“Get OFF!” He yells, now even angrier than before, the violet flames erupting from his dragon mouth and the Twilight Saber darken to almost match the color of Dark Energon crystals.
Garand looks at the miniature city with curiosity from his seat.
“Yeah, this used to be the main hangar,” Salvo explains. “Command figured we didn’t need to be hauling a whole fleet along with us, so we gutted it to make some space for more crew.”
“And whaddya know,” Thrift interjects, “turns out a few warships woulda come in handy after all.”
The vines begin to whither away once again, jabbing at Zepar with their thorns.
Zepar dives away from the thorns, looking completely ticked off at them, he had some scratches in his armor but that was about it.
“People need somewhere that feels like home.” Garand said, “It tends to boost morale.”
Scorchlock contacted the bridge. “Scorclock to Bridge, do you copy?” He asked through the comlink.
King-Quan dusted his hand off against his chest as ■■■■■■■■■■■■ brushed off to the side. “The tractor beam is protecting it.” He re-affirms. “Should it have been a problem, our ship would have long been destroyed.”
The Faux-Hyperborea steps off of her platform as the Faux-Atlantis twists the blade in the keyhole of his own, causing a stream of Blue Cybermatter to race along a metal beam and into one of the thirty inert sentries lining the walls. The drone’s limbs creak and groan as it climbs to its feet, the cybermatter washing away the rust on its plating and restoring its mechanisms.
“True,” Thrift says, “but in times such as these, firearms have a similar effect! And I provide firearms aplenty for our crewmates, among other necessities, wants, and oddities.”
Salvo groans as the junkion segues into his sales pitch.
“Affirmative, crewman Scorchlock,” Motherboard’s voice drones through the comlink.
“Oh, but there is a problem,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ says, “in that Salvation is currently immobile. A sitting duck, to borrow a phrase from the insects, for our enemies when they inevitably find us here.”
Lightshift tried to dodge, but one of the bolts struck his torso.
He grunted in pain and staggered back.
Thrust glanced at Lightshift and aimed at the Sentinel with the bow, firing a shot at it.
The shot strikes the bow-wielding sentinel’s wrist, ripping the weapon out of the drone’s grasp. Without stopping to writhe in pain (being a non-sentient defense automaton had its perks), the machine transforms into its dragon form: a wyvern identical to that of its partner, who had picked itself up from its crater. The dragon with the torn wing breathes fire at Lightshift and Vigor, while the other took to the air and darted toward Thrust.
“Hey there, sweetheart.” He greets the Motherboard. “I wanted to do a mission report: I and a small group found a malfunctioning Knight’s Ship but didn’t find anything useful only a mystery man with a big orange axe that refused to tell me his name.” He mentions. “Now, I take it we are in the search for the omega key, right?” He asked. “So why don’t you be a bae and give the coordinates on where our search party is?” He smirked through his voice as he waited for an answer.
King-Quan nods his head. “Very well.” He said. “I shall deactivate the tractor beam. However, the Bridge must be contacted to take off and activate their defensive systems.” He suggested, as King-Quan glanced at the controls and used them to deactivate the tractor beam around Salvation.
Nearby, Delta scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“You are currently within hangar twelve, aboard the Cybertronian Fleetcarrier Salvation, crewman Scorchlock,” Motherboard informs the wrecker in her usual monotone.
The console chirps as a line of cyberglyphics materializes before King-Quan, informing him that the tractor beam had been deactivated.
“Yeah, if we could get long-range comms working again,” Breakswitch comments.
Scorchlock was confused, his expression utterly expressionless. “I know that!” Scorchlock said as he sighed. “I asked you for the coordinates on where our search party is.” He states. “I can help find the Omega Key, and if Bludgeon shows up, who is there to help them?” He asked. “Just tell me where are they.”
King-Quan glances at ■■■■■■■■■■■■. “The tractor beam as been deactivated.” He said.
The fellow warrior glanced at Breakswitch. “What do you mean if we could?” He asked, arching a metal eyebrow. “Why aren’t they working?”
Motherboard begins to list the general locations of every search party dispatched by Salvation at a rapid, blistering cadence.
■■■■■■■■■■■■ only nods his head in response.
Breakswitch shrugs.
“Don’t know,” she says. “Maybe there’s something in here that can tell us.”
“Slow down sweetheart,” Scorchlock said as he was practically overwhelmed by her rapid response. “Do you have any updates with who is currently closer to the Omega Key?” He asked.
King-Quan glanced at the console. “It must either be because of this planet…or our ship must be malfunctioning.” He said as he looked around the console to see if there was any clues as to why the long coms didn’t work.
“Negative,” Motherboard replies. “Interference with our long-range communications and scanning equipment have hindered our search. However, crewman Zepar believed that he had narrowed down the location of the next Omega Lock component to be within a mountain range above this planet’s equator.”
The console didn’t just give King-Quan a clue; it gave him a full-on explanation as to why Salvation and our heroes were experiencing such technical difficulties: the Knights of Cybertron had placed something the system referred to as a “shroud” over this planet, confounding scanning equipment and drowning out long-range communications.
“Well, that would be a very long shot…” Scorchlock rubbed his chin. “I take it you don’t have the coordinates from Zepar on his current location?” He asked.
King-Quan tilted his head slightly intrigued. “How very fascinating…” He mentioned. “This is why Ancient Technology never pales in comparison with ours. Truly, fitting of the Golden Age title.” He declared as he was reading through the information. “The reason why our long coms are not working is that the Knights have placed a system known as a shroud over this planet, thus confounding scanning equipment and drowning out long-range communications.”
“Now, let’s see if I can change that…” King-Quan was searching for options, to keep the shroud intact but allow Salvation to have long-range communications active.
“Correct,” Motherboard confirms. “However, I can re-open a ground bridge portal at his last-known location.”
“Hm,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ remarks, impressed.
“Well, that explains it,” Breakswitch decides.
For as advanced as ancient cybertronian technology was, this didn’t seem possible. Either the shroud remained active, interfering with all communications on the planet; or it was lifted entirely.
“Alright, then re-open another ground bridge at his last-known location,” Scorchlock said.
“We have a perdicament,” King-Quan affirms as he looked at ■■■■■■■■■■■■ and then Breakswitch. "There are two possibilities here. We either deactivate the shroud, thus enabling all sorts of communications but at the risk of having Bludgeon and his armies being able to do the same. Or we don’t and have no range communication and the same will go for their forces. " He said. “So what do we choose?” He asked.
“Affirmative,” Motherboard deadpans. There is a rush of air as a crackling green and blue portal opens beneath Scorchlock’s feet, roughly depositing him on the cliff Zepar and the Splitter brothers had traversed earlier in the day.
“Deactivate the shroud,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ promptly commands.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Scorchlock closed the coms as he glanced at Delta. “Hey there!” He calls out. “You’re gonna help me out or what?” He asked, having a slight smile of anticipation, as he waited for her answer. “I may be a Wrecker, but I can’t do everything alone.” He sincerely comments, something a Wrecker would rarely do as they are known to be solos, well some not all but Scorchlock belonged to the solos.
King-Quan arched a metal eyebrow. “Just like that?” He asked. “You don’t care for the consequences?” He mentioned as he glanced at Breakswitch. “What is your saying on the matter?”
Unfortunately for Scorchlock, the portal had sent only him to the cliff, closing with a hiss before anyone else could follow him.
Breakswitch shrugs her shoulders, a “don’t look at me, man” expression on her face.
“He’s the captain,” the navigator offers.
Scorchlock growls. “Not again…” He said as he took in his surroundings, he was on a cliff. How great that was, alone by himself. “I don’t know if she did it on purposes but she should have waited.” He declared before he tried to contact Delta via the comlink.
“Understood,” King-Quan said as he pulled a lever and deactivated the planetary’s shroud, thus allowing all sorts of communications to be had.