[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]A Matter of Necessity - [Closed]
Jan 20, 2017 22:25:01 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on Jan 20, 2017 22:25:01 GMT -5
Episode 2.5 | Week 1 | Day 7
Things were getting bad, and there was very little that could be done.
There were certain points in this war that stood out from others, the ebb and flow, rise and fall, where one moment things could be good and in their favor, only to turn and plummet to a new standard that was less ideal. The lowest of low did not happen exceptionally often, but when it hit it felt like the team was scraped onto the ground below, not a single one of them able to avoid the consequences of what had gone wrong.
More often than not, it happened abruptly, a sharp jab where fate or lady luck decided to take a swing at the team as a whole. The most abrupt of situational changes could seem like the worst. A large portion of the team obliterated, an outpost being taken down and a need to reform, the Ark crashing and the need to contend with that set of challenges that came with a inhabited planet. However, those sudden changes were almost more preferable, kindling a fire under them all, rallying their will. It made people want to bite back at the hand that dealt them such poor cards, seeking vengeance by showing fate that they could stand against what happened and bounce back just as strong.
It was the slow bleeds that drained the most.
Desperation, there was nothing to rally against or be angry at, nothing to directly blame or focus upon. The grueling truth was that their efforts, their struggles, all they were doing to try to keep ahead and pull as much fuel out of the planet as possible, was not enough. They didn't HAVE the people to handle the mining operations; they didn't have individuals that knew how to mine effectively to begin with. Even if they did, they didn't have a mine to pull from, or... not any that were viable. The humans would not help, or maybe they would, Optimus wasn't about to corner them and ask for such a favor when they grant them so much to begin with.
But they were starving.
And chances had to be taken.
Optimus stood within the Control Room in front of the primary monitor, waiting patiently for those that would be arriving soon to seek out a mission that... frankly the Prime was not too keen on. It was dangerous, and the inexperience with the individuals that were assigned the task showed too strongly. None had the history needed to pull this off well, the mission not only dangerous but downright deadly if they didn't think ahead well enough as a team. From a veteran to someone that just arrived not long ago, the group was unstable, making it a tricky first mission. Any loss with the team at this point would be felt deeply, but a loss because of a frantic grasp for Fuel to keep everyone topped off? It would hurt that much more.
There was a cruel reality however that clawed at the back of his processor, thoughts that whispered a sad truth that if one of them were to perish... that would be one less person to have to fuel, saving the team as a whole for a bit longer...
Such thoughts were blasphemous, crass, and out of line, and were promptly abolished.
The last Prime turned his helm somewhat in the direction of the primary hall, thinking he heard someone approaching. His expression was dulled, exhausted, a new layer of weight thrown upon him that was sourced out of frustration at what things had come to, and a layer of hunger that plagued his war honed systems.
If he was Orion, if he still had the frame of the scholar, he would not be as bad off as he was. Didn't require as much energy, didn't burn through Energon as fast due to battle or moving a large frame. This one that was gifted to him with the Matrix, it... well, it ran well and overall was fuel effective, but no matter what, it was still larger, and he didn't often take his full share to begin with unless battle was knocking upon their doorsteps.
He wouldn't show this weakness.
Despite the tired look in his eyes, and a new somber overtone that plagued his mind, Optimus straightened up when the footsteps drew near, and rolled his stance into the leader they all saw him as. Strong, bold, assured in his actions and positive of good things to come, none would be able to look and see past the veil he wore, the mask too well practiced and secure.
The room was mostly empty, stale lighting buzzing overhead in the hollow silence. There was a gentle thrum of the base in the background that combined with the noise, the distant rumble of the generators, and clicking of the Ground Bridge and primary computer sitting on standby. As always the large room was mostly empty, waiting and open for a group of individuals to gather if an emergency were to arise, though this time one corner just before the Ground Bridge's hallway had objects stacked at the ready.
It was not much all things considered, but it offered the base foundations needed for the individuals this day. Three wheeled carts sat as containers for everything else, the heavy duty metal secured together strongly, meant to haul mass amounts of crystals or rubble that was being removed from a work site. The wheels seemed as if they were meant to be put on a track, but were functional enough without it. Dinged, scraped, one even holding a couple blaster sears on its side, they were stolen from a Decepticon mine, Wheeljack and Fortress Maximus having claimed it, and some of the other supplies that lay within.
Typical picks and axes, hammers and a pair of scanners. There was a two handed impact drill, and one larger laser cutter meant to safely sheer through crystals to turn them into more manageable chunks, as well as a few spare battery packs to pair with. There were some electric lanterns as well, enough for each individual to have one of their own, and a couple spare to leave as markers to not get lost. It would pair well with some longer lengths of reflective rope that could be trailed behind or cut and tied off at important points.
While the tools would help, and take the edge off things, it would still be a lot of labor to ask of those who were so hungry. Because of this, settled upon the tabletop beside the computer console, were five cubes of Energon that were sealed. Each cube was the same size, but the amount within was not equal, some holding more fuel than others.
Things were getting bad, and there was very little that could be done.
There were certain points in this war that stood out from others, the ebb and flow, rise and fall, where one moment things could be good and in their favor, only to turn and plummet to a new standard that was less ideal. The lowest of low did not happen exceptionally often, but when it hit it felt like the team was scraped onto the ground below, not a single one of them able to avoid the consequences of what had gone wrong.
More often than not, it happened abruptly, a sharp jab where fate or lady luck decided to take a swing at the team as a whole. The most abrupt of situational changes could seem like the worst. A large portion of the team obliterated, an outpost being taken down and a need to reform, the Ark crashing and the need to contend with that set of challenges that came with a inhabited planet. However, those sudden changes were almost more preferable, kindling a fire under them all, rallying their will. It made people want to bite back at the hand that dealt them such poor cards, seeking vengeance by showing fate that they could stand against what happened and bounce back just as strong.
It was the slow bleeds that drained the most.
Desperation, there was nothing to rally against or be angry at, nothing to directly blame or focus upon. The grueling truth was that their efforts, their struggles, all they were doing to try to keep ahead and pull as much fuel out of the planet as possible, was not enough. They didn't HAVE the people to handle the mining operations; they didn't have individuals that knew how to mine effectively to begin with. Even if they did, they didn't have a mine to pull from, or... not any that were viable. The humans would not help, or maybe they would, Optimus wasn't about to corner them and ask for such a favor when they grant them so much to begin with.
But they were starving.
And chances had to be taken.
Optimus stood within the Control Room in front of the primary monitor, waiting patiently for those that would be arriving soon to seek out a mission that... frankly the Prime was not too keen on. It was dangerous, and the inexperience with the individuals that were assigned the task showed too strongly. None had the history needed to pull this off well, the mission not only dangerous but downright deadly if they didn't think ahead well enough as a team. From a veteran to someone that just arrived not long ago, the group was unstable, making it a tricky first mission. Any loss with the team at this point would be felt deeply, but a loss because of a frantic grasp for Fuel to keep everyone topped off? It would hurt that much more.
There was a cruel reality however that clawed at the back of his processor, thoughts that whispered a sad truth that if one of them were to perish... that would be one less person to have to fuel, saving the team as a whole for a bit longer...
Such thoughts were blasphemous, crass, and out of line, and were promptly abolished.
The last Prime turned his helm somewhat in the direction of the primary hall, thinking he heard someone approaching. His expression was dulled, exhausted, a new layer of weight thrown upon him that was sourced out of frustration at what things had come to, and a layer of hunger that plagued his war honed systems.
If he was Orion, if he still had the frame of the scholar, he would not be as bad off as he was. Didn't require as much energy, didn't burn through Energon as fast due to battle or moving a large frame. This one that was gifted to him with the Matrix, it... well, it ran well and overall was fuel effective, but no matter what, it was still larger, and he didn't often take his full share to begin with unless battle was knocking upon their doorsteps.
He wouldn't show this weakness.
Despite the tired look in his eyes, and a new somber overtone that plagued his mind, Optimus straightened up when the footsteps drew near, and rolled his stance into the leader they all saw him as. Strong, bold, assured in his actions and positive of good things to come, none would be able to look and see past the veil he wore, the mask too well practiced and secure.
The room was mostly empty, stale lighting buzzing overhead in the hollow silence. There was a gentle thrum of the base in the background that combined with the noise, the distant rumble of the generators, and clicking of the Ground Bridge and primary computer sitting on standby. As always the large room was mostly empty, waiting and open for a group of individuals to gather if an emergency were to arise, though this time one corner just before the Ground Bridge's hallway had objects stacked at the ready.
It was not much all things considered, but it offered the base foundations needed for the individuals this day. Three wheeled carts sat as containers for everything else, the heavy duty metal secured together strongly, meant to haul mass amounts of crystals or rubble that was being removed from a work site. The wheels seemed as if they were meant to be put on a track, but were functional enough without it. Dinged, scraped, one even holding a couple blaster sears on its side, they were stolen from a Decepticon mine, Wheeljack and Fortress Maximus having claimed it, and some of the other supplies that lay within.
Typical picks and axes, hammers and a pair of scanners. There was a two handed impact drill, and one larger laser cutter meant to safely sheer through crystals to turn them into more manageable chunks, as well as a few spare battery packs to pair with. There were some electric lanterns as well, enough for each individual to have one of their own, and a couple spare to leave as markers to not get lost. It would pair well with some longer lengths of reflective rope that could be trailed behind or cut and tied off at important points.
While the tools would help, and take the edge off things, it would still be a lot of labor to ask of those who were so hungry. Because of this, settled upon the tabletop beside the computer console, were five cubes of Energon that were sealed. Each cube was the same size, but the amount within was not equal, some holding more fuel than others.