Office Dynamics [Closed] Jan 16, 2019 2:30:59 GMT -5
Post by Pyrotech on Jan 16, 2019 2:30:59 GMT -5
Week 2, Day 6
Warm light yellowed overhead. It brought out the soft bands of reds and gold along the rock walls and touched on the shelves carved carefully within them. A desk had been hewn out of stone as well; the top smoothed and ground until it was perfectly polished and sleek. A long, comfortable bench ran the length of one wall; several datapads were stacked neatly on the floor beneath it.
Everything on his desk was carefully placed and organized; datapads, schematics. A tiny topographical map of the area that he had set in the far right corner to keep it from being damaged. It was a paper one from the humans, and moisture had caused it to curl at the edges. He'd weighed it down with rocks. One of the uses for a holographic avatar...
To be perfectly honest, it was one of the few moments he could tolerate it. He didn't like all that much.
Still, Pyrotech would admit it was useful at times. Far easier to scope out a city dump or a construction site that way.
Right now though, there was no time to do anything like that. The most important thing was getting this rough outpost into some semblance of a base. Something that even his skills were being strained to do.
Oh, it wasn't that he couldn't do it, it was a matter of being told that he needed to do it yesterday. With limited material and even more limited resources.
Here. Have this broken-toothed gear and this twist of wire; find a way to make me a platform for a space-bridge out of them.
Build not only a hidden shelter for an influx of mechs, but to find a way to support a situation that simply he never would have thought to come to pass. The bulk of the Decepticons were in these halls, the ship was at the bottom of the ocean.
Lord Megatron was missing.
This was never what this outpost had been designed for. Yet it would suffice, and he would make it work, one way or another. The wretched Autobots were still on this backwater little planet. They could not get complacent or let down their guard.
Slowly, Pyrotech turned his chair against the floor.
It was the only furniture in the office not made out of stone. This was a good chair. A solid, Cybertronian desk chair. Made to support and balanced his weight perfectly. If he set the tip of his foot against the floor, he could actually lean back and stretch himself. When he was relaxed.
Which was not now.
"You have finished moving those perimeter markers?"