[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Water Damage [Open]

[Zercon]

The weird gun was being used to support his back... and John didn't know how he felt about that.

He was a paranoid individual at times, it was what has secured his survival for as long as he has been alive, and a gun at back tended to add up to immediate death or at least death after a few moments of 'ouch that hurt'. He knew that wasn’t the reason that her arm was hooked around him however, he deep down knew it was only for support, but a gun was still a gun, and while 'misfiring' wasn’t really much of a thing typically, it still itched at the back of his processor, though... he did try to focus more on her words, or at least the ones he understood.

"I got about half that!"

He said happily. Not an insult, not trying to be sassy or flippant of her explanation, just genuinely pleased he kind'a somewhat understood what she was saying. In the end though, it was a bunch of fancy talk that didn’t matter, as what REALLY talked was the light show and what he had witnessed. All that hard work and weird joint thingy and focusing something-or-other conversation previously really added up to a fancy ability that could be useful in a plethora of applications. John could not help but daydream about all the mundane jobs it could make easier in his day to day life, though it was another little ploy to try to get his mind off of the immediate doom that hung over them.

While they worked, he was getting more coordinated with his handicap, and they worked better together. Practice makes perfect, and while they were far from any semblance of 'perfect', it was far better than it had been previously. He would pull and part heft hurdle over the larger posts that were left intact and he would grab the sides of the 'U' cut on the others, and swing his lower body over like a human child playing on a jungle gym to traverse the smoldering gap before awaiting her aid to get him to the next one. It was tiring, it was frankly exhausting... but while he was taking a small breather to get his bearings while Sparkplug cut the next portion out, he saw movement up ahead.

"Hey! HEY!"

A lone figure halted immediately down the passageway, having been at a run to traverse through a cross section that cut through the main hallway they were working down. The individual seemed to be a Vehicon, a lack of wings on its shoulders and a rather recognizable outline stating as much. They however were holding something, an object that appeared to be a sort of pulse rifle that had been undoubtedly stolen from storage when things had gone bad.

"What are you still doing here!?"

While John sounded lighthearted and anxious, this other Vehicon sounded curt and blunt, a seriousness and frustrated edge in play that seemed to convey more maturity. Their helm crooked down some with an implicated scowl, accenting the 'V' groove of the visor quite well. His partial run from before, now settled into a bold stance, rifle aimed to his side down towards the ground, with one long talon laying parallel the trigger in good gun safety. The end of the barrel seemed to smolder slightly, the most subtle of curls of distortion wavering from the gun's heated maw.

"Evacuations should be concluding by now!"

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug grinned to herself at John's confession. Well, if he'd caught half of it, that was probably more than the average rank and file of the Decepticon ranks would have. Maybe it was her exposure to so many brilliant - if occasionally sick - minds in the science division, but she often found that her explanations didn't get her that far when she tried to talk to regular troopers the same way. It wasn't her most flattering trait, but she did feel a little smug superiority somewhere under her cheery demeanour.

At least recalling her various trials and troubles with the front-line soldiers kept her from dwelling on the inexorable pressure of the water above them. Or it had, until that particular thought flashed into her consciousness. She pulled a face, wanting to hurry up the cut she was performing, but not daring to move the beam any faster than she was already.

The sharp brilliance of the beam cut out, her emitter glowing with secondary radiance for a moment as it cooled - so many long-duration shots so close together were making it uncomfortably hot - and as the cut-out section toppled, it revealed another vehicon beyond. John reacted first, calling out as Sparkplug's attention was pulled to the weapon assembly the purple mech was carrying.

"Pulse rifle. Nice," she murmured, before she blinked with a snap of shutters, belatedly parsing the serious-sounding vehicon's words. Cursing to herself, she replied louder, "Well, if this seventy-seven times bedamned floating tin deathtrap hadn't flipped upside down like a confused flopter in manufacturing season, John here wouldn't have got his leg crushed, and we wouldn't be scaling these Megatron-cursed ceiling ribs with all the grace and speed of a three wheeled oil tanker." She paused, then added, "Square wheels, at that."

Hustling John towards the gap, she moved as she talked, helping him over the base of the cut-out with a heave of her slim shoulders. Closer-up, this other vehicon looked mean, the angle of his visor seeming somehow steeper. It matched the more firm, no-nonsense tone he spoke in; maybe this one was a commanding unit. Did they have an interior command structure, in the mass-produced models? Was he overseeing the evacuation of his fellows?

Reining in the exasperation that had infiltrated her tone, knowing it was driven more by fear than impatience, she said more levelly and clearly, "His leg is a mess, but the rest of the chassis seems to be intact enough for now. Lost two others. They were crushed under a liquid cargo container before I got there. I've been helping him, but it's slow going."

Giving the other vehicon an assessing look, her optics turned again to the weapon in his clawed hands. That was probably another signifier of internal rank. "Are you keeping tabs on the progress of the evacuation? If it's about finishing up, then the sooner we get out of here, the better. If you can spare a hand to help keep John moving, I can cut as we go. Been making channels for him to climb through, like you can see." She jerked a thumb at the mess behind her. "Don't like to be damaging beams like this, but under the circumstances, the ship is pretty messed up anyway. I'm Sparkplug, and like I said, this here's John. Coming? Because I'm telling you for sure: the water is, and quick."

[Zercon]

Sparkplug was not far off the mark when she labeled this other individual as seeming more 'mean'. The Vehicon remained proud looking; a bold stance with shoulders squared off with the other two as if they were threats to be looked down upon. His broad planted peds balanced him well on the slightly sloped floor below, helm remaining crooked down to convey the dissatisfaction he felt while she spoke. The red visor seemed to sear through the shadows, cutting across the darkened faceplate like a red hot blade had sliced through it.

"Look, I don't have time for a story here; I am trying to clean up this mess."

A frustrated growl, the trooper's long claw slid along the side of the rifle's trigger, as if considering options and its current use. It created a soft scrape as he did so, a faint rasp of metal against metal that was nearly drowned out within the hollow rumbles and distant thrums that radiated through the ship on occasion. While he did this, his helm turned a bit to the side, to try to look down the hallway he had been aiming towards before he was interrupted.

"Sparkplug, yes?"

He asked, before not really waiting for a reply.

"I will not be departing this ship. I do not fear water, and neither should you. In addition, just because the Nemesis is in bad shape, doesn't give you liberty to decimate it further."

The trooper really seemed to be stepping up and like he really respected what belonged to Megatron, irritation bristling around his field like bands of barbed wire coiled around him. Through this though, there was inklings of fear, stress simmering beneath the shields that had been put up.

"JNN-702, have you seen WLM-684?"

Sharp, asked with little finesse or explanation as to WHY he would want to know this. John seemed to have gone a bit quiet after he realized who it was, moving with Sparkplug to traverse the next obstacle cleanly so they could keep up some semblance of progress. Once he was through, he limp-drug himself to the next rib, planting his palms down to try to heft up and hurdle it.

"Uhh, no, I was with Mark and Josh. I saw others fleeing, but nobody stopped but Sparkplug here... wasn't he part of your patrol team tonight?"

The so far unnamed Vehicon huffed slightly, before he nervously fiddled with the rifle a moment longer. After a second of hesitation, he pulled the weapon back, looping its strap up and over so that he could free his arms, letting the weapon dangle in front of him. With his hands now no longer occupied, the trooper moved forward, grabbing John's hand to heft and pull him on top of the rib.

"You guys going to the starboard escape pods I assume?"

He asked simply, keeping hold of John's arm. With a turn and a push, the individual would heft and pull John around to hang off of his back. John let out a surprised noise at this, followed by a hiss as his leg was jostled, pain lancing up the limb which made him tremble as he was hefted into a piggy-back.

[Sparkplug]

It was rapidly becoming apparent to Sparkplug that she and this obstinately unnamed vehicon were not going to be friends.

While she'd be the first to deny it, she'd already picked up on the general power structure aboard the Nemesis in the few planetary cycles she'd spent aboard, which went like this: vehicons at the bottom, and everyone else on top. She was amiably friendly to every mecha she met, regardless of their position in the hierarchy - at least, until they gave her solid reason not to be - but taking orders was something else, something earned.

In short, this mass-produced, tinpot vehicon seemed an awful lot like he thought he could order her about, and she didn't much care for it.

Her vibrant green optics narrowed slightly, and she stared at the nameless mech with an edge of irritation leaking into her field as he brusquely demanded information from John. Still, the sight of him hoisting the other vehicon onto his back was a welcome one. Maybe now they could get moving at a speed compatible with getting the heck out of there.

"That's the way we're going," she replied shortly to his question, jogging up to the ceiling-spanning rib and vaulting her small frame over it gracefully. "If you want to stay down here, best of luck to you, Primus smile and all the rest of it, but I am getting out of here, and as near as I can tell, John isn't inclined to stick around on this brand-new derelict either."

Of course, if the vehicon being jolted along on the other's back disagreed, well. That would be her responsibility honourably discharged, she could get down on her wheels and really get up some speed between the ribs. But as it was, even if she could just leave John to his compatriot's care, she felt responsible for him. Responsible enough to stick around and see him safely to the escape pods.

"As for the water, if any of these main corridors collapse, I reckon it's going to be a race to see what finishes you off first." She ticked off the points on the fingers of her right hand, her left still morphed into the elongated cannon barrel that she hadn't convinced herself she had no further use for. "First there's the in-rush, which'll smack you about on every surface it finds as the tunnels flood. Then there's the sheer pressure, because that mess is heavy, and it'll squash you like a minicon under Unicron's foot if the ship's dropped all that far into the ocean. If that doesn't happen, then if your seals aren't perfect, you can look forward to hot salt inside your internal organs, which will kill you quick, and if they are in perfect condition, then it'll just dry out inside your geartrains and choke you slow. If none of that gets you, then there's the fast-onset rust. This ain't my first salt ocean, and they are the worst."

She grumpily swung over another, smaller barrier, skirting the round light set into the ceiling beneath her feet. "'course, if you didn't have time for that story either, you can just hang around here and find out how it goes for yourself. Be the first vehicon aquaformer."

[Zercon]

Uhoh...

John watched Sparkplug nervously when she started to give the other Cybertronian a sort of death glare due to the way he spoke and how he was acting. It did not take someone particularly skilled with picking up on facial cues to realize that she was not pleased, and it caused that much ore anxiety to launch through the meeker Vehicon. His hands pulled together a bit at this, long claws lacing over one another while his body curled forward a bit into a sort of partial huddle.

He had never known this other mech to be this bold before. He was always somewhat aggressive, very by the books and cut sharp... but ordering around one of the non-Vehicons? Well... he hadn't DIRECTLY ordered her he supposed, there was no sharp directive given, but John knew that that level of sass was somewhat new, probably spurred on by the awful situation they were stuck within.

With sharp flicks, he looked between the two, waiting for some kind of bomb to explode. HEY! Maybe if they were lucky it'd be in the ship! A LITERAL bomb! So they could find something else to focus on and she wouldn’t use her laser to cleanly cut his buddy in half! As cool as John found the weapon, he really didn't want to see it turned on the other trooper.

The soldier seemed to not care how direct he had been speaking, focusing now on grabbing hold of John and pulling him up onto his back. He knew it had to be painful, he knew it had to hurt, John's frame trembling some from the movements, but it had to be done if they were going to save any time, and save more of their people from this awful place. It was once the mech was stable, that he started to trod forward, moving to the next rib to start to climb it, the pulse rifle bobbing awkwardly in front of his chest. He seemed to be half ignoring Sparkplug, her warnings and all too logical threats of what the sea can do to them in this situation, falling into the same void John's earlier question had dropped.

"Hey uh... don't mind Reggie, he's kinda' like that... just play along and no one will get yelled at!"

John seemed chipper and happy at this, despite the occasional wince of pain that betrayed just how much his leg was bothering him. His words were a loud stage whisper, hissed in her direction, and anything but discrete. There would be no doubt that Reggie would hear what he was saying.

"Uh, not that he'd yell at you legitimately... since we are just Vehicons and all-"

He looked at the back of RGE-529's helm then, as if realizing his words were not very discrete. What should have been said through Comms, were said vocally, and that was maybe a mistake. John made a meek little partial laugh then, sensing the unseen glare that was practically boring out of the back of Reggie's helm at him.

"All of the Port side escape pods are gone, due to its higher elevation."

Reggie gestured with one hand for a moment, John curling his grip tighter around the mech's collar. He motioned to the side of the hallway, and the fact the port side was slightly higher than the starboard.

"Starboard may give some problems as you won't be able to aim straight up..."

He growled some in strain, hefting over another rib, their progress slow, but a lot faster than before.

"I have yet to scout there yet... but I imagine if any remain they should still work."

[Sparkplug]

"Uh, not that he'd yell at you legitimately... since we are just Vehicons and all-"

Sparkplug winced. That was... a little too directly true. Maybe she didn't want to pick a fight with the other vehicon over his tone, especially when he was big enough to carry John and she simply wasn't. Under the circumstances it was better that he - Reggie? - had chosen to let her combative reply pass without commenting on it, and had stuck to the facts. Actually useful facts, ones that were directly relevant to their likelihood of escaping.

"Hey, now," she protested in a less strident tone. "Don't say that. Not one of us gets a choice about how we're brought online, and if your chassis was mass produced, doesn't mean you're less worthy of being talked to like anyone else. You're a cybertronian, with a spark and a processor like any of the rest of us."

She was somewhat guiltily aware that her own flash of irritation had partly been born of indignation that a vehicon could be snappy with her, which was definitely the wrong way to approach things. Don't be annoyed with Reggie because he's a vehicon, she told herself. Be annoyed with him because he's a giant gearstick, with the same urgent grasp of reality as an electronic door opener.

Shaking her helm, she pushed the thought aside and let her left arm relax into its stowed configuration, the tri-part pylons folding together and collapsing into her plating to be replaced by a slim hand. Two made it easier to vault the roof ribs than one, after all. Addressing her words to Reggie, she replied, "Makes sense. I can see what you mean; pods get fired out in a straight line. If we're pointing down, we're going to end up escaping deeper into the ocean. Not the way we want to go."

Pausing at the next obstacle, she tried not to show her fear-driven urgency to keep going regardless, and waited for the two to catch up before she scaled the rib and dropped down the other side.

"Guess we have to keep trying for the port-side ones, and see if we can wrestle one into an escape trajectory that doesn't slam straight into the sea bottom, however deep that is hereabouts. If they're all gone, though, I guess all we can do is head for the highest ventral surface, find an airlock and try to jury rig some way of getting to the surface. Ship's still full of air; if we can find any polythene sheeting or the like, we can make air bags and seal them up. Won't be a fun ride, but that'll get you to the surface. Certainly wouldn't want to try the space bridge with the ship in the state it's in. That is one precision bit of machinery that won't take kindly to this kind of abuse."

She jogged briskly along the curve of the roof corridor for a moment in silence, before adding, "I don't much care for this kind of abuse either. Son of a glitch; I'm not even on-board for the first ten planetary cycles before the whole thing does a crashing star-liner impression. Can't imagine what the Warlord's going to think."

[Zercon]

"Ah that-"

"-Frame ambitions or not, our rank is below."

Reggie cut John off before the other mech could speak, the trooper in return turning his helm down a bit to peer at the back of Reggie's own. John seemed a bit dejected at this, but he opted to stay hush, slender fingers drumming across his opposite arm that was curled in front of the other mech. The motion stopped however once they got to the next rib, needing to hold on tighter so he didn't slip down. While he focused on keeping a good grip, John was somehow keeping up with Reggie in regards to absorbing everything Sparkplug was saying, even if it was fast. A few things had to be addressed though within the slew of information and thoughts, and both of the troopers seemed to perk up at different points, wanting to speak, wanting to comment on different things, but John was far quicker to the trigger so to speak.

"Wait, so we would float up like a bobber!?"

John barked this out suddenly, amused and almost excited at the idea. The only time he ever had the displeasure of experiencing a large mass of water, he had sunk like a lead weight rather readily. The idea of getting to bonk around on the surface seemed almost fun! The sudden statement though, startled Reggie a small bit, who ducked his helm down and pulled his arms back some as if he was going to grab the rifle, before he realized it wasn’t a cry to 'look out' or other such things.

An annoyed sigh rattled out from the vehicon, before he continued to climb and progress.

"You misunderstand; I was just at the Port-side Escape Pods."

Reggie seemed keen to cut down on idle chatter, often not responding and just ignoring it as if it had not happened. It allowed him to slice right back to the meat of the matter, his visor dimmed.

"They are all gone, except for two that are failing to launch. I believe someone tried to use them before the ship had collided with the water, and they became twisted."

A hefted grunt formed as Reggie hurdled up the next rib on the corridor, claws raking into the metal some as he scrabbled.

"Starboard I have yet to visit, I don't know the status of those shuttles."

While Reggie seemed keen to lead earlier, he did look over at Sparkplug some after he said this, to see what she would prefer since they had a few options here. While he waited for her orders, John seemed to pipe up on an afterthought.

"The space bridge isn't on the ship! But... I don't know how to contact that base... I vote for floating bobber! Sounds fun!"

"Probably wouldn't be..."

"Vroom! Surface!"

"Please stop..."

[Sparkplug]

As much as she wanted to contradict Reggie, the rank structure onboard the Nemesis was pretty clear. The vehicons were considered inferior, and it's be foolish and a lie to pretend there was any realistic prospect that was going to change. Better to just let the subject drop.

Especially seeing as John was so burblingly delighted by the new suggestion she'd made for how they could escape the ship. "It would be interesting to clear the area with some kind of plasticised envelope. With the right tool, you could probably seal a rough outline of the stuff around yourself; feed in some air and heat seal it. Waterproofing and buoyancy in one. If being in a transparent bag is your idea of a good time."

It was tempting, and she did like the idea of constructing their own way out...

"But... nah. I guess not," she concluded aloud. "The ship's gone down, and we have no idea where anyone is. A functioning pod is worth the risk of checking if there's any left before we start fooling around with sheeting and heat guns. That would give you so much more to work with after you'd escaped." Looking at Reggie, she added, "Starboard first, then, and if there's nothing left, it might be worth going back to the port side. I've got a pretty good array of tools in me, and if we have to cut something free, I can do that too. Bubble bags are the last resort."

Matching Reggie's speed was slowing her down, even if she was still moving faster than she'd been moving before he'd taken the unfortunately crippled John off her shoulder, and she didn't have the speed built up to vault over the roof rib. Instead, she clambered over it, somewhat laboriously, dropping to the ground on the other side and taking a deep vent of the unsettlingly salt-scented air to cool her overtaxed systems before she broke into a quick stride once more.

"Reggie, are you seriously intending to stay down here? I know you said you were, and you don't seem like the sort that says things lightly - admirable, all that - but I don't think this is necessarily where your duty needs you. Given the way everyone was scrambling out of the ship, there are going to be a lot of confused troops out there, wandering around in circles, easily picked off by whoever totalled the ship in the first place. They're gonna need organisation and marshalling, and while I'll take a crack at it, I am not a commander of other mecha, y'know?"

Another roof rib, another undignified scramble, kicking and struggling to gain purchase before she managed to pull herself over the top. "Getting smothered in salt water won't do any good to anyone, least of all you. I mean, if you stayed, what's your plan? Try to reinforce the collapsing bulkheads, keep some dry areas in the core? Or just go down with the ship? If you think it's not as bad as it looks, I'm willing to slow down and listen to reason, but that creaking and banging is singing a song that goes, 'run away, run away' to me."

[Zercon]

The more Sparkplug talked about the idea, the more John wanted to try the plastic bubble approach. It sounded reliable in his inexperienced mind, and it sounded like they would have to spend less time in the ship, than they would by trying to make some escape pod work. But just because he felt it was brilliant, didn’t mean it was SMART, and he seemed to pout slightly when Sparkplug agreed with Reggie and cast the idea aside.

Sadness.

John seemed to conclude that he was just along for the ride then, but deep down? He knew he was lucky. He could have been abandoned, he may have been still stuck under that cargo load, or... if not, he may have torn off his own leg trying to get free, and may be trying to drag himself towards the escape pods. He was lucky, and even if he wasn’t 'getting his way'; he recognized this much, going quiet to let Reggie and Sparkplug converse with one another without interruption.

"I need to."

Reggie's response was quiet, somewhat lower from the confident posturing he took on before. A touch of exhaustion, some tired overlays... He continued to muscle forward without complaint or much strain while they traveled, trying to keep up the pace as best he can. It seemed as if he was going to leave his response at just that and nothing more, but he continued after the momentary delay, explaining further.

"I have already helped a few get out through the Port-Side escape pods. There are bound to be others still here. I want to check the personnel quarters, to make sure larger groups haven't been sealed inside trapped."

The front personnel quarters were bound to be in the most trouble... and yet, they were the ones he has yet to be able to reach. Caught up helping others, caught up hunting WLM-684 down... too busy looking for Flatline and others... There was so much still left to accomplish! Even if the cold rush of the sea was shortly upon them.

"The more I lead out of here, the more I give the Decepticon cause! The more I serve our Lord!"

Boastful pride, a more authorize tone back as if he were replying to a commander, accepting some honorable task that had been assigned to him, even though it was a directive he gave himself.

"Once I cannot find anyone else, I plan to try to seal the reactor..."

His gaze went downcast, trying to think. He was no engineer, he was not scientifically inclined. He was a soldier class Vehicon, and could barely perform tasks within the Control Room if he was assigned to such roles. Despite this, he could estimate the value of the reactor, and how irreplaceable it may be on this planet. Anything he could do to stave off the corrosion of the sea, and save it from being polluted could benefit them all later on.

Lifting up his helm, Reggie then pointed to the side at a new tunnel that was smaller, branching off from the main corridor.

"We go that way now."

[Sparkplug]

…well, scrap.

Reggie’s plan made perfect sense. He wasn’t just sticking around out of rigid adherence to military protocol, he was still looking for others who might be trapped down here. And shutting down the reactor before any damage had the chance to make it overload was absolutely the right thing to do, if you were more concerned with the long-term salvageability of the warship than the imminent crushing doom from the ocean outside.

Of course, it wasn’t like he’d received orders to do any of that. It was all his own idea. His eminently sensible idea. So, there was absolutely no way that she’d get in trouble for not helping out, and instead getting her pristine, perfect little chassis out of the sinking death trap she was currently and unwillingly aboard.

In fact, the only reason to not get out of there with all the haste she could muster was, well, because it’d be the right thing to do.

Darn it.

Her pace slowed to a stop, and she leant a hand against the corridor wall, rubbing a brow ridge with two fingers. With a defeated sigh, she complained, "Darn your tin hide, Reggie. You’re absolutely right, and that’s the responsible thing to do. As much as I want to get out of here – and I do, do I ever – now that you’ve made the point, I can’t ignore it. I’m going to go shut down the reactor before the coolant pumps shut off and the whole thing cooks itself to death."

She glanced at the narrow passageway, which surely, at this point, was near enough to the escape pods that she could have left safely. Oh, well. Turning her green optics back to Reggie, she went on, "Tell me which direction to go to find the reactor, then get John out of here. He needs medical evacuation. I’ll find my own way."

[Zercon]

Reggie paused when Sparkplug did, a bit of annoyance lancing through his field.

He didn't mean for his revelation to make the femme stop, and he was somewhat irritated that she was starting to have some kind of second thought on escaping. Time was not on their side, and frankly, it was still uncertain if she could even get OUT of this place through any normal means. If they had to get creative? Than every fleeting moment would be needed to make alternative plans work in time. That is... if the ship was going to flood out or not, but, who wanted to take that kind of risk with someone like her?

John peeked over Reggie's shoulder as they stopped, not really having a strong opinion one way or the other. He wanted to get out of here, and it sounded like both options would help him, though he wasn’t really going to be thrilled seeing Sparkplug get left behind. She had helped him, and he would remember that, however, he remained quiet, knowing that his interjection would not be appreciated. He was not clever enough to come up with an alternative solution to assist, his faceplate burying down into the back of Reggie's shoulder.

"No. You are trained in important fields. You are far more learned. You are more valuable alive than I am. If the ship is a complete loss, you could actually help construct something new. For all we know the reactor is already flooded out and gone."

Annoyance, trying to bite back and regain some control over the situation.

While Reggie had no technical authority, and he would have to yield and go by Sparkplug's orders if she really put her foot down, he could still try. This was his one attempt to steer her away from her plan, his one attempt to try to keep things moving in a direction that would get her and John out of here. He played up his status as best as he could, posture going a bit more ridged and upright, while helm arched up high above the other Cybertronian, red visor looking down at her.

This was probably a foolish thing, if any Decepticon followed the traditional mold of a 'Con, than such an authoritative attempt was bound to cause backlash. He had to try though, he had to make some kind of attempt, pointing then down the hallway he was trying to lead them before.

"The pods should be at the end here."

[Sparkplug]

The way he was posturing at her did prompt a little flash of annoyance through Sparkplug's fields - he didn't need to make a big fuss about being taller than her just to get her to listen to him, and honestly, she was shorter than almost everyone in the crew anyway, so it had a distinctly limited impact. All the same, her flash of annoyance eased as it occurred to her that it was essentially a defensive thing to do, because he was used to not being listened to. After all, even the substance of his argument was that she was too valuable to risk mucking about in a doomed ship, while he was far more expendable.

It wasn't an argument she liked. But she could at least respect his opinion enough not to argue the point. The shriek of her self-preservation instincts clamouring at the back of her processor certainly didn't object to his encouragement to just leave.

"...okay," she acknowledged, taking a few steps back from the next roof rib, then sprinting towards it and vaulting over to the other side. Raising her voice, she added, "Not going to tell you y'can't stay, but don't end up getting yourself fragged, alright? You've got value too, y'know."

Sucking in another gulp of air through her vents to cool her overstressed systems, she threw herself forward down the corridor. If the pods were only as far away as the end of the passageway, it wouldn't count as abandoning them to get there first and check the status of the pod bank, and it was such a relief to give in to the clamouring urge to stop holding back and just run for the exits as fast as her chassis was capable of. Snapping back and forth between forms, she laid tracks of rubber between each roof rib, spinning up into her bipedal root form to vault over the next barrier, then landing on her wheels again.

Surely there'd be enough room for both her and John in a single pod, since even the two of them put together weren't as big as some heavily-built individuals. All she needed was one pod to still be there. One pod functional. Even just one pod fixable.

Just one.

[Zercon]

It worked?

Reggie was used to being able to boss around his fellow Vehicons if there were no other leadership figures around, but he hadn't expected to receive a win like this so quickly from Sparkplug. She was a scientist, she was a weapon designer, she had power and rank above him simply because she was far more learned than he could ever be! And yet... he got to boss her around? His plan was actually accepted and she didn’t take full charge? The Vehicon seemed a bit confused by this, faltering that he had 'won' the argument, this confusion pumped up even more by the way she showed some concern for him as well.

"Noted."

Reggie dipped his helm in acceptance, not posturing or trying to instill any more of his ideas. It was then that the femme seemed to speed off, and his helm crooked a bit, confused a moment before he assumed she was going to check over the pods and hopefully have one prepared for them by the time he got there with the injured soldier. John seemed alarmed however, not putting two and two together, his grip tightening on Reggie's shoulder. As Sparkplug raced off, she would hear John asking something, the words muffled by wheels and launching, Reggie replying.

Their voices faded away.

As Sparkplug reached the end of the corridor, she would be met with a series of hatches that were secured soundly against the side of the ship. The primary shape jutted into the area just slightly, hatching panel doors able to be swung open towards the ceiling while loaded, with an iron glass panel secured on its center. This permitted a viewer to look inside of the pod should they want, able to see a small bench on either side, able to house a few individuals should they manage to tuck their legs close once sitting. Heavy bolted handles were secured to the walls on varied heights for different individuals.

Many of the pods still appeared to be in place, though there were a fair amount that were also gone. The empty holes where a pod once sat, was instead a simple latching mechanism that plugged up the gap, leaving a void with some exposed launching arms and connecting cables that were now detached. Perhaps the first thing she would notice however over the other details, was the fact that there was a layer of water that had begun to pool and form on the flooring. It was not very deep, only perhaps just below the ankle on her frame, but it was there, and possibly rising at a slow pace considering the trickles of water that seeped in from around a few of the launched shuttle doors.

[Sparkplug]

Vaulting over the last rib blocking her path, Sparkplug's vibrantly green optics widened, and her field flooded with relief. Escape pods! Plenty of them! She was out of there!

Then she landed with a splash in the water, and almost tripped as the sudden drag at her ankles caught her off-balance.

"Whoa! Whoo. Okay. Primus, you giant smiling son-of-a-glitch, I knew you had my back on this one." Tilting her head back and looking up in the vague direction of the sky above, though she had no idea where Cybertron was in relation to her right then, she added hopefully, "So yeah, if you'd see your way clear to not letting this place flood before I'm out, maybe give me a nice clear getaway flight path...?" She snorted, and shook her helm. "Maybe a pet turbofox, too. Come on, Sparky. Can the chatter and escape already."

Her expressive faceplate taking on a frown of concentration, she paced methodically along the row of pod bays, peering through the iron glass to assess the status of the pods beyond. "Lessee... anything that's showing interior leakage, that's out. Anything that's sitting skewed on the mounting, that's out as well. Hopefully that leaves a few..."

Visual inspection could only take her so far, of course. Crossing her fingers and wincing slightly in anticipation of something disastrous happening, she pushed the access buttons for the two pods that seemed in the best condition. Surely one of them would open up smoothly, at least. Then all she had to do was wait for John and - what was his name? - Reggie to arrive.

Though the water was rising, and faster than she liked. Scratch that, she didn't like the water being inside at all. She could already feel it rising around her ankles, cold and wet and prying at her seals. She could just leave, couldn't she? Reggie could dump John in one of the other pods, they'd both get out just fine.

But they might not land in the same place, of course, and John's leg was ruined, so he'd be stranded on his own. "Rust and grit!" she swore, then shook her helm. "Fine."

Raising her left hand, her fingers and palm collapsed away with a sigh-hiss, to be replaced by the sharp, angled point of a welding torch. Bringing it to the edge of one of the leaking panels, an actinic blue glow sparked into life, and she began welding the leak closed. It wasn't much, and there were plenty of leaks to tackle, but it gave her something to do while she waited that just might stop her going crazy with impatience.

[Zercon]

The buttons didn't seem to enact an immediate response, but perhaps that was because in a crisis, everything seemed a bit slower than you really hoped it would be. After this fleeting moment, both of the pod's door surged out and into the room slightly with a snarled hiss, before hatching up towards the ceiling. Which would normally be great! Only... the ship was upside down... Instead, one after another, the doors slammed forward and at the new 'ground', threatening to ram into Sparkplug if she was standing right in front of one of them. As they collided with the ceiling turned floor, water was sent splashing out and away, long waves trembling down the surface

Despite being upside down, the pods both seemed functional and in good condition. Their interiors were clear of any water penetration, save for the new splatters cast inside the doors surface from being opened. A light on the 'floor' aka the ceiling, flickered on, to illuminate the pods seats, handles, and controls. This light seemed blinding compared to the sunken ship's darkness, illumination slicing out from each doorway like a portal.

A splash, followed by a thunk.

It took a bit for Reggie and John to appear in the hallway, but they had tried their best all things considered. Or, more, Reggie had tried his best. The serious Vehicon's peds slapped down into the water heavily with a huffed grunt. He seemed haggard from hauling the other trooper, his helm crooked forward, and vents flared out to try to cycle cool air into his systems. Once he stabilized after the land off of the last 'rib' in the hallway, Reggie started to plod over towards Sparkplug, helm rising to look along the escape pods.

"Ah, there are plenty here, I wonder why..."

What should have been a reassuring boon, seemed to make him exceptionally paranoid, stopping by one of the open doors to look within.

"Their loss our win!"

John chirped back, pleased to see Sparkplug was there, and was actually trying to help the ship. While the small welds were probably not going to make a huge difference, it made the Vehicon pleased to see, and acted as a bit of false hope to further lift his spirits. This showed in his upright posture, perked up wheel posts, and almost happy tone of voice.

"Think we are good to go?"

John continued to ask this, before his happiness was cut into some as Reggie shifted and started to maneuver him down to the ground. He flinched in discomfort, a small grunt forming as his weight plunked into the water on his good leg, the other sagging down to rest beside it. Thin trails of Energon streaked from the joint, but it was small and inconsequential.