(no subject)
Title: Mudslide
Author: rose0mary
Rating: K
Verse: Generation 1
Genre: Simple Friendship
Characters: Beachcomber, Hound, Ravage, Skyfire
Warnings: None
Summary: A simple day of exploration brings unforeseen hazards
Beachcomber glanced up. He frowned. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
Hound shifted his attention from the cluster of plants he had been studying. “Hmm?” asked the scout, not really paying attention to the weather.
Beachcomber pointed skywards. “I may be new to earth and its unusual weather patterns, but that does not look good.”
Humoring his friend, Hound pulled his head out of the tangle of bushes he’d been poking through, trying to find the main trunk to the thorny plant. He then looked up. "You may be right. We should go.”
Beachcomber and Hound stood up and walked towards the well-entrenched dirt road. This far from civilization away from the main roads, dirt trails were the only way in or out.
At first the two friends headed down, not out of a desire to escape the coming storm, but because it was prudent to warn the human folks, if they hadn’t already left or found shelter. The two Autobots came into the temporary camp and drew up short. Everyone was gone. All the humans had fled - leaving behind everything.
“Huh, guess they got word before we did.”
Hound found himself talking to empty air. He turned and watched as Beachcomber picked up a human-sized radio. “We request that everyone evacuate the area. Repeat, this county is in high danger of a flashflood, and nearby weather stations have seen an inch of rain in under sixty minutes. We request that everyone evacuate the area. Repeat …”
Hound sighed. “Well there goes my vacation.”
“At least the humans are using common sense this time.”
Hound waved at the natural rock walls surrounding them. True, the formation and size of the rock walls did not stictly form a canyon, but they were in a low spot surrounded by mountains and hills. Mountains that were steep, mountains that had jutting rocks. Mountains made of granite, and limestone. Hills that were dry, due to a very dry winter and a very hot summer. To the side, a small stream allowed a trickle of water to flow between the peaks after collecting in the valley, but it might not be enough, if the radio operators had accurate information.
Above the two Autobots the grey clouds, laden with huge amounts of water, gently brushed against the steep cliffs, and thunder cracked. Water, nearly frozen, came down in torrents, drenching the trees, the rocks, and the land.
Partially solid precipitation struck the armor, surprising both bots. A bit concerned, but not terribly worried, Beachcomber stopped and aimed his sensors upwards. The thick clouds, heavy with water droplets, and filled with changing electrical charges, baffled his sensors, creating readings that made no sense. The bright sun, shining so strongly and steadily in the weeks past was blocked by the layers upon layers of clashing vapors and dust. It would have unnerved humans, unused to near-darkness in the midst of day, but, sheltered properly from wild weather and shifting winds, it might be considered beautiful.
Powerful is what the storm was. Powerful and deadly, being unseasonably large and violent.
The two took a well-traveled way out of the valley, deciding to forgo the safer (but longer) path to the Ark. Hound, slowing to see if Beachcomber needed a hand, turned and saw a wall of wet dirt fall off the far cliff. He did not hesitate a second longer, knowing that if either he or his friend got caught in the mudslide it could knock them booth offline.
From the corner of his optic, Beachcomber noticed Hound take off running. Concerned, Comber followed as fast as his form could follow. It might have made more sense to transform and hug the ground with four wheels instead of two treads that sank and slid into the suddenly muddy soil, but neither thought to switch from their root-mode to their alt form.
Fleeing the encroaching wave of water, gravel, dirt, and organic debris, the two ran uphill, seeking something sturdy to brace themselves. Or a shelter large enough to protect them both. With a sinking spark, Hound found that this valley, a nice long, wide-open area (by human standards of course), normally pleasant to be in, was not nearly big enough. The steep cliffs, a hindrance to rock-climbing, offered no shelter from the thick, clogging mixture of water and clay. However dire their situation, Hound refused to just stand there and be buried, perhaps forever.
Beachcomber, hearing the roar of falling rock and cascading water grow louder as it came closer, found himself gaining a bit more speed. As he ran, stepping in Hound’s footprints, he heard a slightly different roar. Daring to hope, he turned his head slightly, and almost stumbled.
Ravage, a black metal cat leapt from rock to rock, barely keeping in front of the wave that swallowed and covered the land behind them. Huge pine trees, sturdy and solid, healthy and green, were being ripped from the ground, their trunks shredded by the impact of tons of rock impacting the base. Human tents, shredded and now, twisted thread, colored deep brown by the dirt and fallen leaves picked up on the ride down.
Hound had found a small fissure, barely large enough for the both of them. He turned into the cave opening, and reached out a hand to tug Beachcomber in. Beachcomber, in turn, turned sideways and flung a hand towards Ravage, knowing that Hound, would not let him be forgotten.
“Hound!”
Using a human curse, Hound snarled and pulled both in. Seconds after they fell against the wall, the thick mud, flowed past them, covering the land. Before the three could catch their breath, the brown liquid curved back towards them.
“We’re not high enough!” Hound cried, worried.
Ravage, jumping off of Beachcomber’s back, used his sleeker form to climb upwards, his sharp claws carving gouges in the rock, sending small pebbles of sand and gravel down. Beachcomber led the way, his sensors better attuned for spelunking and cave exploration. Though the quarters were tight and the rock walls seeming to press together on both metal beings, the moderately-steep pathway remained wide enough for their passage. And, every step away from the opening that gave them temporary sanctuary from the wall of mud was another six inches gain in elevation.
Would the uphill climb be enough? Would the lake of mud, caused by a saturated hillside simply collapsing under the added rainfall, lose both momentum and material before the fissure entrance was covered? The echo of Ravage’s howl of aggravation as his lower legs thrust against open air and his head struck solid rock above him suggested that this tiny cave, an enclosed system, would be their tomb.
All too soon, they reached the end of the cave. A human might have been able to go on farther, but the mech’s larger forms were stopped. Chiseling handholds in the walls to climb up would do no good either, since they could both reach up and touch the ceiling.
Having gone as far as they could, they sighed and stood back, awaiting whatever might come upon them. The mud, liquefied dirt, creeping ever nearer, slowly surrounding Hounds and Beachcomber’s feet. After an unknown length time (a few breems according to the chronometers but it felt much longer), the, thick, sticky, mud became deep enough to cover their feet and slid into the armor crevices that protected the joints, gears, and other internal workings. And then, it slowed, reaching mid calf before stopping completely. With the mud halfway up their bodies, and climbing no further, the wall of mud no longer threatened to cover or encase either of them.
It seemed to take a vorn, before the splashing mud slowly settled, and then began pulling back. Hound’s lower legs, made a slurping sound as he lifted one foot then the other. “Remind me to never request a low-spot site again.”
Beachcomber grunted.
“All the weather reports said this weekend would be another warm, dry weekend. Yes, there was rain last week, but that was supposed to be the end of it. An unusually dry winter, with absolutely no rain, for the last three months, and it was supposed to continue being dry all season. All year. The forecaster said that last week was the end of the rainy and wet season, which made this weekend the perfect opportunity to examine the lakes and rivers - normally beginning to fill up now, but the lack of snowfall means little water coming in, so a dry lake-bed revealing the rocks and water plants normally covered under six fathoms of water.
“Yes, I know. Six fathoms are nothing to us. Well, to some of us anyway. But still, the opportunities to learn about earth, all gone, buried under who knows how many feet of mud.”
In another section of the elaborate cave system, Ravage growled, snarling his displeasure at being trapped with Autobots.
Beachcomber tiled his head, examined the mud that clung to the walls, but also keeping an optic on the thick viscus liquid that flowed outwards, draining towards a lower basin. “Twelve meters. Approximately.”
Hound looked at him. Beachcomber pointed towards the retreating mud. “Right now, the whole valley is buried in twelve meters of mud - at least, that’s how much higher up we are, from the point we started running.”
Hound sighed. “I do hope the animals are all right. Prime only knows how the plants are going to survive this.”
“Plants are tough. They can survive stuff humans can’t. As for the animals,” Beachcomber snorted, “you didn’t notice?”
Hound glared at his friend. “Notice what?”
“There were no animals. We woke up with birds chirping, but even as we were saying ‘good day’ to the humans, the animals were gone. Well, except for the dogs, but they were on leashes and trying to flee.”
“I do seem to recall hearing something about wild and feral animals always fleeing sites of disaster zones prior to the events. Wildfires, earthquakes, landslides, and such, but didn’t believe the stories.”
Ravage snarled again, this time from a ledge near their heads. His tail lashed violently. His red optics, gave an unusual lighting to the area. “Don’t mind us, dear Ravage. We’re stuck here just as much as you.”
The metal cat hissed, and stepped backwards, never taking his optics off the two Autobots.
Hound tilted his head, optics trained on the cat. “I’ve never heard Ravage speak. Have you?”
Beachcomber frowned. “No.” His blue optics, dimmed to conserve energy, brightened briefly. “I think the top of the hole we came through is starting to show.”
Ravage almost turned his head to look in the same direction, but stopped the movement before it began.
Hound chuckled. “You don’t trust us. Understandably, considering we’ve been on opposite sides of the war for most of it. But believe us, we can’t escape this prison any sooner or easier than you.” Hound addressed Beachcomber. “So, how much longer are we stuck here?”
Beachcomber leaned against the wall. “Depends on how long it takes the mud to fully settle. How big do you think the hill that collapsed was? And did you notice where it was?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. See, most of the wave we ran from had to dissipate somewhere, and at first it had nowhere to go except away from the collapsing hill. After the energy was spent, it will slowly drain back towards the lowest point in the valley. If that hill was part of the formation that shields and protects this valley, then all this mud will go much farther downstream.”
Hound sighed. “A good size hill. Don’t ask me to estimate the size in cubic feet. It might have been the main one that had all the dirt-turnoffs and faint trails crisscrossing every which way.” An uneasy silence - uneasy mainly due to the presence of Ravage, but also caused, slightly, by the fact their commander and comrades did not know they were in trouble. Since the rocks blocked most lines of instant communication, and although their absence would eventually be noticed, it would still take time for them to be found. Especially since none of their friends would know where to begin searching.
The slurping mud continued to pull back, exposing more mud-encrusted rocks. Soon, a flash of light broke through the darkness that had filled the cave ever since the opening was covered.
“See? Give this filthy water a few more breems and there should be enough space for you to squeeze through, provided you don’t mind getting mud on the plates.”
Ravage snarled and hissed some more, but the tail thrashing had slowed, and the glare, a ‘death glare’ if Spike’s phrase of ‘if looks could kill’ meant anything, had lost its intensity some time ago.
It took no more than two more breems for the opening to be open enough for Ravage - and the cat took the opportunity to escape, somehow avoiding getting even one spatter of mud on his armor, and never left a ripple in the brown liquid to mark his presence. “I can see why Red Alert hates Ravage and the other cassettes being close to the Ark.”
This time, the silence, though dragging, was familiar and comfortable.
“I heard about spring thaws and the increased dangers of avalanches, but mudslides? Does that make sense to you?”
“Sadly, yes. When precipitation comes down in large quantities, such as today and last week, the water does not have time to penetrate the soil and sits on the top layer, creating a dangerous saturation point along freeways and coastal areas. Normally, too much water can run-off and go downstream without any undue side effects, but in cases like today and here, the water takes with it a layer of soil and causes a chain reaction that can bring either a small side of the hill, or the entire wall down with it.”
“If I had wanted a long answer, I would have waited for Preceptor to show up, or bugged him after a visit to the Wash Racks.”
“Hey, I didn’t use his terminology.”
“No, but you did ‘dumb it down’ as he is prone to do when someone says they aren’t following.”
“… True. …. I can’t believe I understood this world enough to explain this phenomenon.”
“Neither can I. Isn’t this your first posting to an organic world?”
“Maybe, but I did study texts and scans of soft worlds discovered before the war.”
“Ah Ha! I knew you weren’t really a solider.”
“And you enjoy fighting?”
They fell to silence again. This time, they felt much better, and more hopeful towards being found. Some time later, the mud had retreated enough, allowing the two access to the world outside. There had been opportunities to step outside and signal for a pick-up, but that would mean wading through mud that still swirled dangerously. Now, the mud was mostly gone. The walls were coated with a sticky layer that refused to let go, and the rocky floor was much slippery than before, but it was a vast improvement on their situation just a joor or two ago.
“Did you hear that?”
A jet engine echoed through the valley, slowly gaining power as the vehicle approached their position.
From over the mountain range that separated them from the Ark, a familiar jet came closer. “It’s Skyfire.”
“I wonder who else he’s supposed to pick up?”
“Hey, ‘Fire” Hound shouted upwards once the fifty-foot tall mech landed and shifted. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Skyfire shook his head back and forth, slowly. “I got a ping on my comm. System several breems ago, suggesting I come check on you guys and give you a lift. Funny thing is, I also got coordinates for the little rock shed right behind you.”
Beachcomber and Hound traded looks. “You don’t suppose ... ?”
“Doesn’t matter. Thanks ‘Fire.”
Skyfire resumed his jet shape and allowed the two mud encrusted mechs to climb inside. “You’re welcome.” He said, as he began taking off and heading back home.
Author: rose0mary
Rating: K
Verse: Generation 1
Genre: Simple Friendship
Characters: Beachcomber, Hound, Ravage, Skyfire
Warnings: None
Summary: A simple day of exploration brings unforeseen hazards
Beachcomber glanced up. He frowned. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
Hound shifted his attention from the cluster of plants he had been studying. “Hmm?” asked the scout, not really paying attention to the weather.
Beachcomber pointed skywards. “I may be new to earth and its unusual weather patterns, but that does not look good.”
Humoring his friend, Hound pulled his head out of the tangle of bushes he’d been poking through, trying to find the main trunk to the thorny plant. He then looked up. "You may be right. We should go.”
Beachcomber and Hound stood up and walked towards the well-entrenched dirt road. This far from civilization away from the main roads, dirt trails were the only way in or out.
At first the two friends headed down, not out of a desire to escape the coming storm, but because it was prudent to warn the human folks, if they hadn’t already left or found shelter. The two Autobots came into the temporary camp and drew up short. Everyone was gone. All the humans had fled - leaving behind everything.
“Huh, guess they got word before we did.”
Hound found himself talking to empty air. He turned and watched as Beachcomber picked up a human-sized radio. “We request that everyone evacuate the area. Repeat, this county is in high danger of a flashflood, and nearby weather stations have seen an inch of rain in under sixty minutes. We request that everyone evacuate the area. Repeat …”
Hound sighed. “Well there goes my vacation.”
“At least the humans are using common sense this time.”
Hound waved at the natural rock walls surrounding them. True, the formation and size of the rock walls did not stictly form a canyon, but they were in a low spot surrounded by mountains and hills. Mountains that were steep, mountains that had jutting rocks. Mountains made of granite, and limestone. Hills that were dry, due to a very dry winter and a very hot summer. To the side, a small stream allowed a trickle of water to flow between the peaks after collecting in the valley, but it might not be enough, if the radio operators had accurate information.
Above the two Autobots the grey clouds, laden with huge amounts of water, gently brushed against the steep cliffs, and thunder cracked. Water, nearly frozen, came down in torrents, drenching the trees, the rocks, and the land.
Partially solid precipitation struck the armor, surprising both bots. A bit concerned, but not terribly worried, Beachcomber stopped and aimed his sensors upwards. The thick clouds, heavy with water droplets, and filled with changing electrical charges, baffled his sensors, creating readings that made no sense. The bright sun, shining so strongly and steadily in the weeks past was blocked by the layers upon layers of clashing vapors and dust. It would have unnerved humans, unused to near-darkness in the midst of day, but, sheltered properly from wild weather and shifting winds, it might be considered beautiful.
Powerful is what the storm was. Powerful and deadly, being unseasonably large and violent.
The two took a well-traveled way out of the valley, deciding to forgo the safer (but longer) path to the Ark. Hound, slowing to see if Beachcomber needed a hand, turned and saw a wall of wet dirt fall off the far cliff. He did not hesitate a second longer, knowing that if either he or his friend got caught in the mudslide it could knock them booth offline.
From the corner of his optic, Beachcomber noticed Hound take off running. Concerned, Comber followed as fast as his form could follow. It might have made more sense to transform and hug the ground with four wheels instead of two treads that sank and slid into the suddenly muddy soil, but neither thought to switch from their root-mode to their alt form.
Fleeing the encroaching wave of water, gravel, dirt, and organic debris, the two ran uphill, seeking something sturdy to brace themselves. Or a shelter large enough to protect them both. With a sinking spark, Hound found that this valley, a nice long, wide-open area (by human standards of course), normally pleasant to be in, was not nearly big enough. The steep cliffs, a hindrance to rock-climbing, offered no shelter from the thick, clogging mixture of water and clay. However dire their situation, Hound refused to just stand there and be buried, perhaps forever.
Beachcomber, hearing the roar of falling rock and cascading water grow louder as it came closer, found himself gaining a bit more speed. As he ran, stepping in Hound’s footprints, he heard a slightly different roar. Daring to hope, he turned his head slightly, and almost stumbled.
Ravage, a black metal cat leapt from rock to rock, barely keeping in front of the wave that swallowed and covered the land behind them. Huge pine trees, sturdy and solid, healthy and green, were being ripped from the ground, their trunks shredded by the impact of tons of rock impacting the base. Human tents, shredded and now, twisted thread, colored deep brown by the dirt and fallen leaves picked up on the ride down.
Hound had found a small fissure, barely large enough for the both of them. He turned into the cave opening, and reached out a hand to tug Beachcomber in. Beachcomber, in turn, turned sideways and flung a hand towards Ravage, knowing that Hound, would not let him be forgotten.
“Hound!”
Using a human curse, Hound snarled and pulled both in. Seconds after they fell against the wall, the thick mud, flowed past them, covering the land. Before the three could catch their breath, the brown liquid curved back towards them.
“We’re not high enough!” Hound cried, worried.
Ravage, jumping off of Beachcomber’s back, used his sleeker form to climb upwards, his sharp claws carving gouges in the rock, sending small pebbles of sand and gravel down. Beachcomber led the way, his sensors better attuned for spelunking and cave exploration. Though the quarters were tight and the rock walls seeming to press together on both metal beings, the moderately-steep pathway remained wide enough for their passage. And, every step away from the opening that gave them temporary sanctuary from the wall of mud was another six inches gain in elevation.
Would the uphill climb be enough? Would the lake of mud, caused by a saturated hillside simply collapsing under the added rainfall, lose both momentum and material before the fissure entrance was covered? The echo of Ravage’s howl of aggravation as his lower legs thrust against open air and his head struck solid rock above him suggested that this tiny cave, an enclosed system, would be their tomb.
All too soon, they reached the end of the cave. A human might have been able to go on farther, but the mech’s larger forms were stopped. Chiseling handholds in the walls to climb up would do no good either, since they could both reach up and touch the ceiling.
Having gone as far as they could, they sighed and stood back, awaiting whatever might come upon them. The mud, liquefied dirt, creeping ever nearer, slowly surrounding Hounds and Beachcomber’s feet. After an unknown length time (a few breems according to the chronometers but it felt much longer), the, thick, sticky, mud became deep enough to cover their feet and slid into the armor crevices that protected the joints, gears, and other internal workings. And then, it slowed, reaching mid calf before stopping completely. With the mud halfway up their bodies, and climbing no further, the wall of mud no longer threatened to cover or encase either of them.
It seemed to take a vorn, before the splashing mud slowly settled, and then began pulling back. Hound’s lower legs, made a slurping sound as he lifted one foot then the other. “Remind me to never request a low-spot site again.”
Beachcomber grunted.
“All the weather reports said this weekend would be another warm, dry weekend. Yes, there was rain last week, but that was supposed to be the end of it. An unusually dry winter, with absolutely no rain, for the last three months, and it was supposed to continue being dry all season. All year. The forecaster said that last week was the end of the rainy and wet season, which made this weekend the perfect opportunity to examine the lakes and rivers - normally beginning to fill up now, but the lack of snowfall means little water coming in, so a dry lake-bed revealing the rocks and water plants normally covered under six fathoms of water.
“Yes, I know. Six fathoms are nothing to us. Well, to some of us anyway. But still, the opportunities to learn about earth, all gone, buried under who knows how many feet of mud.”
In another section of the elaborate cave system, Ravage growled, snarling his displeasure at being trapped with Autobots.
Beachcomber tiled his head, examined the mud that clung to the walls, but also keeping an optic on the thick viscus liquid that flowed outwards, draining towards a lower basin. “Twelve meters. Approximately.”
Hound looked at him. Beachcomber pointed towards the retreating mud. “Right now, the whole valley is buried in twelve meters of mud - at least, that’s how much higher up we are, from the point we started running.”
Hound sighed. “I do hope the animals are all right. Prime only knows how the plants are going to survive this.”
“Plants are tough. They can survive stuff humans can’t. As for the animals,” Beachcomber snorted, “you didn’t notice?”
Hound glared at his friend. “Notice what?”
“There were no animals. We woke up with birds chirping, but even as we were saying ‘good day’ to the humans, the animals were gone. Well, except for the dogs, but they were on leashes and trying to flee.”
“I do seem to recall hearing something about wild and feral animals always fleeing sites of disaster zones prior to the events. Wildfires, earthquakes, landslides, and such, but didn’t believe the stories.”
Ravage snarled again, this time from a ledge near their heads. His tail lashed violently. His red optics, gave an unusual lighting to the area. “Don’t mind us, dear Ravage. We’re stuck here just as much as you.”
The metal cat hissed, and stepped backwards, never taking his optics off the two Autobots.
Hound tilted his head, optics trained on the cat. “I’ve never heard Ravage speak. Have you?”
Beachcomber frowned. “No.” His blue optics, dimmed to conserve energy, brightened briefly. “I think the top of the hole we came through is starting to show.”
Ravage almost turned his head to look in the same direction, but stopped the movement before it began.
Hound chuckled. “You don’t trust us. Understandably, considering we’ve been on opposite sides of the war for most of it. But believe us, we can’t escape this prison any sooner or easier than you.” Hound addressed Beachcomber. “So, how much longer are we stuck here?”
Beachcomber leaned against the wall. “Depends on how long it takes the mud to fully settle. How big do you think the hill that collapsed was? And did you notice where it was?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. See, most of the wave we ran from had to dissipate somewhere, and at first it had nowhere to go except away from the collapsing hill. After the energy was spent, it will slowly drain back towards the lowest point in the valley. If that hill was part of the formation that shields and protects this valley, then all this mud will go much farther downstream.”
Hound sighed. “A good size hill. Don’t ask me to estimate the size in cubic feet. It might have been the main one that had all the dirt-turnoffs and faint trails crisscrossing every which way.” An uneasy silence - uneasy mainly due to the presence of Ravage, but also caused, slightly, by the fact their commander and comrades did not know they were in trouble. Since the rocks blocked most lines of instant communication, and although their absence would eventually be noticed, it would still take time for them to be found. Especially since none of their friends would know where to begin searching.
The slurping mud continued to pull back, exposing more mud-encrusted rocks. Soon, a flash of light broke through the darkness that had filled the cave ever since the opening was covered.
“See? Give this filthy water a few more breems and there should be enough space for you to squeeze through, provided you don’t mind getting mud on the plates.”
Ravage snarled and hissed some more, but the tail thrashing had slowed, and the glare, a ‘death glare’ if Spike’s phrase of ‘if looks could kill’ meant anything, had lost its intensity some time ago.
It took no more than two more breems for the opening to be open enough for Ravage - and the cat took the opportunity to escape, somehow avoiding getting even one spatter of mud on his armor, and never left a ripple in the brown liquid to mark his presence. “I can see why Red Alert hates Ravage and the other cassettes being close to the Ark.”
This time, the silence, though dragging, was familiar and comfortable.
“I heard about spring thaws and the increased dangers of avalanches, but mudslides? Does that make sense to you?”
“Sadly, yes. When precipitation comes down in large quantities, such as today and last week, the water does not have time to penetrate the soil and sits on the top layer, creating a dangerous saturation point along freeways and coastal areas. Normally, too much water can run-off and go downstream without any undue side effects, but in cases like today and here, the water takes with it a layer of soil and causes a chain reaction that can bring either a small side of the hill, or the entire wall down with it.”
“If I had wanted a long answer, I would have waited for Preceptor to show up, or bugged him after a visit to the Wash Racks.”
“Hey, I didn’t use his terminology.”
“No, but you did ‘dumb it down’ as he is prone to do when someone says they aren’t following.”
“… True. …. I can’t believe I understood this world enough to explain this phenomenon.”
“Neither can I. Isn’t this your first posting to an organic world?”
“Maybe, but I did study texts and scans of soft worlds discovered before the war.”
“Ah Ha! I knew you weren’t really a solider.”
“And you enjoy fighting?”
They fell to silence again. This time, they felt much better, and more hopeful towards being found. Some time later, the mud had retreated enough, allowing the two access to the world outside. There had been opportunities to step outside and signal for a pick-up, but that would mean wading through mud that still swirled dangerously. Now, the mud was mostly gone. The walls were coated with a sticky layer that refused to let go, and the rocky floor was much slippery than before, but it was a vast improvement on their situation just a joor or two ago.
“Did you hear that?”
A jet engine echoed through the valley, slowly gaining power as the vehicle approached their position.
From over the mountain range that separated them from the Ark, a familiar jet came closer. “It’s Skyfire.”
“I wonder who else he’s supposed to pick up?”
“Hey, ‘Fire” Hound shouted upwards once the fifty-foot tall mech landed and shifted. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Skyfire shook his head back and forth, slowly. “I got a ping on my comm. System several breems ago, suggesting I come check on you guys and give you a lift. Funny thing is, I also got coordinates for the little rock shed right behind you.”
Beachcomber and Hound traded looks. “You don’t suppose ... ?”
“Doesn’t matter. Thanks ‘Fire.”
Skyfire resumed his jet shape and allowed the two mud encrusted mechs to climb inside. “You’re welcome.” He said, as he began taking off and heading back home.