[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Out of the Blue [Closed]

[Patch]

Week 2, Day 1
-

A darkened room. A small, simple, cluttered, darkened room. With a recharge slab on the far left wall, and a weather worn tarp on the floor beside it.

Equipment was strewn here and there, supplies, tools and instruments in various states of disrepair. Small ration cubes, that had been bled entirely dry, dotted the crooked, makeshift desk on the far right side of the room. The console atop it flickering, and fluttering through the dark with a glitched green light, and some basic schematics. A routine set of protocols for a proximity alarm by the looks of it. It had been a simple trick for Patch to set it up. A trick any good soldier should know.

One, lone femme, sat in the middle of the chaos, at the desk on the crate she had since made into a seat. She was small in stature, with white and crimson paint. Cross Legged, hunched over, and perched, staring tiredly at the radio she had rescued, clicking the little knob slowly to the right with her thumb and forefinger. Listening to the different flavors of static as they cut through the quiet room. High-pitched buzz, low-pitched buzz, high-pitched whistle with a crackle behind it.

It was the same set of channels she always flipped through. The ever empty channels… It wasn't much in the way of entertainment, It wasn't conversation, but It was better than sitting alone in the quiet.

At this point, just about anything was.

A subtle glance toward the chronometer at the upper left corner of her HUD, then a sigh. It was late. It didn’t feel late, but it was. It was time to stop searching for other survivors, and attempt to continue as one herself.

Patch rolled her helm back along the cervical section of her spinal strut, mummed gently, and touched her faceplate. Holding it roughly in her palms for a moment, before she dropped them in her lap, and reluctantly stood. Just a couple steps to the recharge slab, and a matter of turning it on. And though she didn’t feel tired at first, every movement she made brought back the weight of exhaustion just a little bit more.

As the light from the screen fell away from her optics, and turned softly to illuminate the back of her frame, the femme flopped down face first into berth. One pedde up, one pedde down, and both turned loosely inward as her body relaxed, and the soldier attempted to force her mind to do the same.

The young medic’s proverbial ears suddenly perked up, as she noticed a little something different about the white noise she liked to keep on while she re-charged. It was a subtle little difference. One she could have simply let go, with such ease.

'What the frag... One more won't kill me.'

One last try for the night, to make contact with another. One more. What harm could it do? Worst case scenario? Another hollow, empty channel, in which to throw her words. And the best case? Maybe another Autobot out there in the wreckage. Maybe someone friendly. Maybe someone who needed help, help that Patch knew she could give.

Just one more try, before she off-lined for the evening.

With a little half-sparked groan of exhaustion, the femme pushed herself cleanly back up with her arms. Bringing herself up backwards, and getting her peddes beneath her once more. Slowly, though surely sauntering back across the little room, at a fairly un-optimistic pace.

It was the fifth time this meta-cycle, that this little ‘just one more’ skit had played itself out.
Not once, had Patch let that change in pitch go unexamined.
And not once, had her diligence been rewarded.

Plunking back into the seat, and eyeing the radio for what felt like the millionth time, Patch raised her hand, leaned her body in toward the hunk, and touched the button to transmit.

“...Hello?”

She dropped her helm, and ex-vented. This wasn’t gonna work.
‘Act like it will.’ She thought to herself, and with a deep cycle of air, put on a tone that was ever-so-slightly more awake than it had been before. It was friendly, it was clearly belonging to a femme, though it was low in pitch, and serious. It was young. Perhaps, too young.

“If there’s anyone out there, you’ve uhh… You’ve got someone.”

[Ren]

Meanwhile, far from Cybertron on a little planet called Earth…

QLC-972 was bored. Again.

Of course, this seemed to be the norm as of late. Even with the extra workload due to the Nemesis going down, there was something about being stuck in a cave that was less than thrilling. Of course there were other Vehicons here with him but wow, there wasn’t really a whole lot to talk about.

Every so often a call would come in, someone wanting a bridge out of Blackridge to somewhere else on the planet, or someone calling in to go back to the new outpost. Q had become a master of rerouting the bridges through the Space Bridge system, getting people where they needed to be!

Usually he filled in the excess time between these calls with games on his datapad - but that was charging right now and he was certain the other Vehicons wouldn’t approve of him using their datapads to waste time.

Ugggggh.

Slumping back in the sad excuse for a chair, he tilted his gaze upward to the rocky ceiling, trying to pick out pictures or other interesting features among the shadows and stones. If he squinted and tilted his head a little, that one kind of looked like Megatron’s head…

A quiet hum of thought, that trailed into another more musical sounding hum.

Wait, that’s it! Maybe he could find something to listen to! Earth had so many kinds of music, with radio stations all over the World, it was so easy to tune in and listen! Then if you didn’t like it? Just tune into something else!

Leaning forward, he would bring up the console screen. A button press here, a command typed in there… he soon found himself listening to a myriad of different songs of various musical styles and languages. He’d give each song a chance, about 10 seconds or so, and if it was too boring or not to his taste? He’d simply switch to the next station. Given his short attention span of lack of knowing what kind of music he even liked, he was switching between stations rather quickly.

There were moments between frequencies of static, dead lines or whatever the technical term was, and after fifteen or so in a row of these? Another button was pressed to increase the range of the input.

Static. Staticccc. Moreee staticccc.

A voice.

Static.

Wait! Go back. Back back! Was that someone saying hello? Was he going mad? Had the dreariness of the cave finally gotten to him? The static was faint on this channel - and then a voice cut through once more. It was a little broken up, far away sounding.

Had he just made contact with an alien?

Far from. Decepticon tech was, thankfully, rather advanced, and so the console had managed to track where this specific transmission was coming from and- well whaddya know! Home! Not Blackridge, no, but home home! Cybertron!

Wait! Cybertron?

He scrambled to sit up straighter, opening up a communication line on his end of things to try and reach out to whoever it was on the other side.

“Got someone? Like- uh. Caught them? I wasn’t really looking for anyone! Hello! Uh. Hi!”

This wasn’t how it usually went. Normally a distress call would come in, with identification codes attached, a request for help, co-ordinates. Something. But there was nothing like that with this, and Q - as stupid as he was - knew better than to randomly open the Space Bridge for just anyone, or give out anything that could reveal his own location.

“How can I help?”

[Patch]

The young femme sat in the crippling silence as she waited for a response. Leaning over the desk on her elbows, with her helm down, and her audial turned subconsciously toward the speaker. Her big blue optics open, though soft as she looked loosely at the table, and listened to the static for another sign of life...

...Patch ex-vented, and offlined her optics.

She turned her helm farther down, and raised her eyebrows in acceptance, Smacking the table with the tip of her servo, and taking in a fresh cycle of air. The last sparked started bringing herself forward to stand... when all of a sudden, an actual someone began crackling over the line. Patch’s helm snapped toward the radio, her expression soft with disbelief and contemplation as the words came through.

Got- Kzzt-meone? Ik- Cau- Kttz em?.. Kkkxxzt, looking- f-k-or--- an--on-- Hel-o! Kshht kkshxzt-krrsxt---

Was she hearing this right? A voice, a real voice, cutting through the static for the first time in joors.

“Someone else is alive.” She said to herself flatly, and under her breath as she dropped her shoulders and stared at the little machine. “Someone else is actually alive!”

Her optics lit up as she touched a servo to her open smile, and ex-vented in relief, and shock, and excitement… Before having the sudden realisation that someone was, talking to her and she should probably see about responding.

Dropping her helm, and just enough of her excitement to speak and think clearly, the young femme leaned into the receiver and spoke back.

“You- you’re breakin’ up, I can barely hear you! Do you read me?”

From what she could glean, the person on the other end of the line sounded... familiar.
He didn't seem to be in distress, he almost sounded a bit enthused actually. His voice, almost like someone she recognised, though at that point, between the break-up and the garble, Patch couldn't quite place it.

The young femme leaned farther still into the device, churning the broken words in her helm and working to separate them from the static.

...How could he help her?


Now she couldn't have heard that correctly. A voice, a real, sentient person… And he was asking how he could help, her?

Well that was something she hadn't heard in a while. Even when she had been with a group...

She needed to find out where on Cybertron this fellow was! Maybe they had goods they could exchange. Maybe he had fuel. Patch had a half-decent amount of equipment -by her standards at least- and a good bit of medical know-how. The young femme could have really used a trade like that right about then.

Patch, suddenly found herself struggling for how to handle the situation. Decorum had never been much of a strong suit for her, and though she wanted to sound professional to this stranger, well? At this point, the world, had ended. Less formal simply felt more right.

“Help me? Well Primus I haven’t even introduced myself yet! My name’s Patch, I’m a medic.”

She chirped, the exhaustion in her frame entirely gone at the excitement of another sentient being to talk to. She had decided to wait to be asked for I.D codes. For whatever reason, that felt more secure than simply throwing all her information at someone she didn’t know in the slightest.

If there was one thing Patch had gathered in recent months, it was that Cybertron had become a dangerous place. Sure, it had already been as much for the better part of her life, but now she had no team to protect her either. It was just her, all alone out here.

As for the others who still survived? Well, let’s just say Patch knew very well not all of them were searching for others to help. If she revealed her location right away, someone could have very well come straight to her door and killed her. Looted her supplies for whatever was useful, and darted straight back out into the chaos without a second thought.

“You got a name?”

Maybe this stranger would even want to form an alliance… Pits she needed the company, and she missed the camaraderie too. The mech seemed friendly enough, even after just a few seconds of chatter, and, in complete and utter honesty?

Patch was becoming a little desperate for someone to talk to…

“Say, where are you at? -Or, at least a general vicinity." She ventured, in hopes the mech wouldn't think she was pressing him too hard for details.  "Maybe we could organize a trade or something. I’ve got some good equipment here, I could probably even fix something of yours if you need it.”

[Ren]

Was he hearing things?

For the longest, dragging moment - there was no response on the other end of the line. Normally when folks contacted this outpost from Cybertron, it was with a request for a bridge to Earth or other aid. But now, there was nothing but the crackle of static.

The voice that’d come through had been so quiet that he wondered if he’d heard it at all. He’d linger on this frequency though, just incase.

A good thing he did, as the voice sounded a moment later. While he could hear her just fine - quietness and fuzz of static aside, it seemed the signal wasn’t that great on his end.

“Oh! Uh. One moment!” he found himself leaning in closer to the console as he responded, not that it’d do much good with a weak signal.

Utilizing the Decepticon tech as it was supposed to be used, a button press and a short command inputted later, and the signal should’ve strengthened tenfold from what it was only moments ago. The fact she’d responded again meant he had a better lock on the frequency she was using. The signal, even though the range had broadened and the line should be much clearer, was still very much encrypted and safe - don’t want those pesky Autobots listening in on anything now, do we?

Ah, if only he knew.

“Nice to uh... Get in contact with you, Patch the Medic!” She didn’t state her faction which was a bit odd, but he wouldn’t press for it right now. Identification codes could be asked for in a moment, and verified in a matter of seconds. Probably.

“I’m Q! Well, QLC-972 is my Designation, anyway.” the three letters and numbers probably indicated that he was nothing more than a mere drone, not that it mattered! “I hope you can hear me loud and clear now?” He didn’t really want to mess too much more with any of the settings on the console. Tinker too much with those things and it meant that Soundwave or Starscream got involved and the less he saw of those two? The better.

As the question was asked, he’d sit up a little straighter in the makeshift chair. Where was he at? A super secret cave that hid away the Decepticon Space Bridge, that’s where! Of course, he wouldn’t say that, and after a moment of contemplation on how to even answer, he’d reply.

“Earth!” there, that was nice and general “Uh, Planet Earth. Over in the Milky Way galaxy, long way from Cybertron that’s for sure!” a few more details, but nothing too major.

What was that she said? A trade?

“Uh, I mean - that depends. Whhhhat did you want to trade for?” was she okay on Cybertron? Did she just want to check in and get supplies or something? Nobody wanted to actually stay on Cybertron, did they? It was pretty much uninhabitable! Unless-

“Before we do anything, can I have yooooour identification codes? Just so I can check that you are who you say you are, Patch the Medic.”

He didn't want to agree to a trade or anything that could get him in trouble, not before proper protocols had been followed, anyway!

[Patch]

That voice… Patch could have sworn she knew that voice…

A name to place it to would help! Q, that was nice, that was short for...

Slag…

That’s, why she recognised it...

Patch had always hated the fact that the Decepticons didn’t even seem to have the common decency to give their soldiers proper names. It was wrong, to create someone simply to throw themselves at the enemy, and not even have enough respect to give them a title first.

At the question about reception, Patch was suddenly drawn back to the present.

“Auhh… Yeah, sure…” The young soldier answered flatly. “I- I mean yes! Much better.” She blurted, somewhat distracted as her free servo came up to hover in front of her. Her optics suddenly dropping to search for nothing across her desk, as her mind went to work on what to do next. The right thing to do at this point was most likely to hang up on the fragger, right this instant!

But it was dark… And quiet… and lonely… and that certainly didn’t seem like enough to throw away your sanity but by the Allspark…

That was enough, to throw away her sanity at that point…

The next few questions she asked the mech where mostly simple, spouted responses that had already been at the forefront of her processor. She was, still paying attention to the mech, sort of, but, she was mostly just trying to stall the Vehicon while she floundered on how to handle this.

Earth!? He was on another planet!?

The likelihood of this piece of junk reaching that far was unbelievably miniscule! That was like… That was like reaching someone in a residential area, on a handheld radio, from the top of a mountain! Sure! This fellow likely had a radio tower equivalent of his own, but still!

Hold the frag up… Earth… That was where the call had come from…

Patch, just like so many others, had heard the Prime’s invitation to join his team on that strange, distant, organic planet. She wished to go, desperately, though she simply didn’t know enough about space worthy vessels, or interplanetary travel to go on her own… A chance to go with someone else would have been magnificent, though, she knew it was unlikely she’d find someone with both the know-how, and the will.

With that logic -as well as a great deal of disappointment- She had simply chalked it up to a long term plan, and placed it diligently on the backburner. After all, it wouldn't do to mourn the loss of an opportunity you couldn't access… Patch still did, frequently, but that didn’t make her circumstances any different. Besides, there was still a lot that needed to be done back here! There could still be other survivors to be found… Sure, there, hadn't been any yet. Save this- well not even this fellow, he was a Decepticon on another fragging planet!

What did she want to trade for?

Patch found herself glancing through the dark of the messy little space, her optics falling on the last two glowing cubes of fuel she had ‘stockpiled’ -if you could even call it that at this point- in the corner. They would likely last her… a megacycle, if she rationed diligently. Two, if she really stretched… and ignored the pain… and… the obvious symptoms of long term damage to her frame due to fuel deprivation, but… That much wasn't new.

The short answer? Anything! Absolutely anything that was not in tatters at this point would almost definitely be helpful! Patch was most certainly not okay on Cybertron with what little supplies she had left, especially not alone, though, she wasn't going to share that with him… She didn’t want to appear defenceless; not in front of a Decepticon, at least.

“Well, anything, really, I suppose.” the young femme staggered, still heavily distracted by the fact that she was talking to a Vehicon. “I, I mean fuel would be nice, assuming you have some.” A casual almost-a-joke, that, Patch quite frankly knew wasn't really funny. No one had fuel. That just, wasn't how life worked.

I.D codes… He was asking her, for her I.D codes...

Calmly and oh-so-very deliberately, Patch suddenly flicked her finger from the button to transmit, as though it had just bitten her. “Ssslag.” The young femme snapped under her breath, sharp and short and deeply enunciated as she cursed the situation she had just gotten herself into.

She’d simply say no. She’d calmly, and politely respond to the mech, and tell him she was ending the conversation then and there…

Taking a deep cycle of air, and prepping herself to finish this thing with civility, Patch leaned forward to transmit once more.

“...Yes. wilco, just… one lil’ nano-click?”

The young femme’s faceplate suddenly contorted in panic and aggression at herself for making such a stupid fragging move! ‘What the frr-ick are you thinking!?! He’s gonna murder you ya dumbaft!!’ Her servos flew from the transmitter, and swiftly turned to claws, which, then in turn transformed to fists. Hovering for an instant in front of her chest, then moving to either side of her mouth as she aggressively mummed and widened her optics at the radio.

That’s fine! It was still fine! She could still just end the transmission. Then and there, and be done with it. That’s what she’d do. Just reach forward, and cut it off…

The femme moved her hand in an uncharastically tentative manor toward the power switch. She knew, if she ended it now, she would likely never be bothered by this channel again.

She would never, receive this channel, ever again...

With a look of absolute struggle, and an unrestrained groan directed straight at the muted device, she dropped her helm away at a diagonal, and drew her fingertips back in. She couldn't do it. She couldn't drop this lifeline. Even if it was intended for a faction that wasn't her own!

She needed, to get out of here.
And something, some crazy voice deep down in her gut was telling her, this was the way to do it.

And with that? The soldier reluctantly sent the Vehicon her codes.

She most certainly was, who she’d said she was. Though she had neglected to mention a very important little detail… A detail which G would most likely be able to glean from the young femme's picture alone.

If the bright red frowny-face centered on her chest wasn't already enough, nearly everything else about the compact young femme simply cried out ‘I am an Autobot, and I’m okay!’ Her paint was white, with bright red touches that skirted proudly around the edges of her plating, and through it. It was lightly scratched, though neatly kept, her shoulders low, though smartly drawn back.

She was smiling. She had known, at the time that she wasn't supposed to… It was a proud, complacent, closed mouthed smile, directed straight toward the camera without apology. The sort of smile that drew straight up and showed kindly in both bright blue, un-covered optics. Above her left eyebrow, G would likely see a rather prominent silver scar, cutting clean through the paint on the darkened ridge, and the protoformal metal beneath, and at the time the photo had been taken, A bright blue day old gash of an abrasion had been smeared across her chin, and had obviously only begun to self-repair.

Worst case? He’d just cut off the conversation and be done with it. He’d probably assume, she hadn't realised he was a Con, and throw away the convo. Delete any records that it had even occurred, and pretend it never happened in the first place…

Well, actually… That wasn't quite the worst case…

He could send over a strike team instead, bash her door in, interrogate her, then kill her…

Hopefully this wasn't a worst case scenario...

[Ren]

Another long pause.

Was it because of a delay in transmitting? He figured the signal was beaming out a million billion miles away, so the slight hang between responses was probably normal. Just as long as he didn’t accidentally hit something to end the call, and all would be good!

Her first response was a little flat sounding. Maybe she was distracted by other stuff? At least the signal was coming through stronger now, though!

“Aw, yay! Good!” he was as chipper as ever though, not wanting to make things awkward! Stronger signal meant her codes could be transmitted easier - and the sooner those were sent, the sooner she could be bridged off Cybertron!

Well, if she wanted that, anyway. He wasn’t one to judge. Maybe she wanted to stay on their dead World. Then again he didn't know why anyone would. 

Expecting another delay, he found himself spinning in the small chair. As his vision blurred with one rotation, he could see the other Vehicons in here going about their tasks - sweeping up dust, checking their datapads, talking amongst themselves.

Then he swiveled back to face the console.

“Fuel?” his visor dimmed a bit, almost like he was blinking in surprise. “Uh I mean, I’d have to check in with my superiors but- maaybe!” a nervous laugh followed. If she was a Decepticon, there’d be no issue - it probably came as standard, a welcome to Earth giftbox! A cube of Energon and a check-up by the lovely shiny Knock Out! Speaking of, he was probably super overdue! But that was a problem for future Q.

Of course, he hadn’t been expecting the other outcome. That she was an Autobot. It hadn’t even crossed his processor! She’d contacted them so obviously she was on their side. It hadn’t occurred that it’d been nothing but sheer luck.

Another pause. This one far, far longer than the ones previous. The fuzz of static was still there, indicating the line was still open. He didn’t want to make things awkward by rushing her, and so he’d spin in his chair again. He was nothing but patient, he had all day!

The console had flashed up with a new image mid-chair-rotation and the first thing he saw- or thought he saw- was a big, bright, red, Autobot symbol. Sticking out a leg to stop himself he’d slam to a halt and stared up at the console screen.

Oh.

Yep. There it was. 

Autobot.

Patch the Autobot Medic.

Ohhh this complicated things a bit. Normally this would be where he laughed and hung up, leaving her stranded- but there was a Truce in play that meant he should probably be nice. Soundwave was probably tracing this call and if he just denied all knowledge of it happening and effectively marooned her on Cybertron? He’d be found out in a second and punished!

Now it was his turn for silence. How to even deal with this? They hadn’t had an Autobot come through the Space Bridge before, at least not while he was here! This location was super secret, and even despite the Truce, the Autobots weren’t allowed to know where it was!

Maybe he should explain things first. The silence had lingered for too long.

“Uh. Your codes came through nice and clear, Patch the… Autobot Medic. But! Hey! It’s your lucky day! Uh. There is a Truce right now between the factions so I can probably totally get you to the Autobots no worries. Obviously, this frequency is a little shoddy and you’ll need the Truce explained to you in person but- uh.”

He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, the other Vehicons were still preoccupied. Dangit he wished Reggie worked down here sometimes, he’d know what to do. With a vent of a sigh, he turned back and spoke once more.

“Obviously I can’t bridge you hhhheree… but I can try and arrange a pickup- if I can get ahold of the Autobots anyway. That sound like a plan?”

This totally wasn’t in any of his training manuals, and so he decided to wing it. Maybe he’d get to talk to Optimus and be the hero who saved a stranded femme, that might be pretty cool!

Scrap, maybe he should contact Starscream or Soundwave as well - if anyone knew what the official protocol was in this stuff, it’d be them.

Which was the lesser of two evils?

He’d wait a moment for Patch the Autobot Medic to respond. In the meantime, though? Stress mode activate.

[Patch]

The silence was crippling.

Patch sat in wait as the radio static continued to drone on, holding both forefingers to her lips, as her elbows rested on the table, her chin on her thumbs, and her eyebrows lowered. Staring at the instrument in front of her as if it were about to stand up, and shake her servo.

She couldn't believe she had sent him her codes. It was safely the stupidest thing the young femme had done in at least an Orn. Though, considering the circumstances, that wasn't exactly difficult. Stuck inside for most of her days, scanning for energon or other survivors, collecting and repairing old equipment, both to remain prepared for anything, and too keep herself occupied in equal measures.

Suddenly, the vehicon voice crackled to life once more, and when it did Patch let out a small, open ex-vent of relief, and quite frankly surprise that he would dare continue this at all. She honestly believed she’d never been so happy to hear a Decepticon before.

Patch smiled coolly as the Con said her faction, and cocked her helm a bit to the side in acceptance; almost as if the mech had been taking a dig at her, in calling her an Autobot. A dig she knew was true, and was actually proud of deep down.

When he mentioned the truce, the young femme’s jaw vizibaly dropped as her optics widened.

Frag, that worked?!

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, slow down. A truce? Are you slagging me right now?” She replied casually. Her voice mild, though dead serious through her last few words. Retaining an heir of friendly despite the tension she felt in her field toward the stranger. Like static in your audial, like being just a little over heated, and all for no good reason besides ‘He’s not on my team.’

If there really was a truce, that was great! Sure it didn't mean an end to the war, but it was a good start… Unless…

Unless it was too good to be true…

This mech very well could have been lying to her, for… Primus knows why! He could have been trying to get at her resources, he could have been stalling her while he pinpointed her location. Maybe he wasn't on earth at all, and was just trying to lure her in, so the Cons could get the location of the autobot base! Er, well, if he knew to say Earth, then… It was a little late for that one, but still!

For now, she would proceed with caution. Bearing in mind, that he could very well be lying… But allowing herself to retain hope nevertheless.

Wait! What’d he just say?! “Hold up. ‘Bridge me’…? As in… as in Bridge me?!”
Patch may not have known much about groundbridge mechanics, but even to her it was obvious they couldn't extend beyond a planet’s surface… Unless… Slag, people couldn't still build those, could they?

And this was the moment it clicked, that Patch would probably get to go through a SpaceBridge, For the very first time in her life.

“Frag, you’re telling me this actually worked? I knew you cons were dumb, but I didn’t think you where as dumb as us…”

Helping a random stranger for the good of no one accept that random stranger was, definitely not something Patch thought of as a con thing. Maybe this fellow was looking for a promotion or something? Did they do that for Vehicons? She hoped so. Go through the trouble of doing the dirty work, you should at least get the chance to make a name for yourself in the process- er, a designation for yourself, in this case.

[Ren]

“Uuuh, yeah? I just said there’s a truce…” he replied deadpan, trying to be a little more serious about this whole situation now he knew he had to somehow get an Autobot off Cybertron without revealing the location of the Space Bridge or anything else by accident. Then again, he could understand why she probably didn’t believe him and seemed surprised by the whole thing - if someone had told him that just a few years after arriving on Earth the war between Autobots and Decepticons would be at a standstill? He would’ve laughed in their faces!

Yet here they were, and it was Megatron that’d been the one to organize it! Or so he’d heard! He didn’t know the ins and outs of the entire situation but rumors sure had swirled amongst the Vehicon troopers. Even if he hadn’t? He’d agreed to it! Not that he was going to start telling Megatron how to do things, noooo no no the last Vehicon that did that got hurled off the Nemesis, and they couldn’t even fly!

Spuh-lat! What a way to go.

Not that they had a Nemesis to be thrown off right nooooow, but Megatron still had that giant arm cannon and he’d really rather not meet his demise with that!

Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Megatron in a while, Starscream was the one leading things now and-

Patch’s voice cut through the static once more, and Q would raise a servo to smear down his faceplate. Yes. Bridge you. What did she think he was going to do? Somehow sprout wings and fly up there to get her? Carry her back to Earth in his arms like one of those romantic movies? Except with more screaming because even if that happened, he wouldn’t know how to fly and-

“Wooooow okay, gonna have to stop you right there Patch the Autobot Medic.”

If she’d just left it at the bridge comment, he would’ve been fine, responded politely and got this show on the road! But calling him dumb?

Then again she kind of called herself dumb, too. But nah, nahh nah he focused on the fact she’d called him - and the rest of the Decepticons - dumb.

“Would a dumb person do this!” he barked triumphantly as the line suddenly went… rather quiet.

A pause.

It lingered.

Then clicked to life once more with a loud crackle of static.

“Oh wait, frag, shut up, this is where I do this! BOOYAH! Have fun, Patch th-!”

Then, the line went dead. For real.

Nothing but silence.

Her ticket to Earth? Gone in an instant.

There was a little voice inside Q’s processor that told him he probably shouldn’t have done that, but eh, nobody would ever know!

Reaching across to grab his datapad that was still charging but eh, half a battery was better than nothing, he would lean back and start to play Bejeweled.

Take that indeed, Patch the Medic!

[Soundwave]

Vehicons working, the hustle and bustle of individuals shuffling around trying to get things fully set up and established... the base was in constant motion and flux around QLC-972, most workers likely not even aware he had started up a conversation with someone of the opposite faction despite the Autobot emblem displayed up upon the monitor so prominently. He was isolated in a way, permitted to tinker in peace and make judgment calls onto the young medic's fate. Easily able to assist, and just as easily able to lock her out and throw her to death on the isolated world. An attempt had been made, one to help, one to abide by the truce, but in the end a clash of personality clipped it all so very short... ending with unprofessionalism and a tasteless closure.

The distant wall across the way from the trooper seemed to peel and push forward as the newfound silence took hold from the communication's termination. Twisting shadows, a shape becoming more defined as dimmed sporadic lighting ghosted across darkened armor in hairline highlights. The faintest sheen of magenta shone from this moving mass, etched lines weaving like spider webs in angled patterns, slipping in and out of visual reception behind sharp armor. At the figures movement, many of the other workers in the room seemed to still, chatter falling off and fading away while a wide buffer was permitted to create a clear path between it and the lone Vehicon.

This figure pulled fully from the wall, seamlessly moving forward towards QLC-972. Each footfall sounded almost hollow, an odd plastic clip that was so unlike the peds of the other individuals in the immediate area. Dampeners ticking lightly... the silent lift followed by the faintest crackle of grit being stepped upon that skittered across the rough hewn base's floor. It was only a breath of a moment before the navy form cut out the ambient light from the rest of the room, casting a narrow shadow with hooking shoulders.

A flicker shot across the game that was being played on the datapad, its screen resuming normal a second later, only to completely crackle and black out a brief fraction after that. This short-out was paired with a small spark that flicked from the charging cable, only to then be met with a presence coming into the trooper's immediate line of sight. With a calm gradual movement, a bladed arm reached over the seated mech, allowing a pointed claw of a fingertip to press down onto the communication relay and activate it back to its most recent transmission.

The lone Autobot's data clipped back onto the screen a moment later, before the radio frequencies all started to fluctuate and buzz as they honed in with even more accuracy. Each small change in the frequency was paired with Soundwave delicately adjusting a few dials and a slider on the terminal, boosting power to the systems enough to turn the mostly clear but still slightly scratchy connection, into a crystal clear lock onto the lone medic.

The call between Blackridge and Patch reactivated with a static hum that smoothed out to an empty void, a hollowness that would beckon her to rethink her choices and try again.

[Patch]

She figured poking at him a little wouldn't be so bad. Hopefully it would lighten the situation somewhat. In complete and utter honesty it was awkward talking to a Decepticon, and Patch could feel it in her gut. She didn’t really know what to do with herself, so, she decided to try and make things easier on everyone involved. This Vehicon seemed nice enough to take a joke, so, the soldier decided to try and lay the situation back a little, and make things a bit less quaint.

Of course, when the mech sounded put off by something, the act was dropped like a hot piece of slag.

“What’s wrong?”

Spoken quick, professional, calm, concerned; one of those phrases you could simply tell had been spoken a hundred times over or more.

He... hadn't taken that personally had he? No, of course not, how could he? Patch had been insulting their factions, not them. And her own faction more so than his!

… Of course the silence that followed wasn’t promising.

She had said it with a smile on her faceplate too… although now, it was suddenly becoming apparent to the femme -in retrospect- that he hadn’t been able to see that.

Suddenly the mech’s voice tore through the radio at Patch, in what sounded like a heavily defensive tone. And in response, the femme barked straight back at him, “No, No! Wait it was a Joke!-”

And then the line went dark.

“You, fragger…” She breathed.

Him? Or her. The young femme genuinely didn’t know. A look of utter shock adorning her faceplate as she clutched her intake in widespread fingers, and slumped back wordlessly onto her seat.

She’d lost him.

Patch really hasn't meant any offense! ...Well, she had a little. But just a poke, a prod, a nudge in the shoulder pauldron with her own! Kidding him as if she had been talking to an old friend who knew she didn’t mean it, and now what? This whole opportunity gone to the pits and smelted beyond its barest components! Just because she didn’t know how to hold her fragging tongue!

Of course she just had to open that mouth of her’s and try to make things friendly. The comment spoken in one of the only languages she knew; Frontliner. That age old ‘accent’ she always seemed to slip into when she got nervous. Why hadn't she taken the situation seriously?! Why couldn't she have just been a professional for once in her life!

Wait? Was he back?

Oooh… He sounded mad, That wasn't good, close enough! Slag, what was his name?!

“Q? Q, I need you to listen to me-” Patch began, lurching forward at the radio and speaking at it directly over the mech's words with every ounce of authority she knew how to summon.

The tell tail tone of a medic taking charge, utterly possessed the young soldier’s voice as she gently through sternly attempted to smooth over that little wrinkle she had just made with her new friend. She hadn’t meant to offend him! And she did feel the sudden urge to tell him, loudly, though the last-sparked knew this was not the time.

This was the time, to make him not hang up.

Indeed, she needed to talk sense into this mech in the three seconds she knew it would take him to find whatever button, and thoroughly murder her chance at rescue, perhaps even survival…

Great. She was already out of time…

The line, had already cut out.

“Of course…” She said calmly, dropping her frustration into her lap along with her servos.

“Of, course he’d hang up on me. Why wouldn't he!! Sure! you drag two of his frame-brothers to cover, give em fuel, keep five of the slaggers alive for three joors and this is how the universe repays me!?” The young femme snapped, the fire of youth propelling her servos forward at the raidio as she stood up onto wide spread peds.  “Well slag this! I’ll get out on my own! You'll see! I’ll… fly! I’ll get a boat… I’ll… fragging drive, to Earth!”

The anger faded, as the desperation set in. Her voice wavering, and skipping with the emotion laden last few words. When she was through, an instant of pause sat silently in the heavy air… Before a long harsh groan fell out of her intake, straight from her chest, and into the little space around her.

Patch went back to the desk, plopped down, offlined her optics, and let her helm fall into her hands as her elbows hit the table. The small pile collapsing slightly as her digits ran roughly through the bright red painted seams on either side of her white helm. Then suddenly slam, her helm dropped straight into the desk with a “Ckhhch.” Causing the half striped instruments, and the empty cubes utop it to shift slightly and jiggle back and forth for an instant, as her servos folded softly utop one another at the back of her neck.

Just like that the young soldier had been shot back to square one. A single fouled word and she’d botched all of it. Her chance to leave this place, this hopeless wreck she still called home because she’d never known anything else. Her chance to be of some real, honest to Primus use to the cause she loved, and had given everything for.

All of it taken away at the press of a button. Sent straight back to where she’d been all along.

Just her. All alone. Sitting by herself in the dark.



Ck-op buzzzzzzzzzz….

The defeated femme looked up softly at the device from under her hand-fort in response to the change in pitch; the hope in her spark nearly faded, though still clinging on as it tended to.

Until it suddenly clicked in her processor, that... that meant there was a connection.

“-Sorry.”

She blurted as her optics widened, and her body jut forward at the radio without so much as a second thought before or after. Leaping for that second chance like a determined wrecker for an off bound lob. “Just- ...sorry. That was outta’ line.”

The young femme’s tone was heavy, hardy, and real. Especially along the last line of the fraze. No excuse. Just an apology. And if that vehicon was still mad at her? Well, he had a right to be.
She could have given him an explanation, though, Patch believed it was wrong to try and take someone’s frustration away from them, for the sake of making yourself feel better. It was their right to feel that way, and it was selfish to ask them not to… She couldn't afford to be selfish right now.

It was time to put on her big-girl plating, and talk to this mech like a professional. This vehicon- ...Q, had given her a second chance, when -in his view, the femme was quite sure- she most certainly did not deserve one. That was the take away from this… He was mature, he was bigger than himself, and Patch… had a lot of respect for that.

“Thanks… for putting me back on.”
“What I meant, was uhh… I didn’t think you’d be able to help me… I appreciate it.”

Sensitive words spoken low and slow in a tone that was heavily real, as she glanced away, and gently touched the back of her neck with her palm. She meant it. This Vehicon may very well have saved her life. Perhaps at risk to himself, if he truly wasn't supposed to be conversing with her.

Patch did not, take that lightly.

“I didn’t know spacebridges where still… possible.” A small smile crept onto her faceplate in wonder as she ex-vented the last word. A smile one would likely be able to hear through a channel as clean and clear as this one was now. She’d never seen an active spacebridge before. It was… Somewhat wonderous to imagine...

The little medic cleared, and reset her voicebox, her posture reflecting her unusual attempt to make herself seem less imposing, as her legs moved closer together from their perpetual man-spread, and her back straightened out a bit, in… The closest thing to ‘lady like’ the soldier was really physically capable of…

“Is there anything else I can do to make this easier?” She started, almost spoken more like a statement than a question. Low and careful, and genuinely hoping for a response; if for no other reason than to help stitch the rip she’d just torn in her ego. “-That is, if you are still willing to get me outta’ here?”

She figured the fact the mech had made the connection again, meant he was willing to help her. Hopefully, she wouldn't blow this chance as she had the last...

[Ren]

That little nagging voice inside Q’s processor was still there - gently reminding him that he probably shouldn’t have just hung up on Patch the Autobot Medic. It wasn’t like she was stranded somewhere on Earth or even nearby, no - noo, she was on Cybertron, and he’d just cut off her only real way of getting off the dead planet! Her words mixed in with the nagging of his own, how desperate she’d sounded before he’d hung up the call for good.

Aaaaah yeah… he’d done a bad.

Quiet, nagging voice! This was totally a problem for future Q, not right now Q!

Time to beat his high score in Bejeweled. Yay distraction!

What was the worst that could happen anyway? There was a truce but she had been super rude, and he wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was with Autobots wanting to use the Space Bridge! Sure it wasn’t like she’d get the location of this base or the location of anything important simply by stepping through the swirling vortex to freedom, but did they really want to waste resources powering a bridge to Cybertron?

Sure they had a lot of Energon to spare… Even with the loss of the Nemesis, their Energon Mines hadn’t been affected any, and the displacement of troops meant that a lot of them had been transferred to work in the mines to save space at Blackridge - meaning they probably had more Energon than before! Or at least, that’s probably how it worked, right?

There was a hollow step that drew Q’s attention away from his datapad, if only for a moment. The hustle and bustle of the cave, the eerie ambiance? Those were things that he’d gotten used to, it was like background noise. Relaxing almost. But that hollow step was new - and he couldn’t quite place who it belonged to.

Then, the datapad flickered, and panic shot through him as it crackled and died a moment later, a loud, angry spark on the other end of the charging cable made him jump and shift up straighter in his chair. So much for that high score!

“Aw no no! Don’t die on me now! You were at half power! That’s heaps!”

Man, if the cable had busted and shorted out? It’d take forever to get that replaced down here! Maybe he could steal someone else's, there were plenty of Vehicons down here, with plenty of datapads.

A glance over his shoulder.

Soundwave.

He didn’t see the Spymaster at first, turning back to his datapad to tap it lightly on the side with his palm, almost like it’d bring the thing back to life.

Wait.

Soundwave?!

A quiet ‘eek’ of surprise escaped him, high pitched and rather unbecoming of himself. This was it. This was how he died. He hadn’t even made a list of his possessions and who would get them! Not that he owned much. He had this (now) broken Datapad, some really neat rocks and-

Focus focus focus!! Soundwave had moved closer now, right over to the terminal. Q watched in silent horror, unmoving - Soundwave’s sight was based on movement, right? - as the communication relay was activated once more.

It didn’t take long for Patch to speak up again, blurting out an apology almost immediately.

“Aw no, you’re good! I was just uh, testing you! And- making sure your codes were up to standard! Which they are! Totally are!” he stammered, trying to reel back the situation into his favor even though he’d been caught not only hanging up on her, but also playing a game on his datapad.

“A-As for Space Bridges, yup! Yup, they are! It’s your lucky day huh!” his attention remained straight ahead on the screen, not daring to avert his gaze to Soundwave who loomed nearby.

“Making it easier? No no you just stay right where you are, the transmission has your coordinates with it so let me just work out somewhere on this side where we can send you that’s safe, then we can go ahead and contact the Autobots! One sec while I work that out!”

A nervous chuckle escaped him then as he looked over at Soundwave, making sure not to transmit himself over the relay, he would lean back a little in the chair.

“Apologies, Soundwave, Sir! I was going to call her back, honest. Uh- How did you want to do this? Where did you want to send her?”

[Soundwave]

It would be so easy to leave the femme on Cybertronian. Stranded, alone, scrabbling and scrounging to live in a desolate wasteland of skeletal buildings and violent survivors. The lands patrolled and guarded by sentinels, Insecticon and other alike that would inevitably be the end of many who meander into the wrong areas in their attempts to find fuel. Really, the Autobots would likely have no idea such a thing went amiss. A lone individual, lost in the record books, likely assumed dead already. There was the faintest chance she would luck onto their communication channels and betray the Decepticon's lack of compliance during the Truce, but those chances were slim.

But the Autobots had to be hurting.

Every new soldier brought strain onto their base, and their fuel. While Soundwave had never seen the base in question, nor had any concept of a record on their fuel acquisition since the Truce started, he did have a lot of context clues, the most important regarding their Energon intake. Before the Truce, the Autobot's generally got their Energon from raiding Decepticon mines, so to go from being a leach to trying to be self sufficient was likely difficult. Calculate how much of the precious resource was lost in the raids the previous years, compared to time spent between attacks... adding in how many confirmed new Autobots showed up and assuming they have not lucked out and found a mine of their own somewhere? They were probably hurting.

So another soldier to feed could be deadly.

Malicious compliance to the agreement.

As the connection was reestablished, Soundwave's narrow arm gradually pulled back and away from the controls to rest at his side, watching patiently to see what QLC-972 would opt to do next while the femme apologized quickly for her previous words. What was interesting however, was her admittance she did not think Space Bridge's were much of a thing anymore, which rather dated how far removed from everything she must have been on the planet. Whatever the case, Soundwave's visor angled down slightly as the Vehicon began to speak, the glossy surface catching the reflection of the screen at its angle.

Once QLC-972 regarded him directly, Soundwave's form eased back fully into a resting stance, no longer partly hovering over the mech to make sure he stayed in line. While this was done his helm fully crooked down to look directly at the other Cybertronian rather than at an angle to view him and the screen at the same time. The navy mech did not believe a single word that was spoken. The trooper was scrabbling for excuses, unease practically crackling across his lines, attempting to lesson any punishment that may be coming. Really, Soundwave figured the scare was enough of a reminder to stay in line, but he was not going to share as much, let the fear continue to guide.

At the question, his visor lit up.

Nevada. The Autobots were in Nevada. Cross reference confirmed sightings to Autobot pod landings, adding in the proximity to the human children... and Soundwave was fairly certain he had a good idea on where things were. The area was exceptionally large however, nothing he could just walk out to, point at and decide 'yes, that is the Omega Outpost' with any level of certainty beyond lottery luck, but he knew enough to drop Patch uncomfortably close to their base, which... may be a bit of a power move on his part, but it could cause some unease. Perhaps make the Autobots sloppy in attempts to find speedy solutions. A sloppiness that could be beneficial if the Truce were to be cut short...

These coordinates near a lone Nevada street in the middle of nowhere, would pull up onto Soundwave's monitor, clearly showing the Vehicon where to send her. Soundwave could do this himself remotely, but the trooper needed to earn his keep.

[Patch]

When Q started in on a little spiel of his own, the young femme on the other end relaxed a bit. Offlining her optics, and ex-venting in relief. Thank the Allspark he wasn't the type to hold a grudge. Somewhere deep down, Patch still got a sense that G’s now panicked words where untrue, though she supposed it didn’t much matter. He was talking again, and it sounded like he planned to help her. That was the takeaway from this.

“Aahh, Ha ha… Well, you uhh. You got me!” She stammered, awkwardly trying to make light, as her newfound understanding of the power this mech possessed over her began to plant itself firmly in her mind. He could ask her to do absolutely anything he wanted, and if she wanted to get to earth? She would have to do it.

That was not a situation she liked in the hands of a Decepticon.

At least so far he’d kept things civil... Well... Besides hanging up on her. But he had come back! That’s what mattered! ...Best try not to upset him again though.

In fact, now he actually sounded like the one in distress. Frag, this guy was downright frantic. What had happened? Had he gotten in trouble? It didn’t really matter, Patch supposed, though whatever it was, she deduced it was probably the reason he had come back.

When he responded about it ‘being her lucky day’, the first thing to fall out of Patch’s mouth was a perhaps, slightly overly cheery “Yeah, I- I suppose it is.” Just agree with him. Primus was this awkward. Patch simply wasn't used to talking with someone she couldn't-... or rather, didn’t trust. Not in a capacity like this at least, where she was very much at his mercy. She felt such an overarching need to please him, and not in a caring way either. Indeed, she almost felt as though she needed to stroke his ego simply to keep herself alive. To keep him on her side...

Could this be what it felt like, to live amongst the Decepticon ranks? A constant obligation to flatter, to suck-up, for no reason besides your own personal gain...

...Thank Primus she had chosen the side she had. A matter of klicks working with these mecha and she already had a bad taste in her intake.

Wait, they already had her coordinates? An instant of dread suddenly shot through the femme, at what could have happened had there not been a truce in play...

“Oh! Uh, you mean now? As in right now?” The medic leaned away from the console and looked back at her surroundings for a moment. Twisting her spry, though solid frame effortlessly around to face the clutter and the dark. “Uhh...” She genuinely didn’t know what to do. She needed time to get this stuff together in a way she could actually carry it all at once. “Could you actually, give me a klik? I, have a few things I need to get together.”

[Ren]

Q didn’t see things quite like Soundwave did - blissfully unaware as to the real details of the war and the goings on in each respective faction. As far as he was concerned, the Autobots were still a threat, even despite the truce! Once the ceasefire had ended, it’d be back to war as usual. He didn’t know they’d stopped raiding mines, he didn’t know there’d been no real activity from them, how they were probably hurting, or maybe even dead!

Which was probably why he was stuck in here and not doing anything really important! He didn’t know much at all! Haha!

Still though, he wasn’t about to hang up on her again or bridge her to somewhere funny like the Moon, not with the Spymaster standing right here being all creepy and silent. He didn’t even know when Soundwave had arrived here, or how long he’d been lurking and watching.

“I sure did!” he laughed, even if it was a little forced. Ahha.. ha… play nice Q, play nice. If you go along with this and get her safely to Earth, maybe Soundwave won’t kill you or reassign you to somewhere else.

Man that’d succccckkk!

He wouldn’t reply to her other comment, attention on Soundwave now as his visor lit up with a response to his question. He’d opened enough bridges in his time to know where that general area was on Earth, and would sit up straighter and to attention as he began inputting the coordinates that’d been selected.

Strange place to send her, didn’t seem to be a whole lot out in that area but hey, it was better than leaving her stranded, right?

Coordinates were ready to go, the area lighting up on the monitors - a topography of that specific location, all he had to do now was press a button and-

Right now? Well…

Yeah?

Isn’t that what she wanted?

To be with her Autobots?

He seemed a little taken aback by her comment and questions. If he had a mouth, it’d be hanging open with a dumbfounded ‘uuuuhhh…’ but he didn’t, so instead just stared - visor unblinking - while he took a moment to process, reprocess, and then process again what she’d said.

Nope, she wanted to wait a bit. Here she was, stranded, wanting to come to this planet and she had the audacity to ask him to wait? She should’ve gathered her belongings before making the call! Patch the Autobot Medic was totally rude!

This would be where he’d laugh and hang up again after a “LOL NO” but- Soundwave was still here. Still silent, still lurking, still watching and judging.

“Sure! Take as long as you need! Just let me know when!” happy and cheerful customer service voice go!

It was with this cheery tone he’d turn to Soundwave again.

“Gosh, Autobots, so rude, right? Making us wait! Isn’t like we have places to be! Well- not that I do but you might! Sure you don’t want to bridge her to the Moon?”

Quick glance to the monitor, quick glance back to Soundwave.

“Kidding kidding I’m totally kidding!”

That’d be funny, though.

[Soundwave]

It seems she was not anticipating getting real help.

Otherwise she would have been more prepared.

Patience was something they could afford at this moment however. No crisis occurring, no other jobs this particular Vehicon could be working on, and an abundance of soldiers scuttling around trying to find tasks in the new base to make it more functional and stable. With Pyrotech actually having a formidable amount of soldiers at command now, Blackridge would more likely than not be booming in short time to a higher standard of living. But for these few moments, they could wait; they could let this femme try to gather her wares... as Soundwave still counted on her arrival being inopportune to the Autobots despite whatever she could drag with her.

At QLC-972's words, and the successful entering of the coordinates, Soundwave's visor flicked to black, and he eased fully upright into a more relaxed posture, helm no longer angled down to permit easy reading. This straightened posture was short lived and did not last more than a moment, for after a flicker of internal thought over the other mech's words, he slid into movement once more. Calmly, Soundwave stretched his long arm past the Vehicon with care back to the controls. However, unlike before he did not fiddle with the radio controls to zero in on the Femme better, nor did he turn off the console to plunge her back into silence, instead he keyed in the controller for the coordinates. With consideration, he turned one of the dials a few tiny clicks, moving with upmost care to not push it too far, as the coordinate indicating height was ever so slightly slid upwards.

This meant that when the portal was successfully opened, and Patch would eventually walk through the gate, the second she would step outside of the vortex and the veil of light that separated her from the new world she would step down what would undoubtedly be a short but unexpected drop. It would be no different than a human not seeing that extra step at the bottom of a stairwell, continuing to walk forward only to have that momentary 'scare', so it shouldn't bring harm, it not far enough to truly cause problems unless this Patch individual was particularly clumsy.

QLC-972 would be free to alter it back should he actually want it, or be scared of any backlash, but that was about as far as would be permitted for 'vengeance' against the medics perceived 'rudeness'. An almost arbitrary prank that would undoubtedly be blamed on the Vehicon, as... who would believe Soundwave would do something so juvenile? Something so incredibly childish? With this done, the navy mech pulled his arm back, delicately grasping the fried data pad and retrieving it. His arms would then return to hanging slack at his side, showing no indication he would input more to the situation, nor that he had any intention of giving the broken device back at this time.