[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Crossroads (Closed)
Sept 27, 2017 1:53:06 GMT -5
Post by Dart on Sept 27, 2017 1:53:06 GMT -5
(Starscream and Dart: Week 1, Day 3)
Night had settled across Steens Mountain.
The ground was still warm, but the air was chilly. A long dirt road twisted around the grey rock outcroppings. Deep ruts stretched all through the length. In the spring the BLM jeeps had whipped the mud and ground into clotted chunks.
Deep roadway gashes had long dried in the summer heat. Dirt and water had turned into stiffened peaks that would remain until the deep winter snow finally collapsed them.
An ancient, sagging barbed-wire fence stumbled alongside of the off-road track, a reminder that cattle and sheep still grazed in some sections of the park, but not this one. The dried out split rail posts were a weathered silver grey in the light of the thin moon overhead, even though the light was dulled by wisps of cloud.
On one of the rotten posts an owl curled deep talons into the wood to balance itself as it searched for prey, scanning across the deep dip in front of it.
When you thought of Oregon, most folks thought of Portland. West coast. Rainy days filled with busy baristas.
Green trees, rivers everywhere. Flat enough that you could bike all over the place; people often used that as their primary method of transportation. Rolling sections of green lush grass, and roadsides in the spring and summer were full of blooming roses that drifted down a light, sweet floral touch even over the heavy-traffic highways.
Eastern Oregon was so, so different. Elevations in the area changed sharply, rising or lowering over five thousand feet in just a few miles. Out here, high clearance vehicles were an absolute must on the primitive roads. You could go weeks without seeing another human. If you got out here and got lost...
There was a good chance it wouldn't go well for you. No cell-towers. Barely any reception. Dangerous washes that looked like they were solid soil that crumbled away under the slightest amount of weight.
Without the pressure of humans though, animals thrived.
In the dry yellowed grass of the basin, a herd of horses clustered together and nosed quietly between the stems. Steam curled out of their nostrils and wreathed their ears. Already their coats were starting to become shaggy under their chins and around their bellies.
As always, Dart had paused in the valley for just a brief moment while she was on patrol to watch them.
They had names.
Names like Pirate, Blue, and Luna.
Maserati and Porsche.
Those two Dart always smiled at. Horsepower come full circle; where the animal they'd used to define the output power of engines being named after cars with huge amounts of it.
She'd found that out while surfing the internet a while back and had been fascinated with the histories. The horses out here in the ranges had been photographed by humans for a while. You could find whole sites, picture after picture, each horse recognized by identifying marks, their families, what areas they hung out at on the range, where they wintered over.
Individuals.
So now Dart tried to find them specifically when she passed them. Sometimes she'd even manage to take a picture or two during the day. Maybe she'd upload them to the group's Facebook page someday but she really wasn't much of a photographer. That was his thing. She still took her pictures though, because she loved to share her world...
Also because she knew he'd appreciate them more than anyone else.
This group of horses though? A dark roan stallion with a couple of dun mares and a pinto one. None of them were familiar to her, even wracking her brain and trying to remember all the roans in the area.
Usually she was better at that sort of thing. She remembered pictures, landmarks, and scents. After a few minutes of trying to recall, she shook her head and gave up.
Too much on her mind lately.
As patchwork as it was.
It didn't help that the base was in absolute chaos. Not because they didn't have things under control or that no one was listening to command. It was more that the structure itself had never been designed with the idea of taking on so many mechs at once. Pyrotech had built it carefully as he always did. He'd planned for expansions if needed; but he was meticulous in his builds.
After all these years of working for Pyrotech, Dart knew he was frustrated; her commander hated to rush things.
He was having to do that so they could find places for everyone to stay below ground as much as possible. When Pyrotech got in a mood, you knew to do your job and shut up.
Also to get out of his way. Fast.
Actually if Dart had to be utterly honest, she was absolutely keeping out of everyone's way. A low profile was a good profile right now.
Her spoiler flattened and then drooped back along her shoulders.
Yeah, stay really low.
She was sure most of command wasn't in a good mood for a lot of reasons. It was a mess. An absolute mess. Not one she wanted to be involved in if at all possible. Not to mention her own systems were having a problem processing so many scents in such a small place, and most of them reeked of the oily, processed air that had been on board the Nemesis. She disliked that smell. It was awful. It felt like it got stuck in her throat and there was no way for her to clear it.
So Dart had kept herself out on patrol and she remained away as much as possible. At least she had a good excuse and it was a real one.
With this much activity here, there was a major chance of the base being discovered by someone stumbling over it. Sure, they had perimeter beacons, but if someone got through those and then she managed to miss them as well...
Her hand came up to her chest. Her fingers hesitated over the deep burn scars there, but did not touch them. Instead, she winced and dropped her hand back to her side.
Her nose lifted into the breeze and she drew in a deep gulp of air. Only the smell of sage and cooling stone, with a touch of mineral laden warm water; the hot springs were nearby. Unlike the ones close to the borders of the park, these didn't get much use by humans at all. The animals sometimes stood around them in the winter, using the geothermal pools to stay warm, but they were too remote for recreational use.
The horses continued to silently eat grass. The soft sounds of them grazing and chewing drifted to her. If there was anything to be afraid of, they'd let her know.
Night had settled across Steens Mountain.
The ground was still warm, but the air was chilly. A long dirt road twisted around the grey rock outcroppings. Deep ruts stretched all through the length. In the spring the BLM jeeps had whipped the mud and ground into clotted chunks.
Deep roadway gashes had long dried in the summer heat. Dirt and water had turned into stiffened peaks that would remain until the deep winter snow finally collapsed them.
An ancient, sagging barbed-wire fence stumbled alongside of the off-road track, a reminder that cattle and sheep still grazed in some sections of the park, but not this one. The dried out split rail posts were a weathered silver grey in the light of the thin moon overhead, even though the light was dulled by wisps of cloud.
On one of the rotten posts an owl curled deep talons into the wood to balance itself as it searched for prey, scanning across the deep dip in front of it.
When you thought of Oregon, most folks thought of Portland. West coast. Rainy days filled with busy baristas.
Green trees, rivers everywhere. Flat enough that you could bike all over the place; people often used that as their primary method of transportation. Rolling sections of green lush grass, and roadsides in the spring and summer were full of blooming roses that drifted down a light, sweet floral touch even over the heavy-traffic highways.
Eastern Oregon was so, so different. Elevations in the area changed sharply, rising or lowering over five thousand feet in just a few miles. Out here, high clearance vehicles were an absolute must on the primitive roads. You could go weeks without seeing another human. If you got out here and got lost...
There was a good chance it wouldn't go well for you. No cell-towers. Barely any reception. Dangerous washes that looked like they were solid soil that crumbled away under the slightest amount of weight.
Without the pressure of humans though, animals thrived.
In the dry yellowed grass of the basin, a herd of horses clustered together and nosed quietly between the stems. Steam curled out of their nostrils and wreathed their ears. Already their coats were starting to become shaggy under their chins and around their bellies.
As always, Dart had paused in the valley for just a brief moment while she was on patrol to watch them.
They had names.
Names like Pirate, Blue, and Luna.
Maserati and Porsche.
Those two Dart always smiled at. Horsepower come full circle; where the animal they'd used to define the output power of engines being named after cars with huge amounts of it.
She'd found that out while surfing the internet a while back and had been fascinated with the histories. The horses out here in the ranges had been photographed by humans for a while. You could find whole sites, picture after picture, each horse recognized by identifying marks, their families, what areas they hung out at on the range, where they wintered over.
Individuals.
So now Dart tried to find them specifically when she passed them. Sometimes she'd even manage to take a picture or two during the day. Maybe she'd upload them to the group's Facebook page someday but she really wasn't much of a photographer. That was his thing. She still took her pictures though, because she loved to share her world...
Also because she knew he'd appreciate them more than anyone else.
This group of horses though? A dark roan stallion with a couple of dun mares and a pinto one. None of them were familiar to her, even wracking her brain and trying to remember all the roans in the area.
Usually she was better at that sort of thing. She remembered pictures, landmarks, and scents. After a few minutes of trying to recall, she shook her head and gave up.
Too much on her mind lately.
As patchwork as it was.
It didn't help that the base was in absolute chaos. Not because they didn't have things under control or that no one was listening to command. It was more that the structure itself had never been designed with the idea of taking on so many mechs at once. Pyrotech had built it carefully as he always did. He'd planned for expansions if needed; but he was meticulous in his builds.
After all these years of working for Pyrotech, Dart knew he was frustrated; her commander hated to rush things.
He was having to do that so they could find places for everyone to stay below ground as much as possible. When Pyrotech got in a mood, you knew to do your job and shut up.
Also to get out of his way. Fast.
Actually if Dart had to be utterly honest, she was absolutely keeping out of everyone's way. A low profile was a good profile right now.
Her spoiler flattened and then drooped back along her shoulders.
Yeah, stay really low.
She was sure most of command wasn't in a good mood for a lot of reasons. It was a mess. An absolute mess. Not one she wanted to be involved in if at all possible. Not to mention her own systems were having a problem processing so many scents in such a small place, and most of them reeked of the oily, processed air that had been on board the Nemesis. She disliked that smell. It was awful. It felt like it got stuck in her throat and there was no way for her to clear it.
So Dart had kept herself out on patrol and she remained away as much as possible. At least she had a good excuse and it was a real one.
With this much activity here, there was a major chance of the base being discovered by someone stumbling over it. Sure, they had perimeter beacons, but if someone got through those and then she managed to miss them as well...
Her hand came up to her chest. Her fingers hesitated over the deep burn scars there, but did not touch them. Instead, she winced and dropped her hand back to her side.
Her nose lifted into the breeze and she drew in a deep gulp of air. Only the smell of sage and cooling stone, with a touch of mineral laden warm water; the hot springs were nearby. Unlike the ones close to the borders of the park, these didn't get much use by humans at all. The animals sometimes stood around them in the winter, using the geothermal pools to stay warm, but they were too remote for recreational use.
The horses continued to silently eat grass. The soft sounds of them grazing and chewing drifted to her. If there was anything to be afraid of, they'd let her know.