[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Whispers in the Dark [open/Sparkplug]

[Deleted]

• Episode: 2 – Week: 3 – Day: 7
• Location: Various Hallways/Rooms onboard the Nemesis.
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The atmosphere hadn´t changed since the last time he´d roamed the hallways of the Nemesis, gloomy and dark as the large corridors extended into the far shadows, vanishing into the black as the flickering specks of integrated lighting danced among the ceiling and tried to maneuver its way through the void, crawling along the walls and tinting the numerous supports that could be found on either side in a light purple. Red glowing lamps lined on the dark gray metal floor in case of an emergency and could be followed to navigate through the dark area, adding some contrast to the dim setting.

It had been one of those days where these endless seemingly hallways would appear dull and hollow, loneliness could be felt by walking on their trail and as much as Blackframe liked the dark environment that the ship provided, it lacked variety. Each corridor had the same pattern, each corner he´d rounded showed the same image and each step he took made the same noise, echoing through the air and fading into the distance.

The lack of traffic did not concerned the grounder as he´d learned that the main patrols had been paused at this time of the `day´ and the troops would retreat to their quarters, only the few which wandered around could be found…

His pace increased and soon he strode across the floor, pedes thudding down at the metal ground and the sound that rumbled with them followed soon after. A data-pad gripped between his left servo and an energon cube lay in the other, additional cables and wires were tucked like a lasso at his hip where one of the scabbards had been positioned, swinging slightly with each step taken.

Taking a sip of the blue liquid he eyed the pad and scanned over its content as the light reflected from the screen. A familiar feeling of what he had been used to before arriving on this ship, working late at night where someone could accomplish their tasks without being interrupted. Good old memories.

And the good side of it was that the data-pad seemed to work, finally he could rely on that damn thing, not like the other one that accompanied him a few days before, freezing and turning offline as it had been `taken care of´ by now. It rusted peacefully somewhere on the scrap yard… where it belonged.

However, things had changed and so did the schedule as time was of the essence here and could not be wasted. Less sleep, more work! There were many things to learn from, data and information that needed to be read and … this!

Not paying attention of what would lie in front of him the mech continued to walk his way down the corridor, humming a fast repeating melody that kept a steady rhythm as he rounded another corner.

“The hell I send them to will feel like heaven after what I've done to them.”

[Sparkplug]

The Nemesis was vast, dark, and almost empty at that time of night, its kilometres of interweaving corridors hosting little more than the occasional ped-steps of a mech on the graveyard shift. All the same, Sparkplug was still very much up and about.

Having delivered a load of rusty scrap to the vast recycling furnace of the warship, carrying it upon the flattened bed at the rear of her vehicle form - loading her own flatbed without help was an incredible pain in the aft, and she'd had to balance a load of it on the edge of a corroded shelf, then back into it and let it fall onto the rear of her chassis - she was now rolling back through the hallways on all six wheels. Her engine grumbled a soft, bubbling purr as it propelled her at near-idling revs, her headlights off.

At first, the humming was masked by the quiet sound of her own engine, but as she approached a turning in the corridor, a quick, repetitive tune became apparent, catching her interest. She'd not heard any music aboard the ship since she arrived, other than the radio that she'd gotten rigged up in her half-cleared mess of a workspace. The burble of her engine cut to silence as she disengaged it, followed by the distinctive sound of a Cybertronian transforming.

She paused to nod with satisfaction to herself. The transformation was getting smoother and more comfortable as she got accustomed to her Earth-based altmode, and she was growing to enjoy it. Strolling towards the corner, she rested a hand upon it, and peered around into the corridor beyond.

"Oh, hey there," she greeted the black and white Cybertronian approaching, stepping out into the open. He was a head taller than her, a comparatively small size difference that made it easier to look up at him without straining her neck. Her bright green optics glowed in the dim light, standing out from her silky grey faceplate. "Thought I had the corridors pretty much to myself at this hour, particularly down here."

[Deleted]

The voice that pulled the officer out of his thoughts had been an unfamiliar one which could not be recognized as the repetitive humming stopped and his helm lifted in order to find the source of said voice. Red optics peered through the tinted visor and would meet with the femme´s standing across the floor, slowing down his movement to a far more steadier pace he´d approach the smaller one.

The first glance upon her frame had been a quick one, bright green optics, unusually for Decepticon standards as he raised an optic ridge regarding that, suspicious. Her wheels had been situated in different positions; a grounder, thank primus not one of those fliers who had their heads in the clouds…

Overall the femme seemed small and slender in her design with an odd looking left arm, though many had upgraded their frame at some point of the war as to gain personal advantage over others, or simply modified some parts in order to gain an individual look, to be recognized in a more outstanding way, adding cosmetic accessories to their design. And some had them just from the day they were onlined…

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine...”

The reply came out dry but was not meant in a rude way, after all the greeting with that the smaller grounder had approached him was at least acceptable and not paired with any expectations or demands as it had sounded in a more `casual´ way, different from how a soldier would address one another, letting him to assume that this femme was certainly not one of the frontliner´s, given the pattern of speech and the lack of armor on her side…

“…If you seek privacy, the corridors aren´t the place to be, thought that would be obvious since you know, logic.”

He´d made no effort to intimidate the other grounder, feeling too exhausted after a long day of work and yet his frame rose gradually as to gain a more upright position, staring down into her green optics with a curious gaze and addressing her once more.

“I can tell that you´re not one of the soldiers who were assigned for the night shift, soo… care to share what kind of business you have to take care of at this hour?”

[Sparkplug]

"Ship could do with a little more sunshine, I reckon," she replied conversationally, strolling up to the taller mech. "I get that a warship isn't exactly going to be covered with windows, but it seems like this place goes out of its way to be gloomy and foreboding. Still, not like I was trying to avoid company." Sparkplug laughed, shaking her helm. "Yeah, if you want to be alone, the corridors are a pretty silly place to try for it. If you want to be really alone, you'd want to be down where I've been assigned."

The black and white mech spoke with an air of authority, she decided, or at least, the air of someone that has the authority to ask questions and expects them to be answered. There was something about the way he straightened when he addressed her and the strict lines of his two-tone paint job that suggested some sort of enforcer. Still, any kind of company was welcome, and it was certainly a pleasant distraction from cleaning.

Moving to the nearest of the two corridor walls, she leaned against it comfortably, supported by the pneumatic tread of the types half-recessed into her back. A dim corridor light glowed over one shoulder, casting soft-edged shadows across her faceplate and clean white casing. Gesturing loosely as she talked, she went on, "Totally not a soldier, though, you're right about that. Not that I'd mind giving my weapons systems a real live-fire test, but I've been posted way out in the middle of nowhere, in research enclaves. My name's Sparkplug. I only just hit the planet, really. Got assigned a room full of wreckage to clear out and make my own, so I'm busy sawing, cutting, all that, making it habitable. Just dumped a load of rusty odds and sods into the big recycler. But when it's done, it's gonna be a nice little spot."

"With some decent lighting," she added after a moment. "Anyway. Still getting to know the compliment onboard - this ship is huge - so I can't say I know your designation yet. You don't seem like you're rank-and-file night shift either, though."

[Deleted]

The first thought that´d crossed the officer’s mind as soon as the other began to speak was surely a quick one as he already could gave her a designation: Sir talk-a-lot, or in her case Miss-

However, he did not mind as friendly conversations seemed to be rare among the warship and having someone to talk to in a more civilian way was certainly a welcoming change.

He would listen to what the other had to say and even watch closely as she´d leaned against the wall, laughing and gesturing into the air. Definitely not a soldier or someone who would be accustomed to military terms and rules as this behavior of hers had proven already enough.

Pay attention to the little details and answers are easy to find.

The black and white mech remained silent as to grant her permission to continue; taking another sip out of the cube and paying attention of what else the femme had to say, nodding in agreement as she stated what he´d already assumed, satisfied with his observation.

“Mhh~ I´m certainly not one of those purple drones that giddy-gadder around and call themselves guards. I tell you, useless little fraggers.”

The Vehicons he´d encountered on the first few days had been… ignorant and seemed overall dumb as they had the simple job to watch and report any unordinary occurrences to their superiors, and yet, he could roam the vessel freely and do as he pleased, entering any room without even receiving a warning. Great guards they were!

A smirk formed on the grounders faceplate, wondering why she hadn´t just ordered one or two of them around to take care of the `dumping off scrap´ issue. The drones seemed perfectly fine for such a job in his opinion and were suited to take the role of the cannon fodder anyway.

“I am officer Blackframe; security director formerly stationed onboard the Decepticon spaceship Avius, reassigned on the flagship Nemesis, to your service.”

He mused proudly.

“So, you´re a newcomer huh? Well, given your assignment to your own workplace already… I assume that you got yourself registered and introduced with our current situation yet? If not, I would advise you to visit the control room and seek an audience with one of the commanders immediately…”

Pausing for a moment and thinking back, the past events hadn´t gone too well regarding meeting someone in high-command and with a quick shook of his helm he´d shove that thought aside, but still offering some sort of support to gain the femmes favor could come in handy for the future.

“…Otherwise, welcome onboard the Nemesis, I suppose.”

[Sparkplug]

He sure didn't seem to think much of the mass-produced purple troops that carried out the day to day operations of the Nemesis. She wasn't so sure they should be dismissed that quickly. Sure, their chassis design was so painfully standard that it made her digits itch, but that wasn't the fault of the Cybertronians themselves. Maybe when she got to know some of them better, she'd be able to judge for herself.

She really had to get some modifications into some of them, give them a bit of character, though. If the enemy knew exactly what their troops would do, and what they were armed with, no wonder the Autobots were giving more trouble than their slender numbers would suggest.

Breaking into a wide smile, she nodded in response to his greeting. "Well, thanks! I've not had a lot of welcome aboards, I'll admit that much. Military ship and all. Nice to meet you, Blackframe." Glancing at the energon cube in his hand and idly wondering whether she should try to find the dispensary again before she rested, she went on, "I've been sent to Starscream, and he's got me slotted into the command structure, assigned me the space I'm working on. Nice guy."

Pushing off the wall, with a glance over her shoulder to check he was following, she began to stroll down the corridor in the direction he'd been heading. "Never heard of the Avius, I have to admit, but I've been working way out in the middle of nowhere for most of the war, what with one thing and another. Weapons designer. There's always something to keep you busy, you know? Aside from the occasional shipment of battlefield data and raw materials, we didn't get a lot of visitors out at my last posting. This little moon, around Antilla. Ringed planet? Used to have an Autobot colony before it went bad? We stay well clear of the surface, as does everyone else, so it makes a good place to do remote testing."

Stretching both arms over her helm and lacing her digits together behind her neck, she arched her back, her wheels flexing slightly with the movement. "Been spending too long in awkward poses the last couple of days, cutting and grinding. As for now - well, I've done enough hammering and cutting for one day, I guess. What I could do with is a view, maybe some fresh air in my intakes."

Cocking her helm, she paused and half-turned to him. "If you're free, sure would be nice if you could show me some way of getting up on the top deck. Somewhere grounders like you and me won't get swept off by the slipstream."

[Deleted]

As the femme had answered the question regarding her registration and stated that she´d been assigned and instructed by Starscream himself, Blackframe remained silent and would not question that any further as this issue could be considered done and none of his business since it hadn´t been his job in the first place.

The second-in-command surely would know how to handle those things, at least that what he´d hoped since the structure among the Nemesis had been different from what he´d been used to regarding its standard and chain of command.

However, as Sparkplug had pushed herself off the wall and strode down the corridor, the officer didn’t hesitated and quickly followed, keeping up with her pace and would soon start to walk alongside her, listening carefully before responding.

“Well, if you haven’t heard of us, than that means we did our job right, not that it would matter since… it’s gone. Though, I can´t say that I heard of your previous whereabouts either… sounds weird.”

Sparkplug sure had been located on the aft of the universe he so decided, weird planet and what was that about some sort of Autobot colony? Stationed on its moon, he got that. The name itself hadn´t clicked as it too sounded unfamiliar to the black and white mech. The universe was a vast place to be, many galaxies, many planet´s and so many more asteroids floating around, too big to explore and yet, not big enough as it grew and expanded steadily.

A low growl left the grounders vocalizer in response before he´d resume to the femme´s words again, listening as she proceeded with her speech, agreeing and offering his service in return…

“Mhh, a view huh? If you wish to visit, perhaps the flight deck? Than this could be arranged, though I have to take care of something first, just down the corridor… won´t take long.”

Continuing to stride down the hallway the officer´s pace increased as to be one step ahead of the femme´s, taking on the lead and keeping his field of vision upon the smaller one to make sure she wouldn´t get lost, roughly pointing with the data pad ahead to indicate the direction he would be heading.

At the same time Blackframe shot a curious gaze towards the smaller grounder; wanting to know where exactly her specialties lay and how much knowledge she could provide regarding her statement of being a weapon designer as the neutral voice with its air of authority slowly vanished, turning to a friendlier one so to say.

“So, Sparky! You said you´re some kind of weapon designer? How about repair?”

If this femme would be capable of repairing weapons, especially a certain kind of weapons than it certainly would be best advised to stay on her good side. Earning her trust and seek her service in the future could be profitable.

After a moment he would walk his way up to another intersection before turning right in order to round the corner, and into another corridor. Gloomy and dark as the prior had been, flickering lights and additional supports lining on each side, boring in one way or another. However, at the far side of the hallway loomed a dark contrasted entrance with large metal doors that clamped its seal shut tight as to conceal its content, hiding of whatever it may hold!

[Sparkplug]

Letting Blackframe take the lead, Sparkplug strolled along behind and to one side of him, keeping an optic on the corridor markings. The Nemesis was huge, and she was still very much finding her way around it; she was more than happy to let the black and white mech show her the way. After spending too long hacking out old shelving and prising corroded mess off the deckplates, a clear sky above sounded incredibly tempting.

Still, she wouldn't have been the researcher she was if a mention of a mysterious 'something' didn't prickle her curiosity.

With a laugh, she replied to his question, "Well, yeah. I'm a really darn good weapons designer. You want to take a look at some of the energy weapons I've put together in my time. Real nasty stuff. Mines that do way more interesting things than just explode. Active stuff, passive stuff, armed drones... the works."

Clearly his use of the diminutive nickname didn't bother her a bit. Unlike, for instance, Soundwave. Gesturing loosely with her elongated arm, the double elbows giving it an odd, unnatural grace, she went on, "When it comes to repairs, I'm decent. Not the kind of femme that can strip something down in the field and patch it - you want a proper mechanic for that. But give me my equipment, somewhere to work, and I can strip down darn near anything, find the faults and get it working again. When it comes to the experimental stuff, nothing works perfectly the first time out, you've got to be good at figuring out the subtle problems."

"As for Antilla, well. Bet you'll recognise the place if I say 'Cosmic rust'. Nasty, nasty stuff. Pretty much incurable. The planet's more or less this huge orange dustball, high gravity, high winds, with an unstable ring at a thirty degree tilt to the equatorial plane of the planet. Probably a decent-sized moon got totalled by an impactor from out of the plane of the system. Anyway, there was a colony down there, but the whole population rusted out. No one comes near there anymore, makes a great place to do weapons research. You know, from a distance."

Sparkplug shook her helm. "We're based on Antilla-2, a little shepherd moon probably coalesced from some of the ring debris. I was, I mean, before I came here. Safe enough up there. When we've got a batch of prototypes to test, they get mounted on remotes, dropped down into the atmosphere, they run the tests, then we fight it out between the remotes to destroy the prototypes and have the last one standing self-destruct. If any mecha's crazy enough to go down to the surface in the hope of learning anything from the shards left over, well. They're welcome to give it their best shot."

She flashed the security officer a grin. "The last one standing was usually one of mine." Nodding towards the massive sealed doors ahead, she added curiously, "So what's in there? This your 'something' to do first?"

[Deleted]

A faint incline of his helm would be all that Blackframe had to offer regarding her speech of weapons, explosives and her statement of repairs as he continued to close the gap between them and the door. It sure sounded interesting, he admitted and taking a closer look into her little collection wouldn’t hurt later on, maybe she had more to offer than just explosives or energy weapons… but that had to wait for another time.

Sparkplug on the other hand seemed more than enthusiastic to continue, and in all honesty? Blackframe couldn’t blame her, but being stationed on this Antilla moon sure sounded pretty uneventful, he could imagine. Though, from the sound of her voice it surely wasn´t for the femme… At least it was easy to obtain information´s, just a little squeeze and she seemed to babble of whatever someone needed to know, and the most important part? She didn´t questioned in return, which was even more to his liking.

“Yeah, I may have heard about that ... cosmic rust, but I still can´t say that I would know your little moon base or even came close to that and from what you´ve said, I´m glad that I haven’t. Who in Primus´ name would work in such a place?”

A long exhausted vent escaped the officer as the broad entrance slowly came into view and revealed itself from the dark, sealed tight in dark gray metal colors and glowing markings that lined at its structure, surrounding its frame. Though the design itself wouldn’t look any different from what could be seen among the ship in multiple variations, standard and repetitive in its own way.

Turning to face Sparkplug once more, he offered her a smile of his own, or rather a grin that soon faded into its devilish smirk. The femme seemed pretty curious to know what would lay behind the seal and he´d be more than pleased to show her.

“Sometimes, the most boring stuff can be the most exciting one, as long as you know how to use it.”

And with that, Blackframe would stop just in front of its entrance, quickly finishing up his cube and placing it out of the way before he´d type in some code on the keypad. The door opened with a hiss in return, spiraling aside and vanishing into the walls as to offer both Cybertronians permission to enter. Specks of flickering lights would start to reveal a rather crowded environment as one single spectrum of light lit up the whole room shortly after, slightly brighter of what could be found in the corridors.

“Won´t take long, though don´t get yer hopes up, seems like some like it messy, ugh.”

The officer assured one last time before he would turn and silently walk inside; resuming to his little something, starting to search the room, turning around and looking in various directions. Data pad gripped in his servo as his thumb moved across its screen, scrolling of whatever he´d displayed on it downwards. He looked through numerous shelves and racks which could be found along the wall in a somewhat orderly line, containing scrap of metal sheets and plates in different colors and shapes. Carefully pushing a few old rusted crates aside in order to navigate his way through the end, eyeing some old broken weaponry along his way and other unidentified objects…

His gaze then would shift to one side of the wall where cables and wires had been hung, ignoring the old worn out worktable that stood below, too rusty and damaged as it had been seemingly tortured by many individuals that had worked on it. Broken drawers and several tools scattered on its surface, messy if someone had to describe it.

Overall the room wasn’t special in any way as they could be found all across the nemesis, un-used areas which had no purpose or lost them long ago; serving now as good old storage-rooms for those who want to dumb off their scrap, or look for it.

[Sparkplug]

Who'd choose to work above Antilla? It wasn't a silly question. Before she'd gone there, she'd had some nervousness of her own about the enclave there - even if the moonlet was safely away from the planet's surface, just the words cosmic rust were enough to send a shiver up her spinal strut. For a species that was basically immune to the diseases that afflicted organic races - Sparkplug couldn't help but view the idea of their feeble little temporary bodies with a kind of condescending amusement - a sickness that fed on Cybertronians was enough to scare her half-way out of her plating.

The terror of it had dulled with time. Nothing they sent to the surface ever came back into orbit, and as the vorns ticked by with metronome efficiency and without incident - without cosmic rust incident, at least, experimental weaponry could be pretty volatile, and accidents did happen - she almost forgot her fear entirely. What remained of that cautiousness was kept alive by the crews of the supply ships, who were markedly more nervous about Antilla than any of the permanent staff, and had a habit of not-so-discreetly looking the researchers over for any sign of rust before physically touching them.

The train of thought was derailed by the spiralling opening of the door, revealing a large, cluttered storeroom, rather shabby at the edges but by no means as ruined as the one she'd been assigned to clear out. All the same, she vented a little sigh at the similarity of the room to the one she'd spent days in, before her interest in the assorted clutter shouldered aside the reaction.

"Oooh," she murmured, her green gaze alighting on a dense rack of aged weapons, dismounted and mute, their focusing lenses dusty. Strolling over to the shelf, she began picking them up one by one, checking for any sign of burnt out components with a professional optic.

"Looks like... lessee here, so your collimator is burnt out, and your capacitor bank has blown a few links..." Picking a couple of the more promising chunks of weaponry out of the rack and laying them side by side, Sparkplug's left hand sigh-hissed as it collapsed into a small, pointed tool with a bright blue glow at the tip of the angled emitter. Tugging loose a bunch of loose wire on the shelf above, she used the glowing tool to sever several small segments, stripping them of their cladding with the ease of long practice.

The dismounted weapons were already half-dismantled, their plating removed, granting her access to their exposed internals. Leaning over the shelf, she connected small segments of wire over the burnt out elements of the right-hand object's capacitor grid, bypassing the damaged segments. With the work of a few moments, a web of wires cross-connected the two defunct weapons, connecting the intact collimation array of the one to the half-repaired grid of the other.

"Power, power," she muttered to herself, glancing distractedly away from the improvised lash-up on the shelf. Stepping to one side, she groped through a drift of discarded pads and small monitors, trying their power controls until a monitor with a broad splintered crack across the surface lit up red at her touch. "Ah! Gotcha." Nodding to herself, she flickered her left wrist, the tool collapsing and restructuring into a long, pointed screwdriver. Levering up the back of the monitor and prying at its innards, the panel crackled and went dark again as a small power unit came free and fell into her fingers.

Crossing back to her little project, she pulled two long cables loose from between the interlinked weapons, twisting the end-caps off to bare the metal beneath. Plugging one wire after the other into the small, spherical auxiliary power unit, she was delighted to be rewarded with a low whine, and a violet glow kindling behind the lens system of one of the bastardised weapons. "You beautiful lil thing," she told it, radiating satisfaction. Flicking a couple of switches on the surface, touching the lash-up with a little more care now, she checked the integrated readouts as they twitched. A moment later, however, Sparkplug sighed as the indicators faded out, and the glow collapsed to nothing.

"Aw. Well, you weren't designed for that kind of power drain, were you," she remarked to the aux power unit, giving the small ball a pat. Straightening up, she looked around for Blackframe, adding more loudly, "Y'found what you were looking for yet?"

[Deleted]

Looking through various shelves Blackframe payed Sparkplug no further attention, assuming that she´d either wait or inspect the room by herself as she seemed to be one of the smarter individuals who could be left alone for a certain amount of time without blowing up the ship, at least that was what he´d hoped.

Continuing to slender through the room he tossed the cables and wires which had been carried around his hip into one of the darker corners, allowing them to meet their doom with the rest of the scrap that laid around, scattered on some racks and soon resumed to what he´d originally came for.

Searching…

And it wouldn´t take long to find what he´d been looking for as it laid on one of the more corroded shelves. Long forgotten as the dust which had collected over time was surely notable on top of its surface. Reaching out and taking what would lay in his grasp, he grabbed the rather small and round object and inspected it in order to find any fissures or scratches on its shell. Twisting it around and brushing off the dust to gain a better view, tilting his helm from one side to another in a thoughtful manner before nodding in agreement. It seemed intact and in a good condition despite the environment it had been in, and with a few adjustments it could be fully functional again.

His gaze then darted quickly through the scattered objects that spread across the floor before spotting the other missing parts, hiding away in some old crate with a few additional tools and plates in its content as he began to maneuver his way up to said crate. Laying the smaller object that had been found earlier inside the container and turning the data pad offline he placed it on top of the other tools, eyeing it one last time to assure himself that this little box would hold the last ingredients needed for his minor project before picking it up and holding it tight within his servos.

Interrupted from a sudden voice that had called out he rolled his optics in return; yepp that voice sure belonged to Sparkplug, ripping through the silence in an unmistakable tone, and with a hazy glare Blackframe responded with a rather dull voice of his own.

“Yeah, found it.”

Focusing in closing the distance between them he would reach the other grounder just a few seconds later, offering her a faint incline of his helm before glancing over her shoulder to see what kind of experiment she was working on. Taking a closer look, Sparkplug had found a way of occupying herself it seemed as the half dismantled weapons spread across the shelf, loose wires exposed and… he had no clue what exactly she was doing, or what he was currently looking at but one thing was for sure; It hadn´t worked like the femme had planned, he could see as much.

“Well, congratulations, surgery´s complete. Patient´s dead. Good job Sparky.”

He deadpanned her in response of her little experiment gone wrong, or rather her failed attempt to whatever she had been trying to archive and moved around the shelf in order to place the small crate next to the dismantled weapons in a hasty way as some dust curled up into the air, leaving a thin line of powder like particles swirling around. Quickly hand waving the dusty air aside and retrieving the offlined data pad he furrowed one brow, curious if she had tried to nuke the room while he was gone.

“So, I´m kinda gone for what? A few kliks? And you already started creating some kind of combined mega weapon? You sure love those things, do you?”

Having said that he leaned slightly forward, one elbow propped on the shelf´s surface while resting his chin into the palm, the other servo holding the data pad would find a grip at one side of his hip armor as he awaited some kind of explanation.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug burst into laughter, shaking her helm. "Mega weapon? Heck, no. Sub-par weapon, rilly. Patient's not dead, though. I'd say more, well - hibernating. If you like." She moved aside, giving him a clearer view of the lash-up. Her slim grey digit tapped what was left of the casing of the twin weapons.

"Been having a little fun seeing if I can get something functional out of these odds and sods. See, this one on the left, the power circuits are completely fried. Not even part-way burnt out, but just gone. Looks like they took a blaster bolt. Nasty stuff. But the resonance chamber and collimator are still in fine shape; just needs the right kind of feed. So this other one, the collimator is cracked, so that wouldn't put out a nice neat bolt. More of an unfocused burst, wouldn't rilly be effective unless you had it right up against your faceplate. Power circuits are nearly intact though, just a few burned out capacitors. See, I've bridged over the burnt out ones, here and here, with this wire, and hooked up the feed to the intact lens assembly of the other one."

From the smile on her lips and the brightness of her field, it was clear that she was a femme that found all of this genuinely interesting, and seemed to assume anyone she talked to was just as interested by the technical details as she was. "With the missing capacitors, I reckon the blast strength would be down about, oh, fifteen percent? If you hooked this mess up to a wall socket, got some proper juice in there, reckon you'd get about ten reliable shots, maybe another five or six if you were lucky. Then the cross-wiring would burn out. Not meant for this kind of load.

"This little aux battery here-" she gestured at the little round object hooked into the right-hand weapon, "-had just about enough power left to boot up the weapon and run diagnostics, so I could check all the connections were holding. If I get the time, I'll come back and get this later, transfer over the collimator assembly into one frame and do a proper job with it. Always liked fixing things."

Turning towards the small crate, cocking her helm slightly at the trail of dust it had left across the shelf, she added curiously, "What's in the box, Black?"

[Deleted]

Oh boy! This was going to be a long night.

Sparkplug´s detailed explanation left Blackframe rather unimpressed as he wasn´t interested in weapons that uses explosives or other kind of trigger happy energy and buried his chin slightly deeper into his palm, throwing her a bored look in return. Still, he listened and even understood what she had said regarding the burned out power circuits and capacitors.

Nonetheless, it reminded him a lot of one of the lectures he had attended at the Military Academy back on Cybertron and frowned shortly after as these lessons had been always despised by the black and white mech, too boring and too repetitive, like dismantling a gun and putting it back together, over and over and over again. And the worst part of it all had been un-doubtful the`listening to some oldtimer explaining weapon tech and asking darn weird questions later´ stuff.

Why had he asked for some kind of explanation again?

Blackframe had no idea, though the femme seemed to enjoy it and he remained silent and merely observed of what else she had to say, keeping his own field tucked close to himself in return.

“I hope this isn’t going to be asked in some kind of test later. Don´t get me wrong, I´m fine with you enjoying it, but please keep in mind that I´m just the security dude around here and not the cavalry.”

He mumbled into his servo, processing of what else had been said as his helm slipped off of his palm and onto the shelf’s surface with a dull `clang´, quickly straightening up again and rubbing the spot at his forehead he would continue as nothing had happened.

“Ouch! … Ugh, firstly, the name `Black´ is used to describe someone evil or bad, someone who has no hope or lost it long ago… `Sparky´ on the contrary is a name that is used for someone with an energetic, clever and high-spirited personality, someone who is cheerful and smart. Secondly, if you really want to shorten my name, it´s `Bluff´. Don´t ask, won´t tell- Now! Let´s focus on the important stuff shall we? You said you enjoy repairing, or rather `like fixing things´…”

With no further explanation Blackframe would carefully shove the small crate in front of Sparkplug, allowing and offering her to take a look into its content for herself.

If she would choose so, Sparkplug would find several wires and smaller cables in different sizes and colors, some tools and metal rods. The most obvious object however could be found on the very bottom, a four propelled mini drone which would barely scale with the palm of the femme´s servo, half-dismantled as the landing gear, the camera mounting frame and the battery components lay loosely on its side next to the drone. A micro spy camera and the controller for the drone could also be found in said box, seemingly functional and intact but with a few scratches at the auxiliary screens surface.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug was often kind of oblivious to cues that she wasn't exactly getting a rapturous reception as she talked. Nonetheless, Blackframe's pantomime falling asleep against a shelf was pretty hard to miss, and she frowned slightly as he responded with - well, she wasn't sure what exactly he was saying. He was just a security officer, not the 'cavalry'? What was the cavalry? Were they experts in electrical engineering?

He seemed to have a lot of associations with the word black, too. Evil, bad, hopeless. Maybe this was some kind of weird subculture that had developed on this ship of his - the Avius? Colours linked to specific moral and philosophical standpoints? As far as she was concerned, black meant 'absence of colour' or possibly 'switch the light on'.

Anyway.

Lifting the lid off the crate, she set it aside, poking around inside with a forefinger. Wires, cables, rods... and a dismantled little drone, its components rattling around in the corners of the crate. Gingerly, she unearthed it from the smaller pieces and parts atop it, lifting it up into the light. "Huh. Spy drone. This is what you're after?" she murmured. Turning the little flight frame over in her hand, she carefully rotated the propellers with a digit, testing the smoothness of their movement and the resistance of the motors.

"Looks like a pretty simple reassembly job. Parts are all here. Standard plugs. Anyone who knew the first thing about electronics could put this back together. Assuming the bits work. that is. If any of this is broken, you're talking either getting spares from somewhere or a bit of serious poking around at the circuit level to figure out why it's gone dead." She paused, and glanced at him sidelong, her green optics gleaming along the surface of her grey faceplate. "Guessing you didn't give me the box just for me to look at it. Alright, hang on."

Setting the flight frame on the shelf, she scooped a small socket wrench out of the box and removed the half-tightened bolts, laying them out neatly side by side. The appropriate position for the camera mounting frame was obvious, likewise the battery, and she slotted them into the frame. A couple of connecting wires had gone astray, but there were plenty of spares in the crate, and the terminals colour-coded. Pausing briefly, she reached out and selected the spy camera, fixing it into the camera housing and only then putting the landing gear on. Her digits were nimble and swift, efficient in their movements as she put together the slightly worn pieces and finished off by tightening all the small, silvery bolts.

Checking the drone a final time under the light, she shrugged, and put the skeletal little thing down on the shelf again. "Well, it's all in one piece. Past that, can't tell if the components are alright just by looking at it. You'll find out when you switch it on." Removing the controller from the crate, she set it down by the drone for him, and replaced the lid of the box neatly. No sense in making the storeroom any more of a mess than it already was.

[Deleted]

Of course it hadn’t been much of a challenge for Sparkplug to reassemble the little drone back to its original form and Blackframe merely observed of how she worked; orderly, quick and with fluent motions, not surprised by it in all means as she seemed familiar with easy- and repetitive works.

On the other hand she also seemed kind of bored at the task he´d offered her, or was she? The black and white couldn´t really tell but still assumed that it had to be the fact that the tiny flight drone wasn´t a super mega weapon she could experiment with, no explosives or energy laser pointers to burn through of whatever the weapon designer would silently dream of.

As Sparkplug had completed her work and set the controller down, he would take hold of the device, eyeing it quickly before switching it on, booting it up and sending an input to the little drone as a small dark blue light illuminated at the front of the flying device, indicating that the signal had connected and awaited further commands.

So far - so good.

In return the officer carefully moved his thumb over the steering wheel, receiving a faint sound of the four propellers springing to life as the motor had set to work, whirring softly and lifting the tiny drone up into the air, hovering in place for now.

Pushing a few more commands into the controller the air born mini-copter would start to maneuver its way around the room, left, right, rounding one shelf and turning a right zig-zag, avoiding collisions with any objects and of course; Sparkplug, as he didn’t want to break the fragile thing so soon by crashing into any obstacles or living beings.

And as quickly as the take-off had started, as quickly it would end, landing it back to its starting position as it was merely a short test flight to check if any unpleasant occurrences would appear during its flight time.

It seemed intact and operational as he couldn´t find any anomalies or unusual responding behaviors for now, nodding in satisfaction he turned the tiny drone offline and stored it into his left forearm, rearranging some of his metal components and shifting it back together in one quick and fluent motion. The controller however would find its spot bind with a few cables at the hip section, too big to fit as this carry-along method had to do for now.

“Good job!”

That was all the femme would receive as some kind of `thank you´ as he shifted his gaze back to the two half dismantled weapons that spread across the shelf. And as much as Blackframe despised them he still would offer something in return; Sparkplug had been so kind as to `repair´ the spy drone for him, so it would be only fair to give something back!

“Well, if you want to collect your half-dead weapons later…”

Reaching down his thigh and revealing one straight medium sized dagger with a pointed tip and a two-cutting edge painted with a thin dark red line from tip to hilt, Blackframe would start engraving a rather shabby circle around the two dismantled weapons as to seal them away in some sort of invisible crate, scratching with the silvery well-kept blade into the shelfs surface and adding a few glyphs in their language next to it; one simple word that the femme surely would be more than familiar with as this glyphs would read the name `Sparkplug´.

“… then we have to make sure no one else takes ém.”

After finishing up the lines and making sure that they would be readable he tossed the dagger playfully up into the air before catching it at the black and white metal handle. Repeating the movement shortly after and watching the blade rotate around into the air, swirling in a quick circular motion as he gestured loosely with his helm towards the door, indicating that he had finished of what he´d came for and would be more than ready to head up to the top.