12th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

I tire of this ship, its crew, and its... holidays. I have no use for these toys. What is the meaning of this?

And is there nowhere I can have a proper spar? Settle for the bees again, if nothing else...

Hmnf.

[The comm clicks off. If anyone is so inclined, the weapons master can be found down in the caves, brooding, and occasionally slamming a fist or two into the walls.

As for his squeaky whale, it has been deposited safely in front of a certain medical officer's door without so much as a word on the subject.]

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He says... absolutely nothing. There's a lot he should say. And more he wants to. But he... doesn't. His shoulders tighten, and he shutters his optics.]

...

[A nod.]

...

I'm sorry.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She regards him tightly, her face composed in an expression of hurt, anger, and frustration. She can't take this. Can't deal with it. Before she bursts into tears, she whirls around and takes off running. She doesn't even know where she's going. Just not...here.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[How can she expect him to declare a truce with them? They betrayed him, they murdered Prime, they started a war that destroyed everything. She can't possibly expect him to cooperate, to so much as bend in front of them. It doesn't matter they aren't from his world. They bear the same symbol, and follow the same leader. He just can't. And she won't understand.

As soon as she's gone, he moves. He whirls on the nearby wall, and rams his fist into it. Repeatedly. Until his hand starts to dent and contort from impact.

Everything was so much simpler before this boat.]