[ti]Flashback[/ti]Let The Music Play [ Wheeljack ]

[Deleted]

The drive was rough. Wheeljack had expected that and wasn't unduly concerned about the terrible road conditions. He'd driven on worse, while under enemy fire. Comparatively, this was a leisurely cruise, even with all the bouncing. And yes, there definitely was a part of Wheeljack that was uncharitably hoping his unwanted companion took a dive through one of the open holes in the road.

The Wrecker was darkly amused by the warning the other mech tried to give him. Sounded like someone wasn't enjoying the drive. "What's that? 'm having the time of my life here. Aren't you?" he responded.

They had travelled pretty far out, to the uninhabited part of the city limits, where no one ventured anymore. An ideal place to hide a ship - or an ambush. Nevertheless, the Wrecker wasn't exactly reassured by the remoteness of the location. Just the opposite - he'd been on his guard since this whole encounter had started and this was only raising his tension.

Eventually, Sparkbeat declared that they were there and transformed before he'd even stopped. The Wrecker was far more sedate, he drew to a halt then waited for a moment to give the place a quick look around. Make sure there wasn't a nasty surprise waiting to hit him the moment he transformed. Once assured that he was fine (for the moment, anyway), Wheeljack transformed and followed Sparkbeat, keeping a cautious optic on their surroundings.

There was a dusty building ahead, its original colour long lost beneath red soot. To the side of it, in the shadows, sat a small, damaged shuttle. As they got closer, the Wrecker could make out a marking on it which brought him to a stop and made him examine Sparkbeat again. He cast another look around them, making sure that no hostiles had decided to pop out of the rubble.

People made do with what they could here and would scavenge whatever they could. It was possible that this was entirely innocent and not the set-up he'd been expecting. But a Decepticon ship had all sort of alarm bells ringing for the Wrecker that he couldn't ignore. His left hand slipped into its cannon mode.

"One might have thought you'd think to mention by now that your shuttle belonged to the Decepticons," he growled. "Prevent any unwanted shocks or misunderstandings, you know? Because right now, it looks a lot to me like you're a Con agent asking to be taken out."

[Jazz]

     "Why would what mat- Whoa! Hey!" Sparkbeat turned just in time to see the cannon arm. Right away he raised his servos, palms facing out towards Wheeljack in a surrendering posture. "Hey, take your overtaxed afterburners down a notch or two! I ain't drawn a weapon on ya, and you're wavin' yours 'round like ya got somethin' to prove. Fine, ya got more firepower than me. Happy? Geez, are all ya 'Bots so fraggin' quick with the draw? No wonder ya'll got issues." Sparkbeat shook his helm and frowned in a way that would have indicated a rolling of his optics. 

     "For a 'Bot, ya'll don't share information much, do ya? This was a Decepticon outpost durin' the early days of the war, slick." He waved a servo to him and turned around, completely disregarding the weapon Wheeljack had displayed. He busied himself with getting his digits into the space between the door and pried it open the rest of the way so he could go inside and invite his trigger happy friend inside. "There were lots of Decepticons stationed here way back. Residents of Polyhex pretty much ran 'em out. 'Cons took what they could, left the rest behind as scrap. This place was too broken down to bother repairin' so once it was emptied out they just forgot 'bout it. Used it as a dumpin' ground for a while to make sure no one would wanna come back. Then they just forgot 'bout this place entirely." 

     Sparkbeat looked at his servos and brushed them off lightly then lightly blew to get any remaining stuff off them. His attention returned to Wheeljack. "No 'Bot ship woulda been hangin'round here, not unless they were really dumb or had a death wish. Well, I mean... 'guess there could be some..." He paused for a moment in thought and looked around the area. "But they're probably in pieces scattered all ov'r the place. Feel free to look for one if ya want."

     There was another pass around the empty ruins and he vented softly, as if thinking for just a moment. Then he brought a servo to the back of his helm and scratched there briefly. "Look, I'm sorry that I didn't tell ya this was a Decepticon shuttle. Really, though? I didn't think it mattered. Now I could waste my breath and tell ya 'don't worry I ain't a con', but I got a feelin' that if it were that easy to convince ya... ya would have been one with the All Spark at this point. So how 'bout this? The shuttle may have belonged to a Decepticon but it's a lot more understandable than a random 'Bot ship out here in the middle of nowhere where it ain't got no business. To me? That would be much more suspicious. I can at least promise ya this much... this ol' thing ain't gonna bite'cha." With that he just stood there, as if casually waiting to see if Wheeljack would put down his weapon and listen to at least some bit of reasoning or if he was going to continue being such an odd bot.

[Deleted]

It had been Wheeljack's experience that those in possession of Decepticon vehicles tended to be, you know, Decepticons. Funny how that happened. Nonetheless, he hadn't raised his arm or pointed his weapon at Sparkbeat, merely transformed his hand in a show of how little he trusted the mech. Perhaps it was mean, but the Wrecker's capacity for trust was low at the moment and Sparkbeat had well and thoroughly exhausted his patience over the course of the night.

So, time to push and see what he'd get. Which way Sparkbeat would play it. Because, really, this was something that should have been brought up, long before the Wrecker was anywhere in the vicinity of the ship. Was a 'hey, by the way, this ship I need fixing? It used to belong to the Cons," really too much to ask for? Any Autobot who blithely accepted a ship with the wrong brand without a second thought was an Autobot who wasn't going to survive long in the world.

It was a mark in Sparkbeat's favour that he didn't immediately pull out a weapon of his own. A tiny, miniscule improvement which was unnoticeable because omitting the ship's origin had slid him so far back in Wheeljack's estimation of him. The mech began to talk and went so far as to turn his back on Wheeljack while he busied himself with getting the door open.

The information about this area? Useful. First thing out of Sparkbeat's mouth that the Wrecker was actually interested in. If it was true, that is, and the mech wasn't just saying what he had to keep himself from getting shot. But Sparkbeat spoke far too easily for it to be something to be made up on the spot, so Wheeljack decided that he'd go with that being the truth for now.

"Surprisingly," Wheeljack replied thinly, "I do not know the exact history and location of every single Decepticon outpost that ever existed. Dunno why, might have something to do with wearing a different faction brand."

He paused. Pressed his lip plates together and took Sparkbeat's measure again. The mech's words, while interesting, weren't what was important. How he delivered them though… It took a lot to turn your back on a possible hostile then keep chattering away and going about your business. There was that confidence again. Confidence that Wheeljack would stand down?

Or that the mech could handle himself if it came down to a fight?

Wheeljack narrowed his optics. "Didn't think it would matter?" He repeated slowly. The Wrecker gave a harsh, incredulous bark of laughter. "Don't know where you've been that you think a Bot's not gonna look at you funny if you lead them to a Con shuttle without warning. 'S almost like you're forgetting there's been an eternity of war going on."

The Wrecker gave the area another scan but so far nothing had stirred.

Yet.

Silently, Wheeljack transformed his hand back. He strode forward grimly, towards Sparkbeat and the now open ship. The mech's words hadn't swayed the Wrecker one bit. Rather, Wheeljack's reasoning was that if this was a trap, it seemed he was yet to trigger it and he was not one to hesitate from doing so.

[Jazz]

     Sparkbeat made his way inside, brushing his servos off as he made his way through the dark to the two seats at the front of the ship. He sat down in the co-pilot seat, assuming that Wheeljack needed to be at the main one to double check on whatever he needed to tinker with.

     “I didn’t think it would matter cause I ain’t ever had an issue with it before. Remember. Ya’ll two factions got into this war of yours and the rest of the city-states got dragged into it. Most of us are just tryin’ to survive out here with what we can scavenge. Shuttles like these are ideal. Means we got a way to get outta the place quick if troops come rollin’ in. We don't really take time to think who's pedes we gonna step on by not makin' a big deal outta somethin' that we don't take much mind to.”

     He looked at Wheeljack and smiled, his visor flashing in response to the playful, chipper demeanor Sparkbeat just seemed to carry about him no matter what nasty comment the wrecker threw his way. “So, this shuttle apparently belonged to a Decepticon cause this was an outpost of theirs a long time ago. And now that I know ya prefer to have this kinda information ahead of time? I’ll make sure to alert ya to anythin’ else that ya outta know- even if I think it’s not worth wastin’ breath over. Deal?”

     He held his servo out towards the Wrecker in a friendly gesture to shake, as though sealing their verbal deal with it.

     “Like how I got word that ya were ‘round from some of the locals and how awesome ya were at fixin’ these kinda things?” There was a grin from audial to audial. “I would ask if ya knew I had ya in my sights from the beginnin’, but I figure ya already knew. But! Besides that? The ship… um. I tried to check the fuel cells and stuff. They hold but it’s like the juice just ain’t gettin’ to the rest of it. The lines seem to all be connected and stuff so I have no clue what’s the matter with this ol’ gal. Did all that I know how, figure that a professional would be able to check out a bit more and tell me what's exactly the matter with'er. This ain't exactly the thing I got the touch for.”

[Deleted]

The Wrecker stepped to the back of the pilot's chair. He scanned and studied the ship's control console while thoroughly wishing he could turn his audials off as Sparkbeat spoke on. He'd angled himself so that the other mech remained in the periphery of his vision. Wheeljack's optics narrowed and his lip plates pressed together in stern disapproval as he listened to what Sparkbeat had to say.

The chatter was getting unbearable.

Well, no, it had long been such. He hadn't come here to trade barbs about the war but damn, if it wasn't fragging irritating to listen to the usual neutral complaints about wanting to keep huddled down out of the way. Wheeljack usually tried not to begrudge the choices others had made -aside from those that signed on with the Decepticons because frag those aftholes- but when the finger of blame got pointed at both factions like they were equally responsible and that it was an affair that should have only concerned them...it was enough to make Wheeljack want to just turn around and walk straight out.

He didn't have the energy to argue about this. He had no idea how wilfully blind you had to be to believe that the Decepticons ambition was limited, small-scale and would not have engulfed the entire planet, regardless of whether the Bots were around or not. But sure, ignore the evidence and keep on pretending that the city-states could have sat out and remained untouched.

Wheeljack saw the hand held out to him. His optics slid over and stared, unimpressed, at Sparkbeat for a moment. Then he completely ignored the mech, leant over the chair and pressed a key on the shuttle's holographic interface to call up the general diagnostics. At the very least, the shuttle had enough energy to run such critical systems but it seemed like everything else was out - no lights on, even. Wheeljack straightened up away from the chair and shifted his weight to rest on the wall of the cockpit behind him. It was a small ship and there was not a lot of room inside the cockpit, which meant that even from where he was, he could see the display clearly.

The readings matched up with what Sparkbeat was telling him now. He forcibly ignored Sparkbeat's mention about the gossiping with the locals back at Polyhex because he already had enough frustration and bitterness swirling away inside him and there was a job to focus on instead. Fuel cells had power, but the rest of the ship wasn't feeling it. And yet, the power conduits through out the ship looked fine, the fault didn't lay there. The Wrecker frowned, a vague idea about what the problem could be stirred.

He leant forward, reached over the pilot's seat and tapped the console again. Wheeljack navigated over to the status of the fuel cells and associated systems. Looked normal, looked normal, where was it…ah there. The flux stabilisers. They regulated the ion flow in the fuel cells depending on the power draw. And right now, these ones weren't doing their job. Because they were failing, the shuttle's safety system had kicked in and dropped the whole thing into standby, to avoid a potential overload.

"Flux stabilisers are out," the Wrecker commented stiffly at long last. He fell silent, leant backwards against the wall and continued to study the readings for a while.

Eventually, he stirred again and said, "Suppose it's too much to hope you have any replacements. What do you have here in the way of spare parts and supplies?"

[Jazz]

     “Flux stabilizers? Well, ain’t that a blasted shame.” Sparkbeat huffed slightly as he looked at the readings Wheeljack had pulled up. Oddly, the usual chatter of the mech had been slowly fading out and now he was far less talkative than the entire time the Wrecker had known him. That probably wasn’t such a bad thing for Wheeljack’s nerves, and while it could have been looked at as suspicious, it could just as easily be chalked up to ‘not wanting to distract the guy fixin’ my ship’.

     At the question on supplies, Sparkbeat crossed one arm while the servo of the other rested against the side of his faceplate. He idly tapped there, trying to think if he recalled seeing anything laying around that may have been help to them. He vented after some time and shrugged.

     “No replacements on hand. Sorry.” He raised his servos to this shoulders in a ‘oh well’ gesture. “The parts mech that ran the ol’ shop ain’t around no more and the place is all of empty, but I’m sure one of the other ships scattered around here outta have somethin’ of what we’re lookin’ for. Don’t know the part myself, so if ya wanna join me we can look ‘round and see what we can salvage.”

    Sparkbeat didn’t even wait for Wheeljack to follow, and instead just turned and hopped his way right on outta the ship. If Wheeljack wanted to come along then he would. If he wouldn’t? Well, that was his choice as well. Sparkbeat just made his way around to the various junk heaps, looking everywhere on the ground for what may have looked like something to fit the bill. He may have not known what he was looking for- or so he said he didn’t- but he at least wasn’t afraid to get his own servos dirty. And this place was definitely one not in short supply of dust and grime and who knows what else. He moved around rather oddly, watching where he placed his pedes in the meanwhile of looking for what he needed to get his ship operational again.

     “Watch where ya step. Rigged.” He didn’t look to see if the other was in listening range, but he didn’t doubt that he was, even if he didn’t directly look his way. Optics on the back of his helm? No, it was far more simpler than that- at least for someone who worked his systems so easily. “This place is known for the dangers. It used to be picked through until more than a couple unfortunate mechs came poking around and weren’t careful. Dunno if they were set as traps on purpose or not, but if ya step wrong? Some of the hidden mines can be a little trigger sensitive. Just step where I do.”

     If Sparkbeat hadn’t said anything maybe Wheeljack wouldn’t have noticed, but with each carefully placed light step he had moved debris to the side to give him a clear path to walk. He made his way over to one of the larger ships, walking straight through with a zigzag here or there just for safety sake- maybe a little fun, but that was up to Wheeljack if he wanted to play roulette. Once the path to the ship’s door had been made ( which was just above their heads since the wreckage was halfway on its side ), Sparkbeat hoisted himself up to the ledge and pulled himself up to settle into a crouch. After a quick inspection he stood and finally glanced back to hold his servo out to help the other mech up. Not like he would be offended it if wasn’t taken.

     “Where do we look for what ya need?”

[Deleted]

Much to Wheeljack's non-surprise, the part that was needed was not in stock. Specialised ship parts tended to be in short supply no matter where you were on the planet, regardless of where you sat in regards to faction lines. Scavenging and salvage from existing ships was the usual way to get what was necessary.

So Sparkbeat's answer in the negative? Practically expected. In fact, the Wrecker would have found it stranger if the mech did have the part they were after.

Sparkbeat was quick on his feet, up and out of the ship in a matter of seconds before Wheeljack could even give his assent that he would be coming. Wheeljack's muttered "yeah, sure" was spoken to the empty air. The other mech hadn't even switched off the ship's computer before leaving. Seemed a waste to leave it running when there was barely enough energon to go around. Wheeljack leaned over the controls to turn it off, prepared to follow the other mech out, when he paused for the briefest moment.

A quick tap and he'd accessed the shuttle's last flight logs. It had been eons since the ship had last flown, a trip from Kaon. That was all Wheeljack had time to check, another tap and he'd closed the logs then shut everything down. All this passed in a matter of seconds and then he was on his feet and disembarked from the shuttle.

He joined Sparkbeat outside, turning the information over in his head. Hadn't really expected to find anything weird about the flight log but it did independently back-up what the odd, annoying mech had been saying. For now, he'd leave it alone. There would be more time to dig into the ship when he was wires deep into fixing the stabilisers.

Wheeljack gave a grunt of acknowledgement when Sparkbeat mentioned that there was treacherous footing. Hidden mines, lovely. The Wrecker didn't have much commentary to add, he might have said something to the effects that he wouldn't past the Cons to have deliberately sabotaged the area but that risked getting dragged back into a pointless discussion over the war and faction lines. And right now, he really couldn't care less, it would be a waste of his words on someone who wasn't worth the time or energy.

The Wrecker was careful to ensure he followed the path Sparkbeat was marking out, pushing debris to the side. The path Sparkbeat was making wound its way through the dust and dirt to a much ship larger than the one they had been inside only moments prior.

"Fuel cells are what we want to find." Wheeljack ignored the offered hand as he hauled himself up into the ship. "Be the best place to start looking."

[Jazz]

     "Well, remind me next time not to offer assistance if you’re gonna jus’ snub me like that. Didn’t realize you’re too good to get help from common’folk."

     Sparkbeat threw his hands up in a ‘whatever’ gesture and shrugged then made his way after the Wrecker after he made his way onto the ship, figuring that he knew what to look for and where to locate it. With any luck this would be over, the small ship would be repaired, and the two could part company. Honestly, Sparkbeat was starting to feel cramped over the other mech's sour attitude- like a thick mesh cover had been thrown over his vents and he wasn't able to cool down after a long race. He brushed his servos together and glanced about for any hint of what he was looking for.

     "Ya realize that I- havin' never seen fuel cells- don't really know what to look for, so just repeatin' it ain't gonna do much good to get it through the 'ol processor, yeah? If you could draw me a picture or at least point me in the direction I should be lookin' I could lend ya a servo in the search. At least as much as you're willin' to lemme help, Mr-I-Work-Alone." The tone to it was enough to pass off the nickname as nothing more than light-sparked humor, but with the attitude Wheeljack seemed to have towards making everything negative? Sparkbeat hardly thought it would be as amusing to him.

     The mech knelt down and lifted up a panel that had falling to the floor from the ceiling, as though assuming something with 'FUEL CELL' written on it would be hidden under it. No luck, of course. "So why did ya really leave wherever it is ya came from?" Sparkbeat opened up an overhead compartment and looked around, then closed it when he didn’t find anything in it. "Rumors are good for storytime an’ all, but I like to put more belief in favor of the source. I mean, as someone who's from here? Polyhex don't exactly scream 'Vacation Destination'. Ya only come here if you’re lost.. or if you’re lookin’ to be, and someone as well traveled as you don't exactly come across as the former."

[Deleted]

Don't punt Sparkbeat into the mine field.

It was the thought that swirled round in Wheeljack's processor as he quickly swept his gaze over the interior of the ship. They were in a short hallway that ended in a T-intersection, dust coated every surface he could see, bits of broken metal covered the floor. No immediate signs of danger so he allowed himself to register what Sparkbeat was saying.

Ugh, not worth tuning in for. There was a reason why Wheeljack had been trying to ignore the mech. Every complaint and insinuation about Autobot superiority was flat-out irritating. It had nothing to do with faction differences, or that the Wrecker believed himself above Sparkbeat's level.

No, this all stemmed down to one simple fact that Sparkbeat seemed incapable of grasping, a fact that Wheeljack thought was more than obvious.

The Wrecker did not trust Sparkbeat.

And that lack of trust was the driving force behind each and every action Wheeljack made. It made him view something as innocuous as an offered helping hand like it was dangerous. And in Wheeljack's opinion, it was. Taking Sparkbeat's hand required giving up control and placing his faith in the other mech to haul him up safely. But how easy would it be to turn that moment of trust into something deadly?

The Wrecker hadn't known what was up there. Sparkbeat could have pulled him up and then pushed him into a trap that waited further up the hallway. Or backwards, off the ship and into the minefield.

Wheeljack knew precisely how easy it would be because for a second after Sparkbeat had made the offer, the idea had idly bubbled up in his head. Take the mech's hand, yank him down and off-balance, then shove him towards the mines. The thought was not a serious one, he was constantly evaluating actions he could take should things take a turn for the worst and Wheeljack found himself in a fight. But as far as Wheeljack was concerned, it was safest for all that they kept their hands to themselves.

The Wrecker raised an optic ridge as Sparkbeat fell behind him. Didn't know what to look for or letting Wheeljack walk face first into something nasty? He wasn't happy to have a stranger at his back. But the Wrecker wasn't about to bring it up if it meant dealing with another round of jibes. He took a few steps forward to peer at either side of the interection-

"Ya realize that I- havin' never seen fuel cells- don't really know what to look for, so just repeatin' it ain't gonna do much good to get it through the 'ol processor, yeah?

Wheeljack stopped briefly. Cast a glance up to the ceiling. This was a much bigger ship than the shuttle, with actual passageways to get to different parts of the ship unlike the shuttle. When the Wrecker got round to the fixing business, he'd need to dig into that shuttle's underbelly but for a class of ship like this one, it wouldn't be the case. Wheeljack cast a glance back to Sparkbeat, then reached out and rapped the wall with the back of his knuckles.

"Engine room," he rumbled calmly, to clarify what he's said earlier. Talking about ships was always easy for him, allowing Wheeljack to reign in his temper. He'd made the assumption that Sparkbeat would think engines when he heard fuel cells, the way the Wrecker did automatically but not everyone had the kind of experience he did. "Ship this big will have one. That's where we need to be. Depending on what sort of fuel system this ship has - the cells could look very different."

Mentally, he mapped what he'd seen of the ship's outside and where they'd entered from to figure out where they needed to go. Engine room for a ship like this...probably somewhere central towards the back. This intersecting passageway looked to be the main one and it probably ran the length of the ship. To the right were a few doors. "Crew quarters", "Mess"…. Presumably they'd find the one they were after further down. Going left would probably take them to the cockpit.

Wheeljack took the right and had gotten a little down the next hallway when Sparkbeat piped up with another question. The mech really didn't know how to take a hint. Bad enough they were on unknown territory, those were circumstances to keep one's voice silent. Wheeljack had tolerated the first question because it was relevant and valid. But this one was prying and personal and it threatened to bring that boiling anger back to the forefront of Wheeljack's mind.

"No," he said simply, in a tone that brooked no argument. "You asked me here to fix your ship. That's all you get from me."

He didn't even know why Sparkbeat had bothered to ask the question - there had been nothing in their interactions to suggest that Wheeljack loved to talk about himself or what he was doing in Polyhex, especially to a stranger. Especially when the stranger in question was Sparkbeat.

The door ahead allowed a sliver of light into the hallway. The Wrecker could make out a sign by the door that told him they were in the right spot. The door was slightly ajar - probably knocked that way when the ship had crashed. There was no power to it, Wheeljack pressed the button to open it without much hope that it'd do so because there sure hadn't been any signs that the ship had power running through it. When that suspicion proved to be correct, the Wrecker dug his fingers into the opening and forced the door open.

More light spilled into the hallway. The reason for this soon became clear. The ceiling had been torn right off. The walls of the room reached upwards, ended in jagged edges. Shattered bits of metal and plastisteel littered the floor. Most of the room was occupied by two long, large metal cylinders, sitting side by side. Encased within them were the twin cores that had once powered the ship. Tubing wreathed the outside of the cylinders, they'd once carried energon into the cores from the fuel system.

If one followed the tubes, they ended in the floor. And right next to where the tubes entered the flooring were round metal plaques, about a meter wide in diameter. They were embedded into the ground, held down there by a number of screws. Beneath them, hidden away from view sat the fuel cells.

Wheeljack had stood to the side of the doorway and peered inside. His head had tracked the path of the tubing from the core. "There you go," the Wrecker said, jabbing a thumb towards the floor. "Fuel cells. Not always hidden away like this, sometimes they're exposed."

His optics drifted upwards at the jagged sheets of metal reaching up to the sky. "Sometimes they're embedded in the walls too, really depends on the ship configuration, but let's be glad this wasn't the case here."

[Jazz]

     "Suit yourself. Though ya may wanna consider pullin' whatever crawled up your tail pipe out after we're done here. Makes it seem like you're a poor sport."

     Sparkbeat followed Wheeljack on his trek, looking around from time to time just to make sure they were in the clear. There was always the possibility that something could jump out at them or they find themselves setting this entire ship on a detonation course on accident ( or, from what he could tell about Wheeljack? He'd do it on purpose just to end the exchange between them ) and, at least to Sparkbeat, that was not the route he felt like taking today. He really just wanted the ship fixed and off the ground... personal reasoning aside, though, since that wasn't something he was really wanting to share.

     When Wheeljack paused at the doorway and looked inside then gestured into the room, Sparkplug took a moment to scan the area. He held a servo out, placing it over top Wheeljack’s center chassis to keep him back. “Hn.. no good. Wait here.” He turned and walked away from him just a few paces and crouched down, fumbling with one of the panels covering the ducts in the floor. Once he managed to tear it off he crawled inside and disappeared into the wall. The next sound that could be heard would be the occasional movement as Sparkbeat made his way through the systems, taking different turns and pulling himself up. A panel inside the room opened and Sparkbeat stuck his helm out looked around, then dropped out and walked to the door before crouching down and pulling a loose panel from the floor then leaned over and his upper chassis disappeared into the floor.

     "Aha, here we go! Looks like a testy little thing with a sensitive trigger. Panels by the door are loose and this thing is rigged close enough to the lines under here to probably trigger a chain effect. From what I understand about these ships, if this thing goes up that would pack enough punch to level this entire area. Don't know about you, but unless you can teleport your way outta here you'd be pretty screwed if this were to go off." There was silence for a moment. "Should be easy enough to disable. They were clever, but not all that bright. Hopefully I'm not offending anyone you may know."

     He fumbled around some under the floor, tiny clicks and chirps heard from something protesting under there out of the sight of Wheeljack. It took a few minutes before Sparkbeat came up, his white paint stained with dirt from a very unkept underneath compartment. He brought up a long cylindrical object that had a timer of sorts on it, but the front face was now removed and various wires were sticking out. Sparkbeat set it down on the floor then made his way to the door to push it open further then stepped to the side.

     "There ya go! Welcome aboard. Enjoy your stay, but do try not ta'wreck anythin'." Sparkbeat wandered away from Wheeljack and made his way towards where he'd indicated. It didn't take a scientist to know that he wasn't going to be the one removing these fuel cells from the ship, so he didn't even bother to crouch down once he reached where the tubing ended. "I'm gonna assume that you go the right tools for the job, or this whole excursion was for nothin'. Though ya don't seem like the type to leave outta a place empty-handed." While he normally would have offered some sort of smug smirk after such a statement, this time it wasn't the case. He was too busy looking around to make sure there weren't any other surprises left for them. "Can't see anythin' else that would cause us an issue, unless ya make the fuel cells somehow go boom but you don't seem the suicidal type."