Ep 2 : Deus Ex Machina [OPEN]
Nov 2, 2014 1:22:29 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 2, 2014 1:22:29 GMT -5
Week One, Day One, Episode 2; approximately 14:00 hours.
There was a great deal of him that wished to remain optimistic.
Alas, travel made him weary. He'd met and parted with so many beings by now, the thought of putting himself through this cycle again was nearly revolting. For every glimmer of hope there seemed to be a greater darkness that engulfed it; each spark of life, extinguished. Perhaps he was a bad omen, a bearer of bad luck, destined to bring nothing relatively good to those he encountered. One had to think so, after the amount of survivors he'd met who had become casualties shortly after encountering them.
However, giving up was not an option. For the masses he'd met that had either perished or given up, there had to be a number that would be steadfast, that would keep fighting the war that seemed hopeless. There needed to be someone like him, combing through the galaxies with a fine enough rake to catch those that had fallen through the cracks, or been lost to the stars. The only thing that separated him from those that were scattered was the fact that he had a systematic objective, after all; that Ultra repeated the mantra of the greater good, that he was serving some sort of higher purpose by seeking those out that had lived but were perhaps not living.
What a noble assignment! Custodian of the lost souls.
He drummed his digits against the metal of the arm of the chair that he sat in, optics flicking from the screens that flooded him with a constant stream of information. Ultra had been in orbit of the planet, (which he was learning was named 'Earth'), for a few hours. So far, his searching yielded him nothing of substance. There were biological forms? But they did not interest him. Ultra was vain in the sense that he assumed that the images of fleshy beings he'd glanced at would be of no great threat. At the same time, he did not wish to disrupt the life forms, should there be no reason for him to be on this planet. If there were no signs of Cybertronian life? He would leave this planet in its ignorance, forsaking it as the other species of the universe had forsook his kin.
Ultra adjusted his search parameters. Where could he be found, but not seen? Earth's indigenous species appeared hardy, hardy enough that when he searched for vast spaces of isolation, there were few to be found; except for on the substance named 'water', but a quick search dispelled him from thinking that the 'Arctic Ocean' was a good place to find refuge. He did not want to deal with damages to his ship, after all.
A moment or two of reading spurred him to calibrate the ship's navigations systems, setting course for an area that seemed to be of great isolation (based off of popular opinion). There was mention of the climate being cold, but after coming this far? A chill would not be the end to Ultra Magnus. He waited until he was above the land mass to descend, as while stealth wasn't exactly accomplishable in a foreign spacecraft, he needed to at least attempt some semblance of caution.
Going in for a descent, he began to notice a mass of black dots on the surface of the terrain. While he had avoided what appeared to be buildings, he hadn't noticed the speckles on the ground; he'd assumed they were the texture of the surface and not the squirming lifeforms that they actually were. Veering to the side, he landed the ship a good distance from the pack of lifeforms. They were tiny, but he didn't know what they were, and that intimidated him. Ultra Magnus got up, peering out of the windows at the helm of the ship to the lifeforms below.
After a few minutes of study, he declared the lifeforms unarmed, and not hostile. While he hadn't encountered such life forms, perhaps they knew about Cybertronians; they would have recognized his ship as Cybertronian, and their lack of response to it informed Ultra Magnus that they were not hostile toward Cybertronian kind. As he descended through the floors of his ship to the gangway, he kept one servo clenched around the handle of his hammer. He didn't have time for injuries, and while the organics were small, there was the possibility they could swarm and overwhelm him.
The cold air slapped him as he strode down the lowered gangway, pedes immediately sinking into the soft substance they met as he formally left his ship. The life forms were even smaller than he thought they were; as he strode toward them, he was careful to not crush or otherwise hurt them. Ultra winced at the terrible squawking noise the organics made, two fingers pressing to the side of his audio module, as if to physically turn the sensitivity down. However, he took this as a sign of willful communication, and quickly rose his hand.
"Bah-weep-graaaaagnah wheep nini bong."
His recital of the universal greeting was flawless, complete with hand actions performed by the hand he did not wield the hammer in. However, Ultra was surprised when his booming voice did not silence the screeches that rang through the cold air. Were these creatures daft? He looked at them in disbelief, standing still as they approached him, only to flap their seemingly useless wings at one another and intensify their yelling. His brows drawing together, he pinched the bridge between his optics, huffing as he muffled his audio receptors to ward off a processor-ache from the overwhelmingly loud noise.
That consistent lack of response after a second repetition of the greeting prompted Ultra to write off this 'Human' species as unintelligent and void of potential (at least, potential communication with surviving Autobots). He simply stood, watching the creatures mill about his pedes, observing the odd way they paced; they seemed to shift from side to side, an inefficient means of propelling themselves forward. As he observed, he formed a message in his mind, running through the codes of encrypted radio signals he'd memorised and used more than once on his travels throughout the galaxy.
"Greetings. I am here to regroup with any survivors that may be occupying this planet. I will be sending co-ordinates following this message, and will be standing by for any that are receiving this. Ultra Magnus over."
His tone was smooth, masking the hesitation he'd had about sending such a transmission. It was curt, lacking of any introduction or emotional stake. Ultra had arrived on planets that were devoid of Autobots, wherein his transmissions had failed or fallen on offlined receptors. He sent the message on an encrypted signal, using a signature Autobots would be familiar with. He repeated the message and co-ordinates, covering all bases in forms of different avenues such a message could be sent on. As he did so, he grasped his weapon with both hands, standing alert; while unlikely, there was always the possibility that the signal could fall on the wrong audials.
The possibility also remained that the docile organics who milled between his pedes could suddenly swarm and attempt to rip out his spark, which Ultra really wouldn't be okay with.
There was a great deal of him that wished to remain optimistic.
Alas, travel made him weary. He'd met and parted with so many beings by now, the thought of putting himself through this cycle again was nearly revolting. For every glimmer of hope there seemed to be a greater darkness that engulfed it; each spark of life, extinguished. Perhaps he was a bad omen, a bearer of bad luck, destined to bring nothing relatively good to those he encountered. One had to think so, after the amount of survivors he'd met who had become casualties shortly after encountering them.
However, giving up was not an option. For the masses he'd met that had either perished or given up, there had to be a number that would be steadfast, that would keep fighting the war that seemed hopeless. There needed to be someone like him, combing through the galaxies with a fine enough rake to catch those that had fallen through the cracks, or been lost to the stars. The only thing that separated him from those that were scattered was the fact that he had a systematic objective, after all; that Ultra repeated the mantra of the greater good, that he was serving some sort of higher purpose by seeking those out that had lived but were perhaps not living.
What a noble assignment! Custodian of the lost souls.
He drummed his digits against the metal of the arm of the chair that he sat in, optics flicking from the screens that flooded him with a constant stream of information. Ultra had been in orbit of the planet, (which he was learning was named 'Earth'), for a few hours. So far, his searching yielded him nothing of substance. There were biological forms? But they did not interest him. Ultra was vain in the sense that he assumed that the images of fleshy beings he'd glanced at would be of no great threat. At the same time, he did not wish to disrupt the life forms, should there be no reason for him to be on this planet. If there were no signs of Cybertronian life? He would leave this planet in its ignorance, forsaking it as the other species of the universe had forsook his kin.
Ultra adjusted his search parameters. Where could he be found, but not seen? Earth's indigenous species appeared hardy, hardy enough that when he searched for vast spaces of isolation, there were few to be found; except for on the substance named 'water', but a quick search dispelled him from thinking that the 'Arctic Ocean' was a good place to find refuge. He did not want to deal with damages to his ship, after all.
A moment or two of reading spurred him to calibrate the ship's navigations systems, setting course for an area that seemed to be of great isolation (based off of popular opinion). There was mention of the climate being cold, but after coming this far? A chill would not be the end to Ultra Magnus. He waited until he was above the land mass to descend, as while stealth wasn't exactly accomplishable in a foreign spacecraft, he needed to at least attempt some semblance of caution.
Going in for a descent, he began to notice a mass of black dots on the surface of the terrain. While he had avoided what appeared to be buildings, he hadn't noticed the speckles on the ground; he'd assumed they were the texture of the surface and not the squirming lifeforms that they actually were. Veering to the side, he landed the ship a good distance from the pack of lifeforms. They were tiny, but he didn't know what they were, and that intimidated him. Ultra Magnus got up, peering out of the windows at the helm of the ship to the lifeforms below.
After a few minutes of study, he declared the lifeforms unarmed, and not hostile. While he hadn't encountered such life forms, perhaps they knew about Cybertronians; they would have recognized his ship as Cybertronian, and their lack of response to it informed Ultra Magnus that they were not hostile toward Cybertronian kind. As he descended through the floors of his ship to the gangway, he kept one servo clenched around the handle of his hammer. He didn't have time for injuries, and while the organics were small, there was the possibility they could swarm and overwhelm him.
The cold air slapped him as he strode down the lowered gangway, pedes immediately sinking into the soft substance they met as he formally left his ship. The life forms were even smaller than he thought they were; as he strode toward them, he was careful to not crush or otherwise hurt them. Ultra winced at the terrible squawking noise the organics made, two fingers pressing to the side of his audio module, as if to physically turn the sensitivity down. However, he took this as a sign of willful communication, and quickly rose his hand.
"Bah-weep-graaaaagnah wheep nini bong."
His recital of the universal greeting was flawless, complete with hand actions performed by the hand he did not wield the hammer in. However, Ultra was surprised when his booming voice did not silence the screeches that rang through the cold air. Were these creatures daft? He looked at them in disbelief, standing still as they approached him, only to flap their seemingly useless wings at one another and intensify their yelling. His brows drawing together, he pinched the bridge between his optics, huffing as he muffled his audio receptors to ward off a processor-ache from the overwhelmingly loud noise.
That consistent lack of response after a second repetition of the greeting prompted Ultra to write off this 'Human' species as unintelligent and void of potential (at least, potential communication with surviving Autobots). He simply stood, watching the creatures mill about his pedes, observing the odd way they paced; they seemed to shift from side to side, an inefficient means of propelling themselves forward. As he observed, he formed a message in his mind, running through the codes of encrypted radio signals he'd memorised and used more than once on his travels throughout the galaxy.
"Greetings. I am here to regroup with any survivors that may be occupying this planet. I will be sending co-ordinates following this message, and will be standing by for any that are receiving this. Ultra Magnus over."
His tone was smooth, masking the hesitation he'd had about sending such a transmission. It was curt, lacking of any introduction or emotional stake. Ultra had arrived on planets that were devoid of Autobots, wherein his transmissions had failed or fallen on offlined receptors. He sent the message on an encrypted signal, using a signature Autobots would be familiar with. He repeated the message and co-ordinates, covering all bases in forms of different avenues such a message could be sent on. As he did so, he grasped his weapon with both hands, standing alert; while unlikely, there was always the possibility that the signal could fall on the wrong audials.
The possibility also remained that the docile organics who milled between his pedes could suddenly swarm and attempt to rip out his spark, which Ultra really wouldn't be okay with.