothing Hurricane couldn’t deal with. He cleared off some of the dust that had collected on the control panels. He tapped a few buttons, hearing nothing but the empty clicks.

Bzzt.

A spark?! Was that what he heard? It was barely audible, but his audio receptors were not mistaken, he did in fact hear a small spark. He turned around to face the rest of the Autobots.

“Looks like there still might be some power left in these, but the circuits are frozen to the point where they need hands-on repair. It would probably be a good idea to check the engine deck to see if the power cores are any good.”

In the Ark - Bridge

Elita-1 wrote:>>"I'm headed for the bridge,"<<

Firestar had been so preoccupied with Hurricane’s earlier shocked reaction and then helping him and Flash and sent out a, >>Roger.<< as she entered the control room. It looked like the bridge, but it could be an auxiliary bridge, too, not that it mattered. Either way, it looked like they were alone with only the empty shells of their fellow Autobots as guides.

Lancer wrote: "Indeed."

She nodded at Lancer’s comment in reply to her own. There wasn’t much else for her to say. Instead of wasting her energon over-thinking things, she focused on the inanimate forms frozen against the bulkhead. Each once stood erect, as though pinned to the all before the frost claimed them. It seemed strange, but in light of nothing indicating they’d been held there that she could see.

Does this mean they went into stasis lock shortly after the crash? The thought was as disturbing as it was hopeful. There was a possibility some might be revived if their sparks were properly shielded before the cold drained all their energon. She doubted it, and the more she rolled the idea around in her head, the more farfetched it sounded. That brought an exasperated sigh from her. She wasn’t remotely qualified to get anyone’s hopes up like that, especially her own. At least, I thought about it before mentioning it to anyone else.

Moving from the mechs along the bulkhead, she took in the site of those at their stations. Some of their expressions showed surprise and others pain from injuries suffered. Whether they occurred before or after the crash was moot. There was nothing she could do for them now.

Hurricane wrote: “Surely, if there’s still some power left, we could try onlining these systems. As for these mechs… well…”

Firestar nodded. “I thought I saw a spark in a monitor in the corridor, but thinking back, I’m not sure if it was real or the light played tricks on my optics.”

Hurricane wrote:“Looks like there still might be some power left in these, but the circuits are frozen to the point where they need hands-on repair. It would probably be a good idea to check the engine deck to see if the power cores are any good.”

Firestar looked around them, not liking that it meant sending someone into the bowels of the ship and further shrinking their group. Still, it was something they needed to take care of.

Forcing herself to relax, she focused on what image the others would need to see. She wasn’t the best or strongest soldier, but if someone thought they needed to comfort or protect her in any way, it would compromise them and their mission.

When she was ready, she projected herself to be confident and full of answers. Just like back on the stage, she thought as he straightened. “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll go, it’s not too much different than patching you guys up.” She even smirked when she finished. She just hoped these chassis were the only dead, though she had a feeling there would be more.

The Ark - Bridge

”Surely, if there’s still some power left, we could try onlining these systems. As for these mechs… well…”

“Deader than dust.” Flash commented as he poked at one of the offlined mechs frozen to his chair. Energon appeared to have leaked from various areas around this particular crew member, but the pooling had frozen over. Maybe they could scrape it up and melt it. Little water never tainted Energon, right?

Looks like there still might be some power left in these, but the circuits are frozen to the point where they need hands-on repair. It would probably be a good idea to check the engine deck to see if the power cores are any good.”

”That sounds like a good idea. I’ll go, it’s not too much different than patching you guys up.”

“Whoa, you mean we get a chance to see more of the ship?! Haha, this is great! Count me in too!”

At the console Hurricane had just been, a light shone above the main view screen. Blue in color, the faint blue light poured into the darkened bridge.

“Hey, Hurricane, though you said the circuits were frozen.” Flash inquired stepping closer to the console, inquisitively looking at the light. The faint blue light pulsated a few time before a harmless laser shot forward into the cabin. The thin blue beam separated at the middle and the two points spread out horizontally until a grid-like pattern filled between them. The laser grid shifted up and down in a scanning motion several times before shutting off and darkening the room once more.

“Uh... What’s going on? Guys?!”

The blue light flickered to life once more and the view screens attempted to turn themselves back on, struggling with the lose of power.

<<SYS-SYS-SYS-SYSTEM SCAN COMPLE-EEE-EeeEEE-TE. PRESENCE DETECT-DETECT-DETECTED: CYBERTRO-TROOOO-NIIIIIIIIIII-TRONIAN SIGNALS CONFIRMED. ERROR! ERROR! PRIMARY POWER NEUTRALIZED; POWER CORE RELAY UNALI-ALLI-ALLI-ALLI-ALINGED. EMERGENCY-EMERGENCY-EMERGEN-CY-CY-CY RESERVES POWERING UP. TELETRAN-AN-AN-AN-TRAN 1: ONLINE. DISENGAGING EMERGENCY CONTAINMENT SYS-SYS-SYS-SYSTEMS.>>

The Ark - CR Chamber Storage

As Chromia fiddled with the door, she glanced at Elita, whose optics widened. Oh, maybe the others had found something? Before she could get further in through that though, sounds of machinery weakly whirring back to life drew her attention to the door she was working on. It hissed open without her doing anything and inside was…

“By the Primes…”

Chromia’s optics widened as she saw what was inside. CR Pods. And a couple were opening. Chromia tapped Elita urgently. Her spark froze as she saw a hand reach out of one of the pods. They were alive. The crew. The original crew. They were...still alive?!

A mech pulled himself up from the pod and climbed out on uncertain legs, one hand gripping the pod to steady himself. His optics cast about the room in a daze before landing on the two femmes in the doorway. He immediately tensed.

“Who are you?!” He called out in ancient Cybertronian.

Shuttle

"What are y'all looking at?!"

“Nothing, chum, just that bright white horizon of hope!”

Thunderclash said as he stepped up beside Patchwork and patted him lightly. Transforming himself, albeit slower than usual, Thunderclash set out with his usual gusto, trailing white plumes of ice and snow behind him.

Elita commed back asking for regular updates. He simply sent back a non verbal acknowledgement. He’d already set a timer within himself to remind him to send it out. He cast his sensors back to the others to make sure everyone was alright before casting them forward again.

The Ark. Hope. They would make it out of this. They had to. Or else the sacrifice of all of the others would be in vain. Couldn’t have that! No! He would tally-ho and follow the horizon of hope until there was none left to follow.

Shuttle

It was getting colder in the shuttle each nano-klik that passed by. There was nothing really left for them here in this shuttle. All of the others besides him and the group here, were exploring the discovery of a lifetime elsewhere,and thankfully, that was where their leader had decided they all would go too. Rotorstorm had some of the energon that Nautica had made from the power cells. It wasn't any good, really, but it was energy, and energy was energy. Having had his fill, he tossed the container aside, not worrying about being a litter bug. The place was basically trashed anyway and it wasn't any of his concern.

He watched the grumpy old mech named Patchwork as he transformed into his vehicle mode. The sound was grating on his audio receptors. "Dang, old mech, how long has it been since you last transformed?", Rotors asked him with a chuckle. He looked pretty strange and lopsided too, but hey...at least he could transform, right? And anything was better than just staying here doing nothing.

"Ok, I'm ready too!", the neon flier said heroically. He was already imagining visions of heroic grandeur, and of what they might discover in the ark. If anyone needed saving from anything, he was just the mech for the job! Grinning, he started off at a run and exited the ship before jumping and transforming into a brightly colored attack helicopter. He lifted high into the sky, but stayed low enough to keep track of the others as they would move towards the ark, and went forward, following the mapping coordinates that lead to the Ark's position and the where the girls and the Turbomasters were. One little thing though....had Boss been ready to go too? No mech would be left behind. And so he commed him,

>>"Boss, you comin' or what? Time to go!"<<

The Ark

>>"Copy that. We'll be there as soon as we can."<<

, came the response from Elita. Lancer though, hardly paid attention to it at the moment. The light from her head lamp shown on the body of the mech she had found and touched accidentally. He was much taller than she was, and though he had some rust here and there and was very cold to the touch, frosted over from eons of being iced, he was still magnificent to behold, whoever he was. His armor was mostly red with a bit of black. A large grey colored canon was mounted on one of his arms. His faceplate had a pained expression on it, and his helmet was rimmed with several spikes, making him look rather princely. He definitely didn't look like he was a lesser crewman. Whoever he was, Lancer could guess that he had served well during his lifetime. Then, a chilling thought of sorts ran through her mind....'What exactly happened to you. What were you staring at in horror....' It was a horrible thing to think about at a time like this. She tried to calm herself, taking her hand and smoothing it over his face as if endearingly...'I'm sorry. I wish there was a way to save you. Whoever you are..."

Then...

<<SYS-SYS-SYS-SYSTEM SCAN COMPLE-EEE-EeeEEE-TE. PRESENCE DETECT-DETECT-DETECTED: CYBERTRO-TROOOO-NIIIIIIIIIII-TRONIAN SIGNALS CONFIRMED. ERROR! ERROR! PRIMARY POWER NEUTRALIZED; POWER CORE RELAY UNALI-ALLI-ALLI-ALLI-ALINGED. EMERGENCY-EMERGENCY-EMERGEN-CY-CY-CY RESERVES POWERING UP. TELETRAN-AN-AN-AN-TRAN 1: ONLINE. DISENGAGING EMERGENCY CONTAINMENT SYS-SYS-SYS-SYSTEMS.>>

Lancer snapped out of her daze, being caught off guard and alerted by the sound of the ancient Teletran system coming on, and the blue light flickering. The viewscreens were also struggling to come on. She guessed it was the reserve power. Amazing! After all this time, it still works!. With that, there was a LOT of hope. However, it was also spooky. Being surrounded by bodies of mechs in stasis didn't help. However....was there a chance too they could get these guys, or at least some of them back online? 'Like you, Mr. Ancient Warror?', Lancer thought, looking back to the hulking armored mech. That was a good nickname for him she thought. He looked the type.

She looked about the cabin and located everyone among the functional except for Firestar. So, the purple and orange fembot looked to Hurricane and Flash accusingly and she asked them, "Who did it? Who touched something on the console?", and she added, "Well, let's hope that Teletran doesn't register us baddies. Anyway, I'm going to look for Firestar. You guys should stay here with....him.", she said, pointing to the frozen mech, whom in his stasis looked rather like a statue. She would then take her leave of the bridge, comming Firestar, >>"Firestar, where are you going? I'm coming with you."<< It wasn't stupid. This was an Ark. Though it was Ark-1, all of the Arks looked alike, and this one had to be similar, if not the same as the rest that came after it. Knowing the layout of such ships, it should be easy to get to where Firestar was. She shouldn't be that far ahead anyways.

Chibi Starscream wrote:He watched the grumpy old mech named Patchwork as he transformed into his vehicle mode. The sound was grating on his audio receptors. "Dang, old mech, how long has it been since you last transformed?", Rotors asked him with a chuckle. He looked pretty strange and lopsided too, but hey...at least he could transform, right? And anything was better than just staying here doing nothing.

"Not as long ago as you'd think. Or maybe? Not gonna lie, things got rather fuzzy after ending up on that Decepticon ship. Truth is, my old frame is so scarred from emergence repairs and grafts that things tend to grind a little too much: can't say I ever had time for a good old full-body refit! That old frame ya see? That's the same old body I used to have as a dock worker, before the war. Well give or take a lot of replacement parts."

Outside...

"Can't say snow and ice are exactly my favored kind of environment." Patchwork bemoaned, especially in his current lopsided state which threw his sense of balance and momentum off-course forcing him to stop every few moments to realign his course and avoid slipping across the ice-and-snow landscape of Hoven. Slowly but surely his lopsided rickety frame (due to his stripped-down leg) of an altmode, made even less recognizable by years of self-modification and part-grafting, move around and made it's way toward the Ark.

...and then The Ark

"Heya bots, I'm here! Now where do we start getting this hunk-o-junk back into working order?" The old bot announced, before transforming once again. The metal creaked and smokes poured out from his body, almost obscuring him for a moment, before unfolding back into a humanoid shape. "Hah! I've gotta say: it's a lot less horrible the second time around in fact, 'think transforming back pushed something back into place!" Patchwork punctuated this statement by slapping the side of his head. Disturbingly, something rattled inside his cranial unit, seemingly loose.

Ark -- Bridge

When Hurricane pried the door to the Bridge open, Windblade stood on her toes to see over him, to desperately get a glance at what was held within. What she saw took her breath away, and what she smelled made her wish that it didn't come back. She looked in awe at a dozen seated Transformers, each with their Energon spilled and rolled into icicles. Vacant, screaming expressions and blackened, dead optics was at every corner on the Bridge.

But the smell. The smell of rot and decay rolled into the air like a thick fog, bombarding their senses and tormenting their minds. Windblade clasped a hand over her face at the smell, both to shield her nose and to keep whatever oil that was present in her stomach already in its place. Whatever higher power there was in the universe, it was surely not present there.

Windblade wished that she could look away, but for some reason her mind etched every edge of every screaming face into the backs of her optics. But there was an odd familiarity in them. Not the faces themselves, no, but the look of death. Even the smell of it. It was obvious. She groped the hilt of her blade, she understood one thing: She was no stranger to the presence of death.

Her train of thought was interrupted by an explosion of words coming from the main ship's computer, so-called "Teletraan-1", remarking about its power failure. Windblade's spark jumped in her throat, her wings shot straight upwards and she even let out a little peep. But it was nothing compared to the commotion she heard down the hall.

"Who are you!?" the voice shouted, echoing throughout the derelict vessel.

That voice. It wasn't one of the Autobots. It was someone new. Or perhaps someone very, very old.

Windblade dug her heels and dashed as fast as she could. Someone else who had spent time in a pod? Perhaps an obelisk? Maybe they were from the same place? If that were true, then there was no telling what he could tell Windblade. He could potentially tell Windblade who she used to be. Her pulse quickened at the thought, moreso than it already was. This could be what she was waiting for!

She turned the corner, following the noises and trotted to a halt, right behind Elita and Chromia, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

A surge of power. The wake up signal he had been waiting for eons in hibernation. Footsteps echoing in the empty hallways of the once mighty vessel for the first time since time immemorial. Ever since the betrayal. He could hear the hurried, shocked voices of strange dialect but still unmistakably of Cybertronian origin. Voices that reminded him of someone long buried. Who were they? How long had he slept? What about the others?

Among the unknown, a familiar voice. Eucryptia. As it should be. The emergency protocol prioritizing the sustainability of the key members of the crew had worked the way it had been designed to.

He sat up and pulled himself out of the pod, turning his cold, harsh optics to the direction of the voices he had heard. Three Cybertronians. His gut feeling had been right. They were Solus’ progenies. But two of them were wearing the ancient symbol of the Primes. Why? Had they not denounced it? Were these assassins sent by the traitor?

A scowl formed on the face of the menacing, mostly dark purple Cybertronian whose head was adorned with a helmet that had a certain resemblance towards a crown. The large warrior pointed his left hand – free of the massive cannon attached to his right arm - at the intruders and issued out a command in ancient Cybertronian, with a deep, authoritarian voice.

”Intruders! Identify yourself or perish in the hands of Galvatron!”