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Proving Grounds

Chapter Text

“Status report,” Elita One's melodiac voice called across the bridge.

“All readings currently holding steady just below critical,” Chromia answered, muttering under her breath as she continued working to bring things into proper condition, “I didn't sign up for this scrap,”

“Well I don't think that most of the 'Cons signed up for our fists in their faces,” Arcee called across the bridge.

“Both of you!” Red Alert snapped, stumbling slightly under the force of the impact they'd just suffered, “Focus!”

“Calm yourselves!” Elita called across the bridge, shaking everyone back into place at least for the moment, “We need to keep ourselves together through this, so please, just calm down already!” she herself wobbling slightly from the effort, “Everyone, please, just get us through this nightmare,” she was recovering herself, reaching behind herself for the arm of her seat.

The ship shook once again, sending nearly everyone there to the floor in various piles, sending the ship off course enough to send the rest of them into the beginnings of panic.

Everything was in disarray, the damage keeping everyone distracted from anything that could have been happening under cover.

 

“Master Nightbird wants this ship taken hours ago!” Strika snarled, waving her remaining arm around at the others that were working their way inside the hole that she'd made for them.

“You really should think about putting more distance between yourself and your explosives once you've set them,” Airachnid snorted, hopping down from the giant's shoulder and starting inside, “I'll save you something juicy,” she added, looking about the hall as the others scattered themselves about.

Her steps were careful as she made her way through the hallways, listening to the sound from the alarm and quickly canceling the sound inside her head before she went crazy from it. They were going to have the full extent of her skills when she found those operating the ship...

 

“Status report!” Elita called, pulling herself up from the floor, “What happened?”

“Decepticons!” came Nautica's panicked voice over her com. “They've breached the lower deck and have begun spilling into the ship!”

“I think now would be a very good time to put me back on my peds,” Elita said, giving an attempt to right herself.

Chromia could only roll her optics before placing her boss back upright and digging through her subspace after her battle-axe. Elita was quick in retrieving her sword and leading her friend through the corridors in the direction they thought the attack was taking place.

 

Moonracer took the corner along with Hot Rod right behind her, finding her fuel pump racing through her chassis as she realized that they were going to come face to face with actual Decepticons. It was enough to make her giddy all over the place. She was going to show Elita and the rest of them that she wasn't as useless as Strongarm insisted that she was. This was going to be wonderful once they got those monsters off our ship. Leave them to have the planet that they'd destroyed, they were going to find somewhere else that would allow them the chance to start over again.

“Hold up!” Hot Rod called, reaching after his friend's arm and trying desperately to pull her back away from the corner they were heading towards. Something was telling him that going that way was not what they wanted happening

“You alright?” Moonracer asked, looking back at her friend.

“Something's not right about this...” Hot Rod answered, feeling his tank churning as he watched the corner they were watching.

Something about it was making his plating crawl. He hadn't liked the way that explosion had come from no-where. He'd been sure that there hadn't been anything nearly large enough nearby that could have caused that reaction.

“Would you calm your pistons already? There's going to be a fight and we're going to get the chance to beat in some face-plates with everyone else. It's going to be great!”

“Shh,” Hot Rod hissed, pulling her backwards away from the corner right as Airrachnid came around to look for anyone that was there to attack, they were quick to hide themselves away from her sight, hoping that they hadn't been spotted already.

“How do you do that?” came Moonracer's harsh whisper.

“If I knew, don't you think that I would have been practicing it to get better at it?”

“Good point,” she whispered back, seeing Airrachnid drawing closer still to their hiding place, bringing them closer to their off-lining.

Moonracer felt her spark dropping as they were dreading what was coming next. Both nearly jumped out of their plating when Chromia burst through and struck the intruder across her torso with the blunt end of her battle-ax and sending her staggering backwards.

“The Pit are you two doing out here?” Chromia demanded, glaring over her shoulder at them, “Get to the hold already and hide!” she snapped, swinging once again.

“Still looking after the cannon-fodder? I'm surprised that you're still alive throughout everything that's happened,” Airrachnid laughed, grabbing this time at the ax and nearly knocking her to the floor in one motion.

“Never having anyone watching your back, the real surprise here is that you've made it this far functional,” Chromia barked back, swinging again.

 

Moonracer allowed herself to be dragged around through the corridors of the ship as they tried to get themselves somewhere that wasn't in the middle of Chromia's fight. They hadn't been as prepared as they thought they would have been in the situation they'd just escaped from.

“That didn't happen the way that I'd planned,” Moonracer muttered, looking around them as they slowed themselves in their escape.

“Did you even have a plan back there?” Hot Rod demanded, shaking her arm, “I'm surprised sometimes that you haven't gotten us off-lined yet!”

Moonracer felt her face-plates heating up after that dig.

“You used to be fun, you know that?” Moonracer hissed, glaring back at him, “I wonder when that changed...” she trailed off, staring behind Hot Rod as she started backing away.

Hot Rod felt static travel its way up his spinal-struts as he worked into the idea of turning around and looking at whatever was bringing that look to Moonracer's face-plates.

Before he could finish the motion, he felt something make contact with his shoulder and sent him crashing to the floor. His head was spinning, the rest of the ship seemed to be going along for the ride while he was down there. He couldn't take in everything happening over-head, just the sound of Moonracer's voice calling after him from overhead. There were the sounds of a fight happening, Moonracer was trying desperately to drag him away from everything happening over-head. Another set of battle-cries echoed through the hall, disorienting them further.

Moonracer watched their security chief, Strongarm, beating into one of the cons that had broken through the outer walls of the ship. They watched a moment longer before taking off and running through the ship, hoping that someplace would finally be safe from this madness.

 

Watching as Nickle and Vanquish finished repairing Strika's hands, Nightbird thought to her current task. This would prove to be disgustingly easy to take over for themselves. How these pesky Autobots were able to construct something this sophisticated without having to resort to stealing from her own faction, she didn't know. Elita was an accomplished leader, but a great leaders couldn't hope to lead incompitant engineers to compitantcy.

Strika picked herself up once the repairs were complete, stepping through the opening that she'd made for everyone of their faction that remained and started looking around for something or someone that she could smash to test out the new repairs. The faster they disposed of the Autobots, the faster they could get on with reforming Cybertron under her leader's command.

She felt the pings from the defense systems' weapons, more annoying then anything at this point. Strika continued through as though there was nothing happening around her, still looking for something that she could entertain herself with.

 

 

“Well, this isn't as smooth as we were promised,” Red Alert grumbled, trying desperately to keep everything in her cabinet from ending up on the floor.

“Are things ever?” Minerva asked, steadying a shelf before it could collapse.

“Would be nice if things could work for once,” Red grumbled, balancing another shelf against the first.

Minerva smiled, hoping that this wasn't going to become even worse then they were already. They were at their limits for what they could handle.

“Would certainly be nice if things calmed themselves down after we've cleared the system,” Minerva offered right before hearing something crashing shortly outside the door to the med-bay.

Both nearly jumped out of their plating at the sound, fearing whomever might come crashing through the doors. Quickly attempting to arm themselves, they watched the door as the sounds continued drawing closer. They watched the dent forming in the door, waiting for the cons to break their way through after them and the patients...

Soon they were listening to sounds of battle outside the room, calming one moment, terrifying the next. They remained ready incase they started back on their attacks into the room.

They continued waiting, hoping that there was going to be something helpful working its way into their direction. Slowly, the doors were pried open showing them their chief of security looking through at them.

“Glad to see the rest of you functioning in here,” Strongarm greeted, looking around the room, “Mind giving me a servo over here?” she asked, continuing to push at the doors.

Red Alert and Minerva moved quickly to the door, attempting to help with the door as they wondered what was happening with the rest of the crew.

 

 

Nightbird stepped through the doorway, looking about for those that were waiting there for her forces. She soon found herself watching Elita moving in closer. The two of them watched one another, neither willing to move and waiting for the other to attack.

“It's been a long time since we last saw one another,” Elita greeted, pulling her baton out.

Nightbird clicked her battle-mask into place, nodding lightly at the other female.

“It's going to continue like this, isn't it?” she asked, watching Nightbird readying herself for battle.

Elita could only shake her head, readying herself for battle-proper. If this could finally end this pointless fighting, she would be willing to stain her hands somewhat for the sake of her people...

Nightbird was the first to move, knowing full well that her counter-part would never go forward with the idea of spilling energon across the floor. Out came her blade, aiming for the other's throat as she all but flew at the larger one. This was going to be over quickly, thankfully. It was always unpleasant to lose a worthy opponent and she had never encountered a more worthy opponent then this giant before her...

Elita dodged away without effort, parrying the strike with a grace that always surprised Nightbird when she witnessed this happening. Both continued moving around one another, neither allowing the other to get terribly close but still within reach to at least try for themselves.

Watching Nightbird moving about, Elita was in wonder over her. She moved with the same ease as the solar winds moved through the orbits of planets. Delicate at first glance but incredibly powerful when directly encountered. If one wasn't careful, they could find themselves sliced to pieces before they even realized that she was even there. She was dark-matter itself...

Catching herself before the cables in her neck had been sliced through, Elita ducked away from the other as gracefully as her size would allow in the space she had available. Nightbird was growing bold already, forcing Elita to move faster then she preferred as she worked out how she needed to handle the problem currently at hand.

Another strike aimed at her neck area, startling her out of her thoughts as she continued attempting to figure out how she was supposed to stop this individual from causing harm to herself and the rest of crew.

Bringing her baton around after the smaller femme, Elita missed with great unpleasantness when she took out part of her seat. She wouldn't be sitting there anytime soon. There was another slice at her neck, shocking her out of her thoughts as she continued attempting to subdue her opponent before something else was damaged from their fight.

“Megatron isn't here, more then likely, he isn't even functioning any longer!” hoping that she might return to reason, “We can't hope to survive if we continue like this!”

Regrettably, Elita's words didn't have the desired effect, making the acting Decepticon leader become completely enraged and began slashing about wildly. Now she wasn't even aiming at anything other then the mass of pink that made up Elita's torso. It was taking everything she had to avoid getting her insides spilled across the instruments there.

A moment later, she was moving out of the way of that blade once again, only to watch it bury itself in the instrument panel deep enough that it didn't readily remove itself from the surface.

“That can't be good,” Elita muttered.

“You think?” Nightbird managed out before the panel exploded and sent them flying across the room.

Chapter Text

The systems hadn't been functional for some time when it finally came back online. Some time had clearly passed since the last time it had functioned, if its crometer was working properly. The computer was working itself through everything that had gathered in the backlogs. There was a great deal there now that things were working again.

It seemed that everyone on the ship had been knocked into stasis. Best get everything going on repairing everyone while everything was still functioning. They could repair the systems that needed before something or someone was injured once again.

Each of those that finished their recovery made the computer's system run a little easier knowing that they would be able to take care of one another once everything was working. But where was Wind-voice? There had been enough repaired that she should have been online already. Something wasn't right with all of this matter and there was something blocking the readings that would tell that she was awake and who even was there to begin with. Something was very wrong here.

“My liege,” Strika started, watching Nightbird tested her repaired limbs, “We should make our way out of here,” she continued, glancing around the room.

Nightbird motioned with her servos about in front of them, scowling slightly. The bodies of their enemies were scattered about, displaying what they'd been working on to achieve for eons now. Her features were clearly agitated over the knowledge of how this happened.

“Yes, they were indeed worthy opponents, they didn't deserve their end but that cannot be changed at this point,” Strika said. She wanted to get out of there and put this behind them while they were still fresh from the revival and get things finished.

Nightbird continued gesturing insistently, clearly agitated with this turnaround of events. She needed to complain for a short while before she could get on with everything once again. It wasn't long before her leader's arms became still and those golden optics started taking in everything in the room.

Again her servos were moving rapidly, telling much even in silence.

Have this place buried. They deserve to be left in peace at the very least.

That was something even Strika could agree with for their fate, not that she wasn't going to enjoy herself while they were at it.

 

Turning away from their enemies' grave, there wasn't anything they could have done to predict the next happenings. They were simply eager to remove themselves from this place and begin with their original plans anew.

 

Inside the remains of their ship, the Autobots were slowly beginning to awaken thanks in part to the shaking from their enemy's attempts at permanently ending them. Everything was still uneasy as they attempted to orient themselves after everything that had happened. They weren't sure just what had happened to them when they started hearing the alarms around the ship.

“Report!” Elita called out, working on get her legs back under herself.

“We've crashed into a planet,” they could hear Glyph calling from where she was standing on one of the computer station.

“Well, thank you, commander obvious!” Moonracer announced, stumbling into the room with Hot Rod close behind.

“I don't see you doing anything helpful!” Glyph shot back, attempting to reach the various switches and buttons about the surface under her.

“You think I haven't been trying?” Moonracer shot back.

“Both of you,” Elita said evenly, silencing them both before things got out of hand, “We need to get information on this planet before something else manages to happen. Chromia, are you able to stand on your own?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

“I've still got legs, don't I?” Chromia asked, forcing herself to her feet.

“Just pace yourself,” Elita said, “We don't know what we'll be facing on the other side of those doors,”

Listening to both the sounds, close to the ground as they were, as well as the whispers coming from those behind her. Something important was about to happen though and they needed to be ready for anything that could be waiting for them.

“Be ready for anything!” Elita hissed, watching the door as they readied themselves to open it.

Once the doors began opening, they were attempting to look through before they could actually fit themselves through. There wasn't anything that they could see, though they realized that there was some manner of screaming from around the area of their peds.

Looking downward, they saw several creatures similar to themselves though much, much smaller. And they looked really....squishy in comparison. How very peculiar.

And what was likely their language was very strange indeed. Thankfully the ship's translator was still functioning at top capacity after everything that it had been through since take-off. They were going to have to figure out just how long they'd been out for when they had the chance.

“Hello,” Elita attempted once the download was completed.

The creatures jumped remarkably high for something of their size, forcing Elita to stifle a laugh as the poor things attempted to compose themselves.

“You speak English?” the creature that Elita took to be the leader of the group.

“If that is the name that you have given to your language. Our translator can handle most vocalizors, though you are certainly one of the more unusual species that I've seen it work for,”

“Thanks, I think,” the woman said, her eyes shifting around the rest of those gathered behind the pink one speaking with them currently, “You'll have to excuse me for the lack of pleasantries, but we need to find out as much about the lot of you as possible,”

“Give us one good reason why we should!” Chromia snapped, making each of the humans jump more then slightly.

“Chromia, you're going to have to calm yourself down. However, she is right, we have no reason to trust you with such information as we stand,” Elita said to the humans, “Would you be so open with us should our positions be reversed?” she asked, watching them back.

“In our defense regarding your question, you can squish us, not the other way around,” the light-haired individual offered, “The name's Cody Burns, by the way.”

“Sargent!” the one in charge growled, glaring over her shoulder at the other, “That's more than enough information for now,”

“Sorry about that, Colonel,” Cody said, turning away quickly.

“Though I suppose that introductions would be someplace to start at least,” she said, huffing softly and rubbing her eyes, “Colonel Marissa Faireborn, I'm somehow supposed to be in charge of this motlie crew here,” she said, “Somehow I've managed to avoid killing them all myself,” she added, smiling faintly.

Their giant metal guests didn't seem to understand the joke that had been put before them, looking rather uncomfortable in their current surroundings.

“She kids,” one of the others chirped, stepping forward and motioning as though trying to calm everyone present, “There's really nothing like that happening around here with us,” she continued.

“I would certainly hope so,” Elita managed out, looking between each of the tiny creatures in front of her.

“We really don't need to be bothering with these creatures,” Chromia said, reminding Elita she was still there, “We should be worrying about getting the crew back in functioning condition,”

“Go and check on the medics and get to organizing inspection teams to figure out what needs repairing most urgently,” Elita said before turning her attention back the humans, “You'll have to excuse her, for us, it's only been moments since we were in battle for our lives,”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Colonel Faireborn answered, attempting to see where Chromia was going, “Though if we knew further information about the situation you're talking about,” she tried, watching carefully for anything that might have been helpful for figuring out these creatures they were currently facing.

The Colonel was startled when Elita lowered her hand for her to stand on. Keeping her balance was proving interesting throughout their walk, but she was doing her best as she looked about trying to take in everything she was passing by.

“Have the computers been brought back on-line yet?” Elita asked, walking into the remains of the command center.

“Still working on it ma'am,” Nautica answered, still half-way inside the control panel, “You and that Nightbird really did a number on everything in here,”

“Nightbird?” Colonel Faireborn asked.

“Who was THAT!?” Nautica asked, striking her head in her hurry to get out and have a look at what was happening, “Oh goodness! This is one of the natives?”

Colonel Fairborn was surprised at the attention she was already receiving. She had a moment of vague recollection of the cat that wondered in and out of the barracks when she'd been in basic training and the reactions it would receive from everyone, including herself. Great, at least if these women were planning on taking over the Earth, at the very least humans could survive as house-pets for them.

“They're so tiny!” Nautica announced, making Colonel Fairborn quiver slightly under the vibrations.

“Nautica, please, grant the poor creature some space before something horrible happens to her,” Elita said, shooing the overly-eager engineer.

“I just wanted to have a better look,” Nautica insisted, stepping away and standing where she could still see Colonel Fairborn.

“Just how many of you ladies are there?” Fairborn asked, struggling to stand up despite the movement taking place around her again.

“We came out this way with easily two dozen, what we have left, I don't know yet,” Elita said softly before becoming alarmed, “Has anyone seen Kup?!” looking around frantically.

“Not in the time we've been looking for survivors,” a small red one answered as she hurried about the room between the different consoles, “But we haven't found parts of him around, so I suppose that's a good thing, right?”

“Yes, Windblade, I hope so at the very least,” Elita answered before looking down at her guest, “I'm afraid that you'll be needing to ride along while I assist with the search,” she added, moving to rest the human on her shoulder.

Colonel Fairborn wobbled slightly as she got her footing on the slightly pitted metal there. This was certainly different then what she'd been expecting first contact to go.

Keeping her footing was proving difficult but not impossible, looking around at everything was possible as well. The giantess was moving faster then she would have thought possible for something of her size.

 

Lifting herself from under a pile of rubble, Moonracer looked around quickly for any sign of Hot Rod, hoping that he hadn't been lost in the battle. She could feel her spark spasming in its casing at the thought of what could have happened to him without her there with him. He'd been right there just a moment before. Where could he be?

Hearing a groaning from under another pile, she moved quickly to uncover whomever was under there. If it was Hot Rod, her worries would be over in that respect, but she needed to get moving.

Lifting the rubble as quickly as she could, she prayed that whoever was under there wasn't to badly damaged and would know something about what she'd missed.

“And here I thought that my spinal-struts were in bad shape before,” Kup muttered as the debris was coming off him.

“At least you're not under there anymore,” Moonracer said, tossing the material aside and helping the elder back onto his feet, “You didn't hear anything regarding Hot Rod, did you?” she asked.

“You really think that I was hearing anything under there?” Kup demanded, attempting to get his joints working properly once again.

Moonracer quickly began to panic, thinking about what could have happened to him without her there without her. Yes, she was the one that always coming up with the crazy ideas that got us into trouble, but...

“Moonie!” she heard a familiar voice calling after her.

Looking around, her optics caught sight a welcomingly garish magenta and red paint-job heading her way. Oh dear, his spoiler was going to need work something awe-full.

She was off and running, crashing into her friends and knocking him to the ground. She remained there, pinning him under herself while they both recovered themselves from everything that had happen already.

“Really? You little scraplets haven't seen anything yet,” Kup muttered, “Come on already,” he added, looking away from the pair, “We should be looking to see who else made it through that catastrophe as well,” he added, turning away from them while they recovered themselves.

 

“Mind sharing just what we're looking for again?” Fairbrook asked, shifting once again.

“The remaining survivors from our crash,” Elita answered, opening another room with a grunt, “There were far more of us that left Cybertron then you've already seen,” Elita answered, sifting through the rubble, “We were nearly all that was left of the Autobots faction,”

“Autobots?” Fairborn asked.

“Yes, our people have been at war for longer then your people have been around based on what I've been able to research,” Elita explained as they made their way through more debris.

“Dare I ask how this war got started?” Fairborn asked.

“It's somewhat complicated,” Elita started.

“Elita!” they heard Moonracer calling out as the pair of youngsters rushed toward her.

Elita stumbled backwards at the impact before looking over at where Kup was standing watching them as they had their reunion.

“Good to see you all right,” Kup said quietly, leaning against the wall.

“You as well,” Elita answered.

Kup noticed something on her shoulder.

“Hold still dear,” Kup said, starting forward and raising his hand.

It took Elita a moment to realize what was happening and moved away as best that she could.

“Kup, please, this is this is one of the natives from this planet. They're sentient, I've been working on welding an understanding with them for our sake,” Elita said, blocking his hand, “So, please, don't.”

Kup took a moment to look at Fairborn skeptically, huffing and turning his attention to Elita.

“You're sure this thing actually thinks?” Kup asked, snuffing and looking back at Elita, “Seems like it's brain would be much to small to actually do any thinking,”

“And you're big enough that you should be stuck in the water to support your weight,” Fairborn quipped back, immediately regretting the childish outburst.

“Little thing's got spunk, I like that,” Kup said quietly, smirking lightly, “Glad you're alright, kid,” he said to Elita, his features softening considerably.

“You as well, old friend,” Elita said, returning the gesture, “Are there any others that you were able to confirm the condition of?” she then asked.

Kup could only shake his head and look away.

“We were looking for you first,” he finally answered.

Fairborn didn't think that she wanted to know just how many more of these beings there were in this place. Brass was going to owe her one hell of a vacation after today...

Chapter Text

A circle in the middle of the metallic floor slowly started melting before blasting upwards with a splash of water following after. Up through the opening arrived several Cybertronian individuals, each giving themselves a short shake before looking around.

“Place has seen better days,” Strika noted, kicking at something mushy beside her foot, “Will need much cleaning before getting working once again, correct?” she asked, glancing over at their leader as she herself was cleaning out her vents.

Nightbird looked about the room, the visible portion of her faceplaces clearly frowning. The others were in similar states of displeasure over the ship's current condition, Airrachnid was looking about with what to the others looked like uncharacteristic concern over something around them. Strika knew better about the way the femme's mind worked, there was something going through her thoughts that would not have crossed the others thoughts in stelar-cycles before it would have crossed their minds.

Several Decepticons nearly jumped out of their plating at the sound from down one of the halls. It was something akin to a gurgle mixed with a hiss, pulling Airrachnid's attention in that direction.

“Ida?” Airrachnid asked, pointing herself in the direction of the noise, “Ida, is that you?” she continued, stepping a bit closer.

Nightbird watched her interrogator, knowing that the war had taken a toll on everyone's minds, but she'd long suspected that Airrachnid's mind never been like the rest of those around them.

There was a scuffling sound from down that hallway, bringing a light of sorts to her face-plates.

“You're alive, little one,” Airrachnid called, starting to kneel down as the lap-sized spider came running the rest of the way to her arms.

Most of the rest of the crew were unsettled watching the exchange between the pair, many having been hoping the creature had perished in the initial crash the ship went through.

Feeling a light touch on the back of her servo, Strika looked down to find her mistress watching her intently.

“Everyone is to be listening now!” Strika called, watching Nightbird's servos moved about rapidly, “We are to be searching through ship to be finding anything in needing of repairs. Also, you are to be looking for any signs of the medical team,” she continued, watching her mistress' servos moving rapidly.

“That last part won't be necessary,” a shrill voice broke through their thoughts, “Took you long enough to get your afts down here! You decide to take a vacation before coming back for the rest of us?” the owner was asking, skating into the room, “Fine example that you're setting right here!” she yelled right before being lifted into the air by Strika.

“You are being disrespectful of the leader, you are going to stop now, correct?” Strika asked sternly, giving Nickle a small shake.

“Not if you want to keep having a medical team around. You especially,” Nickle said, glaring harshly at the much larger femme.

/You both need to stop/ they saw their leader scolding them both from the corners of their optics, /Before of you both find yourselves needing medical attention./

Strika slowly set Nickle back onto the ground carefully before inching away slightly, Nickle doing something relatively similar.

/Now then,/ her servos were shaking with frustration at this point, /There ARE things that need to be done around here and standing about attempting to fit our processors up our exhaust-ports isn't going to help anything/

The room remained silent for several minutes as everyone shuffled slightly, watching their leader's hands giving them instructions throughout.

 

“None the less, it is still good to see you back and functioning,” Vanquish said flatly, repairing Nightbird's wrist.

How their leader could have continued 'talking' with this level of damages that the internals had suffered. She was likely going to need to rebuild the entire thing before it could fully function fully once again.

“She's being completely serious you know,” Missfire chirped in, fluttering her wings slightly as she carried over the tray of instruments for Vanquish's use, “We've been wondering what we were going to do with ourselves out this far from Cybertron without most anyone that could properly maintain and operate the ship and manage to fly the thing about... Mrpf!”

Vanquish had reached over with one servo to press Missfire's mouth closed, not missing an adjustment in the process. Even Nightbird was amused with the sight before her, something about all of this was warming overall.

The doors swished open, shuttering slightly about half-way through. There were several groans throughout the medical bay when Thunderblast came into view.

“So good to see that you're taking care of yourself. More need to follow your example when looking after themselves.”

The rest of the room could already tell that their leader was getting irritated with Thunderblast's presence there. Even Vanquish seemed to be waiting for something to happen, knowing full well their leader's temperament regarding these types of situations.

Thunderblast jumped slightly when the lazer-burn appeared before her peds on the floor. Looking at her leader, she opened then closed her mouth several times while looking at the blaster pointed at her face.

“Boss?” Thunderblast was confused at this sight, “What's going on?”

“I think it would be wise of you to keep quiet after this,” Vanquish said, glancing over from her current task.

“But... But...” Thunderblast started right before hearing the sound of the blaster powering up again.

Thunderblast backed away slowly before turning and bolting from the medical bay. Vanquish suppressed a small sob as she continued working at Nightbird's arm.

“You're right,” Misfire laughed, “That was funny!”

Vanquish continued working, amused throughout.

 

Airrachnid had already made herself comfortable back in her quarters with Ida in her lap. Everything was right as far as she was concerned, granted that she wouldn't have argued with having someone there to 'interrogate' while she was at things, Ida would probably like something fresh to eat sometime soon.

Glancing down, she found the spider nesting comfortably in her lap, making her contented trilling/hissing noise while being pet. Yes, life was good right then. Might as well enjoy the break they had before things started up again.