heavyweaponsbot | 14th Transmission -- Action

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14th Transmission -- Action

[Ironhide was out attacking the tree when the snow started. He should have stopped, and trundled on inside. Instead, he stayed put, pounding on the tree and generally hating on the world around him.]

[... There had been much talk of that Christmas holiday, lately. And of course, what should stand out in his mind, but the Elegante. All the more reason to stay out here and pummel a hapless tree until the cold succeeded in making every last joint in his body ache.]

[His fists actually creak when he un-clenches his fingers. That's not a good sign.]

[He heads in, finally, stomping down the pathways with a more pronounced limp than usual. Yeah, it was a bad idea staying out so long. The cold, the lack of maintenance and abuse finally seem to be taking their toll on his frame.]

[A fact which becomes all the more apparent when his bad leg loses its footing completely on the rapidly icing path. There's a surprised sort of grunt out of him before all four and a half tons of giant alien robot goes crashing to the ground with a CLANG of metal.]

[The old 'bot is nothing if not durable, but even his body has to give under the impact of his own weight. When he pushes himself back up again, his leg doesn't respond. The already damaged joint is ... okay, Ironhide has no idea what's wrong with it.]

[But it hurts.]

[And now he's moodily contemplating the walk back to the barracks and wondering if he can just transform.]

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[Watch him hold to it anyway -- for as long as he possibly can. "Stubborn" is in his core processing. And he stubbornly refuses to relent.]

You seen my armor lately...? More dents than anything.

[The interlocking plates covering his hip look more or less intact. It's the joint underneath all that armor that's been damaged from impact against ground -- it took the full weight of the old warrior.]

... Hmnf. Sound like you are talking to yourself.

[He sort of shuffles forward, leaning most of his weight on the jet. Once he gets inside, he's going to shut himself in his room and not come out.]

[So, what will win? Extreme patience with... a lot of things, or Ironhide's stubbornness?]

Indeed it is. You may want to consider at least an attempt at doing something about it; I'm sure we could find something suitable to do something about some of them, as long as we have enough energon to make sure the integrity of your armour remains intact.

[Jetfire casts another look over Ironhide's frame, actually looking, now, for the rest of what might be causing trouble, and not just the hip-injury.]

[A pause, here, and Jetfire briefly looks away, but the snow slowly covering everything is unsettling.]

A bit, yes... [Jetfire lets out a slow vent.] It took a while for me to accept that when I needed to. Tons of ice keeping one trapped and lessening fuel reserves...

[There's a shrug, and he distracts himself by looking Ironhide over again, changing his grip slightly to something more supportive as they slowly hobble onwards.]

[That remains to be seen.]

The problem is... there is no one here with the tools to effectively handle my armor. It is heavier, denser, than anyone else's.

[And it's also more scarred and worn than anyone else's. His right optic is almost completely scarred over, the metal shutters warped and broken. A good chunk of his chest armor is scorched and broken, thanks to the missile he took in Egypt. Countless more scars and old injuries cover his armor, amidst tattoos and markings.]

[He nudges Jetfire with an elbow, noticing where his attention is going.]

... You have a story you want to tell?

[It's not said accusingly. Almost curiously.]

[Hey, it's something to focus on besides hating life right now.]

I probably would have the tools. I modified most of my frame and armour to stand interstellar travel and radiation directly. I don't think, however, that I have any with me... But it shouldn't be impossible to improvise, and I think the greatest problem would be not breaking any tools we could find here, and not the strength needed to take care of the dents.

[Improvising he's had to do before, after all.]

It's... Not much of a story. [A pause, and then, well, why not? While the details of how each of them came to Earth is different, they all came there, didn't come from there.]

In my universe, Prime... and Megatron, gathered ships to rectify the dwindling energy situation. I, along with a few others, were sent later in an attempt to find Prime and the Ark. [Jetfire hasn't slowed down while walking, even if he seems mostly to be considering whatever memories go with the words.]

Omega and I were drawn to a planet that displayed a massive energy signature. We'd hoped for energon, or the Ark. It was neither, and before we had a chance to find out what we were attacked by a Cybertronian with a similar energy signature. I tricked him off the ship by ejecting our last escape pod, having rigged it so it'd short-circuit him...

[The pause now is slightly longer, and he's frowning, before he shrugs.]

I was on the way to find Omega and the ship - the weather was bad, I didn't trust to fly in an alien atmosphere I hadn't researched first - when an avalanche came down. [There's a shrug.] I'm not sure exactly of how long I was... there, but when Starscream unthawed me, the crews of the Ark and Nemesis had been active on Earth for twenty of the Earth's years already... and my internal chronometer says it's at least been a few hundred thousand years.

[He listens to that for a second, before grumbling.]

Then you have not worked on armor like mine. You need both. Strength, and tools that will not break.

[Or leverage. Which, admittedly, the other 'bot probably would have, given the right opportunity. He doesn't add that, though.]

[And he walks in silence for a long while, during that story. Parts of it are similar, but in all the wrong ways. Frozen for thousands of years... chasing energy signatures...]

[Eventually, he grunts, staring at the path in front of them.]

Not enough snow here to freeze either one of us. Stay in the keep proper, nothing will happen.

[He's trying to be reassuring.]

Perhaps. [He has to admit that; their universes aren't the same, so who's to say he would be capable of working - with improvised or inferior tools - on Ironhide's armour to the lengths it needed?] But consider it, will you? If this goes on for much longer, you could end up having a much graver injury, aggravated by what's not been kept after...

[Jetfire frowns, gesturing over the mech's frame with a shake of his helm.]

[He's not the sort to insist unless he sees it as necessary - too much respect for boundaries - but he does feel the need to ask and push slightly, at least. No matter what he has learned of his own frame by modifying it, they have no proper medic here... or tools.]

No, there isn't... [He trails off slightly, eyeing their surroundings.] At least not yet. And perhaps there'll never be. My cerebro-circuits seem to disagree with the rest of me, but that, I hope, will go away in time.

[Jetfire smiled faintly; he's still not comfortable, and he's mostly keeping together at the momemt by having something to focus on, but he has picked up on the reassurance and it is welcome.]

[The silence that follows is sullen, almost defiant. This is the lecture he's used to hearing, but the source is all wrong. It bothers him.]

[He sort of hunches up where he limps, scowling down at the ground.]

Or, I could let the system take care of it.

[It worked on the Elegante. Why wouldn't it work here?]

Just get used to it. All of this... nonsense. It stops being strange, after a while.

The... system? [But as soon as Jetfire finish saying it (or rather, while he expressed his confusion), his processor catches up to what Ironhide must be talking about. The fact that those dying come back.]

... And you're sure that works with us too? [Jetfire has his reservations; they're quite different from any of the various organics around here, after all.]

Ironhide, even if that works... What if you're incapacitated or otherwise injured enough when something... happens, and you can't defend yourself, or anyone else here you might want to render such assistance to?

[There's not a trace of a huff in Jetfire's voice as he speaks; it's merely calmly tallied points for the underlying argument. All reasonable. Depending on the sort of stubbornness he has to do with, of course, Jetfire is aware it might not work... At least not immedately.]

It worked on the ship. Why would it not work here? Same kind of thing.

[Except no one ever came back to the Elegante without their memories. That's different.]

[He's fully prepared to keep quiet, to stand there sullenly and angrily, letting himself be dragged along.]

[... then Jetfire just has to go and ping his protective streak. It's never mattered what happens to him. He hasn't ever cared. But for someone else to be damaged because he didn't do his duty -- he didn't perform his function? That's unthinkable.]

[He growls.]

If there is nothing to be done about it, I have little choice.

Yes, it worked there, but this is not the ship. They are separated instances, one set of data cannot be transferred to another situation and circumstances which isn't exactly the same. Inferring from a general trend, especially when it comes to deactivation and ressurection, is neither safe nor reasonable.

[Jetfire's frowning, but still not forgetting to keep Ironhide supported as they hobble along; If he'd been his usual size he could probably have carried the mech... but Ironhide would probably have protested that. At least they aren't as small as humans; the sheer size of their steps is having them approaching their destination in a reasonable amount of time.]

[... Well, at least that worked insofar as making Ironhide perhaps consider it at least. Jetfire vents quietly.]

We don't know that. Any tools here will obviously be inferior, if we can find any, and I am not a medic, but if you're willing I will certainly try. Or help someone else do it.

[He's not going to assume Ironhide would be comfortable or willing to allow him to even attempt simple repairs, just like that.]

Everyone else comes back. Why would we be any different? Just as alive as any of the humans.

[Or other organic beings stuck here. At least, that's what Kevas told him, and he trusted the green man.]

[Thankfully, they're almost there. He's looking forward to flopping down somewhere, not that he's willing to admit it.]

There are no medics here.

[And no organics that he trusts enough who are capable of working on him. Xanth, sure. But the boy probably couldn't lift even a piece of his armor, let alone shove it around to get at the important bits.]

[... Indeed they are, and while Jetfire briefly remembers that conversation he had, the unsettled reaction has mostly gone away; he hardly needs to prove anything to someone who refuses to give the respect he was offering in return.]

Yes, we are, but that doesn't hinder us from being in every way different from the humans, or other organic beings. I would just caution against assuming it works the same for us as it does them, especially as there is not even a single point of data yet to underpin any conclusion...

[Jetfire paused, optics narrowing, and shook his helm.]

And while I never say no to an empirical and scientific approach, I don't think going off and killing yourself is the best way to go about it in this instance.

[Even if they do come back as all others do, the memory loss... it wasn't without payment and he wondered how the loss of memories would work for them too.]

If there aren't, all the more reason to not drive yourself into scrap parts before inevitably being so hurt you deactivate from it.

[Another shake of his helm and Jetfire studies the barracks that're finally coming up. Soon inside, and then the temperature will rise, at the least.]

What floor?

[He snorts.]

We could always kill Starscream. See what happens. If he does not return, no big loss.

[He says it so casually, he might have been talking about throwing a rock into the lake, or some other mundane activity. Honestly, he sees no reason why that can't work. Get rid of a Decepticon, find out how the system works for them at the same time.]

[To the rest, there's little more than a grunt. Jetfire doesn't understand. Ironhide just doesn't care anymore. Not about what happens to him.]

[Instead of trying to explain it, he opts for providing the location of his room.]

What---

[Does Jetfire sound slightly strangled at that suggestion? Yeah, he does. His supporting grip tightens slightly before he relaxes it again.]

Ahh... I would prefer if we could avoid such a course of action. Starscream isn't the nicest or most moral of mechs, but I don't... want to risk it not working on us and having him... lost, as little as I would encourage you to do it to find out if it works.

[While he could... maybe... No, he doesn't understand such a suggestion, at all. It was... You didn't conciously sacrifice someone just for the promotion of science and scientific results, or, in this case, to see if an imperfect system worked for beings not organic too. Something turned within, backing away from such an action.

He wouldn't even have killed Megatron himself to find out if it worked or not. That wasn't right.]

[Nodding at the given floor and room number, Jetfire steers them that way, still slightly unsettled at the suggestion.]<7small>

[Ironhide... just stares.]

[This is an Autobot. Telling him that taking out one of the most notorious Decepticons was a bad idea. As much as Jetfire can't comprehend the idea of killing someone the war has deemed an enemy... Ironhide can't comprehend not doing so.]

Starscream is the enemy. What does it matter, what happens to him?

[There's a slight twitch and then a shake of his helm as he stares down at the floor of the corridors they're walking through.]

It does matter. Offlining during a battle is one thing, premediated murder to find out if something would affect us as it does others here or not isn't the same thing! I left the Decepticons for a reason, Ironhide, and among those were a certain disregard for life within and beyond scientific situations and a lack of respect for the rules of war!

[He does sound rather upset now, even if he grits his jaw and and tilts his helm after a few moments to glance at Ironhide from the corner of his vision.]

I... apologize. But that's something I can't condone.

You really think he would hesitate, if our positions were reversed?

[Because that's what it's come to, in his war. Taking care of the enemy before they surprise you. Is it something to be proud of? No.]

[But it's necessary.]

[Jetfire isn't the only one who abandoned the Decepticons -- but he's a little more pragmatic. There aren't any rules in war.]

Then do not. Your choice.

That... is not the point.

[With his free hand, Jetfire drags it down his faceplates, words fuzzing slightly with static.]

If we did things in a way undistinguishable from the Decepticons, we would be no better, we would be the same as them, no matter our professed "values".

[He's not going to say that Starscream would kill whoever he found of least use, and least importance to himself and his chances for survival... There might be a few more criteria, but with what happened in the pit, he's not certain they pertain to (him) anyone anymore.]

Perhaps I simply aren't enough of a warrior, Ironhide, but while I can see the cold logic and reason in that, no matter what we could gain from it, from a scientific standpoint and survival point of view, I'm not going to have us either kill Starscream... or sacrifice either of us to find out if it works.

[No matter that he'd basically went to certain death against Sunstorm; that had been a special situation and Jetfire wasn't suicidal.]

... If he tries anything, on anyone here, he will not survive. Can your rules accept that?

[Taking care of a problem wasn't anything like the Decepticons. It was preemptively protecting those they'd eventually destroy. Keeping them from harming anyone or anything.]

[Starscream, no matter the universe, was a problem. One that it was unwise to leave alone.]

Let me off here. Walk the rest of the way.

If that happens... it happens. And if the system does work on us... Would your solution be to keep killing him?

[Jetfire frowned and shook his helm; there really was no reason at all to go through with the initial action, not due to expediency, nor due to "taking care of a problem". The biggest problem, truly, would be if Starscream died and the loss of memories. This Starscream seemed... was - no matter how little he'd seen of him - a lot more tolerable and less dangerous than what he'd been. Then, despite the request, Jetfire's grip firmed slightly.]

No. There's no reason you should have to stagger the rest of the way, clutching at the wall. But I can leave at the door if you wish.

[They were there soon, anyway.]

[He pauses -- he actually has to think that one over.]

Not sure. Would like to say "no". Want to say I would lock him down... but... hmnf. Depended on what he did.

[It's honest, at least. Maybe brutally so, but it's honest, nonetheless.]

[He let his temper get the best of him before. There's no reason not to think it won't happen again.]

Hmnf. All right. Suit yourself.

He's probably more likely to attempt to attack the Keep or the staff than anyone else here... Frankly, I'd be more worried if this was Starscream from earlier in the war... He was... Well, he wouldn't ever have saved an Autobot back then, which he did just before we came here.

[Jetfire frowns, and the honesty is appreciated. Better that than lies.]

I'm more concerned that if the system does work, what I'm going to end up dealing with when he loses his memories.

[Because, yes, he's not going foist that problem onto anyone else.]

I'm sure you could handle the rest of the way by yourself, but there's no reason to.

He is welcome to attack this staff. I would not complain.

[There's a pause. He glances at Jetfire.]

He... what are you talking about?

And why would you even bother trying to put his processor back together again?

[To the rest, he just grunts, reluctantly accepting the continued support. At least until they get there.]

I doubt violence would solve anything, but even if it did, there would need to be a clear plan of attack, and a greater than sixty percent chance of success.

[Of course Ironhide would be the type to prefer to, if not solve, at least attack a problem with violence.]

Which part? That he saved an Autobot? He brought Bumblebee out of the pit we were in while I went off to confront Sunstorm. Or that he was... worse, earlier in the war?

[Jetfire's voice is soft, and there's a frown on his faceplates, more thoughtful than anything else.]

I have no idea what happened, but he was--- Well, even with how little I've seen since he thawed me, he's closer to how he was in the Academy than in the early war.

[A shake of his helm as he tosses a glance down the corridor.]

And I care because we neither want nor need a Starscream stuck in the past. I much prefer what he's become compared to what he turned into during the war.

[Not that what he's become is that much more stellar, but it's a giant improvement... and easier to deal with since it's more familiar. Then they're finally - though a lot more faster than two humans would be, obviously - at Ironhide's room.]

Ironhide... [There's a brief few astroseconds of hesitation.] While you might prefer no further assistance with this... from me or otherwise, consider it would you? If your self-repair can't fix the injury adequately and something happens...

[There's no need to finish the sentence, Ironhide is hardly stupid.]

Only 'sixty percent'? You do not know me that well, do you?

[To the explanation, he just sort of listens. He doesn't know what to say. Starscream shouldn't be any different. He shouldn't change.]

[He's irredeemable. No matter the universe.]

[He grunts.]

[Jetfire probably knows this Starscream best. Even if Ironhide can't bring himself to agree, even in the slightest.]

... I will consider it.

[No more than that. He just can't.]

[Ratchet is his medic.]

... No, admittedly not. But any plans with a projected success of less would be inadvisable.

[There's a slight huff as he leans against the door he's just pushed up.]

But I also know Starscream, and his plans tend to have holes in them. Or he reacts impulsively, changing things without having the whole situation... Which, admittedly, can sometimes be useful, and other times will just complicate things.

[Jetfire, on the other hand, had always hoped for that sort of change. He'd changed once, maybe he would again? And here were proof of the beginnings of such a change.]

That's all I'll ask. It's your decision.

[Jetfire nods and steps away from the door. Still, he looks over Ironhide once again, frowning slightly. But he says nothing.]

If my plan is to hit him until he stops moving, there should be a higher success rate than just sixty.

[Okay, Ironhide, you're just arguing for the sake of arguing right now.]

... That is something all Starscreams have in common, seems like.

[He can't believe a Decepticon would change. Obviously, he didn't get the chance to hear the story behind the Jetfire in his own world, or he might think a little differently.]

Yeah. Sure.

[A pause, while he starts to drag himself into his room.]

... thanks.

[...]

Well, yes, but getting to that point would be a tad more complicated than just demanding he come out and present himself for a beating, yes?

[Jetfire has a hard time not rubbing his faceplates at that. How is that a plan at all?!]

Mmm, they would have to, I think, share something to even remotely share the same template across differing realities, I think.

[His smile is more thoughtful than amused at the thought that it would be that trait the various Starscreams might share. Then he looks up again as Ironhide passes him into the room.]

No problem at all, Ironhide. You know where to find me if you need to.

[Jetfire briefly lays a hand on the nearest bit of plating before he withdraws and leaves to go back to his own room, letting Ironhide have his space, even if what he needs is a medic. Or at least someone attempting to repair him.]

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14th Transmission -- Action

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