(no subject)
Wip Wednesday! You all know the drill! I got the prompt "cushion" last week and that got one hit. I was going to write something new as well but just didn't get around to it. So, a little disappointing this week but maybe whatever I get for next week will light a fire under me.
"Well, gentlefolks," said Optimus, nodding in greeting when Botanic glided in. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
An elevator trip punctuated by a short, sparking malfunction later saw the party of four staring at the hull of their ship, no one knowing what to say first. Rattrap, naturally, was the first of them to find his words.
"We're all gonna die," he announced without fanfare.
"Rattrap--"
"Buncha explorers headed by a guy who's been skipper for three hours if we're bein' generous up against some rogue Pred battalion? Us with this junk o' fancy slag against a warship we hardly put a dent in? Yeah, nah." Though his tones stayed well within range of sarcasm, they were beleaguered by a sort of constant grinding of his rodent teeth that he could not seem to help. It went through him like an itch more intense than anything else he'd ever felt and he scratched urgently with a back paw. "We? Are all gonna die."
"I'm surprised it's not worse," Cheetor put in, very obviously clawing for a bright side. He was of an optimistic nature in general and something about Rattrap's constant litany of pessimism really brought it out of him. Their ship was cradled in the embrace of hard earth, scant units from the edge of a cliff, but it was still in one piece-- even if it was missing a few pieces. "We took so much damage, and then to fall from orbit..."
"That'll be thanks to my buddy Rhinox," Rattrap said. His mood lightened ever so slightly as he said it, a crooked grin wiggling its way onto his face as he was distracted from his scratching. "It wasn't just the canons he was working on under the floor in there."
"Rattrap is right," said Optimus. "Rhinox managed to divert power to the shields to cushion our impact-- a trick we have no way of knowing if the Predacons were able to mirror, I'll remind you."
"Great, so maybe their ship is slag and we got no spare parts to pilfer," Rattrap said. "I feel heaps better now, boss, thanks."
"Well, gentlefolks," said Optimus, nodding in greeting when Botanic glided in. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
An elevator trip punctuated by a short, sparking malfunction later saw the party of four staring at the hull of their ship, no one knowing what to say first. Rattrap, naturally, was the first of them to find his words.
"We're all gonna die," he announced without fanfare.
"Rattrap--"
"Buncha explorers headed by a guy who's been skipper for three hours if we're bein' generous up against some rogue Pred battalion? Us with this junk o' fancy slag against a warship we hardly put a dent in? Yeah, nah." Though his tones stayed well within range of sarcasm, they were beleaguered by a sort of constant grinding of his rodent teeth that he could not seem to help. It went through him like an itch more intense than anything else he'd ever felt and he scratched urgently with a back paw. "We? Are all gonna die."
"I'm surprised it's not worse," Cheetor put in, very obviously clawing for a bright side. He was of an optimistic nature in general and something about Rattrap's constant litany of pessimism really brought it out of him. Their ship was cradled in the embrace of hard earth, scant units from the edge of a cliff, but it was still in one piece-- even if it was missing a few pieces. "We took so much damage, and then to fall from orbit..."
"That'll be thanks to my buddy Rhinox," Rattrap said. His mood lightened ever so slightly as he said it, a crooked grin wiggling its way onto his face as he was distracted from his scratching. "It wasn't just the canons he was working on under the floor in there."
"Rattrap is right," said Optimus. "Rhinox managed to divert power to the shields to cushion our impact-- a trick we have no way of knowing if the Predacons were able to mirror, I'll remind you."
"Great, so maybe their ship is slag and we got no spare parts to pilfer," Rattrap said. "I feel heaps better now, boss, thanks."