Aimless wasn’t entirely sure why they’d been clamped onto that other ship in the first place (Misfire had gone over at some point, mentioning something about a party, but the firearm hadn’t been interested), but he wasn’t terribly sad to see it go. The little mech hadn’t been all that interested in possibly being forced to awkwardly interact with a bunch of strange Destrons that didn’t even speak his language.
Their first morning away from the strange ship, Aimless decides to grab some more of the smaller-sized empty cubes from the cargo hold so that he doesn’t have to try and drink out of a cube much too large for him so often. He’s somewhat sleepy and relaxed when he enters the cargo room, yawning as he trots among the crates. He turns a corner, blinking, expecting to find just another row of containers.
Instead, he finds a mech.
He’s about twice Aimless’s size, but that still makes him rather small. At first Aimless takes in the colors—a cobalt paint job, highlighted with purple accents—and assumed he’s looking at another Destron. He opens his mouth to chirp a greeting, but shuts it with a click when he sees the red Autobot insignia on the mech’s chest.
The mech has seen him already, and is watching him silently through a red visor. He’s quite obviously frightened; he’s curled in a ball with his arms around his knees against the wall, and his EM field is flickering with a steady hum of low-grade nervousness.
Aimless sighs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this guy must have come from. “Great. You came from that other ship, didn’t you? Were you their prisoner?” The other mech stares back uncomprehendingly. “I don’t know what you were running from, but I don’t think you’re going to like it here.”
Aimless knows that the Autobot can’t understand him, but he adds, “Our leader’s a phase-sixer.”
The Autobot just rests his forehead on his knees and curls up tighter. Aimless can’t help but feel a little bad for him. He looks downright pitiful, battered as he is, but he knows what he has to do. He turns on his heel, sighing and leaving the cargo room.
It takes him about fifteen minutes to find Sixshot. “Hey,” he calls from the ground. “Dog-breath. We’ve got an Autobot infestation.” Of course, Sixshot can’t understand him any more than their stowaway could, which is probably why Aimless uses the nickname “dog-breath.”
He nudges the other’s pede, chirping and beeping at him until he gets the larger mech to follow him.
