Ep. 2 - Noisy Silence - [Closed]

[Bluestreak]

As the lift settled Bluestreak shook his head. His optics narrowed slightly.

"He'd make it a clean slate if he felt he could and it would be worth his expense of power," Bluestreak said and his voice held absolute honesty, as if he was stating a fact about how a bullet traveled from a certain angle.

"Only thing stopping Megatron is well, us. Otherwise, he'd just- he'd take advantage of everything he could, like he's done before."

His doors fell slightly back behind his shoulders as he stepped out into the passage with Prime. Around them, the rough walls showed their half-done modifications. There were leaning bits of wall and long curls of cable. The silver mech paused for a half step and edged away slightly from the rough-hewn walls before continuing on.

"There are," Bluestreak mused out loud after a surprisingly long moment of silence. "Sadly, I'm sure he's planning lots of things. But you know that better than all of us. I'm sure that everything you outlined in the truce is everything you could think of and more - I'm not worried about that. I'm just- well, I'm worried, and I'm worried for a lot of reasons I just - I dunno. I can't put my finger on them. Or maybe it's too many reasons. I'm sorry, Prime. I'm certainly not second guessing you. I can't imagine how long and hard you've had to work to get this far to get the Decepticons to even think about honoring a truce even for a little while."

A sigh. "Frustrating that the only reason they even considered a truce was because of MECH," he said after a long moment.

I guess it's because there's a lot more at stake this time. Not just us. I mean, it's never been just us, we've gone planet to planet and pulled it after us in our wake.

He didn't say it though. He just couldn't. Not to Prime who had worked so hard on this. Who wanted this more than anything, for the war to be over, to- well, if they couldn't go home, to make a start somewhere else. Bluestreak loved other cultures. He loved other planets. Everywhere he went was new and fascinating to him and this one - well, these humans didn't look on them with anger yet. They looked on them as simply other citizens in a wide galactic world they hadn't made contact with. They weren't signing petitions or basically denying them access based on the stories that had trickled down.

"No no, I won't concern myself with the broad unknowns, since - well, security and treaties aren't exactly my strengths, by any means. Heck, I'll just stick to the minor unknowns like wind speed and if it's going to be a rainy day or not. Don't worry, it's way over my head." He brought up his hand and whooshed it just over his chevron, laughing again. "I'm just the guy with a gun guy, and that's totally okay by me."

Apparently the other Autobot had shaken off what had pulled him into darker places and he looked up. "Huh! You know, I don't think I've been down here before. Like to the storage, I mean."

[Optimus Prime]

Megatron may hold superior technology, and the Nemesis which could obliterate key points on this world with deadly precision, but he was no idiot. Optimus felt that even if his team was gone, and he was sent to the well to no longer be a fighting force standing in opposition, that the Warlord would not take immediate action to clean cut the planet's habitats. Even rudimentary weaponry and bombs could have lasting damages, and to incur the wrath of a primitive world while only having one ship to his name would be foolish. Could he do it? With enough resources and a willingness to spend them... yes. Would it be costly and in poor judgment? Also yes. It would likely be a tactical battle, lies layered with lies in true Decepticon fashion until the humans had their weaponry taken offline and technology removed from their hands.

These conversations of 'what ifs' and 'what could be' truly didn't solve anything though. True, it was good to plan ahead, and try to anticipate issues, but... there were lines, and to worry and concern oneself with every little thing was not healthy in the slightest. The Omega Outpost had first hand proof of just why that was not a smart idea, and Optimus had to live with his own concerns that he cast aside. Alas, he did not address the capabilities of Megatron at this point, not wanting nor needing to instill additional fear of the unknown.

They already knew Megatron's capabilities.

There was a pause, though brief, before Bluestreak spoke once more, Optimus' attention breaking from their walk in order to peer upon the smaller mech. A lot was being spoken of in succession, a running commentary on just what was flowing through the younger mech's thoughts on the subject at hand. It went from assurances of trust, to general concerns, to just seeming to backpedal and equate himself to just being a soldier with a gun. The other Cybertronian seemed intent with this, happy in his role, but it did not bode well to Optimus to have anyone watered down to such undeveloped elements. They were all so much more than that. Backing up then to the first subjects, the Prime tried to catch up in his own clipped commentary.

"None of us would be alive this day, without the foresight to worry of unknowns. The trick is not letting it consume or define you."

After the Prime said this, his steps rolled to a halt, pausing before an open doorway at their side. The room beyond was dark, caked in shadows that were only specked with what little light flowed in from the hallway. The doorway itself was open and void of hardware, more a passageway into the room than any true 'doorway'. The Prime did not immediately turn into this area, but instead continued to speak, to get his own thoughts out on the subject matter at hand.

"In addition, each of us play a role, and a part, but are not shackled by such positions."

A statement, more a fact than anything else, continuing with reassurances.

"I believe you are more than just a 'guy with a gun'."

After Optimus spoke, he shifted his weight, and turned to go into the open room to the side. The darkness of the area seemed like it would be an issue, but the moment that the Prime crossed its threshold a sensor lazily picked up on movement and overhead lighting sputtered to life. The halogen bulbs seared bright a moment, before dimming out and equalizing, a soft hum filling the area that quickly fell into backdrop.

The storage area truly was a work in progress, but the skeletal system of it all was in place, leaving just some imagination to fill the voids. Large shelving units stretched up high, made of steel beams and plates that were sturdy enough to handle whatever a Cybertronian would store upon its surface. Some of the shelving units were empty, but others had crates and boxes already lined up, partly sorted into what may end up being a home for it in the long run. Other crates from the Hanger were relocated down there, old salvage from the ARK that needed a home for some time now.

"This room has yet to be completed in full, but serves functional."

[Bluestreak]

Bluestreak looked up at Prime.

"I know," he said simply, with a rolling, gentle shrug of his silver shoulder. His doors lifted and shifted, he quirked them a bit in a mismatched slope. "I promise, what you're saying is true, and I do appreciate you reminding me. I really do. Cross my main, I try not to let it consume me, and I know all of us play roles in this situation we're in, and everyone is important. Even when you think you're not."

"That said, I know I'm more than that," There was a sincere smile on his face when he met the Autobot leader's again. His blue eyes shown from under his red chevron; in the dim light of the service tunnel, his slightly mismatched optics were obvious. "I admit it, sometimes I just - well, I'm okay with teasing myself about that, the whole guy with a gun thing. It makes folks laugh. That's fine by me, if it just gives them a break for a second, you know? Well of course you know that, why am I explaining myself? Well, because it's totally okay to explain it to you, I guess. Dunno. Something like that."

His voice lifted and fell, rolling companionably from the smaller mech as he strode alongside the Prime.

It was the truth. Not that he wanted to voice those thoughts, but they ran through his head like they always did. He knew that a lot of the mechs found him annoying, that his constant conversation, the babble of words - it was too much for many mechs to take lightly. Yet, he couldn't help it; spaces between words and silence, sometimes when they weren't filling it with conversation he could listen to, he had to nudge it in there himself, just so that everything stayed level and straight for him. Over the years, he'd learned it was taken better if it just- well, if it was a joke. Even if they got annoyed, someone somewhere would laugh and then the burden of conversation would be taken off of Bluestreak and he would let someone else fill the silence.

Also, it was just nice hearing folks laugh. No one did enough of it any more. Especially this mech walking beside him. Then again, the world had become not as light as it used to be; there was always a threat hanging over your head that you couldn't quite get away from, day in and day out. Wasn't like the threat of being late to work or missing a meeting. This was just the threat of how mortal and short life could be on a moment's noice.

Those were darker thoughts though. Quickly, Bluestreak pushed them away.

The storage room seemed pretty dark too though, and he cocked his head, wondering how they were actually going to find anything...

"Oh, hey," he exclaimed. "Nice. We have light, and -- whoooa, I had no idea half this stuff was down here."

He craned his head back, eyeing everything. The huge sweep of shelves, towering over them both. Boxes and crates crammed on some shelves, but neatly sorted into others. Well it made sense that they'd have a storage room of course, he just didn't expect it to be --

Have storage?

Yeah, things to store in the first place. We don't have much stuff, I know that. It's just part of how it is here.

"It works great," he offered. "I mean, it's storing things, that's what counts. Well, and that we have things to store, ahha! What's all down here?"

[Optimus Prime]

While Optimus didn't readily smile back to counter Blue's own kind words and happy expression, the approval and thoughtful consideration and contentment was still in play, visible through his lack of contest and his lax posture... or... as lax as it got for the Prime. He still stood tall, proud, an edge of formality out of habit and conditioning, but there were differences from the casual stride he took within the Outpost, and the icon he fulfilled out on the battlefield. It was these differences mixed with a sort of aura that surpassed mere field communication that showed his acceptance, if Blue picked up on such nuances.

Perhaps he should work on speaking more, on interjecting an 'I am happy you understand' or other such things to help fill the void, but it just felt so against his norm. Silence and the unspoken communication one can have just by listening and being within another's company spoke much, and this wasn't referring to picking up things from a field. He could point out many a time where he and Ratchet, or Red Alert, or others he had known for quite some time that skirted or surpassed the edge of when he was Prime had just... they just were in the same vicinity doing their own things, and it somehow evolved into a quiet form of socialization.

Quiet, could say as much as words for those that could listen.

"Salvage from the Ark mostly-"

Wiring, chunks of mangled Cybertronian metals that could be melted down and used in an emergency, a few tools and devices pulled out of the walls, a lot of just... crap honestly. The Ark had not fared well in its escape from Cybertron and subsequent fall to Earth as a mangled mess of shrapnel and destruction. This said... while much of the ship had burned to useless char, and the other half was stripped apart to be used to build the initial base and Ground Bridge, there was still a notable amount of raw material left, especially if you counted the remaining skeletal husk in the hanger.

"-Remains from this location's original purpose-"

Tiny pipes, some metal panels and plating, really not a lot had even been left behind, but what had was put to use where it could be, and stored away elsewhere. Machinery that the silo had initially used was gone long before their arrival, but that didn’t mean there had been nothing in its wake. Value found for every small thing discovered.

"-and what we have been able to steal from Megatron."

While he tacked on this last bit, his hand raised to gesture lightly in the direction of the far side of the room, where some mining equipment had been stored. They didn't have any of the drills, or larger tools, but they had gotten a few of the hover carts that were used to move stock from one side of the mines to another for delivery to Megatron. The carts had a layer of dirt over their surface, evidence from their original location, but also had smears and scrapes over the flatbed from active use. Whenever a raid was successful, and they had time to run supplies back to the Outpost, than the small flatbeds were priceless and a good steal.

There were other things taken from mining sites as well, but everything else was far smaller and more portable, due to their lack of infrastructure to house it all. Now that they freed up much of the hanger however, it opened the doors to possibly try to steal things of more value and power. It would be a lie to say one of the drilling machines couldn't be utilized if they could get their claws into one and find a mine system, but it was almost a luxury that would need to be fixed up by Ratchet or Wheeljack ((If he could tether the Wrecker)) to save on fuel expense for the heavy tool.

Thoughts for another time.

Striding forward, Optimus moved before one of the larger shelves, his gaze flicking over its surface to see what Zoom-Zoom was doing with the supplies down here. It had been a bit of a risk to appoint the job to the minibot, considering how odd and disjointed they seemed to be. Pulled apart, unfitting, the small red mech almost seemed to not mesh well with others, violently so, while poor luck and trauma followed in his wake. Optimus hoped a solitary job where he did as he willed and needn't work with others directly would do well, and it appeared to be going alright, especially since he found where the scanners were placed readily.

Reaching forward, he pulled two off of their chargers, the devices chirping instantly in recognition as he flicked the switches on their side. Each ones screen lit alive then, scanning in their immediate area to try to clutch onto any nearby source of Energon. Sadly, down where they were, there frankly was no large sources of the unprocessed fuel that wasn't out of the immediate short range, so nothing really showed on the screen as a test, but it proved to be functional enough he deemed it acceptable.

Turning about, the Prime abandoned the shelves, and started to approach Bluestreak, holding one of the scanners out to him. While they didn't technically need two, the overlap should help if one of the tools was defective, or the humidity and water in their intended location were to damage anything.

[Bluestreak]

"Oh, from the Ark..." Bluestreak echoed, as he peeked around a few shelves himself. He was not as tall as the Prime - well, then again, not many were as tall as the mech. Great for reaching the high spots of these sort of storage rooms. Bluestreak was pretty sure that Prime never had to ask very often for a ladder. Which was probably not the best thing to contemplate right now.

I guess not having to climb a ladder doesn't quite add to the power of a Prime. Well, maybe it does, you never have to ask anyone to go and get you a stepstool so you put things away on high shelves. Then again, I suppose all the shelves in his room are high, minus uh, the one that everyone keeps telling me broke. Which is sort of awkward, I dunno, I have to say that if I go and accidentally go and end up falling through anyone's ceiling I'm going to fix it and I'm going to apologize hand over fist and huh, you know, I wonder if Holmes on Homes has a thing for patching ceilings. I bet he does, he always has something that fixes things in situations like this.

I wonder what he'd think of this place. Well, not about the whole robot alien thing - actually I bet he'd kind of think that was pretty neat. He likes things like that, a guy who gets excited about insulation foam would no doubt have a blast seeing what we have for building materials. I bet he'd get along great with- oh, right, this place. Yeah, it needs some work.

Seriously though. If there was one thing he'd totally love to have happen someday. Heck, he'd love to go up to Canada and work with the guy repairing houses. You'd learn an awful lot that way. His doors perked up a bit as he contemplated that.

Surprisingly quiet for a moment, Bluestreak poked around a few storage bins himself. He gently reached out and picked up a chunk of metal and turned it over in his fingers. It was scored with heavy lines of carbon and he had to admit, it was a wonder anyone had even made it out of there in one piece. Yet it held something the mech missed; the lines, of even this one piece in his hand were not Earth-like at all.

Gently, he rubbed the ball of his thumb against it. In the dim light of the room, his slightly mismatched optics were rather obvious for once as he wistfully eyed the slab of metal in his hand.

"I see that," he said, even as he carefully set the chunk back on the shelf. "Whoa, from when the humans were using this place? That was a while ago. Well, in human time, of course, but still, been a while."

The sharpshooter leaned forward. He drew a bit of air into his intakes and puffed it gently out to blow the dust off of a few things before he gently moved a handful of tiny wires to one side. Automatically, he started to sort them out; yellow, red, white, and once he'd had them in neat clumps- there, that was better - he set them back on the shelf again.

Quickly he turned and followed the motion of the Prime's hand. "Mining gear?" the silver mech echoed with interest. "Oh, I can see why we'd take that, we could use it actually. Don't have too much in hand for that sort of heavy stuff or dealing with loose energon crystals, do we. Nice and oh hey, that's nifty, a working set of scanners- oh!"

With a rather excited and delighted smile, Bluestreak nodded and accepted the scanner out of the Prime's hand. "I don't think I've ever used one of these," he admitted. "Usually I'm just the lookout on this sort of thing. Like every time anyone goes scouting, I'm just the guy back in the back watching to make sure they're safe and uh, well, that's not entirely true. Last time they let me push the sled back, was a bit of a blast, ahha, I never get to go hands on like that- whoa, wait a sec, hold on..."

A low whistle escaped him, and his doors sloped upwards. "We're going to need these?"

There was a bit of hope in his voice.

[Optimus Prime]

Bluestreak was an individual that clashed boldly with Optimus' own actions, yet it did not create a turbulent reaction despite what one may assume. One was reserved and collected, speaking minimally with upmost care, the other acting upon impulse and filling voids with thoughts, action, and words. It showed well within the storage room, where more things were around to comment upon and look at, more things to consider.

It almost created a balance in a way.

While the Prime continued on to fetch the scanners, acting on a concrete goal with no deviation, Bluestreak seemed to busy himself with a chunk of metal from the ark, and then sorted through wires to try to tidy up a box that otherwise was borderline chaos. This was all completed while adding his own commentary, re-touching on what Optimus had said about the supplies they had obtained, and otherwise filling the gaps between the Prime's few words. As before, just because Optimus did not directly comment, did not mean he found issue with it, instead, he was simply focusing on what was said when he returned with the scanners.

Excitement, hope, Bluestreak radiated joy that was impossible to fake, and Optimus wanted to do the same. He wanted to be hopeful, to assure himself this adventure should bring them back some fuel for the Outpost, but the fact was, he knew he needed to curb such things, and not become blind to reality. As optimistic as he could be, an emotion mirrored by his namesake, he was actually rather guarded, and did not want to set himself up for disappointment.

"They should inform us if initial scans held validity."

Gradual movements, a calm stride, Optimus pivoted himself around, and placed himself to Bluestreak's side after the mech had taken the scanner. It was once he maneuvered to this position, that he eased forward just enough that he could view the scanner in the younger Cybertronian's hands with ease. Carefully, he reached his hand forward, to point out the controls and give him a brief lesson in how to use the valuable tool.

"Power is this switch, and scanner reach is here..."

He pointed out the accommodating switch and dial, before gesturing to the screen that lay on its front.

"The broader the reach, the more ground will be scanned, but it will become less accurate."

Really, it was a deceptively simple tool. On surface value it was rather easy to work and utilize, but internally it was quite complex to be able to do what it did. It worked not unlike a Geiger counter, though instead of general radiation, it picked up upon Energon's specific energy signature, and tried to calculate the direction in which it could be found. More advanced models could give coordinates to where it believed the Energon was hiding, but that was just frivolous information that could always be affected by environmental variables, and just created false hope. The more simple designs seemed far more reliable.

"It may click with momentary false readings, but a true find is unmistakable."

Ah the rise and fall of hope that was an Energon Scanner. A chirp, a believed find, drawing out excitement and interest, only to realize it was a hiccup from some other energy source. That said, as Optimus stated, a true reading was far noisier and persistent. He can only hope Bluestreak would be able to hear that.