[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Homebound [Q, Coldwind, Open please ask]
Nov 20, 2019 21:15:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2019 21:15:14 GMT -5
Episode 2.5, Week 3, Day 6
A small island off the north-east coast of England.
You know that one dream where you’re falling and you wake up a second before you hit the ground…?
Flamesnort woke up with a start, hitting his head against the sapphire chain-glass lid of the stasis pod. It was a bad sign to be dreaming while in stasis. It was supposed to be a null energy field - no time should have passed at all for him since he went down for a nap. Instead Flamesnort’s internal chronometer read three years where it should have been zero. He ached from the slow energon drain, and oil that felt coagulated in his veins. The lid of the pod unhinged at his touch and he pulled himself out. Bleary eyed as his sytems ran diagnostics, he staggered over to the crystalline growth of the energon deposit the faintly glowing purple in the tiny dark cave. With some distaste at the need to once again raid the suplies, he carefully took a small cube to ingest. Flamesnort gave himself a few more minutes to loosen the oil in his joints before plodding over to a small console built into the side of the stasis pod. While most of the computing power and equipment was purely for the purpose of keeping the sole occupant in a state of temporal suspension, there was some small ancillary pieces. The largest was the trans-warp transmitter, a means to communicate ideally with Decepticon HQ from across the stars. He started this piece of equipment up and out of habbit, checked his own person radio comms.
Flamesnort practically had a spark attack with the sheer level of radio signals flying invisible in the air. The extent to which the squishies had extended their command of telecommunication shocked him. Simple sound only radio signals, more complicated TV signals both digital and analog, stuff that was compressed and encrypted streaming gigabits every second. Flamesnort felt severly out of depth. The more the squishies expanded their hold on their planet, the closer they got to discovering him. This was unacceptable but there was little he could do.
The last resort, the only resort was to once more try to contact HQ. He could have automated the process but he preferred to do the deed himself every time. Flamesnort phoned home, or more precisely broadcast a trans-warp signal. In theory it was supposed to reach across the stars, but Flamesnort didn't know that it barely reached the moon. Entropy always won.
“This is Flamesnort, sentry of site Iomega eight-eight, requesting orders from command. Does anyone recieve this signal?”
A small island off the north-east coast of England.
You know that one dream where you’re falling and you wake up a second before you hit the ground…?
Flamesnort woke up with a start, hitting his head against the sapphire chain-glass lid of the stasis pod. It was a bad sign to be dreaming while in stasis. It was supposed to be a null energy field - no time should have passed at all for him since he went down for a nap. Instead Flamesnort’s internal chronometer read three years where it should have been zero. He ached from the slow energon drain, and oil that felt coagulated in his veins. The lid of the pod unhinged at his touch and he pulled himself out. Bleary eyed as his sytems ran diagnostics, he staggered over to the crystalline growth of the energon deposit the faintly glowing purple in the tiny dark cave. With some distaste at the need to once again raid the suplies, he carefully took a small cube to ingest. Flamesnort gave himself a few more minutes to loosen the oil in his joints before plodding over to a small console built into the side of the stasis pod. While most of the computing power and equipment was purely for the purpose of keeping the sole occupant in a state of temporal suspension, there was some small ancillary pieces. The largest was the trans-warp transmitter, a means to communicate ideally with Decepticon HQ from across the stars. He started this piece of equipment up and out of habbit, checked his own person radio comms.
Flamesnort practically had a spark attack with the sheer level of radio signals flying invisible in the air. The extent to which the squishies had extended their command of telecommunication shocked him. Simple sound only radio signals, more complicated TV signals both digital and analog, stuff that was compressed and encrypted streaming gigabits every second. Flamesnort felt severly out of depth. The more the squishies expanded their hold on their planet, the closer they got to discovering him. This was unacceptable but there was little he could do.
The last resort, the only resort was to once more try to contact HQ. He could have automated the process but he preferred to do the deed himself every time. Flamesnort phoned home, or more precisely broadcast a trans-warp signal. In theory it was supposed to reach across the stars, but Flamesnort didn't know that it barely reached the moon. Entropy always won.
“This is Flamesnort, sentry of site Iomega eight-eight, requesting orders from command. Does anyone recieve this signal?”