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@galaxyshuttle
For @ask-smokescreen
It isn't the weirdest job request to come across his HUD, but is certainly one he squints at.
Apparently, a grounder just wanted to be picked up and held as high as one could for a few minutes. He assumes it is something to do with a controlled environment of leaving the safety of pedes on the ground that freediving or a space walk can't provide.
Frag it.
.: LISTING ACCEPTED. COORDINATES :.
Shipformers,...which meant there were probably yet more Cybertronians of his size out there. Perhaps a few on this Cybertron as well, though Shatter couldn't recall meeting any.
Had they somehow been destroyed?- An unwelcome thought, but one that he would have to look into all the same. Curiosity, or perhaps guilt- maybe a mix of both would serve as his guide.
"There are not many who own the means to transport either themselves or others on this Cybertron. Being able to transform, in of itself, was considered a luxury for a number of vorns." A luxury that no longer existed as such, since everyone had a cog now. Small mercies. But the further the conversation went, the more Shatter realized just how much his world- and this one- had fallen behind compared to their counterparts.
So he did. Which meant he had to have some means to punch a hole- or otherwise make a path- between universes. Hope, a light at the end of the tunnel even if his own research was faltering.
And down Deepspace mass-displaced, further to a size that was more Shatter's own, less of a giant.
"If you want- or need- to return to the surface early, at all, you're welcome to." He could hear as metal gathered around Aether, watching them suddenly take off close by. Strapped to a pair of featureless wings, disappearing down into the hole beyond. He'd be following suit shortly. "I can't see why one wouldn't, beyond not being much of a conversationalist." For a moment, his processor slid towards the legends of cityformers as he stepped up to the lip of the entrance. His wings clicked outwards, peds transforming to allow his thrusters more room. "After all, you would be both captain and crew. Surely that's at least a novel experience?"
Here was to hoping that wasn't an insult.
Though, there could be those who'd not like speaking to a sentient spaceship. He couldn't fathom it, himself.
"Have you ever transported something particularly exotic or odd? Any fun customers?" Inquired even as he stepped forth, letting his ped go over- and then the rest of his frame. Tilted into a near free-fall, down into the depths. His wings fully snapped open, feeling the atmosphere tear at his plating before he was righting into a proper dive towards the city below.
"Clients have no issues with a yarn upon delivery, but at the end of the day no one likes the idea of walking around inside someones' frame. Makes them feel like they are trespassing, be watched, or on a ghost ship. So, they pick manned ships" Deepspace rumbled, seemingly unbothered by the obvious in his field, but he does get a lot of the more higher paying jobs for dangerous cargo or respiratory requirements in lacking physical crew. So, occasionally something gets out of a crate. You just keep an eye on it, and lower the air quality a little closer to landing to knock out with a warning of 'It's Out'. After all, packaging isn't your problem. Its transit.
"I, pun unintended, got saddled with a bunch of livestock for a colony planet stock up once. Livestock, vet techs, supplies, materials. It was a big ordeal." Shrink wrapped creatures in stasis to prevent issues with the entering or exiting of an atmosphere had certainly been interesting. Reminded him of those little foil ration packs before everything went overly processed energon cubes.
Watching Shatter tilt into a dive and Deepspace was stepping off the ledge to follow him down with a crackle of his thrusters activating on low. While he wasn't as swift or graceful as Shatter banking and weaving to their destinations, he's just going to carefully hang back and take it slow as he wasn't all that mobile down here and while he had little thrusters on his arms and chassis, they were more for adjusting course in the vacuum of space. Gravity? Useless. Like a big clunky super suit idly descending.
[ @galaxyshuttle || »»» ]
Shatter managed to wrangle down the snort that tried so fiercely to escape him. He could only imagine (or- well. He didn't quite have to given he'd watched the mech's entry into the atmosphere...).
"I'm uncertain. In my own timeline, it was because Cybertron had been unstable for a very long time...so there was little that could be done to build on the surface. Structures that had been made up-top were eventually abandoned due to the instability. From what I've overheard here,...I would think it was because of the Quintessons." And Sentinel not wanting anyone to find out just what he was up to... Easier to hide something if you made the surface entirely unreachable.
The mech shifted, optics briefly slipping to the sky above.
"...you probably won't have to worry about Quintessons for a few days,...but Decepticons tend to roam the surface. As for patrols,...you might stumble into a few- but I plan to correct any worries they might have before that can fester." And he could only guess how the Decepticons would react to this one's presence. They weren't like the Decepticons of his own world- he could only hope they'd have a hint more of their kinder sides that he had witnessed.
He turned slightly, gesturing towards the surrounding landscape.
"For now,...I'll inform Optimus of your presence- as well as the other patrols." A silent inquiry to his other half. "Beyond that...I'm not entirely certain. But- we'll figure it out, right?" A faint smile, an attempt to ease the conversation.
"Quintesson ship destroyed in sector Psi. Found survivor, seems friendly. Patrols four and eight, can you check the wreckage?" Their voice was quiet as they sent out the message. They were actively trying not to accidentally stutter.
~~ ...when we get back t'Iacon,...I may hide in the berthroom for a while... ~~ Nothing against Deepspace, but they did not want to accidentally break down in front of a stranger.
Honestly, fuck anxiety.
Shatter gave a small nod, taking the first step towards the city. It'd be up to Deepspace whether he followed or not.
"Far be it from me to ask, but...you deliver things across universes, I take it?" At least, based on what Deepspace had said...which meant that (in some universes) multiversal travel was already achieved. Which meant his work wouldn't be a dead-end, even if it truly felt like it right now.
"Interesting" Deepspace rumbles as he learns that both this planet and that of Shatter's homeworld lacked the structural integrity to build above ground, be that at the hand of the Quintessons' or other factors. Subterranean planets are not an uncommon destination in his courier jobs, but a first for a Cybertron. "My Cybertron not only has a spaceport for ships or shipformers to dock at to unload, but also had areas on the surface one could unload cargo or people depending the destination. A lot of Cybertronian's owned their own ship depending on connections or status"
"Thank you. At least I am hard to miss and harder to startle" But it was nice to know while camping topside, he wouldn't encounter inefficient blasters and more so yelling if said patrols did stumble across him just chilling. He saw some herds before, might go inspect some new Cybertronian fauna.
"I do" The shuttle nodded, noting the little step towards the entrance down into the city and taking the hint of 'shall we?'. A roll of shoulders to loosen up cabling and struts, and Shatter might find himself staring less at hips but more at shoulders as Deepspace finds a displacement of his armour that doesn't make him feel like a scraplet ready to moult. "Mostly either construction materials or minerals, exotic fauna or flora since without a crew I can flood the ship with the compounds they need to breathe, or straight up homewares or items requested by customers to ship from Planet A to Planet B. A lot of the passenger jobs get snapped up by ships with an actual crew for socializin', but I guess people don't want to wander around sentient ships"
He wished he could speak in the opposing to that,...buuuut he'd essentially been living proof not two minutes prior that the Decepticon insignia did, indeed, set people off.
Shatter offered a soft laugh.
"...then you can have the airspace clearance. Most of Iacon's citizens do not venture outside of the city itself, due to the danger the surface poses...not unless they're presently on a patrol with others, anyway." It sucked,...but it was what it was. Between Decepticons and Quintessons on the surface, the danger (especially when wandering alone) was far too high. Though Deep Space,...he doubted the mech would have any trouble.
"It's at least help in the short-term." Quick to think of the long-term,...he could appreciate that. His own processor was whirling over such consequences. Between the Quintessons no doubt getting pissed, and the Decepticons undoubtedly scavenging the ruined ship for supplies,...there were going to be a few new problems in the near-future.
He wasn't counting on a meeting with the Quintessons, but maybe- just maybe- they'd think the Cybertronians suddenly had a whole ton of extra power. Enough to be noticed, enough for a conversation instead of just an attempt to stomp them all out. They'd held out this long, anyway. Surely they'd be of notice? Hopefully?
Annnnd there went that plan. Up in smoke, gone. Poof,....oh well.
~~ Ain't everyone here little to him? ~~
~~ Just like everyone here is big to you. ~~
"I suppose everyone on this planet is probably 'little' by comparison to you." Shatter shrugged. "But,...yes, that was who I intended. Optimus presently works on the military side of things, while I alternate between teaching him how to run Iacon and patrolling." As well as keeping the place from running into the ground, though it was difficult when most of his time was spent on the patrols and reports themselves...
"Please inform the ones that do leave that the big loud black thing roaring across the horizon is me. Since I am built for the vacuum of space, making quiet engines is not exactly a priority compared to propulsion, so I am pretty easy to pinpoint when flying. Seeker sound like a summers' breeze in comparison" When you have to fight gravity on the vertical to get into orbit, and then further still propel yourself through space to move between quadrants, no one is going to substitute thrust for noise cancellation.
It is another reason he had no issues walking from A to B. Can't exactly get the jump on a hit when you are roaring through the sky overhead. Shuttles and Stealth do no mix in the same sentence.
".......... Notice you guys also have bugger all infrastructure on the surface. Is that a Quinty reason, or just not a thing here? No space explorations?" He's done construction work previously. Might be nice to add something out here to the dust bowl, but also made sense that Iacon didn't want to advertise the entrance of its underground warren ... Maybe he'd go raid the Quints' ship for alloy and make something else to pass the time. He's seen a lot of critter roaming, and not all that much in the way of shade or cover.
"Do I need to worry about more of your companion' roaming around, or are they are one off?" He does not need to spark a war of space and surface stepping at the wrong time.
Shouldn't have to, but decidedly, it was only right that he did. He still found an opticridge quirking at the other's comment, confused. A fix? He couldn't think of one that didn't involve getting the large 'bot some new plating, though he wouldn't say it aloud (after all, that would be disrespectful to Deep Space's idea concerning his insignia). He instead kept his quiet, optics sliding to the sheet the other pulled from his subspace.
What?---
And then it was being placed over the section of plating with the insignia, masking it almost perfectly save for in the minute detail. Even if the strangeness was spotted, most might assume that was simply how Deep Space's armor had been designed from the very start.
Well, at least he'd not taken negatively to their stilted attempt at a wave. Aether shifted a little, resisting digging their mind into the metal ground below. If they were all going to be heading back to Iacon, then there was a large chance they'd end up in Shatter's alt.
"Fair enough..." He didn't like being unable to offer what he'd consider decent accommodations, but...there was little that could be done about that. He didn't want to risk Deep Space suddenly flattening a chunk of the city. "If there's anything I can do to make your stay easier, please, let me know.- And,...you don't need to be there when I let Optimus know what's going on, but it would probably help..." He trailed off, a slight laugh escaping his vocalizer.
Somewhere high in Iacon Tower, blue finials twitched as the Prime's helm raised from the latest battle map. Thought he'd heard something,...
"If for no reason other than to get you two introduced. I'm sure he'll want to thank you for the help you unintentionally rendered."
"It is fine. A lot of my work is usually through neutral and autobot aligned spaceports or colonies, so being able to hide the badge from the get usually keeps tensions pretty low when I am picking up or dropping off. Even as damaged as it is, it still sets people off" He shrugs, servos carefully smoothing out the magnetic sheet to get any air pockets out and giving a pleased little nod at his handiwork. It will have to do for while he is down in Iacon. Just have to remember to peel it off if he plans to exit the atmosphere as these things are a glitch to scrub off later when burnt in entering orbit.
"I'll hit you up later if I think of anything. You'd feel good knowing you've offered me accommodation in your city, but I would just lay there awake all night fearing I'd wreck a building if I relaxed too much. I appreciate the offer of hospitality more than the physical... Maybe airspace clearance? Your planet is unlike any Cybertron I know, so having a look around would be nice." At least he'd use that more than a berth. He was quite at home just parking his alt mode out of the way and powering down to rest. Shame, these guys didn't have a spaceport or landing pads, but from the look of it they seemed to lack anything in terms of interstellar travel so ... Maybe give it a few millennia?
"... Is it really help if it's going to bite you lot in the aft when the other guys find out?" Which is the other reason he's going to stick around a bit. Eventually, there would be a very tense meeting between Cybertronian's and Quintessons, and it would be very rude of him not to be there as a 'Yeah, that was all me. Maybe park it properly next time?' to pull the attention off this subterranean Iacon.
".............. Optimus as in a little blue and red guy. Well, little to me"
A small part of him wondered if the same were happening in his home dimension. If it were reversed, as it had seemed to be- were the Decepticons 'good', there? Had they taken Iacon, or...?
No, based on his memories- they'd certainly fled, so they were on the surface, probably...Shatter internally shook the thought. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about such a thing.
"I guess I shouldn't be worried at all, then..." He'd be worried regardless. It wasn't like he could just rock up to Iacon with a 'bot wearing the Decepticon insignia and not expect problems- but it would be alright. He'd sort it out, it would all end well,...somehow--- probably. Please, he didn't want this to turn into a double-incident... "...still, allow me to apologize in advance for any mistreatment that may occur. I'll try to speak to those who do act out of turn, if any even try."
His optics slid back towards the burning wreckage.
While he said not to worry,...Shatter was certain he would, given said 'bot's job had probably just started a new intergalactic incident- one the planet wasn't ready for. For that matter, he'd hardly ever heard of a quantum leap before.
"I'd offer to write you a positive one, but I don't think 'destroyed an enemy aircraft' would qualify."
Aether shifted on Shatter's frame, eyes dancing everywhere save the other's optics. An enemy, they could glare down. Someone who was neither friend nor foe,...they were having trouble focusing. They were half-tempted to hide behind their other's helm, honestly.
They at least got a hand to raise, offering a small, sharp wave. Honestly, they'd just consider it good that they'd not started tearing up. Of all the times for their anxiety to act up, now was truly a terrible one. Just focus on Shatter, just focus on him. They had no place in this conversation. He'd lose interest quickly enough.
"Do you- want to come to Iacon? It'd be safer than staying up here on the surface,..." Shatter trailed. "...well, less work at least." And he needed to inform Optimus of the destroyed Quintesson ship- ASAP.
"You shouldn't have to apologies for the behavior of your citizens. Our war seems to have been going longer than yours, but I imagine that doesn't mean select individuals are exempt from propaganda or paranoia. It is fine .... I might actually have a fix" He rumbles, delving into his subspace and returning with a roll of ... Magnetic sheeting? It is the same shade as his current plating, and it blends quite well as it is smoothed down over his chassis to quite effectively cover the gouged insignia. Under careful scrutiny, it looked out of place with how the light hit it, but it should work for keeping tensions low among the populace.
"Mm, probably not. I'll just cop the rating, blame a black hole, and see if they want a refund or a delayed delivery." A little smile at the sheepish servo raised at him by the little shoulder ornament, and Deepspace was pushing off his knees to stand straight again, regarding Shatter.
"Sure. If that wont cause any issues I would love to see this dimensions' Iacon but I think in terms of accommodation it is wiser that I camp out on the surface. We also don't need to worry about my mass displacement slipping inside a building while in recharge ... Do I need to be there, when you break the news to whoever you report to that I downed a ship?"
( ✧ ― @galaxyshuttle || continued from. ― ✧ )
Steamtrack couldn't help but chuckle as well while shaking her helm and taking a sip of her energon - not quite in the mood for anything inebriating that night, but wanting to be in the general social environment... even if it wasn't her general cup of tea either. She had lifted her drink just as he had chuckled to respond to his silent cheers, thankful she had since the sound of it rattled the table.
"If he had really meant it, then I'd assume that what I spat out wouldn't have been much of a deterrent." She shrugged, taking another sip, trying not to do a spit take as she laughed.
"I mean, if you're looking for that from just straight up drunk mech, then you might be looking in the wrong place. From what I've noticed, they're the ones that tend to look at size the most out of everyone."
"I won't lie, even if I wasn't utterly boozed off my thrusters and complimented a nice frame, if someone turned and spat energon at my pedes, I would backpedal. Is it yours? Is it the last mech to flirt with you? Is it a weird custom where you come from? Is that you flirting back? Honestly, I would probably cut my losses and attempt a pick up elsewhere that didn't leave me with more questions than answers" He admits with a sympathetic little shrug. Well, she doesn't sound too put out so if she's using it as a 'shoo', it works.
".... Do i want to know who's energon it was?" If she had a means to pull her own fuel into her intake to spit it as a form of aggression or defence, it certainly is one bad ass modification but probably not ideal in war time where energon is precious, both raw and internal kinds. .... Why is their fuel and their life sustaining fluid called the same thing? Who named these things?!
"They are also the ones who are too drunk to realise a horizontal evening with me is probably fatal and there is a reason I am picky. There is these ... 'size queens', and then there is just idiots"
It only crossed his processor a few moments after he'd moved. The other's words registered, unsteady in his processor, but his plating still relaxed all the same- though whether by force or by subconscious ease, he'd not admit. He was growing a stigma against that insignia. Not a good sign.
The memory of slashing a 'Con in half slithered across his mind.
"...if it were up to me, then that insignia wouldn't have stood for such dark things on this Cybertron in the first place." His servo lowered, no hesitation in taking the other's. "I would rather not cause issues to arise between us, myself." Though the burning remains of the Quintesson ship behind Deepspace...would definitely give rise to more, he was certain. And there'd no doubt be at least a few 'bots in Iacon who'd give the other side glances if he showed up- but Shatter would do his best to prevent that. Or at least...make it easier.
It was nearly startling, how rapidly that logo had devolved from a symbol of a Prime to a symbol of war and destruction. But at least Deepspace seemed to have no intent on the same. He'd take that, and run with it.
Even his servo was dwarfed by the other's own frame- only easing his grip after a few moments, dragging it back towards himself.
"And I apologize." There was no excuse for how he'd reacted.- The thought of treating the other in Iacon crossed his processor, followed immediately by if the other had enough time,...and then right, he had been delivering something. "...for both the immediate reaction, and for probably taking up more time concerning your job." His optics slid towards the Quintesson ship.
Compiling all this into a report later...would certainly be a trip.
You and me both" He rumbles, pleased by the lack of hesitation in taking his servo to shake in a firm understanding of we chill, and retracting his arm to tuck back against his chassis and survey what can only be described as his mess smouldering out on the horizon.
"You are worried about the citizens actions, not your own" He hums, well aware that from what he could see in both sizes down the little warren entrance that this Cybertron seems subterranean, hence the lacking infrastructure on the surface. Checked out, if you lacked space faring vessels to guard your atmosphere. It was smart. Easily defensible, you knew the terrain better, and your enemy couldn't keep tabs on your movements with an entire planetary shell to hide you. "If anyone starts scrap, I will not harm them. I will merely blow them on their aft with a thruster and let a stare of disappointment in public do the rest. I am not worried about blasters or blades in terms of them actually hurting me, I am meant for punching through spacial rubble and asteroid belts. So, idiot citizens will not void our agreement."
Still, armour creaking and groaning as he crouches slowly, and he is looking at the little organism perched on Shatter's pauldron curiously, optical rings pinwheeling as he adjusts his magnification to bring them into focus. "You are in a war, such a reaction while unfortunate for me is valid for you. And, can't do much about my job, that is actually a Quint problem for parking their stupid aft ship right where someone exiting a quantum leap would arrive. Not your fault. I will just cop bad review when I go home"
Why did he feel as though he'd been misunderstood? Probably nothing. How could 'this isn't my Cybertron either' be miscommunicated, anyway?
"I'm sorry to hear that." Even if it was a gain for Cybertron, he didn't like that it inconvenienced another. At the breakdown of details, his helm turned skyward- opticridges furrowing. A whole crew up in the stars, waiting to suffocate. The two worlds may have been at war, but... "...at least we're safe, for a while..." If only they could save those who remained.- Maybe they'd be willing to negotiate?
It briefly crossed his processor to ask the big 'bot, but just landing here was probably inconvenience enough.
As the other mass displaced, Shatter lowered power to his thrusters- until he hit the ground, plating snapping back into place. His servo shifted, opening so Aether could look around- just in time for his optics to land on a worn-down, familiar insignia.
Decepticon.---
He reset his optics. Nope, still there. His entire frame twitched, plating shifting uncomfortably. At least he seemed reasonable- but Shatter's optics flicked back up to his faceplates, uncertain.
~~ Don't. ~~
A warning to his other, having felt the unease immediately flip to aggression. He did not want these two fighting.
Either Aether would die, or Cybertron would be devastated in the crossfire.-- He did not want to find out which outcome was more likely.
"Ah,..." He was definitely more reasonable than Shatter would've expected. Was he gaining a prejudice against Decepticons? That wasn't an enjoyable thought... His processor glitched.-- He forced as-swift a reboot as he could. "Thank you. I was- caught off-guard by the insignia, so my apologies for the brief delay." Aether's metal straps disengaged from his servo, allowing him to once-more deposit them on his pauldron. "Are you from a post-war universe?"
Please be he was losing his processor.
"Yeah, so, you have a lot more time than a cycle or two. Probably a good dozen before they clock something is off" Deepspace offers, hoping it is some sort of comfort to the mech with intergalactic enemies that you've got a two week window before scrap really amps up. But, who knows. Maybe Crab Rave will be so disturbed by the how of their ship being shot down in orbit they go terrorize some other poor planet.
Optics roaming over the slow puff of armour, the subconscious protective and defensive curl of digits over their little companion, and the way blue optics seem drawn to his battered insignia, and Deepspace was giving a resigned little sigh. Seems even in an under-established Cybertron, prejudice prevails.
"Post war" Deepspace confirms with a slow nod, deciding that if this one has already made his mind up about factions, he can drop trying to be passive in frame stance and fold his arms across his chassis to regard the seeker.
"... I wear it as a reminder that arrogance gets people killed, and your actions have consequence. I dont wear it because I support the ideology of a society slighted mech gone insane. I am sorry if you have Decepticon's on your Cybertron, but whatever yours did, do, or have done, I am not a part of. I would say I have no intention of causing conflict, but I did just bring down a warship. So I have no intention of starting conflict with you if you don't intend to start any with me." Shatter is just going to find a big dark servo held out to him.
"Don't shake, unless you mean it. Neutral"
Oh Primus--- the other mech's started jump only led to Shatter nearly glitching, frame twitching as instinct demanded he take a pedstep back.
The loud THUNK of each of his steps was almost instantly met with Aether forming some sound-canceling headphones to briefly put over their ears, saving them from hearing the near-brain-melting SCRRRRCH of metal-on-metal as the mech staggered.
Only once the other mech had actually landed optics on him did he let the plating around his thrusters click open, servo once more reaching to find his little other- gentle in picking them up and holding them close to his spark, digits held just close enough to keep them from falling while he took to the air.
Shatter ascended rapidly, only coming to a hover-stop once he was at roughly faceplate-level. Better, but good Primus he could practically feel a few wires in his helm unraveling.
"I--- would, actually. Since this isn't quite my Cybertron either, though... I hadn't heard of anyone capable of traveling universes like me before." Oh he'd definitely need to figure out how this stranger did it. Maybe he could find his way home, if he did--- a thought for later. Far later. Right now, this Cybertron was in deep slag if he didn't get this cleared up.
Wouldn't that be a fun report for Optimus to read later...a silent apology was sent the unfortunate mech's way.
"That...wasn't my ship. Or any Cybertronian's ship, for that matter. You see- the ship you just...k-inda destroyed, belongs to the Quintessons--- whom...Cybertron is currently at-war with." He shifted uneasily. He could feel Aether using what little metal they had to basically 'strap' themself onto his servo. "So, you've really done Optimus and I a service!" Up until the Quintessons inevitably came to scorch the planet for daring to destroy their spaceship. "Hopefully, that will keep the Quintessons off our back-struts for at least a few solar cycles."
A cargo run...so- he was some sort of courier?- Of all the places Shatter could've anticipated receiving aide from, that wasn't one of them- but he wasn't about to push the gift away.
~~ Starsthisishighholyshit ~~
The mental message crossed his processor like a bounding mecha-cat. There one second and gone the next, over the horizon in a flash of feeling.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to mass displace, so we could talk closer to the ground?"
This one isn't my Cybertron either.
"Oh" Colour him surprised as they are possibly the tiniest shuttle he had ever seen unless he is up to some incredible mass displacement. Usually the only mecha he knew displaced by the cosmos were either shuttle formers like himself, or on a ship who's quantum engines have malfunctioned and punched the whole crew through the fabric separating worlds into a new reality.
"I have a pair of quantum engines in my alt mode that lets me move between destinations above the speed of light. I mostly utilize it for the big bucks of clients wanting deliveries faster than the usual courier class ships ... Hitting a ship when I came out of the rip knocked slightly off course" Ideally, they wouldn't see this as an attack on their world. Just someone's inability to park their ship safely, and it getting clipped by traffic.
"Quin..tessons? ......... Huh" Deepspace repeated, a frown, and turning to look back over the landscape at the smouldering chunk of hull. Oh. Well now he felt significantly less bad if those noodley little frags were down what was probably a war ship not a tiny spike cruise ship of overcompensation. And, given these guys did not have a space port in orbit or great rings on the surface to land, that meant these guys probably had yet to go colonizing. How early a Cybertron had he landed on??
"In what is probably the most convenient for you, I smashed through the back half of their ship, aka the engine room, which powers all functions aside life support. Any equipment they need to send an SOS home just smashed into your front lawn without the engines to power it. And, anyone still alive in the back half of the ship in orbit, is probably undergoing some sort of autopilot self preservation of no functions aside sealing breaches and disabling all but the bare minimum functions to keep remaining crew oxygenated. So, unless someone noticed that one of their ships just blipped and went dark, it is going to take sending out a new ship to notice their old one is in, like,-" Just going to survey the wreckage again. "-Fifty plus pieces? None of which capable of a signal. I don't think Quintessons even do escape pods back home"
Mass Displacement.
"... I can do that" He certainly couldn't get optic height to this little fella, but, he'd go as small as he could without feeling like he was an arachanoid ready to moult. Congratulations, Shatter. You are optic height to his chassis, where a heavily damaged insignia sits, scuffed and scratched and scraped amongst the rest of his armour which seems in much better shape by comparison.
Decepticon.
What a peaceful solar cycle. Not quite a cycle off from his duties, since he and Aether had been tasked with patrolling Iacon's borders (or rather, one of the many 'entry points' to the 'under'-ground city)- but it was shaping up to be a pleasant morning all the same. The sun was shining, sending cascading oranges and purples across the sky, there wasn't a single Decepticon anywhere on his radar, and his other half was sitting on his left pauldron, seemingly dozing in the sunbeams like an animalistic minicon. Their head tilting one way, nearly falling, and then tilting the other. He resisted a small chuckle as his optics pulled away to actually examine his surroundings.
Aether's head snapped up.
"Something up?" His own sensors stretched, spreading farther and farther until it was causing a strain to his processor,...but there was nothing.
"...very."
A mental image- nearly a flash, from the scanners back in Iacon proper. Something huge in space- and it was hurtling straight for Cybertron.
Well.
That didn't bode well.
His helm turned skyward, wings flicking back in preparation of a hasty flight- only for the low sound of a rumble to settle in. It was heavy and deep, nearly enough to shake his plating clear off his frame- accompanied by a massive explosion, previous orange-and-purple skies bursting into a fireball of yellow and red that swirled, diving--- crashing.
A low chuckle sounded from his soulmate- though it did little to warm or calm his spark as the inferno surged ever-closer. On (vaguely) closer inspection, it was two things- three?--- Two of which were hurtling behind the first, which was a massive ship. Or at least- it was, until said ship started shifting. He could practically feel his processor glitching in real-time to the change as the Cybertronian made his presence known.
A thunderclap- followed distinctly by a ring in his audials that was swiftly patched out. Primus what the FRAG.---
"He seems like a real party guy." The joke nearly had his processor resetting. "Shouuuuld we head over?" That, at least, got Shatter's frame in gear. He held out a servo that Aether quickly hopped on to, a few sparse bits of plating flying up to encase their head before his thrusters clicked open, wings sliding up--- and off he went. His optics watched more of the--- whatever it was- break apart as it entered orbit, a huge chunk slamming down into the ground, an echoing BOOM of an explosion that made his denta rattle. He held his other close to his spark as he soared,- only coming down to a halt when the two were a good number of feet away, instead of veritable miles.
"Hello! I--- might I know your reason for dropping-...for coming to Cybertron?" Primus, he was huge. His servo opened while his thrusters cooled, allowing Aether freedom now that he was standing again.
Though--- even from this far away, he- frag should he lean back?...why was he so tall---- A step back,...another...another...
"Sorry, I just,..." There was no positive way to spin that, was there? "Want to talk faceplate-to-faceplate,- sorry." Should he...fly up?
He wasn't sure at what point his thrusters had slowly lowered him to the ground, all four servos resting on hips with taut lips as he watched the various chunks of the ship slowly dip into orbit like a daytime meteor shower, and eventually succumb to her smoke and flames. Why Deepspace, you might ask, why did you not attempt to extinguish the blaze? For one, no life signs when he'd originally hit it into reentry, meaning it had no Cybertronian's on board. Second, between the G-Force and physics of a ship half that big smashing into the planetary surface and the following plume of fire and dirt, it would be very difficult for any other race to walk that off. A busted up ship in space, systems offline? Yup, he can just pull it into his subspace or tow it to a spaceport for assistance. Transformed? He lacked the size to provide any other assistance aside a merciful squish...
Also, because from the look of it, with how arid the area of impact was, the blaze would self contain anyway once it ran out ship to burn.
"Hn!" Hard to believe a shuttle could jump at the little voice beside him, his startled stagger far from quiet as large pedes scrabbled to balance, arms tucking close defensively before his gaze slowly travels down, down, and down, to land on the rather shiny mech at ground level. A mech who did not look angry enough to be the owner of the ship. Oh, good. He is not ready for that conversation. Arms dropped. Nice passive stance. Apologetic little smile.
"... Would you believe a cosmic wrong turn? I am doing a cargo run, but I think I turned at the wrong Cybertron. As this one is far too flat, and not enough industrialism" Even the pockmarks of eons ago bomb shelling isn't visible.
"........ Also really hoping that wasn't your ship"
“After the fight some dude catcalled me on the way home so I turned around and spat a bunch of blood at his feet. Never seen someone regret doing something so fast.”
( Steamtrack - @coetusmachina )
'What the f*ck' rp starters with @coetusmachina
"Well that wasn't very nice. What if he was just genuinely complimenting you?" Deepspace chuckled at his latest drinking buddy, the sound rattling the table and surrounding patrons at such a proximity to his frame but his drink is still lifted in a little toast of 'cheers'.
"Can't say I remember my last catcall. Most drunkards either fall over trying to look up at me, or just stand there rebooting as all their processor can manage is 'He big!'."
Starter for @fate-rewired
Heat building in his quantum engines, energy crackling over his alt mode as he skimmed across the fabric of space en route to his latest cargo delivery, and Deepspace was cutting his engines in what was supposed to be a gentle pop and coast of exiting hyperspace, letting the radiation disperse off his frame while he was a safe distance from the every so slowly recovering Cybertron, and a slow descent into the planet.
⚠️WARNING! ⚠️
What is not supposed to happen, is some absolute son of a glitch just letting his overcompensating for spike size ship float around in the gravitational pull!
⚠️COLLISION IMMINENT! ⚠️
A ship with no life signs or power for his HUD to register as an obstacle, for him to not cleave through as he skids out of hyperspace with a flash of white hot light as unstoppable force meets immovable object, and he's having to try and regain control of his flaming descent on entry through the atmosphere as he is knocked off course.
⚠️Pull Up!⚠️
Punching through cloud cover in a ball of condensation, vapor and smoke.
⚠️Pull Up!⚠️
Trying to utilize as much moisture of every stratosphere layer as he can to extinguish the flames across his frame, external suppressant foam trying to coat the rest of his frame using.
⚠️Pull Up!⚠️
And Deepspace is muting his HUD and transforming as the final layer of clouds whips over his frame and it is a clear shot to the surface, calf thrusters activating with a thunderclap of atmosphere to slowly roar him to a hovering stop, arm twisting to douse the last few licks of flames with another blast of liquid nitrogen as he surveys the damage of ship debris raining past him like little meteors.
Maybe they wouldn't notice? Maybe they wouldn't-
"...!!"
That was the entire nose and front half of a ship that just roared past him, barely making it 10 seconds before it slams into the planetary surface in a plume of fire and smoke and rising shockwave of dust branching outwards from the impact site.
"................................................................. Frag"
Perhaps the owner took a payment plan?
A bit more of my headcanons~
Previous post about the general differences in construction.
Also thank you @fizziepop for sponsoring my space obsession💙
Some additional notes under the cut because I oversimplified everything and I want to specify at least some things:)
Humanformers Maker
We love our space assassin handiman!
Tagged by: @doctor-pharma
Tagging: @stellarcuriosity @sparkmender @viciousbite @doddering-egoist @tipsyteebs @circuitry-and-chaos @citizensofcybertron @milkiigalaxii
“There is joy in being a little creature held in larger hands. Does the same joy come from holding a little creature?”
Perhaps they can both science? Deepspace is big enough to hold Rung in but two of his servos, and Rung is small enough to be held.
Ah!! A volunteer!!
She wasn't sure who this was, nor did she particularly seem to care as she rears her helm back, and proceeds to....
Chomp!!!! (Why did that hurt her dentae a little?? Owwwww.)
It was kind of cute to watch this little thing gnawing up and down his forearm, the faint clack of denta meeting armour, but so far it seems to be doing the job.
"Have your urges to bite people waned, yet?"
