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Shuttle

In the meantime, Patchwork had just been rolling along and 'doing his thing' semi-oblivious to what the others had been doing. Wasn't quite exactly his fault, to some extent he was somewhat of an outsider to that crew. A passenger or ally of convenience of sorts. Especially when an aging dock work-worker-turned-medic like him was put next to a bot of the caliber of Thunderclash. Fortunately, Patchwork was an aging bot and he was long past having constant feelings of gnawing inadequacies for the most part.

Speaking of parts, while the others had been doing their thing, the trench medic had started taking apart whatever he could get his hands on in the shuttle, either to asses damage or see if there were any components of broken pieces which could be refurbished for some unorthodox secondary use, resulting in several piles of (seemingly) junk throw around the inside of the shuttle as he 'organized' things according to his own bizarre method all the while going around and administering first aid to whoever needed it.

Approaching Thunderclash, the old repair bot finally spoke up: "Well, what can I say? Beyond that I've got an equal amount of good and bad news on what can and can't be gutted and reused on this shuttle. That wasn't exactly a smooth landing after all!I did as ye asked, sir: pretty much did everything I could and saved you for last. Part of me wants to say how noble that is but there's a nagging itch at the back of my cranial unit that tells me I should have started with you first. No offense meant, of course. Nor do I want to question your judgment."

Hoven – Open Tundra

All done tending to claws for now, Chromia stepped out into the cold, taking one last look at those who had elected to stay behind. “Be safe and give us a shout over the comms if the Cons show up,” Chromia called back. She closed the doors to stop the cold from getting in any more than it already had. Transforming into a sleek blue racer, Chromia raced off into the snow after Elita and the rest, catching up with relative ease.

“Hopefully, we’ll have some luck. I think we’re due for a little bit,” she commented to Elita as they raced off in the direction of the signal.


Shuttle

"Sir, can we help you I'm any way?"

Thunderclash only issued something between a grunt and groan. Lifting his hand to his head, he glanced around the room, trying to orient himself. There were a lot fewer bodies than before. He frowned, trying to clear the fog from his mind when Patchwork stepped up to him. He turned his blue optics on his doctor.

"Well, what can I say? Beyond that I've got an equal amount of good and bad news on what can and can't be gutted and reused on this shuttle. That wasn't exactly a smooth landing after all!I did as ye asked, sir: pretty much did everything I could and saved you for last. Part of me wants to say how noble that is but there's a nagging itch at the back of my cranial unit that tells me I should have started with you first. No offense meant, of course. Nor do I want to question your judgment."

“Hah,” Thunderclash chuckled, “You might be right, but I prefer my crew be tended to first. I won’t lose any more.” He looked at Patchwork who seemed relatively well off all things considering. He smiled. “It’s good that you’ve managed to escape the worst of it, doctor.” He gestured, wincing a little as pain jolted through his body. “Please, do your work.”

Thunderclash sat back to allow Patchwork to do his thing, glancing past him to Boss who sat on the other side of the room. “Boss, what’s the situation?”

Shuttle

"I wouldn't put myself as completely undamaged. Just about got every extremely banged up, chipped and a little bent. But then again at this point what part of me hasn't been roughed up?" Points out Patchwork, while somewhat omitting the part that he'd often sacrifice chunks of himself to repair another. No need to bring that up just yet or to explain his scarred metal hide. At best, saying it was just hastily repaired battle damage was a less stressful explanation. Some bots had called him 'ghoulish' after all and in a way, Patchwork truly was some disturbing battlefield ghoul scavenging for parts. It was a good thing no unscrupulous commander had never forced him to get Decepticons to...cooperate...or else what he could with power tools would most likely be counted as some sort of war crime on several worlds.

"If you ask me, I could spend a while in some nice cozy place with some oil and a toolkit and maybe some polish to get my carcass to look more presentable but I can't be picky. Now sir, since you no doubt know more about this than I do mind telling me from the get go where the worst of the internal damage is?" Thunderclash was, after all, a far better medic than Patchwork. And an actual one, too. "That said, if it ain't too much to ask I'd rather simply have your instructions but please do not move when I start cutting. I have twitchy servos! Very twitchy! And I would not want to cut something by accident!"

As Patchwork ask this and explain his twitchy servos problem, his right hand, his 'tool hand' transforms and unfurl into cutting tools. Good thing he's going to be operating on fearless 'bot...

Shuttle

"If you ask me, I could spend a while in some nice cozy place with some oil and a toolkit and maybe some polish to get my carcass to look more presentable but I can't be picky.”

“I’ll see if something can be arranged when we reunite with the rest of the Autobots,” Thunderclash replied with a smile. He made a mental note for later. He gestured to the holes in his limbs where Stalker had drilled. Knees. Shoulders. The wounds that Skyquake had given him were fairly grievous, but they didn’t hinder his movement as badly as these did.

"That said, if it ain't too much to ask I'd rather simply have your instructions but please do not move when I start cutting. I have twitchy servos! Very twitchy! And I would not want to cut something by accident!"

“Of course, though I trust your skill,” he said. “You’ll probably need to reattach some of the servos. I can’t move very well.” He started with the instruction, diagnosing himself based on the sort of movement that he’d been able to manage since their escape. “The left leg is worse than the right, so start there if you would.”

Shuttle

"I see it. Can't say I can quite figure out what every dent, every scratch or every metal burn inside and outside your body is from, sir, but...hrm....well I suppose I can try to attempt a little something." Using his power tool hand, Patchwork proceed to pry open the heavy-duty frame of Thunderclash. Not exactly the easiest feat by any mean. The, one by one, every damaged, burnt, twisted or fried mechanical body part is rapidly and mercilessly cut off and thrown away with seemingly little care until only the barest functional components are left behind to be patched back together by rerouting energon flow and power. Crude? Yes. Unpleasant? Absolutely? Disgusting and likely to ruin the harmony and shape of any bot? Definitely!

"Question is: do you want it pretty or do you want to be up and around again?" Before Thunderclash gets any chance to answer, Patchwork raise his hand and dares to cut off Thunderclash! "Know what? Don't answer. Sir." Patchwork doesn't hesitate for one moment as he sit down and turns his power tools on himself, cutting open his own lower servos to extract key components rather than attempt to scrounge pieces to replace the damaged pieces of Thunderclash.

"Well, I wasn't planning on going anywhere outside the ship. Now, mind you: I'd have given you the whole leg if I could but we aren't quite the same body type, let alone in the size and mass categories and, you know, this is always something to be mindful of! Hrm. Suppose I'll have to apologize for the poor quality leg parts but those are the only fully working parts I can get my grubby, oily servos on!"

Hoven – Open Tundra

Road Rage watched as many of the others transformed into their vehicle modes and raced off in the direction of the signal. Only Moonracer remained in robot mode, unable to get any kind of traction with her alt mode’s tires. The one called Windblade was brave enough to assume her aerial form and take off into the skies above. How long she’d be able to remain up there was yet to be determined.

The crimson femme considered transforming into her ground-based car mode, but quickly put the thought out of her processor. Road Rage’s glitch that she suffered from in car mode would turn her normal jovial personality into that of a raging lunatic that would likely get her or someone else injured or even killed in this treacherous environment. No, it was safer to remain in either robot or flight mode where that glitch would not rear it’s ugly head.

Catching up to Moonracer on foot, Road Rage put one arm around the shivering teal femme. “You’re Moonracer, right? I’m Road Rage. Don’t worry, I’ll hang back here with you. We’ll catch up to the others soon enough. We might have to run, though. Heh.”

Hoven- Tundra

The purple and orange armored car had driven up to Elita at the front of the pack. However, she couldn't help but notice the condition of their friends who were accompanying them on their frigid adventure, particularly her old friend Moonracer and the crimson hued Road Rage. For whatever reason, perhaps injury or a dysfunction t-cog, the two femmes had not transformed into their vehicular modes.

"'Lita, I'll bring up the rear.", she told Elita-1 before spinning about in a u-turn and headed back to those struggling along. Once to Moonracer and Road Rage, Lancer transformed back into her robot mode and expressed her concerns about her friends.

"Hi girls. Everything okay?", she asked. There was no limping, so that was a relief. Looking over Moonracer, she could at least address one obvious issue. All of Moonracer's weapons must had been confiscated by the Cons during their stay in captivity, and they hadn't had the time to recover them. Luckily, Lancer had turned in a rifle she had snagged off of some slaghead's back, while keeping her own weapons concealed under her armor. The idiot Con hadn't even noticed what she had done. It all worked out for Lancer though.

The chivalrous femme smiled at Moonracer and said, "It's dangerous to go alone. Take this!", and she opened a compartment in her armor and pulled out her pike. She then handed the polearm tipped in a blade on end to Moony.

"Now you can crack open some slag. Also, it's good for stabbing and it can charge and discharge a plasma blast. Have at it! Don't worry about me. I still have my lance launcher."

She hoped Moony would accept her weapon, at least for now. It would do in any case until they could eventually leave this ice ball...maybe. Afterwards, they could work on getting Moony some weapons she felt more familiar with handling.

"I'll stay back here with you two. 'Lita's got the lead and the rest have the middle! Besides, bringing up the rear with a defensive unit is always a smart ploy.", she said, smiling at both Moony and Road Rage. She would then transform back into her armored car form, and that's when she thought of something slightly unorthodox, but definately useful.

"One of ya'll can ride on me if you want." It would help them cover ground a bit faster. Now things were starting to feel like a Mad Max movie, only in an arctic wasteland instead of a hot desert one.

-->

<--

Shuttle

Back at the shuttle, Rotorstorm had previously offlined his optics, which in his exhaustion over the previous and current ordeals, found himself powering down and taking a nap. However, it wasn't a very peaceful sleep. He dreamt about the horrors of the battle that had most haunted him, the Simanze Masacre. One horrible event happened after another. The Autobots, many friends of Rotorstorm, perished easily to the Decepticon forces. It was one of the most grueling and horrific battles in the history of the great war, and it continued to haunt the copter-former to this day.

The dream shifted from the events that had happened, and turned to something less familiar. Yet Rotor, already convinced his dream was reality, panicked as the terror continued. He had become a prisoner, and was dumped and sealed into a giant container of acid. The pain was excruciating! He banged against the lid of the death trap and also the walls, but no one would come to rescue him. The cons, whoever they were, stood outside the vessel of acid, taking notes on their data pads. The sick bastards. Rotorstorm yelled aloud through the gurgling, burning torment. His body was melting away....soon he would be nothing but a memory to those who had believed in him....

"ARRRAAAGHHH!!!", Rotorstorm screamed as if burning. He was back online and his optic visor shining bright and neon blue. He frantically looked about. Taking in his surroundings but not having his mind in true reality, he believed this to be a Decepticon ship and that his evil captors had let him emerse from the acid tank.

He looked to his side in horror! Their Turbomaster Commander and his close friend, Thunderclash, was nearly stripped bear down to his basic components. He saw the fiend working on him with his drill, and believed that Patchwork was a vile villian. He wouldn't let this Con destroy his friend!

"STOP!!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!", He roared, and jumped at Patchwork, taking his rotary blade and brandishing it like a sword. He aimed to club Patchwork on the head first with the flat side of his weapon to stun him before he would go for the deathblow.

Boss was thinking to himself for a bit before Thunderclash addressed him, which helped Boss escape his own mind for a bit.

“Boss, what’s the situation?”

He lifted his optics towards Thunderclash and paused for a moment, and then proceeded to say, "The others found some sort of signal out there. Some of us decided to go out while some of us decided to stay here with the injured."

After a while of Boss offlining his optics a little while thinking, he heard a sound of some sort of struggle. He turned his optics back on, and saw Rotorstorm tossing and turning. Great. He was having one of those visions again. Boss kept his sights on Rotorstorm in case he needed to help.

And then, out of nowhere, Rotorstorm got up and started to attack Patchwork. Boss jumped up to intervene, and put himself in front of Rotorstorm and grabbed his arms before he could strike at Patchwork.

"'Rotors! Stop. It's me, Boss, your bud. You're with friends."

Rotorstorm was obviously mentally hazed, so he wasn't exactly difficult to get ahold of.. physically at least.

“You’re Moonracer, right? I’m Road Rage. Don’t worry, I’ll hang back here with you. We’ll catch up to the others soon enough. We might have to run, though. Heh.”

Moonracer gave Road Rage a bit of a smile, and then said, "I don't.. really mind walking. As long as our circuits don't freeze."

Just then though, Lancer spun back around and met with the two.

"Hi girls. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, my wheels just don't have any traction on this surface is all. Thanks, Lancey," said Moonracer in response.

"It's dangerous to go alone. Take this! Now you can crack open some slag. Also, it's good for stabbing and it can charge and discharge a plasma blast. Have at it! Don't worry about me. I still have my lance launcher."

Moonracer looked over the spike weapon and figured it was better than nothing. As long as it had some sort of long range use.

"Thanks, Lancy! I'll be sure to put this to use."

"One of ya'll can ride on me if you want."

Moonracer smiled in a silly way when she heard what Lancer said. She was acquainted with other worldly idioms and innuendos, and she knew if any humans were present they'd be throwing smirks themselves. But she decided to not say anything about it.

"Uh.. Do you want to, Road Rage?"

Shuttle

"Easy, bots." Patchwork grumbled as he started putting back the parts of Thunderclash together: sure, that would leave scars until a better repair-bot (or at least one with a better installed sense of esthetic) came and put things back less crudely but it would have to do. "Crazy people hrm hrpf...." Mumble mumble. Groan groan. Complain complain.

Skies Above

Windblade soared, spun and darted about the frozen sky in dazzling loops and corkscrews, caring little for the ice that seemed to grow upon her nosecone and the frost that began to encroach upon her cockpit's glass. None of it mattered. She was free! Totally free! Her wings wagged in the wind and her fans squealed as they sucked in the frigid air, filling her with a sense of vitality that she hadn't felt in so long. They had been stuck inside of a spaceship, of course, and there was little room for a jet to fly indoors.

She flew, and as the snowflakes rapped upon her body, she began to feel a sense of familiarity to them. Not to the flakes specifically, but to the sensation of flying in weather. Like a sense of deja vu, a memory hidden behind the thick veil of time. Yes... She could remember something about flying. Cool water dumping around her as she soared through pillars of iron rising from a blackened cityscape.

Yes, she could remember it clearly! She was flying in a storm. A thunderstorm! She could hear the rain tapping against her cockpit and she could feel it rolling down her body, a flash of light screaming overhead as a bolt of lightning tore open the sky... A thunderous voice booming in her head. She could still hear the alarms in her head warning of the danger.

Wait a minute, that last part wasn't a memory!

Ice had been forming in her fans, and they had been clogging the ducted fans like a thick sludge. Alarms and red lights flashed as she realized what had been happening.

"Oh scrap!" she muttered as she throttled back her engines, diving back toward her allies.

She transformed midair, the wings on her back and the fans held within giving a final jet of air to cushion her landing. If she wasn't so confused at the memory she had just witnessed, she would have been embarrassed. But as she stood, she looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Open Tundra

”Hi girls. Everything okay?” Lancer asked.

Road Rage looked over at the purple and orange femme and cast her a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. I had to walk since my flight mode wouldn’t last long in this weather and my car mode, well, there’s this little glitch I have where my personality changes drastically in that mode and not for the better. It’s definitely safer for me to walk. heh.”

The one called Lancer then gave Moonracer one of her weapons she had hidden in her armor since all of Moony’s weapons had been previously confiscated. Speaking of confiscated guns, Road Rage, herself, was without her trusted plasma discharger. However, her twin magna-bomb launchers were still attached to her chassis as they were a permanent part of her frame. They had previously been disabled by the inhibitor claw, but now that was gone and they were ready for some action.

“That was very nice of you, Lancer,” the crimson femme said. “By the way, my name’s Road Rage. Pleased to meet you.”

"I'll stay back here with you two. 'Lita's got the lead and the rest have the middle! Besides, bringing up the rear with a defensive unit is always a smart ploy," Lancer said before transforming into her armored car alt mode and offering to let either Road Rage or Moonracer ride on her. The former bodyguard smiled again, continuing to be impressed by the kindness of this new acquaintance she had just met.

“Uh.. Do you want to, Road Rage?” Moonracer asked.

Road Rage considered it for a moment. “Well, my knee joint does still hurt some. I guess I could if you don’t mind, Moony.”

The crimson femme then noticed the one called Windblade tumble out of the sky and land in her robot form a short distance away. “Whoa! You okay over there!? Are you hurt!?”

Open Tundra

As Elita drove forward, the bitter cold didn't bite quite so hard in this more compacted alternate mode and utilizing her heat generators. She was using them sparingly though. It wouldn't do her or her team any good if they suddenly froze up on this, of all possible worlds.

All around her, the landscape stretched endlessly into a desert of frozen nothingness. How could another Cybertronian signal on this planet be a matter of sheer coincidence? It just couldn't.

“Hopefully, we’ll have some luck. I think we’re due for a little bit,” Chromia said as her teammate caught up to her easily. Elita expected no less.

"More than due," Elita-1 agreed as her exploratory team pushed forward, both on wheels and on foot, heading for the curious signal that Chromia had picked up. She was glad that this was a group of Autobots who didn't need to be micromanaged. They saw a need and filled it accordingly, with some leading the way and some hanging back to take care of the others and maintain a functional outpost on this, thus far, meteorologically hostile world. Current case in point? Lancer.

"'Lita, I'll bring up the rear," the other 'Bot said before pulling a reversal manuever and heading in the opposite direction.

"Copy that," Elita said, before continuing her thoughts with Chromia. Sometimes thinking out loud produced better results when a situation seemed fragged. "I just can't imagine what other Cybertronians could be out here. No wait. That's not true. I'm pouring through intel reports--fascinating reading, by the way--and there's not a fraggin' thing about 'Hoven'. So that tells me whatever this Cybertronian signal is, it's gotta be 'Cons or NAILs. Either of which won't be happy to see us."

Shuttle

Thunderclash’s optics widened abruptly as Patchwork turned his tools on himself. Jerking forward, he reached out to stop him. Before he could, however, Patchwork chattered cheerily on. Thunderclash frowned disapprovingly, disappointed in himself for being too slow to stop him. It was horrifying in more ways than one. He opened his mouth to reprimand Patchwork when Rotorstorm started screaming.

Boss leaped in to intervene, holding Rotorstorm back, trying to talk sense into him. Curse that Skyquake. If only he weren’t so injured! A mangled hand shot out and grabbed onto Rotorstorm’s arm with all his remaining strength.

“Rotorstorm! I’m fine! Stand down, soldier!”


Open Tundra

"I just can't imagine what other Cybertronians could be out here. No wait. That's not true. I'm pouring through intel reports--fascinating reading, by the way--and there's not a fraggin' thing about 'Hoven'. So that tells me whatever this Cybertronian signal is, it's gotta be 'Cons or NAILs. Either of which won't be happy to see us."

“Urgh…let’s bank on NAILs,” Chromia grumbled, glancing back at those making up the rear. It looked like they were having a bad time in this weather. At least Chromia’s alternate mode was compact and generated enough heat to stave off the worst effects of the cold. Someone like the fliers though…they’d have a rougher go of things. “Well, at least if it’s Cons, they won’t like the weather. Tch, but not one thing about Hoven? You’d figure there might be something…”

As they rode over a ridge, Chromia spotted a weird formation sticking up out of the ice. Something about it didn’t look quite right. It was iced over but there was something darker on the inside. Skidding to a stop, she scanned the region with her sensors. That weird formation was exactly where the Cybertronian coordinates were.

“’Lita,” Chromia called out, keeping her voice low, “Think that’s it? Judging from the ice…whatever it is has been here longer than we have…”

Shuttle

Rotorstorm was hellbent on killing "the Decepticon" who was tearing apart Thunderclash. Atleast that's what he thought was going on. Right now in his daze, he didn't see things as they were. He didn't see their ally and medic Patchwork. He saw a monster splattered in energon with claws for hands, and he didn't see his Leader and good friend being worked on to get fixed up, he saw a mangled form on the brink of death.

Someone's voice called out to him to stop, and a strong hand swiftly grabbed him by the arm he was weilding his weapon with. He clenched his teeth and pulled forward, but he was under the impression this one who had stopped him was a friend.

"B...Boss...is that you?", Rotor asked. A painful surge pulsed through his mental processors. His grip on his weapon weakened. His vision became unclear as his optics flickered.

Then, came the unmistakable voice of Thunderclash, telling him to stand down, that he was fine. A second hand held onto Rotorstorm's arm...a frail one. Rotorstorm felt a surge of guilt and relief all at once and he started to come around as his mind and vision adjusted to his actual surroundings. He looked forward at Boss and smiled, and looked back at Thunderclash, and said,

"I'm sorry 'bout that....happens every now and then." It was terrible but true. Honestly though, he shook it off best he could, and moved on. Turning back to Patchwork, and realizing, though he looked strange, he clearly wore the Autobot badge with pride. He had medical equipment, not weapons.

"Sorry....Patchwork was it? I'm Rotorstorm. Please take care of Thunderclash!", he said, trying to be cheery. He looked about the shuttle more then, noticing mostly everyone else had gone, and wondered how the girls were doing. If they got in trouble, he was sure they would call them. However, here, the most pressing issue was getting everyone fixed up and running properly....or at least as good as could be done.

Tundra

Lancer was happy when Moonracer took her offer to borrow her weapon. She smiled inwardly, as smiling in car form was sort of difficult, but in response to Moony's thanks, she revved her engine like a happy little purring sound. However, when it came to her question as to who wanted to have a ride, Moonracer seemed sheepish and quickly asked Road Rage if she would like to ride on Lancer instead.

Road Rage replied, saying that her knee was injured and so she'd ride with Lancer if Moony wouldn't. Since she was hurt and Moonracer just seemed to have a traction issue, Lancer decided for them, saying,

"I'll take you then Road Rage. An injury is something you shouldn't be walking on. Moonracer, I'll drive slowly so you can keep up. We gotta make sure we keep the rear of our party safe, so keep your optics peeled." She sounded commanding in a way, but she was just being thoughtful, for the wellbeing of everyone on this little escapade.

In the distance, the newcomer, Windblade crashed into the snow. Road Rage had already asked if she was alright. If she wasn't, well, she was welcome to join them by foot. No harm in traveling on the ground. Besides this was a blizzard, how could one fly in that? Lancer couldn't imagine.

As they continued on, Lancer heard Elita and Chromia mention the Cybertronian signal was likely from the Cons or the NAILs. Well...that was refreshing. Either way, Lancer was ready to deal with them. Hopefully there would be no hostilities. Maybe the ones who had come here first were unable to do much. If they were really low on energon and other supplies, Lita's crew may have the upperhand. Well, they would find out soon enough who or what they were dealing with. Whatever the case, they needed to get off this Iceball.

[Tundra]

Flash wrote:“Cmon Hurricane! Try and keep up!”

Hurricane travelled alongside Flash. His jovial turbomaster comrade was certainly the kind you’d need in these kinds of situations. Always there to keep up the mood, even if the planet was about to freeze half of them to death should they take one false step. The defense specialist returned Road Rage a smile after she had done the same to him.

With the team arriving at their destination, the white turbomaster couldn’t help but marvel at what he saw. Chromia was pointing out the… thing that had a strange appearance. Sure enough, it was where the coordinates pointed to. Hurricane took a step closer, observing how frozen it was.

“It seems as if we’ve stumbled upon our signal… But the real question is, what exactly does this hold?” Hurricane’s visor gleamed briefly in the coldness. He had his gun in hand, just as a precaution.

Open Tundra

“Urgh…let’s bank on NAILs. Well, at least if it’s Cons, they won’t like the weather. Tch, but not one thing about Hoven? You’d figure there might be something…”

"Let's hope," Elita-1 agreed. At least with non-aligned Cybertronians, they stood a slightly better chance of being able to use diplomacy over force. NAILs could be notoriously hostile to mechs they believed were the cause of their having to leave Cybertron in the first place. But why weren't these with the rest of their ilk, wherever they were? It just didn't add up.

“’Lita, Think that’s it? Judging from the ice…whatever it is has been here longer than we have…” Chromia said, skidding to a stop. Elita applied her brakes as well, and though her wheels tried to catch the frozen surface, they were only marginally successful. The Autobot Special Operative skidded several meters further before she too came to a full stop.

Just as Chromia had indicated, there was some kind of foreign structure just ahead. Elita transformed in a crouching position and slowly rose to her feet.

"I reckon you're right," Elita said, trying to catch sight of any signs of life or activity. None so far. "Proceed with caution."

Shuttle

Relaxing a little when Rotorstorm calmed down, Thunderclash sat back and watched him with concern. He still seemed restless. Thunderclash cleared his vocalizer and gestured at him. “Rotorstorm, why don’t you use the shuttle’s scanners to keep track of their progress? It’s best to keep in touch. If they need back up…”

He let his statement hang in the air. He didn’t care if he would die. If they needed support, Thunderclash would charge into the fray. “Boss, if you’re feeling restless, help him.” He turned his optics to Patchwork next, a frown on his face.


Tundra

“It seems as if we’ve stumbled upon our signal… But the real question is, what exactly does this hold?”

“Not sure, but anything is better than freezing our servos off stuck on this ice ball,” Chromia grumbled. She looked to the structure encased in the ice. Whatever it was, it was huge. Moving forward cautiously as Elita commanded, Chromia slid down the slope, her gun out. She kept her optics fixed forward, searching for any signs of movement.

Approaching the structure carefully, Chromia could sort of make out what was under the ice. Metal. Lots of it. In fact, it looked a bit like...

“A ship?” she said, looking back at Elita. This was either a lucky break or…something. If anything, they could try to salvage parts if the current residents were elsewhere. The ship was huge, its nose deep in the ice. “Looks like it crashed…think there’s anyone left?”

Tundra

“Not sure, but anything is better than freezing our servos off stuck on this ice ball,” Chromia joked.

"Hah. Truth," Elita-1 agreed.

As Chromia went down the slope, Elita was just behind, landing deftly in a crouched position. Definitely a little more grace, even in icy conditions, in this form.

“A ship? Looks like it crashed…think there’s anyone left?” Chromia asked as Elita got back to her feet. She looked at the ship and....froze in place, her vocalizer opening wide. She was almost speechless.

"Yeah...a ship. The ship. Chromia....if I'm not having a brain module overload, this is the Ark. The original."

It had to be. Every Cybertronian had seen images of this ship in their younger days. Holovids of Nova Prime and his crew setting off for the stars. It was the most famous ship in Cybertronian history. Elita was almost frozen, literally and figuratively, in both shock and awe of what she was looking at.

Open Tundra

Lancer wrote:"I'll take you then Road Rage. An injury is something you shouldn't be walking on. Moonracer, I'll drive slowly so you can keep up. We gotta make sure we keep the rear of our party safe, so keep your optics peeled."

Road Rage turned back to look at Lancer and gave her a nod. “I appreciate that. Patchwork was able to fix my knee joint pretty well with whatever spare parts he had available, but it still aches a bit. Better than before though, so I’m not complaining really. Heh.” The crimson femme then climbed on top of the orange and purple armored car and held on tight. “Okay, Lancer, I’m ready.”

In the distance, the one called Windblade seemed to be all right after her fall from the sky. She hadn’t yet responded to Road Rage’s prior concerns for her wellbeing, but the red and black femme might just be shaken up some and was still getting her bearings. If Windblade needed any help, she knew where to find it as they were all here to help each other out.

As Lancer drove forward through the snow and ice, Road Rage kept a firm grip on her roof. Every so often, the former bodyguard would turn to look over at Moonracer who was still making the trip on foot. “You okay over there, Moony?” Rage asked with a smile. “Just checking.”

It was then that the shape of the structure up ahead came into view through the windswept snow. This was the apparent source of the signal. As they drew closer, it became clear that it was not a building, but a ship of some kind. “Looks Cybertronian,” Road Rage commented as they followed Elita-1 and Chromia down the slope towards the vessel. The crimson femme then overheard Elita’s comment regarding which ship it was. “The Ark!? Are you serious?!” Excitedly, Road Rage hopped off of Lancer before her ride had even come to a stop and made her way to Elita-1's side. “By Primus, I think you’re right, Elita! This IS the original Ark! Wow!”

Shuttle
At this point, Patchwork wasn't really in any mood to chat anymore. That chop job of repairing Thunderclash had come at a personal, physical cost not to mention he had been a few nano-cycles away from getting torn apart but a slightly unhinged Rotorstorm.

Chibi Starscream wrote:"Sorry....Patchwork was it? I'm Rotorstorm. Please take care of Thunderclash!", he said, trying to be cheery. He looked about the shuttle more then, noticing mostly everyone else had gone, and wondered how the girls were doing. If they got in trouble, he was sure they would call them. However, here, the most pressing issue was getting everyone fixed up and running properly....or at least as good as could be done.

"S'fine. Move along." Is all he could mutter as he finished welding together his own stump of a leg. A complete graft of limb would have been out of question given the size and mass difference between him and Thunderclash: however that didn't mean he couldn't take apart his own servo and extract all the key components which, while old, were still more functional than the beaten up parts of the great Autobot. Inferior components? Yes. Outdated too? Absolutely. But at the very least they were in a better shape.

"You may move, sir. I can't promise it will be pleasant and you'll definitely be experiencing all manners of issues but, hey! Hehe, well, it worked. Don't get me wrong, your leg is absolutely hideous and I am not artist but you should walk much better." The old bot said, trying and somewhat failing to be jovial while pointing to the mangled, rebuilt leg of Thunderclash.

With that done, Patchwork hopped away to a corner of the shuttle.

“Boss, if you’re feeling restless, help him.

Boss turned his head to glance over at Rotorstorm, and then back at Thunderclash.

"Are you sure you don't want a reasonably functional 'Bot back here with you two?"

The Turbomaster second-in-command then let out a sigh after a few nanokliks, and then stood up silently walking after Rotorstorm.


In the cockpit, Boss looked over the signals again along with Rotorstorm. "Primus, I hope they will be okay in that cold," said Boss to himself. Boss started to feel more guilt because of him not going along with them, even if he wasn't physically suited for it quite. Boss let out another sigh of frustration as he again rubbed his previously injured cranial unit.

"Sometimes.." started Boss in a quiet tone to Rotorstorm, "I wonder if I even am the most qualified for this role. Is constant self-condemnation truly learning from my mistakes?" Boss didn't know exactly why he opened up to Rotorstorm specifically. He needed to talk to Thunderclash when he got the chance, but now was not the time. However, Rotorstorm was like a brother to him, and Boss trusted him.

“You okay over there, Moony?” Road Rage asked with a smile. “Just checking.”

"Y..yeah," Moonracer replied shivering, "I'll.. live."

Moonracer was a fairly thin Autobot, and the cold was starting to really get to her fast, unlike with some of the others. Moonracer never had been very good with harsh temperatures. But she determined to press on, even if her servos froze cold in the process.

The mention of the original Ark a little further up as she dragged behind caught Moonracer's attention. No.. It can't be. Seriously? Moonracer was always taught before that fate was only a word for chance, but this took the word "fate" to a more meaningful level.

"No.. Im..possible.." Moonracer started to feel weak from the cold getting into her limbs. She shouldn't have gone out. She scraped her arms and chassis trying to heat herself up some to no avail.

Hoven- Shuttle

“Rotorstorm, why don’t you use the shuttle’s scanners to keep track of their progress? It’s best to keep in touch. If they need back up…”

Rotorstorm was really concerned about Thunderclash. He looked horrible, but it could always be a lot worse he supposed. At least he was functioning. Looking at Patchwork, he felt bad for him too but had admiration for the guy. He gave up a whole limb to help the Chief.

“Sure thing! I’d be glad to.”, he said cheerfully, though he was hiding his deep feeling of uneasiness. Thunderclash also asked Boss to go with him. Guess the big guy wanted some alone time to reflect on the matters at hand. That was respectable and understandable.

"S'fine. Move along."

, came a sullen sounding response from Patchwork in response to Rotor’s apology. The neon helicopter-former nodded and gave the medic a salute before sauntering off to the shuttle’s cockpit with Boss.

For a Decepticon shuttle, it was all very familiar components here...he guessed Cybertronian designs, when it came down to it, no matter the faction, were all similar. That got him thinking about ol’ Optimus Prime’s vision of unity and peace.

’Till All Are One…..’, he thought to himself. However, how long would it take to see his vision become a reality? They'd been fighting for many many breems across so many systems in the universe. More planets fell than were saved, and many “acceptable losses” had occured. Whole civilizations of other sentient, intelligent beings...wiped out….all for a planet’s energon. How long would it go on? When would Megatron be stopped? He sat there, gazing blankly at the monitor in front of him, until a friendly voice spoke out to him with other concerns….

"Primus, I hope they will be okay in that cold," said Boss to himself. Boss started to feel more guilt because of him not going along with them, even if he wasn't physically suited for it quite. Boss let out another sigh of frustration as he again rubbed his previously injured cranial unit.

"Sometimes.." started Boss in a quiet tone to Rotorstorm, "I wonder if I even am the most qualified for this role. Is constant self-condemnation truly learning from my mistakes?" Boss didn't know exactly why he opened up to Rotorstorm specifically. He needed to talk to Thunderclash when he got the chance, but now was not the time. However, Rotorstorm was like a brother to him, and Boss trusted him.

“Hmmm….I’m sure they’re fine, and if anything happens….I’ll go rescue them! You can count on me!”, Rotorstorm replied about Elita and her exploration crew. Utilizing the ship’s scanner system, he pinpointed and was now tracking the group’s progress. They steadily approached the object of their mission...a huge cybertronian structure. It looked to be the shape of a ship. A familiar ship……!!!!

Rotorstorm’s spark pulsed like crazy in it’s chamber as he realized what the shape of the vessel looked like, and he unintentionally disregarded Boss’s personal issue, saying loudly,

“BY PRIMUS! Is that….IS THAT THE ARK-1?!” That would likely pull Boss away from his train of thought.

Rotorstorm then went ahead and communicated with Elita-1 to hopefully confirm his suspicion,

>>”Elita-1, come in Elita-1, this is Rotorstorm, do you read me? What in Primus’ name did you find out there?!”<<

Hoven- The Frozen Tundra

The orange and purple armored knight was happy that Road Rage took up her offer. Once she was securely on her hood and she said she was ready, Lancer trudged forth through the frozen wasteland, making sure not to leave Moonracer behind. Everyone in the group was precious after all, and they were a team. An Autobot never left a comrade behind, and a knight of the old code kept honor. The safety of the others was more important than her own safety.

Continuing on on silence and keeping her senses and radar alert, they came up a ridge and everyone in front had applied their breaks. Lancer put on her breaks too and listened as the others spoke of their findings. After the initial observation, Elita ordered the rest to proceed with caution.

“Careful girls. Have your weapons ready just in case.”, said Lancer. For now she was happy to keep helping as a transport, but if need be she would transform back to robot mode as well, as Elita and Chromia had. Chromia went ahead, sliding down the slope, closer the the vessel, which seemed to be a large frozen over ship. It was both a blessing and a foreboding omen….

Lancer drove slowly forward and carefully down the slope. As she neared the vessel with Road Rage on top of her and Moonracer in tow, she couldn't believe either what she saw or what the others were saying.

"Yeah...a ship. The ship. Chromia....if I'm not having a brain module overload, this is the Ark. The original."

It was like out of a fairytail. The original Ark?! No one knew what had happened to it or where it had went, and here it was on a backwater frozen iceball?! What were the chances?!

“The Ark!? Are you serious?!” Excitedly, Road Rage hopped off of Lancer before her ride had even come to a stop and made her way to Elita-1's side. “By Primus, I think you’re right, Elita! This IS the original Ark! Wow!”

With Road Rage having hopped off of her chassis, Lancer transformed to her robot mode as well and walked as calmly as she could manage up to Elita, Chromia, and Road Rage, glancing back at Moony and gesturing for her to come on, she then asked the rest of the team,

“Am I hearing correctly or do I need to run my diagnostics? WE found THE Ark?”

As she waited stood there, she noticed Moony was shivering quite badly, and she motioned her friend to come towards her, and hugged her close if she would oblige.

“You're gonna be alright Moony….just look…..we’ve just made the discovery of a lifetime!”