[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Reporting to the Commander [Closed / Starscream / Flatline]

[Sparkplug]

Episode 2 | Week 3 | Day 6

Now this was how you built a ship.

Sparkplug wandered down the wide, tall halls of the Nemesis, occasionally reaching out to brush her fingertips along the walls, her wide green optics drinking in everything around her. Identical, faceless mechs in purple armour walked past her in small groups, and she waved cheerily at them as they went by, her field broadcasting good-natured friendliness. This had seemed to puzzle them slightly. But at least she'd gotten one of them to tell her which way the bridge was, because otherwise, she could have wandered around all day trying to find it.

The ship was huge! Powerful! It was apparently hovering in the planet's full gravity with contemptuous ease, ignoring the buffeting of the atmosphere as entirely below its notice. At every turn, she was reminded anew how lousy the vessel had been that had brought her to the planet. Clearly no one built a spaceship like her own people.

"I've got to check out the cannons on this thing," she murmured, briefly hugging herself in delight at the prospect of playing around with capital-ship grade energy weapons. Still, it only made sense that the leaders of the Decepticon faction wouldn't be slumming around in some lousy little scut-bucket. Real, actual Megatron was somewhere on board - which was terrifying - and she was supposed to be finding and talking to Starscream, who was his right-hand mech.

What did she know about him? Not all that much. He was an energon seeker, had led a squad of them, he was supposed to be pretty cunning, and he was a flier. Working in the research labs she'd been occupied in, she probably hadn't been on the same planet as him since Cybertron. Well, if she couldn't figure out which one he was, she could always ask another one of the purple mechs that seemed to be all over the place. Mass produced chassis design she noted to herself, pulling a face slightly.

Ahead, the corridor terminated in a massively armoured door, standing open, with a broad, light-filled room beyond. Slowing to a tip-toe, she peered around the door.

Turned out, recognising Starscream was easier than she'd thought. The only original design amongst the mass-produced bodies manning the consoles, he stood towards the rear of the chamber, a long knife edge of cutting lines and sharp points that looked like someone had done a join-the-dots puzzle by ignoring the numbers and connecting the points with a vertical ruler.

In her HUD, she silently tagged the mech as 'Commander Super-Pointy'.

Well, hanging around in the doorway wasn't getting anything done. Stepping into the room, she made a bee-line directly for him, dodging around broad consoles as she went. Her white plating gleamed in the bright lights as she came to a halt and gave a very amateurish salute, which a generous person might have ascribed to the dual elbows in the silver arm.

"Hi! So I'm Sparkplug, nice to meet you, just arrived on this planet today - well, I guess I've got that 'which planet am I on today' look about me - and I was told I should come talk to you. Nice missiles you've got there. I'd love to take a look at the schematics for those."

She looked up at him, smiling. Considerably shorter, her frame filled with full, rounded curves and her faceplate expressing friendly enthusiasm, she couldn't have been a greater contrast against the hunchbacked, skinny mech if she'd tried.

[Starscream]

Peace and quiet.

That's what Starscream liked about the Control Room. Only those that had proper clearance to be in here would ever linger for long, and even then? That lingering was due to the fact they were working. There was plenty of foot traffic though - shift changes, patrols, and the Vehicons utilizing the Ground Bridge often to travel to various places on Earth – usually to one of many Energon mines down below. Even despite these disturbances, there was no mindless chatter or drivel – just the all too familiar drone of the engines, the whirs and hums of machinery, and the occasional tap or click as those that were stationed at the consoles would switch screens onto another task.

The Vehicons who were manning the consoles were watching maps of different locations of the planet below. Various glyphs and walls of text scrolled down the screens at a rapid pace. They didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, but were watching for unusual activity. Be it from MECH or from an incoming distress beacon from one of their own.

Starscream's console looked to be the same as the others, for the most part. Topological graphs were displayed, with glyphs and symbols pinpointing to different areas of these graphs. Occasionally he'd lean in and with two clawed digits would expand these maps, zooming in on whatever it was he was looking at to get more details and information. While the Decepticons had plenty of Energon mines at their disposal, that didn't mean there weren't many more that had yet to be discovered. Any that they could take and claim for themselves would further the Decepticon cause, and.. Even with the truce currently in play? The less the Autobots had the better.

So focused was Starscream on scouring these maps and charts, that he didn't notice the newcomers face peering around the door-frame. The steady flow of foot traffic meant he'd all but become used to those coming and going, and so this – he assumed – was just another shift change of the Vehicons. She'd drawn the attention from a few of the Vehicons, hoping their shift was over, but once they realized it wasn't some much needed relief? They'd go back to their work.

Only once he saw movement close to him did he pull his attention away from the screen and down at the femme before him, his optics narrowing just slightly as he quietly looked her over, taking note of the salute and her posture – as well as her rather interesting color choice. His lip curled into an unamused sneer, which only became more apparent as she began talking.

And then continued to talk.

“Is that any way to introduce yourself to a Commanding Officer?” He started, standing upright and looping both arms behind his back as he further scrutinized her. The sneer relaxed, and his expression would become more neutral. “You're lucky I'm in a good mood...”

He'd unloop his arms from behind his back, gently resting them at his sides.

“Now, what is it that you want? ...Aside from the schematics to my missiles, anyway.” He purred, the most subtle of smirks appearing on his faceplate.

[Sparkplug]

The very antithesis to peace and quiet gave Starscream a slightly puzzled look, as she ran over what she'd just said. Let's see. She'd said hello - that was only polite - and she'd said her name, and she'd said she was new to the planet, and then there were those missiles. Really interesting missiles. The profile was ridiculously narrow, which had to reduce air resistance to almost nil, but they had to pack enough explosives and propellant in there to make it worth firing the things, so the innards must be some pretty potent stuff. Normally, something that long would be unwieldy in tight turns, but again, the leader of the Seekers wouldn't have missiles that could only fly in a straight line. The ignition flare had to be beautifully contained, too, or else they'd scorch his paintwork, and plainly that hadn't happened. Unless he repainted himself each time, but that'd be a waste. A little blast cuff would fix that, without the need for constant maintenance. Maybe molybdenum steel alloy...?

She became aware that her attention had drifted, and she looked back up at him, her green eyes bright in her untarnished faceplate. "Oh? Sorry if I said something out of place there. You've just got some really gorgeous technology mounted right there, it's hard not to notice it, y'know? Anyway, let me start over."

Drawing herself up a little straighter, she drew back her shoulders, marginally improving her posture. "My designation is Sparkplug, and my rank is Research Officer. I'm an expert in weapon development. I'm from off-world. I mean, aren't we all, but way off this world. Before I hitched a ride here, I was working in an enclave on Antilla-2, tiny little moon over this really, really dead planet."

She paused, cocking her head slightly to the side. She really wasn't getting much of a friendly feel from the spindly mech, and his sneer wasn't the most welcoming expression she'd ever been on the receiving end of. It had been a long time since she'd been in the direct physical presence of an immediate superior; in most of the enclaves she'd worked in, rank had been a nominal thing at best, something that got in the way of the frenetic exchange of concepts and ideas and test firing reports. Her latest home, the little research station over the dead, possibly haunted colony of Antilla, hadn't been a popular destination, and as other researchers had been reassigned she'd ended up almost alone there.

In short, vorns of talking to herself while she worked probably hadn't polished her social skills to the highest sheen. Still, if she treated the mech with friendliness and respect, and let him see her enthusiasm for her work, it was bound to work out for the good, wasn't it?

"What I could really do with is somewhere to work. I didn't exactly have a whole bunch of room on the way here to bring any prototypes; shipped over on this freighter that wasn't even run by our kind. Built for organics way smaller than I am. Ended up on my aft in the cargo hold, trying not to bang my helm on the ceiling. But all the designs and specs are up here." She tapped the side of her helm with one digit. "Just need some space, some raw materials and a flat surface, and I'll be back in business."

[Starscream]

Starscream noted the puzzled look from the femme, and the sneer would slowly creep back onto his faceplate. He couldn't help it. He hadn't exactly asked a complicated question of her, and yet this femme, this newcomer – who should be focused on her all important first impression to the Second in Command of the Decepticons – was standing quiet and looking confused, almost as if she'd zoned out.

Starscream could be patient. After all, his many plots and schemes didn't just happen overnight. No, he played the long game – patience was a virtue and those who showed some restraint were often justly rewarded. But this? He did not have the patience for. After the silence became longer than he'd of liked, which honestly wasn't that long at all? He'd gently clear his throat to draw her attention back to him, and it worked.

While there was nothing really out of place with what she'd originally said – there was a certain lack of respect in the way she had phrased things. The informality and the rambling. There was a place for that in the Rec Room when not on duty, but it was most definitely not suited for introducing yourself to someone so important!

“Just remember who – exactly - you are speaking with-” He'd reply, but the last part caught him slightly off guard, and he'd almost subconsciously lift one arm slightly to look at one of the missiles in question. “-What? Oh..? Uh. Thank you?” he'd lower his arm back to his side. “Please do.”

Lets see if she got it right this time.

She started well enough, but it didn't take long for her to start rambling again. If Starscream were more sociable this day, he would've no doubt shown interest in the tiny moon she mentioned, given he used to explore a lot before the war, and asked more about her line of work and her accomplishments in her field. He didn't. Still, the part before she derailed with nonsense had piqued Starscream's interest somewhat. A Research Officer who also dabbled with weapon development. Well. no... Her usage of the word 'expert' meant she did more than simply tinker. As she rambled, the sneer would unfortunately return and he'd simply stare her down in silence – hoping she would work out that he was less than pleased at these current events.

Maybe he wasn't in as good a mood as he originally said he was. Still, he would patiently wait until she began speaking once more. Once again she started strong, then went into things he didn't really care about, but ended with what she actually wanted.

“Will you now?” He hummed in thought, turning back to the console he was stationed at. He'd pinch together his index digit and thumb, closing the panel that had been currently on display. He'd type quickly, and a rather simple diagram of the Nemesis would blip into view.

“Mm, Research Officer means you'd probably be best suited to working over here...” He mused aloud, zooming in on part of the ship. Unless Sparkplug had been given a tour – and she wouldn't have, given that was ridiculous, she wouldn't really have a clue just where Starscream was talking about. Then again, it wasn't exactly hard to work out.

It was obviously the science wing of the ship, glyphs appearing indicating as much. There were many rooms, it seemed, some bigger than others. Shockwave of course taking up the bigger room for his lab, with Flatline somewhere around this area with his own area. He'd scroll past these, to a section where the rooms were marginally smaller, more like storage rooms than anything else. There was red text, indicating they were not in use – and there was probably good reason for that.

“Mm. Yes, this'll do nicely.” He'd side-eye her as he seemed to settle on one of the rooms in the middle of the corridor he was looking at. “We'll see how you do in here - then see if adjustments need to be made at a later time.”

What he hadn't told her was that these particular rooms were... Well, they weren't used for a reason. The Nemesis was bustling with life, that much was true – but parts of it were more or less abandoned and unused as more of the ship got upgraded or things were moved around to be more efficient. He didn't just want to give her a fully equipped room – no, she had to earn it. This would mean cleaning out whatever mess had been left behind. A challenge. Would she be up for the task? Could she even focus long enough to do so? It remained to be seen – and time would tell.

He'd close these screens, and stand up straight once more.

“As your official rank is Research Officer, I'll have you working alongside Flatline.” He waved a servo some as he spoke rather nonchalantly. “He answers to Shockwave, as will you, but - given your expertise in weapon development? You shall be reporting directly to me in those matters.”

He was sure Shockwave would have issue with some of that, especially Starscream taking a 'half claim' - but Weapon Development and the military side of things was Starscream's domain.

He'd deal with those issues when and if they arose. For now, he decided that where he'd placed her would do. She was not above or below Flatline in rank, and so hopefully there would be no issue from that, and he was sure she would be busy enough both from errands from himself and the Head of Science.

“Now, lets go see where you will be working, and introduce you to Flatline, hm? Unless you had any questions...”

The sooner he could dump her off onto someone else the better.

[Sparkplug]

Leaning forward and cocking her helm, Sparkplug studied the diagram of the Nemesis with interest as Starscream called it up. She hadn't yet seen the vessel from the outside, and had only a rough idea of how its parts interrelated - one of the reasons she was finding it so easy to get lost around the place - and so she sought to commit the outline to her memory.

From what she could tell of the scale, it certainly was a vast construction, a spiky, imposing vessel, with a broad flight deck for aerial take-offs. Of course, given they had a space bridge somewhere - onboard? - taking off from the ship itself and flying to a destination probably wasn't required all that often. All the better for a grounder like herself, who had no business at all being in the air.

The map indicated a research wing, and there, marked by a distinctive sigil, was an area allocated to Shockwave. Despite her nervous fascination with the mech, she wasn't at all sorry when Starscream panned past the area, and settled on a more distant, dead-end section of the ship. Good grief, they had so much room that they could afford to have a whole area marked as not even in use! Well, that was good for her. Unused meant she wouldn't be getting into anyone's personal space and trampling on their peds. She knew as well as anyone how touchy scientists could be about people making a nuisance of themselves in their labs.

She was still studying the screen when it went out at a brush of his digit, and she looked upwards at him with bright attentiveness as he laid out her reporting structure. The mention of Shockwave did freeze her smile for a moment, before she recovered.

"Oh, no, no questions! Well - lots of questions, really, but I don't want to bother you with them. I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for me to find my way around once I settle in here, and you're way too important for me to ask all the boring things, like requisitions and things. Honestly, I'm kind of amazed that you're taking the time to show me to this lab, and that I'll be reporting directly to you. I mean, you're the second in command of the entire Decepticon army, for Primus's sake. I'm not used to talking to anyone with a rank like yours."

She shook her helm in disbelief. "I'm kind of nervous about working directly for Shockwave, too. He's a genius, so that's pretty intimidating, and that cannon of his, I mean - the destructive output on that thing makes me weak at the knees. It's just - he's not known for being real respectful of his subordinate's chassis integrity, you know? But he wouldn't want to interfere with someone reporting to you, so it should be okay. So, should we go?"

Her field radiated sincerity, as did her posture. For someone as experienced in sycophantic fawning as Starscream, it was probably obvious that she wasn't putting on a show - she really did have faith in her superiors, and him specifically, to look out for her well-being. Apparently, wherever she'd been stationed, gossip was slow to spread.

[Starscream]

Starscream took note of Sparkplug's curiosity and interest toward what was on the screen before them. Then again it was hard not to, given that she had leaned forwards directly into the corner of his vision. He couldn't really blame her, the Nemesis was – after all – amazing. A floating fortress; it was imposing and showed a mere glimpse of how terrifying the Decepticons were. It really was a sight to behold. Not that many got the chance to see it, given it remained high out of view, however. Even Sparkplug would never really grasp the concept of how immense it was, since she was a mere Grounder and would never have the fortune to fly in and see it from afar.

He wouldn't call attention to the obviousness of her reading the screen practically over his shoulder, and was actually glad she seemed to be studying the diagrams and maps as they were displayed. It showed some initiative, which was more than could be said for most.

Not that it would stop him from swiping away these maps on the display or asking if she wanted to look at it for a moment longer to familiarize herself. Everything else she wanted to know about where things were on the ship? Would have to be learned through walking around and finding out for herself. Everyone else managed – and she would be no different.

Again, she would ramble with her reply to his question – and once more, Starscream would loop his arms behind his back as she spoke and he listened. She did manage to draw a sly smile from the Second in Command, namely after the compliments to him. His optics narrowed only slightly at the mention of Shockwave and the fact she was nervous – only for his expression to relax as she brought up that Shockwave wouldn't interfere with her, given who else she worked for.

Here's hoping that was the case.

“Any useful questions?” He'd rephrase, following the question with a sincere smile of his own. “As for my rank here - I do try to make time for those who report directly to me, so think nothing of it...” He purred. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He did need people on his side after all, and if taking time out of his day to interact with the 'lesser folk' for five minutes made him seem more appealing and could garner more favor? He was all for it. Plus, this one had the added benefit of working below Shockwave as well – and so would hopefully think nothing of reporting to Starscream occasionally with information regarding what she was working on for the Head of Science - if he ever felt so inclined to ask.

“Don't worry about Shockwave – he knows better than to do that. Should it one day slip his mind however, please let me know.” He did note the sincerity in her field, and so he would reply in kind – after all, she could be useful to him.

“Shall we?”

With that, he'd take one large, sweeping step forwards, before making his way from the Control Room – not checking to see if she followed, simply assuming that she would. The Vehicons standing at attention as he passed, offering crisp salutes before going back to their work at their consoles. From here, he would begin the trek toward the Science wing of the ship – namely the unused corridors previously indicated on the screens. His pace wasn't overly hurried, but he would move quickly, as they did have a bit of a walk ahead of them. Now would be the time for her to ask any necessary questions, or to pay attention and take note as to how to actually get to where they were going.

[Sparkplug]

Her expression brightened at his returned smile, and she nodded her understanding. His words were reassuring; he'd give her time, and he'd help prevent any undue scientific enthusiasm from Shockwave, in regards to what her internal mechanisms looked like laid out on a workbench. She nodded to herself as she turned to follow him, the angle of her shoulders just a fraction more relaxed than before.

"Sure! I really appreciate you putting time aside for me. I'll work hard to make sure I come up with something you can be proud of."

Her peds were light on the scarred deckplates as she followed him, her white chassis standing out against the muted blacks, purples and greys of the halls. A couple of vehicons walked past, saluting swiftly as they saw Starscream. Her gaze flicked this way and that, taking in as many identifying marks on the near-identical walls as possible - it was all too plausible to imagine trying to report to him, and coming in late because she'd gotten lost. But still, as she walked, her main focus was inwards, taking the time to think through what would qualify as a 'useful' question.

After a few moments, she spoke.

"Okay. Useful questions. Working outwards, then: I've been told about the truce, but not enough to really understand how we ended up in this situation. Given how close you are to the centre of things, I'd like your thoughts on it. Specifically, why it was necessary, and whether it'll last an appreciable amount of time. That guides what research I should prioritise." She paused, glancing at a corridor marking and committing the code to memory before resuming.

"I have no information on how dense the Autobot presence on this planet is. Facilities, lines of supply, rough numbers. Given that they were brave enough or stupid enough to send out a mass broadcast with their location, it suggests they have numbers, but it could have been desperation. Symmetrical information about our own numbers and resources on-planet would be useful. What likelihood there is of my being deployed to the ground, here."

The digits of her elongated arm drifted along the corridor wall as she followed the skinny mech around a corner, touching an old blast mark. "Any information you can give me on the wider war would be useful, too. I had access to very little at my previous location; information security was tight, and there were few transmissions in or outbound. I'm aware that the war is said to be going well, but no detail beyond that."

[Starscream]

Starscream would not change his pace as he strode down the corridor – remaining at the same, brisk pace he'd originally started at. He wouldn't speak to the Vehicons that they passed, although would respond to their salutes with a courteous nod.

For a moment there, it was quiet. Or, as quiet as it could be in these corridors. The rumble of the engine was a constant, the sounds of many machines and mechanisms could be heard working in the background. It was an odd frequency, and to a newcomer it could possibly be considered slightly unnerving.

He'd incline his helm some as Sparkplug finally spoke up. Ah, useful questions – and this time with little rambling! She learned fast.

“Ah, yes. The Truce.” He hummed, as if thinking of how to reply. He did have a lot to say on that matter, but these corridors were not the place to air his grievances. There was no telling where Soundwave had eyes and ears on this ship, and as such he wouldn't risk disclosing how he really felt on things. “There is a threat on Earth. Humans – a group calling themselves MECH. One human alone does not pose a threat, of course, but these ones are – well, rather organized, not to mention numerous...” The disgust could be heard practically dripping from his tone. “Enough so that Megatron himself deemed it necessary for both Decepticons and Autobots to work together in dealing with them. Both sides have tried to deal with them separately – to no avail.” He'd wave a hand almost dismissively. “Hence the ceasefire to deal with these pests once and for all.”

He'd continue on, and would occasionally glance over his shoulder to make sure was at least keeping up. These corridors were numerous and they all looked practically the same. Even so, they were still fascinating to one seeing them for the first time and he didn't want her to lag behind because something had caught her eye.

“Of course, there are rules that must be followed.” He droned. “There is to be no lethal force used against humans. Any information that is obtained on MECH is to be shared with the Autobots and vice versa... No raiding Autobot Energon mines.” He sighed. “As you are in weapons design, part of the rules will affect you specifically – in that the development of weapons is to be halted.”

His lips would twist into a smirk.

“Of course, they have no way of knowing about that part; so I may have use for you and your skills yet.” He'd lower his voice a little as he spoke, and would keep his attention and gaze straight ahead.

He'd stand up a little straighter, before continuing on as if everything was normal.

“Oh, if you do happen to run into an Autobot who did not get the memo, non-lethal use of weaponry is permitted – in self defense.”

He didn't think any Autobot was stupid enough to cause an issue, but some of them were known to be a little feisty.

“Naturally, the ceasefire will end. The only question is when and why. For the foreseeable future though it shall remain in place. It shouldn't take us long to deal with this issue and then we can get back to what's really important.”

He glanced over his shoulder once more, just in time to see her pause for a moment – he however, would not stop. Mulling over her second question briefly before he'd reply.

“Exact Autobot numbers are sadly currently unknown, given we are unaware - at present - where their base of operations is located.” He sounded slightly annoyed by this. “A rough estimate though...? Not many. Not compared to what we have here, at any rate. Still, they always seem to find a way to succeed – much to our dismay.” He grumbled, and while his expression was hidden – given she was behind him – there was indeed a slight optic roll that followed. If he was leading the Decepticons, there would be no Autobots. Rather than dilly dallying around and getting nothing done other than pathetic ceasefires like Megatron, Starscream would flush them out of whatever pit they called a home and get things done properly.

Megatron had had his chance. Too many of them.

He'd turn the corner and continue onwards.

“The War is... Going well, yes. For as well as it can be, anyway – considering recent events. Mining operations are in full swing; we gather resources and bide our time. Not a whole lot of war to be had when there is a truce in effect, after all.” A vague answer, but the truth.

At the end of this corridor, he'd make a right turn. It was strangely quieter down here than it had been previously, mostly due to the fact this unused area receieved little foot traffic other than the occasional patrol.

“I'll show you to your room first, then take you to meet Flatline once you've taken a look. Maybe he can give you tips on how best to organize things...”

He'd move to one of the many doors along the wall. There was nothing special about it from the outside, and it could be considered quite normal looking. However, a button press on a small keypad later and the door slid open – well, half open – to reveal the mess that was inside.

The room was of average size. Roomy, but not overly spacious. It appeared to have been a storage room at one point, although anything of value had long since been moved. The things that remained? Well, they were in a sorry state. There had been a leak at some point it seemed, no doubt due to the adjacent wash racks. This had caused most things to rust and become almost fused to the shelving units. Things that weren't secured onto the shelves were scattered all over the floor.

It was atrocious. But it would be a perfect test to see how she coped.

Starscream would step aside, doing a half sarcastic bow as he gestured to the room.

“Home sweet home.”

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug lengthened her stride a little to keep up with the considerably taller mech, cocking her helm to one side as he began to speak. What she had in her grasp was a legitimately rare opportunity to gain whatever information she could from the highest command in the war, and it wasn't to be wasted.

Okay. MECH, an organisation of humans. Not all of the humans, which were present in great enough numbers to be a legitimate threat if their technological progress was past a certain threshold, which meant that their weapons must be correspondingly greater in power. They might even have weapons on parity with Cybertronian technology, mounted on their mindless vehicles and weapons platforms, which would be a pretty unpleasant surprise.

She really wanted to get her hands on some of these organic's weapon systems and see what made them tick. The stipulation of no lethal force to be used against humans - any humans, including these MECH people - almost forced a squeak of protest out of her, but she managed to contain it. It definitely wasn't worth her time devoting effort and energy to researching the best ways to deal with them if she wouldn't be allowed to put the fruit of her labours into action.

The mention of no weapons development at all did manage to provoke a wordless noise of indignation out of her, though. That was - she floundered for a metaphor - like banning wings, halfway through falling down a cliff. They were already being attacked by an unfamiliar enemy! What better time for more weapons?

She turned her attention back to Starscream's words, taking in the rather scant details of the Autobot presence and the ongoing war, while trying not to distract herself with the inward ranting that threatened to bubble over aloud. Nonetheless, if anything could have taken her mind off those thoughts, however briefly, it was being told that they'd arrived at her new lab.

The door slid - reluctantly - half-open before her, exposing a graveyard of rusted, degraded detritus. The lights within were dim, and patchy, and the scattered outcrops of illumination and shadow only served to emphasise the nightmarish tangle that rose in shabby, half-collapsed ranks almost to the ceiling, and sprawled across the floor.

Stepping past Starscream, Sparkplug let out a low whistle as she picked her way into the room. "Now this is one grade-A mess you've got in here. No wonder it was marked out of use. Been some water damage... no sign of any recent wetness, though, so whatever was leaking's probably been fixed. Guess they'd have to, when it began seeping out into the corridor."

Methodically, she began to circle the room, appearing and disappearing between the tall racks of rusted scrap. "Decent amount of space, though. Need to sort the door actuator, that's probably just grit in the gear rack. Disassembly and oil, there. New lighting elements. The bulkheads are nice and flat, they'll take monitors just fine." Pressing herself up against one wall, she knocked with the back of her knuckles a couple of times, listening to the ring. "Mm. Not thick enough for weapons testing, didn't think so. I'll need to haul some armour slabs up here from wherever those are kept. So, weapons range this end, parts and assembly that end, some kind of work slab here..."

Drifting back towards the centre of the room, she asked absently, "Don't need these shelves and things, do you? Nah. If you needed anything in here, it wouldn't be like this. Okay, then. Mind your optics." She tapped one of the shelving struts a couple of times, then lifted her left arm. With a sigh-hiss, her hand withdrew, the malleable silver plating opening and reshaping around a circular angle-grinder, already spinning up with a high whine. Small, clear eye-shields like human spectacles slid out over her green optics, and she brought the blade against the upright, a fountain of sparks spraying past her - thoughtfully angled in the opposite direction from the door.

After a few seconds, she lifted the blade again and let it spin down to silence, collapsing back into a slim grey hand again. Running a digit thoughtfully over the shallow cut, she nodded to herself and looked back to Starscream. "Yep, I can clear this out just fine. Thanks for the space, Commander. Kitting it out will keep me occupied for a little bit." Lowering her voice, she added, "After that, well. If you order me to sit on my hands, I'll do it, though it'll drive me up the wall. But unless there's Autobot inspectors coming on-board to check on every obscure corner of this behemoth, what they don't know will most definitely hurt them later on."

[Starscream]

Starscream would take a half step aside to allow Sparkplug enough room to get past the half open door, and once she had passed him? He'd lean on the door frame with an elbow, peering into the room. That would be as far as his interaction with the room itself would go for now. He didn't really want to set foot in there, it was disgusting! While he wasn't a priss like Knock Out, he was, for sure, most certainly above walking through that rusted filth. She was more than capable of looking around it herself and didn't need him to be her shadow.

He'd keep his optics on her, watching how she reacted to the mess. Well, mess was kind of an understatement here – it was a complete disaster. He did wonder, or, it was more of a passing thought at seeing the inside of the room after so long, exactly why they never actually bothered to fix up these abandoned parts of the ship and put them to some actual use. The answer was simple, really. The Nemesis was so grand... So vast... They had more than enough space and could afford to have rooms that'd simply been forgotten and all but abandoned. It simply, at present, wouldn't be worth the time nor effort that was needed to fix them all up. If they ever did need these areas one day, it wouldn't take long for a team of Vehicons to clean them out, which was a good thing.

He was pleased by her initial reaction to the state of the room – not that he'd show it. His expression remained neutral, and he wouldn't shift his pose; content to just lean and observe. He knew most others wouldn't take it in their stride quite as well as she had, and would've no doubt whined and protested about how unfair this all seemed. This was plenty fair. You had to earn your right to be on this ship, even more so if you wanted a room to yourself. It was definitely a privilege, and not one granted to many.

He wouldn't reply to her words, although would give an occasional affirmative hum paired with a slight nod of his helm as she spoke, knowing that she was probably just talking to herself here, in a way of talking herself through her plans.

He did seem to perk up at the weapons testing part of her outward thoughts, and would push himself from the door frame, sidling through the half open door moments later. He kept his wings pinned back as he did – and only relaxing them as he moved into the room fully so he could look to where she was located and thusly planning all this.

Seemed she had big plans indeed.

He could respect that.

He'd give a shake of his helm to her question, even if it had been a rhetorical one that she'd asked, and his optics would narrow some in confusion at her warning. Wait, she was doing this now? Starscream didn't exactly want to screech over the sound of the angle-grinder, and would raise one arm in front of his faceplate the moment he worked out what was about to happen. The noise didn't last long, and moments later he'd lower it back to his side.

Thankfully it seemed she wasn't about to start clearing up everything right this second.

“Very glad to hear it, not that you have much of a choice here.” He purred, and would incline his helm as she continued – his lips curving into the faintest of wicked smirks. “I'm sure I will find plenty for you to do once you are situated and things are set up, so don't worry yourself there.” His own voice quiet, and he'd take a step or two further into the room as if it'd help muffle him from anyone who happened to be lurking, or listening in from the corridor. “Of course, officially it'll look like you're sitting on your hands, but you will be quite busy - I assure you.” He followed this with a low chuckle.

While he didn't care much for the Autobots finding out, because... Well? They wouldn't - unless someone snitched, there was still the issue of... Others, namely their Warlord - who had not only initiated said truce, but agreed to these pathetic rules, finding out.

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Meanwhile, he'd cast a distasteful glance downwards at the filth he was currently standing in. With a grumble and a sigh, he'd step back and away – although not quite out of the door yet.

“As much as I'm sure you'd love to get to work cleaning this... Mess... We do need to introduce you to Flatline... So, shall we?” He'd then sidestep through the gap in the doorway, making a point to wipe the bottom of his pedes on the flooring as he did.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug smiled at Starscream, her field blooming with optimistic enthusiasm. She'd just known that the Decepticons couldn't have possibly meant it when they'd supposedly said they wouldn't do any more weapon development. Who'd believe that? She'd been a little bit nervous about the possibility that after journeying all the way to this backwater planet and finding the sharp edge of the front lines, she'd be left doodling designs for improved ventilation systems on the walls. This was such a relief!

"Sure thing! I'm looking forward to cracking on with the work down here, get some customisation going with some of those purple mass-produced jobs. If they've all got the same capabilities, it's way too easy for the enemy to know how to deal with them. Even just throwing a few modded ones into the mix will make the Autobots a heck of a lot more nervous."

Of course - of course! - she couldn't just throw herself into clearing out and fixing up the room right away. She had other mecha to be introduced to, she probably had to be registered with the ship's internal network so it wouldn't go crazy the first time she tried to remotely access it, all sorts of things. Finding her way to wherever they doled out energon would be a help as well, and she was going to need to set up some kind of sleeping rack as well, once she cleared out enough space to start on it. Sure, her digits were itching to get on with tearing down the mess, and building something new, shiny and impressive here instead, but she'd have to wait.

...though if she could have just a few kliks to sketch out a rough shape on a wall, she could at least have an idea of what she was going to do later...

No, no. Starscream was leaving, and she had better follow him with alacrity. Had to make a good first impression, after all, if she was going to be working for him. Noting the way he wiped his peds when leaving, she conscientiously did the same on a rough grating, scraping off the filmy flecks of rust and flakes of grimy metal that littered the floor inside the wrecked storeroom. Reaching back to the door control, she tapped it, not wanting to leave the room wide-open.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, tapping it a few times more. "C'mon, you cross-wired, grease-stained, rusty clump of glitch-ridden failure," she scolded it, before finally smacking the panel with the flat of her hand, and with all the enthusiastic sprightliness of continental drift, the door finally ground shut. Turning back to Starscream, she went on sunnily, "Lead the way, boss. So this Flatline, what's his deal? Breakdown mentioned there was a Flatline that helps Shockwave, but I don't know a heck of a lot more than that."

[Starscream]

Starscream didn't believe in the truce. He'd stick to it, of course, but only... certain parts of it. The ceasefire he could deal with – it wasn't like he was about to be on any frontlines where he'd be in a position to even be near Autobots, so that part would come naturally. The weapon development part though...? Ridiculous. He couldn't believe Megatron had even agreed to it. How would it be enforced? Were the Autobots going to be climbing aboard the Nemesis for spot checks to see if they were upholding their part of this silly clause? If Megatron found out, would he tattle to Optimus and tell him as a show of good faith? He hoped not.

“Customizing the Vehicons? Interesting. I'm sure Knock Out would have a few ideas for things like that, if not – he should be able to give you the basic schematics for their frames at least, as there are differing types.” He hummed. While having a few modded troops could be nice, at the end of the day? The Vehicons were simply cannon fodder and may not be worth the investment. Still, he wouldn't stop her from at least designing things to stay busy until he had actual work for her – maybe something would work out and give them that extra edge. If so? He had numerous Vehicons in mind, ones that worked close to him, that would benefit from some additional modifications.

As he moved down the corridor, he didn't hear her following, and so would swivel to watch as she dealt with the door, idly picking at one of his talons with his thumb.

“Interesting choice of words there.” He smirked, amusement in his field and tone as he watched her smack the panel with her palm. It seemed violence was the answer this day, as the door finally cooperated and ground to a close. As she began making her way over to him, he'd turn on his heel to start down the corridor once more.

“Flatline? I have not dealt with him much personally - so could not tell you. He works below Shockwave and keeps mostly to himself by all accounts, worked in Sparkling manufacturing before the war, I believe... I am not sure what Shockwave has him doing these days, if anything.” He droned, venting out a soft sigh. “Knock Out complains about him enough, though. Then again what doesn't he complain about.” He chuckled at that as he turned a corner, back into the nicer area of the ship.

It wasn't too far a walk, and before long they'd find themselves in front of another door. This one looked to be in much better shape than the doorway to Sparkplugs soon-to-be room, and Starscream would lean forwards to press the keypad with one long, clawed digit when it didn't open up automatically. He could just override the lock and waltz right in, and normally he would've, but that would be rude in front of a newcomer! Instead, he'd speak into the intercom.

“Flatline, open up.” His voice would be unmistakable. “There is someone here I would like you to meet.”

[Soundwave]

Sometimes, repairs that needed to be made were too small to bother assigning an individual to fix it.

Like a grand circulatory system, Data flows and swarms through the Nemesis in a constant current of energy, it all leading back eventually to the Command Center which acted as the primary neural hub for most if not all of the functions. Even if certain things cannot be remotely controlled, information is still pulled from them and taken back to keep them updated on any faults, errors, or maintenance that needs to be done. Over time, some of these channels faultier and maintenance needs to be upheld to keep everything perfect.

Data input from the science wing had been running slow for some time.

This issue did not matter truly. What happened down in these darker corridors of the ship, could never be truly monitored or maintained in full given the fluctuating nature of the rooms. There were no generic machines that constantly ran that had to be serviced, and what tools were there, were specialty and unique. The data flow was always filtered in a way, each room its own independent hub. However, there was a hiccup somewhere with hallway maintenance, and the drones were not being deployed as much, or were being sent out during busier hours to get in the way of others work.

It was a small issue, petty in a way, but that just meant it was just as small of a fix. At some point... no... not 'some point', Soundwave knew well when it happened. Four weeks ago a pipe was changed in a wall panel that had begun leaking. It was routine maintenance, cutting out the bad section and replacing with new, but in doing so a cluster of wires got nicked in the process. The issues were not immediate, and it was only when moisture from this organic world's atmosphere touched the spot that things started to go sour.

Just as replacing the pipe was an easy fix, replacing the patch of wires was just as simple. Soundwave had it done in the amount of time it would have taken to assign a Vehicon to the task, and no one needed to be disturbed from their current posts. Less paperwork, less fuss, no issue. It was when he was heading back however; he came across a sight he did not expect.

Starscream was an intelligent individual. Beyond tactical methods, aerial skills, and his backhanded leading capabilities, he knew his way around the more intellectual sciences very well, and could easily pick up one of the rooms down here for his own projects if he was ever given enough time to do so. Despite this, the commander was never really seen down here too often, which just drew up speculations on what sort of sideways plan he may be brewing up this time.

The slender mech stopped once he saw the two individuals, his frame bleeding partly into the dimmed lighting of this portion of the ship. No optics to find among the shadows, no bold colors that defined his shape. Navy and charcoal broke up his outline well, making him a ghost in a way, nearly invisible if it weren't for the magenta bio-lights that etched and cut through his frame like a blade.

He did not advance, did not move further, just staring down upon them to listen to what was being said.

As he observed, an unseen gaze shifted to peer at Sparkplug.

Ah, an unfamiliar.

[Flatline]

Wait, what?

What was Starscream doing down here?

The door they stood before was imposing, and large, multiple plates of metal spiraling together to seal and create a controlled environment beyond. It was common in many parts of the warship, more simplistic swing doors or smaller scale openings somewhat rare to find due to the size class of some of the warriors that once roamed these halls. It allowed no noise to pass through with ease, the silence of the area flecked with light clicks or soft rumbles of the distant engine. Flecks and dings could be seen on its exterior, indents and scuffs of paint from something hitting the outside panels, while a couple scratches graced it lower down.

There would be a few moments of silence, before the door finally snarled open, and Flatline stood there, seeming confused and perhaps a bit disoriented.

The mech that stood before them was tall, and disproportionally balanced, his upper torso holding broad shoulders that capped out in thick shoulder guards connected to a barrel like chest, while his lower body abruptly narrowed. Black plated, with flecking accents of red, many of the innermost details bled and flowed together with varied shades of material variations that were made that much more complex by the detail and overlapping portions of his frame. Despite this, a few things did stand out abruptly, namely the harpoons upon his shoulders that were hiked into the air, the thin digitigrade lower limbs that were stanched as wide as his shoulders for balance, and the fact he seems to have been injured.

A neutral gray faceplate was battered on one side, tiny hairline fractures split up around the eye with discolorations present. He naturally had seams that trailed from the upper edge of his mouth to the bottom of his optics, making them more triangular than oval, but the damage side's seam was flared a bit more, splitting apart just under the opening for the eye. To hold the seam together more than it seemed to want to, a rough staple like barb was imbedded in place, the clashing metallic silver standing out against the matte surface.

This optic was squinted some, but it was not out of a want to give a judgmental look, but out of inability to open it fully at the moment, possibly not even recognizing he was doing it. While Flatline peered out across at the Commander, he rubbed and wiped down his hands on a clean work cloth, streaks of coolant smeared over the joints with luminous green.

"Yes Commander?"

His voice was gritty in a way, a disjointed mix of smoother tones that were ground and roughened over time. He had cast the tiny femme a glance, but he didn't linger, focused on the high ranking individual before him who deserved his attention far more. It was a level of respect he could happily over, even if Starscream made him wary since he was warned about him on the very first day on this ship.

Beyond him, the laboratory seemed darkened, black iron fixtures, a few hanging lights and work stations. It bled together from their current angle, not permitting too much of a good view.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug strolled along behind Starscream, breaking into a quicker pace every few steps to keep up with his long stride, positively radiating cheery enthusiasm. Having the specs for the various vehicon chassis models would definitely provide her with a jumping-off point for a whole bunch of different mods, and having a reason to work with the pretty medical officer wouldn't do any harm at all, either.

Her processor was full of different threads - plans for what she could do with the space she'd been granted, checklists to carry out as she cleared it up, materials she wanted so she could continue existing lines of research, speculation about the structural rigidity and power capacity of vehicon models - but she deprioritised enough of them to think about the mech she was being taken to meet. So this Flatline didn't get on with Knock Out, which was a sore spot to avoid, and he'd been involved with Sparkling manufacture. Probably. That wasn't a whole lot to go on.

In her long tenure as a chassis designer, she'd been aware of Sparkling manufacture, of course, but she'd always considered it rather self-indulgent, and even kind of silly. When their science was capable of creating fully sentient, fully capable individuals that were ready to go out and make their place in the universe, it seemed an enormous waste to deliberately cripple their physical structure and cognitive capacity just so high-ranking Cybertronians could parade their almost-pets around. Not really an opinion to go shoving in the faceplate of a stranger with history in exactly that field, though. Best to avoid the subject.

As Starscream paused before a heavy spiral door and demanded entry through the intercom, Sparkplug reached out with her elongated silver arm, and leant against the wall. Silent seconds ticked by, and her green optics drifted from the hatchway, exploring the corridor they stood in. As so much of the ship seemed to be, it was dimly lit, full of shadows and vague shapes that were hard to make out, cast in greys, purples and blacks. When she was finished with her own room, it was going to be one of the most brightly lit spaces on the whole ship.

Her gaze settled on a scattering of magenta lights, delineating an area of one wall. They didn't match the rest of the corridor lighting - perhaps they were environmental controls of some kind? It'd be useful to find some of those. She was going to want to tweak the environment inside her own little section, after all. Pushing off from the wall, she took a step towards them, then twisted around as the heavy metal spiral began to unfurl behind her.

Her flexible lips parted in surprise, the dim lights behind her immediately forgotten.

Flatline was interesting.

"Oh, wow," she murmured to herself, stepping forward. His weight distribution was strange, with a lot of mass built up in his chest and upper back, and huge shoulder guards. His legs seemed almost too slender to bear the weight, with odd, cloven peds that were presumably wider to help balance the main mass above. And then there were the weapons...

"Harpoons? Serious mass, short-range projectiles. So you're for close-range fighting, but not too close range, or they'd be hard to get to bear on your opponent... so I guess you've got to be more agile than you look, so you can maintain your effective distance. Are those things tethered? I can't see anywhere you could be housing more harpoons, they look like breech loaders... though I guess I've seen one-shot weapons before. Specialised for a task? Can't guess what it would be, just from looking at you..." She spoke rapidly, her optic ridges drawing down in a fascinated frown of concentration, talking mostly to herself.

Belatedly, she noticed the damage to his faceplate - rather nasty looking damage at that - and opened her mouth to comment on it before the other thing she knew about him, 'doesn't get on with Knock Out', drew itself to her attention. Probably wouldn't be a helpful thing to point out he was injured, if he was so determined to avoid the chief medical officer that he'd stapled his faceplate together instead. She closed her mouth again.

In fact, she should have probably said hello first.

"Uh - sorry. Your chassis is just really interesting. I'm Sparkplug. New here. Research officer. Hi." She raised a hand in greeting, somewhat sheepishly.