[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Stranded

[Crescent]

Week 3 / day 7



He’d been in the middle of sending out his fourth distress signal of the week when the screen had shut off on him. The console was given a kick for good measure after the fact, but gave absolutely no response. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t kicked it all, because now, instead of just having a dead ship, he had a dead ship and an ache in his leg.

The useless hunk of metal was officially dead to the world. Crescent released a grumble of frustration, and promptly sunk down to the floor in exasperation. At some point, his sitting turned into laying, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, as if the answer to his problems was hidden somewhere amongst the support beams.

Upon noticing her owner’s very visible distress, Luna hopped over to him, and attempted to comfort him to the best of her abilities.

“It’s dead, Lu. I’m sorry. I’ve tried everything.” The owl gave him a concerned glance, and he pulled her in closer, giving her a light pat on the head. “I hope this isn’t the end, but if it is, just know that I love you, and It’s been a good run.”

After saying this, he proceeded to roll over onto his side and let out a string of very loud assorted curses and obscenities that could have likely succeeded in making a wrecker blush.

[Jetfire]

Space....

The one place where Jetfire was able to reach his maximum speed without fear of being torn apart by atmospheric friction, in a straight line at least. A series of relatively regular distress signals had finally be properly triangulated, which the Seeker had enthusiastically volunteered to investigate. Through a series of events beyond his control, Jetfire had been left as one of (if not the only) air-space capable Autobot left on Earth. Him burning his thrusters for a few hours to reach the moon was also the preferred alternative to holding open a groundbridge for however long. Even with the logistics and skillsets on his side, Jetfire had to lobby hard just to obtain the go-ahead.

The trip itself was uneventful.

No space pirates.

No sudden wormholes.

Not even a chunk of stray dark matter floating into his path, irreparably converting him from fermionic to bosonic matter.

Earth was.... boring, to say the least. But boring in only the best of ways.

::Vector received. Proceeding.::

After turning as the most recent approach vector was relayed to him remotely, Jetfire decelerated and abruptly cut his thrusters, though not so much as to bring himself to a dead stop. By now, he was merely a very fast chunk of space debris, silently sailing towards his target. Feeling the familiar hitch of a gravitational field taking hold, his optics began to scan the pocketed surface of Earth's moon in earnest, expecting to find a burned-out wreck amidst the otherwise desolate scenery.

There.

It had taken only a half-second to pass beneath him as he sailed overhead, but Jetfire had seen the crash site. Given the angle the sun's light was hitting the moon, whoever had been sending those signals had no doubt noticed Jetfire's shadow bisecting their ship. Hopefully. He imagined it happening as such.

::Picked up visual. Investigating.::

Consumed by the infinite nothing around him, Jetfire's thrusters made little more than a vibrational whisper as they re-engaged themselves. Banking hard left, as to not have to orbit the entirety of the moon again, his propulsion systems carried him back around in a big loop, until he once again came to sit in the sky, between wreck and sun. The Seeker sat silently in full view, now simply scanning the wreck and its occupant(s).

[Crescent]

At some point after his yelling fit had concluded, Crescent had fallen asleep on the floor. Normally, he would have at least wandered off to the spot where he was supposed to recharge, but his injuries and low energy levels made even a small task of that nature seem like a chore. So floor it was.

It was about halfway into a rather strange dream that he found himself jolting awake, an odd sense of unease quickly washing over him as he came to. Something felt... off, but it took his sleep-addled processor a few seconds to connect the dots and identify what, exactly, was wrong.


That shadow had not been there before he fell asleep.


One of two things was happening. Either someone had responded to his distress signal, and freedom was on the horizon, or he was about to find himself in a very unpleasant situation. A quick scan around the room revealed Luna perched on a nearby storage container, and he whistled at her, prompting her to come over. After the owl landed and observed the shadow herself, she realized that something was amiss and shifted into her rifle mode before her owner even needed to give the command.

Crescent quickly grabbed the gun in front of him, and shuffled to the entrance of the ship with as much speed as he could manage in his current state. No move was made to lock it into place, but he didn’t want to be caught unprepared should whoever [or whatever] was waiting outside turn out to be less than friendly.

He hovered his claw tip over the button on the wall, hesitating for a moment, but ultimately pushed it. The doors then parted, leaving him visible to his visitor.

[Jetfire]

Given that the moon lacked both air as well as an atmosphere strong enough to contain it, Jetfire was rather eerie as he sat above the wreck, having been positioned so expertly that he matched the speed of the moon's rotation. No waves of air or swirl of loose material beneath him, whatsoever. He might have been just another satellite, by anyone's guess. A very jet-shaped, non-spherical satellite. For a long few moments, there was no indication that he would suddenly become something more than a floating piece of debris.

As a set of doors on the exterior of the vessel slid open, Jetfire finally had a glimpse at the sender of many a distress signal. Presumably.

A Seeker, one much like himself. Or rather, one like he used to be. It was a frame-type he'd seen plenty of, both before and during the war. However, it had been some time since his last sighting. Part of Jetfire was reminiscing about upgrading his frame for the first time, while the other remembered just how thin he used to be....

....no. Bigger was better...

In the shipwrecked Seeker's servos was clutched a rifle, and an awfully powerful-looking one at that. If they so deigned it, they likely could snap their aim to him as he hovered motionlessly, and be done with it. On the other hand, Jetfire had them dead to rights, his own weapons already leveled and zeroed correctly. If it were to come down to reflexes, odds favored the bigger fish.

The bigger fish was no fan of fish-based metaphors, as he generally had no desire to either eat or hook anyone for any particular reason. Regardless of his fondness for it, the metaphor translated well to the current situation. As he continued his scan, the former Decepticon was quick to notice the insignia he himself had done away with long ago was still present on their form, as an outline at least.

This was not a fair exchange however, as the glare from the sun cast a shadow across Jetfire's body, obscuring his own factional paraphernalia. This simple fact was not lost on him, which gave him an idea for a certain experiment...

Jetfire shifted forms mid-air, requiring no sudden twitch of movement or intention from the fellow on the lunar surface. The maneuvering thrusters on his back and heels kicked in at once, to hold him in more or less the same spot he'd arrived in, his ventral side still almost fully concealed by the sun. His left hand was laid down by his side, unlike his right. The opposite hand, on the other hand, had been shifted into a blaster, and a robust-looking one at that. His elbow was elevated slightly, and the weapon was directed skyward. He was visibly prepared, but with reserved intent.

"Care to give me your name, friend...?" Jetfire called out, still some distance away. His accent, distinctly Vosian, had a slight tick to it. There was no doubt Vos was his place of origin, though a trenchant set of audials would've been able to ascertain that he'd spent more than his share of time away from home.

[Crescent]

When the doors parted, he was greeted by the sight of... a jet, of all things. He eyed it with caution, and took a few slow steps forward in order to get a better look.


When his “visitor” transformed, his optics shot open wide in surprise. It had been years since he’d come into contact with another of his kind, and he’d stumbled into another seeker at that? What an interesting turn of events. He gave the stranger a look over.


He wasn’t displaying any open signs of hostility at the moment, though his blaster was out. Precautionary, perhaps, in the same way that he was clutching on to his own rifle.


He found himself in a predicament. Should he be dealing with a Decepticon, there was a chance that he might be aware of his status as a defector, and things could take a turn for the worst quite quickly. Should it be an Autobot…well, the two of them would technically be on the same side, but he would have no good way of proving that, now would he? He realized how this situation might look from an outsider’s perspective, especially given the visible outline on his chest where his badge had once been. Faded and obscured, but still very much Decepticon-emblem-shaped.


He stayed silent for a good while, lost in thought, until the sound of the other seeker’s voice snapped him back to reality. He spoke in a relatively non-threatening tone [would someone who wanted to blast him to bits refer to him as “friend”?], which somewhat helped to quell his fears, but he did not fully let his guard down. He couldn’t trust this bot just yet.


“It’s Crescent,” he answered, eyeing the other intently. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any plans to shoot unless you want to go first.” To prove his point, he snapped his fingers, prompting Luna to return to her animal form. The response was quick, and upon finishing her transformation, she landed on her perch on her owner’s now outstretched arm.


“I hope you plan on honoring that.”

[Jetfire]

Crescent.

...

He did realize the irony of the situation then, did he not? It'd be the exact same situation if Jetfire's jets caught fire. Well, shoot for the stars, Crescent, because even if you miss, there are infinitely small odds that you'll crash into your namesake.

They were both of a like mind in other ways however, as neither of them wanted to be the instigator of hostilities. Good sign, Jetfire thought, but we can probe further. Jetfire's own weapon remained active yet angled away, possibly hinting that he wasn't perfectly satisfied yet. Truthfully he wasn't, as there was more he could do to allay his own suspicions. "As it happens, I was hoping neither of us would need to go first," the veiled Seeker replied.

His blaster however, remained in play.

Their cassette was fascinating, even from such a distance. If he'd been a little bit closer, Jetfire would've appreciated the opportunity to examine them in detail. While neat, they weren't a critical component of his working hypothesis, nor did he need them to test it. Crescent's wing, most likely having been mangled in the crash, was the real centerpiece here. On the chance that they really were a Decepticon, albeit one with manners, Jetfire had felt it prudent to run through a few scenarios in his head. If he were a nasty, brutish, stereotypical Decepticon stranded on a foreign world, and by chance a benevolent rescuer had happened by? Well, he knew what one of his various courses of action might be.

Even then, you didn't necessarily have to be a thuggish Decepticon to see the same course.

A moment had passed between his replies.

"We're both Seekers, you don't appear to be flight-capable at the moment, and I appear to be outnumbered," he began. There was something academic about Jetfire's successive observations. He spoke as if he were a scholar, posing a question to a peer.

"Why not capitalize on your advantage, and cannibalize me for parts?" Doing so, Crescent would likely be able to then escape the moon of his own power, and keep his presence here a secret. But, to do as such required a distinctly Decepticon-esque set of heuristics. Jetfire had felt that insignia was faded for good reason, but now he'd hear it from the mech himself.

[Crescent]

...Cannibalize him for parts? Had he heard that right? Despite his best efforts to contain his amusement at that statement, he wound up letting out a quiet laugh under his breath.

“Hm. Well.. for one, there’s no guarantee those parts of yours would fit. Your wings are a fair bit bigger than mine. There’s also the fact that I’m injured and running quite low on energy. Trying to go for your spark wouldn’t be very smart on my part, now would it?”

Crescent paused for a second, then continued. "And you know...I can’t say I'm the biggest fan of unnecessary murder either. Tends to put a damper on things.” Now. he was certainly no angel, given his track record of dubious and morally questionable actions carried out during his Decepticon days, but he could at the very least say he had never been the type to kill senselessly. "You've given me no reason to attack you. Not yet, at least."

The other seeker was trying to gauge his intentions, that much he knew, though he still remained completely clueless as to his own alignment or personal motivations. Brief thought was given to outright asking the stranger what side he was on, though he ultimately decided against the idea.

There was one question he deemed safe enough to ask, however.

“-And your name is?”

Might as well find out so he would have something to address him by.

[Jetfire]

Almost by instinct at this point, Jetfire began to mentally make notes on how his hypothetical plan for Crescent to butcher him might actually work. Seal a portion of the ship and pressurize it, use the atmosphere to kickstart any plasma cutting implements, file the wings down, weld the plates together, perform a graft, wait for graft to heal. He'd be flying back to wherever he came from slowly and clumsily, but better than not at all. Alas, the veracity of Jetfire's suggestion wasn't what truly mattered here. But also, he could totally kick Crescent's aft, what with the shape he was in.

His answers were thoughtful and pragmatic, but most importantly, they didn't belie the intentions of a Decepticon. Hopefully. It wasn't as if he had a direct brain-to-text readout of the mech in front of him, so assumptions would suffice for now. The aversion to pointless slaughter was also a definite highlight of his responses, too. That more than anything was what he'd been looking for out of any potential answer.

Finally, Jetfire shifted from his stationary orbit. The Seeker gently fired his thrusters to the left, and then began his feather-like descent to the lunar surface. Without the sun to conceal him, his features became much more apparent. If he was a Decepticon, there was no doubt some low-ranking bureaucratic fashion coordinator was, at that moment, furiously typing a note of cease and desist in regards to that color scheme. That, and the Autobot insignias plastered on his wings too.

With a soft poof, Jetfire touched down on the Moon.

His weapon transforming back into a proper hand again, he began walk toward the crash site.

"Jetfire," he replied. "I presume your friend carries a name as well?"

[Crescent]

This was certainly shaping up to be one of the most suspenseful conversations he'd had in a good while.

“Nice to meet you, Jetfire.” Was it nice to meet him? He hoped so. There wasn’t a blaster pointed in his direction, so things could be going much worse. “This is Luna.” Upon hearing her name, the owl bot gave a light hoot, though her optics remained focused on their visitor.

As the other seeker landed and began to approach him, Crescent took note of the previously-hidden insignias adorning his wings. An Autobot...better than the alternative, though his apprehension remained. Those who were aware [or became aware] of his history tended to not hold the fondest of feelings for him. He couldn’t say that he blamed them, but that was the reality of the situation.

“We’re actually on the same side, believe it or not. Though I can see why you might have a hard time taking me at my word for that,” upon saying this, he tapped a clawed fingertip against the bare patch where his brand had once been. “I’m still trying to process that myself, trust me.”

Perhaps a brief explanation was in order. “I defected at the very end of the war. Badge replacements weren’t really a priority for anyone around me at that point. I managed to get this one off though.”

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Should he actually be about to be rescued, what would he do when he made it off of this forsaken rock? Were there more Autobots stationed wherever it was that Jetfire had come from? Would they even want someone like himself in their midst? It was doubtful. Amongst his small crew of fellow recent defectors, he had fit in well enough, but he had a feeling that others might be far less thrilled to have him in their presence.

“If you’ve come to help me...all I ask of you is to get me out of here. Nothing more. I don’t expect you or any others you may have with you to trust me or accept me into your ranks, or anything else of the sort. Your caution...would not be unjustified.” And that was the truth. He was aware of where he stood when it came to his new faction. Trust was something that needed to be earned.

[Jetfire]

Jetfire gave Luna a small two-fingered salute as a response to the hoot. Nobody had ever offered him a hoot before, so it was the least he could do. He came to a stop at a decent distance from their carrier, with both parties now able to scan the other with unenhanced optics. The emblem was gone, but Jetfire could definitely have seen it. He had seen it, as a matter of fact. Before he'd found himself a change of spark, he too had paraded around a similar color scheme. Take Crescent's soft shade of lilac and pump it with extra purple, and there you'd have classic Jetfire. It was a smooth look, if one paid no mind to the factional implications.

He listened quietly, and patiently to Crescent's brief exposition. While he did so, it felt as though he'd warped Jetfire back a few dozen cycles or so. It was like he was Prowl, listening to a tired, desperate Jetfire pleading to join the ranks of the Autobots, fresh from defection. Prowl hadn't even been the one to formally accept him however, but Crescent still made him feel like a Prowl.

Fortunate he'd jumped ship early, however. Back when 'uniform' requirements were still mandated. By the end of the war, high command had plenty of more pressing concerns to deal with. Such as the race dying out, as well as the planet. Jetfire didn't hold it against Crescent for missing his brand.

Once he had finalized his explanation, Jetfire folded his arms in silence. He really felt like Prowl. Only he was Jetfire, after all.

"A Decepticon defector, at the end of his rope, desperately in need of help..." he restated. Reaching out with his hand, he lightly patted Crescent on the shoulder. "I welcome you to the club then, friend. Left just after the start of the war, myself."

Not wanting to violate the mech's personal bubble any further, Jetfire retracted his arm and took a step back. "I had every intention of helping, regardless of whoever it was that'd crashed here. Now... from a cursory evaluation, I'm not sure I could repair your ship, what with only what I've brought with me. You and Luna however, I might be able to help."

He said nothing about the Autobot presence on Earth. Channeling his inner Prowl, he felt it would've been fine to reveal that fact, however. The Decepticons obviously weren't in the dark about sharing a planet with their enemies, but still. Recent events had reminded him to be cautious.

[Crescent]

So it would appear Jetfire was a fellow defector, then.. though he had left the Decepticon ranks much sooner than himself. Now knowing the two of them had a little bit of common ground, Crescent felt somewhat more at ease.

At the touch, he tried his best to suppress a flinch. He hadn’t had any real physical contact with anyone but the bird in a good five years, so it was certainly a strange sensation. Not bad, just odd. “You made the right choice, leaving when you did. I wish I hadn’t waited so long.”

At the mention of his ship, he simply gave a shrug. “I didn’t exactly expect for it to be salvageable. In fact, I think it’s truly done for at this point. I would know, I'm the one who kicked the console five times.”

He paused for a moment, and then continued, addressing the rest of what had just been said to him. “But that would be lovely. I’m getting quite tired of this rock. And not being able to fly. I’ve been grounded for over a week.” That last part was, in fact, truly starting to get to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been flightless for such a long stretch of time. It was a miserable experience. His wings dipped downwards slightly as he dwelled on this, though they returned to their normal position a few seconds later.

He wasn’t sure where, exactly, Jetfire planned on taking the two of them, but anywhere had to be better than here.

[Jetfire]

He thought about the Last Adventure, now appropriately named, sailing through the Sol System's comet belt. Floating through space was no doubt more scenic than sitting on the moon being forced to watch the Earth for all eternity. Jetfire felt his ship had the luck of the draw on that one. Not that the ships themselves really cared, what with being inanimate and all.

Crescent's words had definitely struck a chord within Jetfire, given that they were both ex-Decepticon Seekers. But also, having one's wings clipped like that was no day in the park, either. If this were a better time, a better age even, he would've gladly helped the poor mech with no questions asked. Granted, he still would be helping Crescent, though questions would have to be asked, and not necessarily by Jetfire.

Considering now to be as good of a time as any, he pressed two servos to the comms device on his wrist. "Get all that?" he asked, likely to someone at the other end. Jetfire waited patiently as the response came through, his optics still glued to his wrist.

Jetfire's optics passed between Crescent and Luna several times over a few moments, before he finally addressed the voice back on Earth. "Understood."

It wasn't so bad, really. With everything that had been going on recently, Jetfire might've expected something more drastic to be done. Perhaps something might still have to be done, but he had a good feeling about the pair in front of him. Speaking of which, he finally tilted his head back up to address them.

"For the record, I trust the both of you," he began. "But I have an obvious bias that bears factoring in. Before we can help you though, we need to be sure of a few things." Even saying that felt ominous, as if his internal Prowl had grown a few sizes just uttering it. Hopefully somebody else could rescue the next Decepticon defector, instead.

Having said all he needed, a bright swirl of emerald energy flashed directly behind Jetfire. A groundbridge, by the looks of it, destination unknown. He briefly regarded the two beings before him, his tone indicating he would broach no questions, only responses. "Don't worry. We're not bridging to an interrogation room. Or a jail, or a prison, or anything like that." He just needed to be absolutely clear on that, what with the person giving him his orders. "However, it's not as though you can just be brought to our main facility on the grounds that I've been speaking to you for all of five minutes. Before, or rather 'if', that happens, we'll need to be sure of a few things first..."

Jetfire had tried to sound as nonthreatening as possible throughout all that. If Crescent was who he said he was, then this would go very smoothly, and Jetfire desperately wanted to believe that to be the case. Hopefully, it would be. He turned around rather briskly, shaving away any brief moments Crescent could've used to ask a question within. This was about how much he trusted them as well, in addition to the inverse.

He stepped through the groundbridge and disappeared from the lunar surface...

...and stepped out onto the hot sands of the Sahara Desert at mid-day.

[Crescent]

Jetfire was speaking to someone on the other line of his comm system, that much he could gather, but as to what they were saying to him...he didn’t have the faintest idea. His mind wandered for a moment as the conversation between them unfolded, though a change in tone indicating he was being directly addressed snapped him back to the present, and he listened carefully.

So they needed more information…

He did certainly feel a bit apprehensive given the uncertainty of what was about to happen, though he fully understood the need for taking precautions. After all, he’d been the one to tell him that doing so would not be unjustified.


What did “a few things” consist of? He didn’t know, but he supposed he’d be finding out soon. He eyed the recently opened ground bridge with mixed emotions, and briefly considered asking Jetfire where, exactly, it would lead, but before he could get the words out the other seeker was already leaving.

That was his cue, then. After giving the wreckage that had formerly been his ship one last look, he turned and followed.

When the light of the ground bridge dissipated, he found himself feeling...confused. What was this? Where was this? Having absolutely no knowledge about Earth whatsoever, he was completely lost, and didn’t know what to make of his current surroundings. 

[Optimus Prime]

The moment that the Ground Bridge pushed-to-be Space Bridge roared active and the two had exited, any borderline nonexistent fauna that had been sheltered under scarce rocks or even more scarce bramble, would instantly evacuate in absolute terror. Scorpions tucked underneath sun baked stone, while distant desert sparrows took flight in chattered cries that were drowned out beneath the roaring snarl of the vortex that sat in their wake. The mechanical snarls only got angrier every second it remained active, the excessive push on its mechanics to even REACH the moon's surface causing great stress and instability.

Atmospheric shifts from Earth, to a much different pressure of outer space, created a violent reaction. Heaved gusts of air shifted past to tug at Jetfire and Crescent, an equilibrium being sought out that was impossible to be found. These winds pulled so violently that a few pieces of loose shrubbery were sucked into the other side, as well as ample amounts of sand that whistled past across painted armors like a storm.

A couple beats after the two Cybertronian were clear, the Bridge slammed shut.

Countless miles of orange sands, rolling dunes and scarce bramble. Acacia trees were spattered about in infrequent flecks, smaller clusters that could hardly be called that given how few there were in each grouping. In the far distance were the rough shapes of mountains that likely were quite impressive up close, however from where they stood they looked ever so small, a thin streak across the horizon. As endless and monotone as the ground plane looked, the sky was no different. A sheet of endless blue, with the sun settled high, assaulting the earth with aggressive heat.

The air was nauseatingly dry, an unrelenting force that would pull any moisture off its victims it could manage.

Across the way from the two Cybertronian, a second Bridge would boom into formation once more. It did not hold the atmospheric pull that the one to the moon had, though it wasn't completely inert. the ground nearby flicked and rolled, ghosted by white particles that spiraled off from the edge where the now, and another plane, intersected. There was some erratic nature to it however, one that may stand out to Jetfire, a small crackle of electricity that skittered through this seam with a couple popped arks at varied points, signs of instability.

Out from its center, a large shape started to become visible, a figure walking calmly towards the veil that led to this environment. After only a brief moment, the darkness would push through, a heavy ped crushing down into soft sands below.

Sharp red and cobalt, striking silvers ranging from gunmetal to chrome... Many Autobots and Decepticons were iconic in nature. Their names carved in stone to a point even those who had never seen them face to face knew who they were. Recordings, broadcasts, or word of mouth... Many held titles that trailed behind them in a wake of rumors and stories. However, few reputations branched as far as those of higher command, their notoriety bolstered by actions during the war and the roles they had taken during it.

Even fewer surpassed that.

This was in the latter category.

The Ground Bridge sputtered and growled for another second, a shudder of electricity arching over the top edge, before it crashed closed with a hissed bang. The overbearing noise of the two Bridges that had existed for a brief time, now left an emptiness in its wake. Roaring booms now replaced with a hollow quiet that accented just how isolated they all were in this expansive landscape. No civilization to be found, no outposts or small camps acting as points between larger clusters, nor even any roads of any kind. Crescent and Luna were truly thrown onto another world with no help should they have been planning a double cross, as Jetfire now wasn't the only one to contend with.

Standing tall, the massive Cybertronian would essentially dwarf Crescent in stature. Broad shoulders were angled out, red plating arched high with layered panels where Autobot brands sat in plain view... chrome, catching onto the sun above that highlighted their three-dimensional shapes. Cyan optics stared down upon the alleged defector, the apertures pulled tight from how bright it was, creating thin dots of blue that made the individual’s gaze seem all the more intense. He was evaluating what he saw, mentally going over all that had been said previously. Wondering if said words would remain true? Or would this individual see an opportunity and try to take a shot that would get their name written in Decepticon history books?

For The Prime now stood before him.

[Jetfire]

Only a few steps needed to be taken before Jetfire found his ventral side absolutely smattered with all manner of sand and loose material, quickly rushing to accommodate the sudden pressure differential between Earth and its moon. The larger flier shut his optics as a small, dry shrug suddenly smacked against his helm. Aside from that, he, much like the moon now, was modestly coated in dry Saharan sand. Most definitely not the worst outcome, he thought. A little cosmetic kerfuffle was nothing to lose one's head over, considering complete groundbridge failure mid-transit was not an insignificant possibility.

The bridge closed with a climactic THOOM. To the mech who'd engineered it to carry them all the way to the moon and back, this meant one of two things: Omega had just been destroyed in some high-energy detonation as a result of his tampering, or it had simply worked according to plan.

If he had breath in that moment, he would've been holding it dearly.

Then a second bridge opened before Jetfire and Crescent. Oh good, he thought. They haven't been vaporized. In reality, it was more along the lines of a 6% chance of bridge failure, but even with odds like that just a hair away from an alpha of 0.05, his anxiety still felt it important to worry.

When the quite-familiar silhouette of a certain Iaconian record keeper emerged through the emission of the second groundbridge, Jetfire felt a wave of relief wash over him. It had worked perfectly... although those radial fluctuations were something that definitely warranted further analysis. Alright, so it hadn't gone absolutely perfectly, but when did anything ever go that way? More work for later, then.

Still sand-caked, Jetfire stood at ease and flashed Optimus a bright grin. Poor Crescent was having far more than he bargained for today, let alone little Luna. "Pleasant trip, sir?" the mad groundbridge tinkerer asked. Jetfire had to ask for clarification's sake, as there was the possibility that his modifications to Omega's groundbridge had actually annihilated the original Optimus Prime's atoms, and that the being standing before them was a recreation with all of the former's memories. But that possibility was far, far below 1%.

Still important to worry about it, though.