Epi .5 - Montana - The Midnight Train - Closed

Night had come early to the western states as a cloudless sky darkened from its welcoming pale blue to deeper and deeper shades of purple. The small towns and cities were inconsequential but well lit as they passed by, mere blurs to be wondered at and considered, their denizens confused and mystified as the dark form passed from memory, to reality, and back to memory once more. A few older folks smiled, recognizing the form as it passed, little children gazing upward in amazement as it thundered past. The eastern sky had held an amazing display of colors as the localities, changed from the vast expanses of the great plains into rolling hills, finally into the towering peaks that hid the setting star and dyed the sky orange for a time, enhanced by the long shadows and deepening twilight that faded away into the growing dark of night. A single light pinged awake on the faceplate, lighting the tracks and the coming night like a great saber as forest and town, hill and tunnel flashed by. The thundering noise heralded his approach, the wail of his whistle warned the unwary away, steam and smoke the only reminder of his passing...

Gasket was in paradise.

No heavy load burdened him, nothing limited his speed but safety, the Northern American rail lines were so rarely used any more that traffic was almost non existent on the longer runs; the line was all his. His mission was simple, a mere recon mission dragging a single rail-car behind his massive form which carried an impressive suite of Ratchet-enhanced human scanning tech across as many states as he could before he was stopped by the humans or until he covered the accessible rail lines across the west. The massive bot was only too eager to do so, loading his tender with the only available coal and hitting the lines early that morning. While the base was welcoming, the Autobots there welcome and accommodating, it was far too loud. The first mission he got he took right away; the Prime hesitant but willing to listen to reason. He was the only one who could do it in not a lot of time and with the smallest use of energon. Though coal was not cheap it was much more renewable than the lifeblood of the Cybertronians.

While he didn't need the coal itself it was useful for looking the part of a vintage piece of machinery and prevented the use of energon which was always in short supply. With a good supply of water and a tender full of coal he would have been able to pull a two mile long train over the mountains, like this he could steam from the river dividing the continent to the western ocean without using a dram of energon. Though his form was still recovering from his hard sleep a simple recon mission was easy enough for the massive bot, plus the sensor suite could also be used as a radio; reinforcements were moments away. He doubted he would need them as none of the Decepticons had been seen in days and though Arma had run afoul of him before, he doubted the Cons would expect him to run at night and on such primitive wheels.

The night deepened as the time ticked on, his steel wheels gliding smoothly over rails which echoed his passing. His form swayed comfortably as corners were taken at conservative speeds, his headlamp scattering shadows in all directions any wildlife following suite at the appearance of the snorting beast. The hills smoothly changed to forests and, over the treetops, Gasket could see mesas, peaks of the local mountains as the rails twisted and curved through the countryside. Every signal he passed was open and his boiler was stoked with rapidly combusting organic material, his optics were clear, seeing everything; that night was going to be one he would not soon forget.

Slumber, world and people of diverse beauty... I shall watch over this night.

As the ties sailed by he dropped his speed slightly more, his form still moving quickly across the steel rails. Passing a crossing warning he sighed, opening up his whistle in a wail that pierced the night over the dulcet chugging of his pistons and drive rods. He held it open in a cry of joy, the wail rising and falling as his form flew across a road crossing and shot further into the tree-covered mountains.

As the miles passed, Gasket was unaware that the sensor suite on the trailing flatbed had detected something, the interior data storage on the system accepting thousands of bits of location data, energon reading levels, locations... and had he known, he would have anticipated the appearance of a Cybertronian signature on the rails several miles ahead. As it was, Gasket was unaware of the other but continued to pour on the steam, more coal added to his firebox as the rails turned uphill. The smoke emanating from his stack turned from pale white to black as the mechanism experienced slightly more strain that movement on flat ground.

As he rounded a bend in the rails, however, his headlamp fell over something large, mechanical, and bipedal and his optics widened. It was Cybertronian and it was not getting off the rails! Groaning several levers in the cab twisted and cranked, steam shutting off as the brakes were applied; steel screaming on steel as his whistle opened up, wailing a pitch lower than the brakes as his form shuddered. Rather than jumping off the track into the woods, the form began retreating up the track, running frantically, screaming at the top of his voice box.

Bearings...

Despite not having a burden, Gasket's form still had momentum and a single speed estimation proved he would not be able to stop in time. Locking the brakes on the scan-trailer and his tender he shunted sufficient energon from his capacitors to his T-cog and his entire form groaned. The connection to his tender snapped, his whole form rearing upward as miles of piping shifted, snapped, rearranged. His boiler split, sending burning coal every-which way before the remaining content was sealed into his form, the effect something out of what he cogitated as the human hell; some of the coal extinguished on the damp night grass, others continued to burn and smolder.

Steam escaped from all over his frame as his bipedal form burst from the smoke and fire, one hand placed on the tender behind him, his legs and pedes sliding on the gravel to each side of the track. Roaring in exertion he felt his knee collide with the back of the Cybertronian before him as his whole form slid to a stop, kicking up gravel and splintering the edges of the railroad ties.

Gasket's whole form sighed, venting smoke and steam from a myriad of small release points across his body as he stood straight, his thinner form crunching on the gravel as he turned to address the cybertronian before him. He was about to give the little thing a very harsh verbal criticism when he realized; the form was... an... Eradicon? His optics focused and looked down, the headlamp shining out from over his shoulder and bathing the lesser form in bright electric light.

What... do I...

(So... I was thinking the impact knocked Jeff over. If you think something else go ahead and tell me over PM or cbox)

Gasket did nothing, just stood there as his optics took in the strangest sight he had seen in many a long vorn; in fact he could not remember anything so strange off the top of his helm. It would come to him, he didn't doubt that as he followed the form of the Eradicon with his electric spotlight. The actions were truly panicked, chaotic, self preserving and without aim; utter hysterics. It was painful to watch and, the old mech cringed, decidedly unpleasant to listen to as the little worker-caste very nearly tore his surroundings to shreds.

Calm yourself... The massive Autobot's voice was calm, deep, but the little Con didn't seem to hear him.

Several conflicting concepts shot across his cortex as he considered what to do. He could leave the little bot to his hysteria but another question was answered when he saw something about its back; its wings were damaged, clipped, and looked as though someone had attempted some limited reparatory work. Gasket imagined that was why it was grounded in the first place; the repairs did not look comprehensive. The fact it was alone meant it was charged with a scouting mission, perhaps scanning for energon deposits. However, that did not explain the panic; Eradicons were usually more or less mindless... fear suggested something more.

He didn't want to hurt the Eradicon, not like this. The massive bot did not doubt his ability to pull the drone apart at the joints, crush his frame with his bare servos, but he was now an Autobot; he would not be so cruel. In fact, at no time during his operating cycles did he ever have a desire to harm the harmless...

That was why he was no Decepticon.

Be still... little one... Still nothing.

Venting lightly so as not to spook the little bot further, Gasket thought back to when the Eradicons were sparked as basic labor drones just before the war, trying to recall something from memory that would help him in this situation. Despite a few brief searches through his vast memory banks he found nothing; only that the Eradicons responded to commands. Looking back down at the frantically clawing bot who was trying to claw his way into the brush lining the track he felt a pang of sadness, pity. He hoped that he would not have to defend himself like a scrap-cat from a cornered rustrat.

Routing a further 50% more energy to his vocabulator he took a step toward the little bot and spoke, his voice echoing over the treetops.

Calm yourself, little one. Be still before... you burst a pressure valve. It would... not do to have you leaking... lubricant everywhere!

There, he got a response. The little bot froze on the spot, obviously his coding still recalled the instructions he had been sparked with; that didn't redeem the little being in his mind. His thoughts on the drones were... complicated, but this was obviously no drone as the fear clearly demonstrated. The old bot rarely spoke louder than he had to but a little quick thinking had likely just did more good than simply leaving the little thing to go about its business undisturbed; something was obviously not right with the drone.

As the little thing turned to look at him the relief was obvious in its FSM, the little one quite possibly thinking him to be some form of beast in the night... but that didn't compute with Gasket either. Such thoughts were... unproductive usually the result of improper coding, a bugged if/then loop or something. Gasket's optics scanned across the little bot and immediately fell upon several problems, some of which honestly had the old bot's circuits seizing in surprise. How the slag is this little one... even upright?

In a matter of nano-ticks however the FSM from the bot changed from that of relief back to fear and surprise and Gasket immediately looked up into its optic-slit. Its voice was high, rapid, stuttering and filled with unnecessary bravado and barely restrained fear. The old machine froze for a moment, optics moving down from the optic-slit to its frame again. Its knees were down in the grass but the small puddle of opalescent blue that had formed left no doubt in Gasket's mind.

If you had... intended to shoot me, little one, I dare say you would have... done it by now.

Huffing through his vents and shaking his helm he twisted at the waist, reaching up to his headlamp and clamps his servo down. A swift command to the release clamps and the capacitor charged light popped free; Gasket quickly placed it level on his tender and turned back, his form now more lit by the white light, old mechanisms and all. Grunting he reached back and popped a small tie rod from the drive-wheel housing on his back. His eyes not leaving the little Con as he did so, he sighed, venting a small shot of steam as the boiler hatch on his chest came open and he dropped the tie rod into the still blazing inferno raging deep in his chassis before the hatch slid shut.

And if I had any desire to... put you offline, I would... not have stopped. Stand up... let me get a look at you.

The massive engine waited until the little bot complied before nodding. I'm... not feeling hungry... tonight. The massive bot chuckled and tilted his helm, getting a better look at the bot, from helm to pedes. For all intents and purposed he looked just like a Vehicon or and Eradicon. He spoke, he appeared to think like a Cybertronian... Gasket figured he must have been a Cybertronian sparked late in the war in a drone body.

What is you... designation, little bot?

Unsurprisingly the little bot acquiesced to his request and stood, Gasket shifting his stance and raising a servo to the still lightly rusting chin; his nano-repairs had not completely finished. He felt the cool length of steel warming against his incendiary coal-furnace, a small line of black smoke wafting from ventilation slits on his back; he knew he would need it soon enough. The response from the little bot was reserved, timid... something he simply did not expect from a Decepticon. When he introduced himself, however, the reason became apparent.

He wasn't sparked in a drone body but... as a drone. This little bot appears to have gained sentience.

It is... a pleasure to meet you, Jefferson. Taking a step back he straightened the headlamp before nodding to Jeff; he didn't want to frighten the little thing even more. Mine is... Pistongasket. Fear not, it seems this evening... our alliances means nothing.

Venting again he opened the coalbox and reached inside, the heat licking at his servos pleasantly. He pulled out the small tie rod which, thanks to a little infusion of energon to the fire, was now red hot. Taking a step foreword he moved to the right side of the little bot, sizing up the amount and severity of the cracks in his frame. Nodding at the cracks, the ruptures, the bent wing he gave a genuine sigh, followed up by a small release of black coal smoke from his shoulder vents.

Do not... fidget. This will feel... unpleasant but we need to plug these... leaks. He took a step foreword but paused a little before realizing. I mean to... treat your more... severe damage. Will you... allow me to do so?

The little con was scared, that was unsurprising, but as Gasket let his question sink in and the tie rod burned in his servo, the response was understandably skeptical.

Fixing you... no. I am not sufficiently qualified to... do full repairs. However, I can stop the... leaks across your chassis and maybe get you... flight-worthy again. He paused when the little one asked if it was a trick and he vented lightly. No trick... little one. Nothing I can say... can make you shuffle off your... thoughts on this. I only ask for your trust.

Shaking his head he took another single step forward and locked his eyes on the first and largest of the breeches to his fuel lines. If you keep leaking like this... you won't make it home on foot. Now... I am going to do what I can. Stand still. Do not... fidget.

Thought the little one never did say either way he slowly moved up to the minor form and, bending at the knees, he placed a servo up against the bots chassis though he did not use more pressure than he had to; no need to scare him more. If the little one tried to get away... well, he would let him go. Gasket simply hoped the drone knew that this would help him survive.

Slowly Gasket moved the red hot tie rod into contact with the breech, the heat great enough to remelt the cybertronian alloys and seal the breech when the rod was removed. It was first aid, the most rudimentary of care that he could do but... well, he hoped it was enough. After the first leak was plugged he continued on to the next. Glancing up at the bot he paused for an instant before returning to his work, not looking at the little one while he spoke.

Cybertronians fear little. Even during the war I saw very little... obvious fear even from non-soldiers. Pausing he moved around the little bot, trying to repair some of the damage to the wings. Yet you were... ready to bust a gasket, a strange reaction coming from... bots who always shoot first no matter... what the problem is. Another leak filled he vented steam over it to hurry the cooling process before moving on. What were... are you afraid of?

His work was slow but gradual, the leaky form of the small Decepticon eventually becoming less so as the red hot form of the tie rod lost its glow as it cooled. Of the dozen or so leaks the optics of the great bot managed to find on the outside of the chassis of little Jeff he had managed to seal them all within very short order. He could feel the intense heat of the tie rod between his digits but, thankfully, his old joints were purely mechanical and so did not have the synthetic substances to be melted. As the little bot stuttered his response to Gasket's question he pressed the rod to another of the smallest leaks.

Come now, little one... say it. His mental urging paid off as he withdrew the rod from the last of two small holes and paused, looking into the violet tinted optics of the little bot, his cortex searching his translatory systems to try to find a proper cybertronian translation for "dragon." As it finally hit upon something a smirk crossing his lips, his amusement marked so much that he said the definition aloud.

Dragon, noun. A... monster from human myth like a giant reptile. In European tradition it... is typically fire-breathing and tends to symbolize chaos... He paused again, looking down at his hulking form, the smoke venting from several points across his frame, the small bits of coal still smoldering in the low vegetation. A low chuckle emanated from his vocabulator as he returned his attention to his work. The smoke, fire, and massive form... must have given that impression. I must say, I am... flattered.

Smiling as he finished his patch-work he vented another burst of steam to cool the rapidly melted synth-connections of the small bot before shifting his pede back, nodding and standing straight again, his back-strut creaking slightly has he surveyed the form of his patient once more to see if there was anything he had missed. However, as the little bot began to talk again the massive Autobot was about to interrupt but, instead, he allowed his limbs and servos to drop to his side as he regarded the little bot as a Cybertronian, not a Decepticon.

The little one began to describe his major malfunction and Gasket's optics widened a fraction. As he listened, much of what the little bot described reminded him of the war. However, rather than it taking place ages ago it was taking place here, now, on the rock upon which he was astride. He spoke of the horrors of deactivation, of chaos, of his run-in with a femme-bot that caused his problems. Not only that but the horrors of watching comrades, friends, torn to scrap around him. As he listened, the optics and face-plate of the large autobot softened, almost saddened as he listened.

Like... Cybertron all over again. As much as his processes were assuring him that these were drones, only mindless yes-mechs for Megatron, the little bot before him was proof that such was not the case.

As the little one began to speak again Gasket almost stopped him but did not, merely stood in silence, his optics focusing in on Jeff as the little con spoke of fears borne of intimidation, color, hard autocracy... the massive bot's optics fell to the grass below him as he finished speaking. The old bot had known fear like that for a time but, he remembered, it was a different time so long ago... when the war was beginning.

I know what you mean... all too well, little one.

He was like a sparkling, a new-spark just coming to grips with sentience forced to come to term with emotions that were strange and, sometimes, frightening. This little one, Gasket realized, had to come to terms with fear more real than any the old bot had encountered until some eons into his existence. His optics rose from the ground and fell upon the little bot again and he stepped forward, his pedes creaking and grinding against his joints as he moved, making his age most definitely apparent. Slowly he knelt down until he was face to face with the little bot, placing his servo and massive hand on his shoulder, allowing the rod to fall to the cool grass with the light hiss in the evening dew. His massive optics, larger than much of the little bots face, glowed in the evening dew a mix of azure and white.

Your... defect is... not. For a moment he paused, trying to find the proper verbiage to express what he meant to say.

Your spark came... online during the hardest era in... Cybertronian history. No home, no... familia, barely enough energon to live... Not wanting to bring the Autobot versus Decepticon position into what he was saying he simply vented, a plume of black smoke emerging from his back plates.

Sentience is... not easy. It contains fear, sadness... doubt. The unknown is the scariest... thing for a young mind. Gasket's face-plate twisted from its sad countenance to a softer smile. But the fear is often not... what you think. I emerged from the darkness and... you need not fear me. You have naught to fear but... fear itself.

Patting the little bot on the shoulder he allowed his servo and digits to fall to his side, his optics not leaving the little bot's visor.

You are strong... little Jefferson. Stronger than you... realize. You are also... gifted with that sentience that gave you fear. It is... your burden to cope, to rise... above that limitation to be who you are, not who... the femme-bot or the others think you should be.

Smiling he fell back on his haunches, his knees creaking with the strain. He didn't know what the little one would do, would think but, if nothing else he had been through this and wanted to do what he could to help. Sure the little bot might end up shooting him in the future but he would cross that road when he came to it.