Second half
TITLE: Lifeline
RATING: Teens
SERIES: Any/All - PREWAR
WARNINGS: Crossover (SGA), Original Characters
CHARACTER(S): Original Characters
SUMMARY: Traveling through unexplored country, with a sole goal of returning home, first contact situation can still arise.
PROMPT: #4 Scenario: Getting in contact with an alien robot race
Hot Zone and the survivors of the crash looked at the landscape in surprise. It was a city - not windswept ruins. What’s more the entire complex - as far as the optic could scan - was made of metal, not local rocks and stone.
"Can we use this?" Hot Zone asked his underlings.
Tektite shrugged. "I don't see any sign of rust, tarnish, or verdigris, so the metal should be okay - but do we have the right?"
"What do you mean?" Asked Lithograph. "We need raw materials for repairs--" the survivors craned their necks to look at the doomed shuttlecraft "--to build a new space hull." Amended Lithograph. "And this city's chock-full of the metals we need. This is pure metal, not ores or alloys that require smelting and removal of slag as it's extracted from the ground."
"Exactly." Tektite vented, waving a hand at the empty city. "Somebody else built this sprawling metropolis. We can't just take a bite out of it. We need to get permission first."
"I am detecting no spark-signatures." Phaeton interjected. "And none of my redoubts reveal any life - there is no one around for us to ask."
"I don't like this." Tektite made his opinion known. "All our records state this solar system - all the planets and moons - are metal poor. Plus, those walls are high in neutronium."
"Neutronium?" Switchhitter and Rockwool picked up echoed Tektite's uneasiness. "As in 'scant amounts, barely detectable' or 'huge deposits'?"
Tektite didn't budge from his spot at the edge of the path. Currently, everyone stood on the rocks that made up this planet. One step closer to the city, and they would be walking on the same metal that made up the absent civilization before them. "As in neutronium is the base compound."
Hot Zone shuttered his optics. "We don't have much of a choice if we want to get back to Cybertron any time soon." He stepped foward onto the metal path. It looked like it had been poured into place, not made of sheets welded together. Except for the lack of decay, the place had every indicator of being built and abandoned long ago.
"I don't like this," Hockshop muttered. "Feels like I'm walking amidst a deactivated city-mech."
Phaeton was the first to encounter a resident. "Hey-!" his cry cut off.
Switchhitter turned and gave warning "We're surrounded!" before his voice too was silenced.
To his dismay, HotZone learned indeed that the deadness of the city had been an illusion. From the walls themselves, strange creatures, perhaps a single fathom in height, emerged. They were unlike anything he'd ever encountered before.
Tektite had time to gasp out "They are the neutrinium sources" before one grew, absorbing metal blocks from the roadwork, and inserted four stringy digitalis into Tektite's head.
Looking around in horror, Hot Zone noticed the rest of the crew was similarly immobilized - and one of the organic-looking creatures (but made of pure metal, how strange), had already quadrupled in height before shoving its weak-looking servos into his helm, bypassing all firewalls and other safeguards, designed to stop (or at least slow) all metal intrusion.
The pain, caused Hot Zone to deactivate, temporarily breaking the connection.
When Hot Zone recovered, he could see only one of Sepulcher's crew "Switchhitter!" and that mech was stone gray. His spark had extinguished. Hot Zone turned his head, needing to see the fate of th others. All within line of sight were lifeless husks.
Movement at the edge of his vision. Optics flared and tightened as they spotted one of the impossible beings. "Where's Hock-Shop? What happened to Lithograph?"
The weird creature stared at him, the white spheres with round dots of color looked so fragile and inefficient. Every visual indicator gave rise to the belief that the creature couldn't understand Cybertron, let alone replicate the specific harmonies and tones that created the language. So Hot Zone thought.
"Hock-Shop, Lithograph, RockWool, the others - they were disposed of after the information held in the quantum memory catches were absorbed into the Asuran collective. Their knowledge will be shared and relevant facts kept."
Thrown for a loop, Hot Zone glared. "Why was I spared?"
"You were their commander." Said the Asuran representative using the glottal like a true Cybertronian. "We have need of you.
"You will go to your government leaders, and demand they stay away form this planet.
"We have no need, nor desire to be subjugated by this Prime Nova, who seeks only to exploit everyone around him." The thing, already of equal height to Hot Zone, gained mass as it continued to absorb the interconnected nanites that composed everything in the city. "To make sure our warning is headed, I will accompany you to your homeworld."
Hot Zone watched, dumfounded, as the once tiny creature shifted forms into the exact likeness of Ohmmeter, one of the mechs who hadn't survived the landing.
"Well, that explains how you'd remain unnoticed and undetected," Hot Zone muttered to himself, before raising his voice to be heard by the unseen listeners. "What designation is yours?"
Faux Ohmmeter crossed its arms. The movement was unnatural for a real Transformer, yet somehow it fit the fluid-like ability of this ... strange alien. "What was the designation of this one? It will suffice until I can return here."
Hot Zone vented. This was supposed to be a simple supply run for one of the far-flung colonies, not a first-encounter situation.
TITLE: A sign of cowardice?
RATING: K
CHARACTER(S): Jazz, Bluestreak, Cliffjumper
UNIVERSE: Generation 1
GENRE: general
SUMMARY: Meaning of symbols is influenced and very depended on the culture one is raised in.
PROMPT: #5 Choose a prompt from the Master List 2012. 18th February, number one White feather
"... Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni. Yankee Doodle Dandy...." The song, sung by an exuberant group of fourth-graders echoed across the playground, resonating in the audios of the visiting Autobots.
"Feathers?" Bluestreak unfurled from his vehicle mode. "Why would this Yankee Doodle add bird plumage to his clothing, when humans can't even fly in the first place? Who was Yankee Doodle anyhow?"
Cliffjumper and Jazz also uncurled from their wheeled appearance. Jazz stretched, removing the kinks in his cables. Cliffjumper bounced on the balls of his feet. "You're curious about the feathers? I thought macaroni was a food item, not an insult."
"Do you think it was white?"
"What does the color have to do with the hysterical - "
"Historical, not hysterical, CJ" Jazz smoothly interrupted, helping his companions use the proper word. "I think Yankee Doodle refers to the American Colonial rebel."
Cliffjumper accepted the vocabulary correction. "Historical song? Nobody remembers because the color isn't important!"
"Colors do mean something!" Insisted Bluestreak. "I know yellow is used in reference to a coward -
"That's Yellow bellied patsy!" Cliffjumper rushed forward, only to be stopped by Jazz.
Jazz smoothly stepped between the two youngsters before the mild, playful argument could escalate into a fist-fight or worse. "Blue, why do you think it was a white feather this fictitious Yankee Doodle added to his hat?" He asked out of curiosity.
Cliffjumper pouted. He removed the pout when Jazz looked at him.
"Humans put a lot of stock in colors, and white has important significance." Bluestreak shrugged, uncertain. "I guess the exact color doesn't matter - but I still want to know what a feather symbolizes."
TITLE: Unspoken
CHARACTERS: Red Alert, Perceptor, Inferno
RATING: K
REALM: Any/All
SUMMARY: While actions speak louder than words, speaking is still necessary.
PROMPT: #6 A misunderstood apology
"Perceptor, I need your assistance in checking the circuit board of these cameras." Red Alert deposited dismantled computer chips in front of the red microscope.
The scientist looked up. "Oh, so now you want my help? I am still waiting for an apology."
"Apology?" Red Alert gapped. "I just did."
"How is dumping malfunctioning security equipment in front of me, demanding that I find the problem, and provide a working solution a proper apology?"
Inferno's not so quiet chuckles had the security director and scientist turning their ire towards him. "That's just Red's way of admitting he might have been overzealous in claiming you were willingly working with the enemy, and asking for forgiveness for jumping to conclusions."
Perceptor glared at Red Alert. Red Alert glared right back. Neither mech gave an inch.
"Face it Perceptor. If Red still harbored a smidgeon of suspicion, he wouldn't request your expertise - getting a verbal 'I'm sorry' from Red is almost as impossible as getting him to reveal a secret, or having Ratchet spill something he holds under doctor-patient confidentiality."
Perceptor grudgingly picked up a battered case. "I suppose I can double-check the mother-board - but hearing (or even reading) an apology would be appreciated."
Red Alert nodded once, stiffly. "I'll do my best to make sure you won't ever require one from me."
RATING: Teens
SERIES: Any/All - PREWAR
WARNINGS: Crossover (SGA), Original Characters
CHARACTER(S): Original Characters
SUMMARY: Traveling through unexplored country, with a sole goal of returning home, first contact situation can still arise.
PROMPT: #4 Scenario: Getting in contact with an alien robot race
Hot Zone and the survivors of the crash looked at the landscape in surprise. It was a city - not windswept ruins. What’s more the entire complex - as far as the optic could scan - was made of metal, not local rocks and stone.
"Can we use this?" Hot Zone asked his underlings.
Tektite shrugged. "I don't see any sign of rust, tarnish, or verdigris, so the metal should be okay - but do we have the right?"
"What do you mean?" Asked Lithograph. "We need raw materials for repairs--" the survivors craned their necks to look at the doomed shuttlecraft "--to build a new space hull." Amended Lithograph. "And this city's chock-full of the metals we need. This is pure metal, not ores or alloys that require smelting and removal of slag as it's extracted from the ground."
"Exactly." Tektite vented, waving a hand at the empty city. "Somebody else built this sprawling metropolis. We can't just take a bite out of it. We need to get permission first."
"I am detecting no spark-signatures." Phaeton interjected. "And none of my redoubts reveal any life - there is no one around for us to ask."
"I don't like this." Tektite made his opinion known. "All our records state this solar system - all the planets and moons - are metal poor. Plus, those walls are high in neutronium."
"Neutronium?" Switchhitter and Rockwool picked up echoed Tektite's uneasiness. "As in 'scant amounts, barely detectable' or 'huge deposits'?"
Tektite didn't budge from his spot at the edge of the path. Currently, everyone stood on the rocks that made up this planet. One step closer to the city, and they would be walking on the same metal that made up the absent civilization before them. "As in neutronium is the base compound."
Hot Zone shuttered his optics. "We don't have much of a choice if we want to get back to Cybertron any time soon." He stepped foward onto the metal path. It looked like it had been poured into place, not made of sheets welded together. Except for the lack of decay, the place had every indicator of being built and abandoned long ago.
"I don't like this," Hockshop muttered. "Feels like I'm walking amidst a deactivated city-mech."
Phaeton was the first to encounter a resident. "Hey-!" his cry cut off.
Switchhitter turned and gave warning "We're surrounded!" before his voice too was silenced.
To his dismay, HotZone learned indeed that the deadness of the city had been an illusion. From the walls themselves, strange creatures, perhaps a single fathom in height, emerged. They were unlike anything he'd ever encountered before.
Tektite had time to gasp out "They are the neutrinium sources" before one grew, absorbing metal blocks from the roadwork, and inserted four stringy digitalis into Tektite's head.
Looking around in horror, Hot Zone noticed the rest of the crew was similarly immobilized - and one of the organic-looking creatures (but made of pure metal, how strange), had already quadrupled in height before shoving its weak-looking servos into his helm, bypassing all firewalls and other safeguards, designed to stop (or at least slow) all metal intrusion.
The pain, caused Hot Zone to deactivate, temporarily breaking the connection.
When Hot Zone recovered, he could see only one of Sepulcher's crew "Switchhitter!" and that mech was stone gray. His spark had extinguished. Hot Zone turned his head, needing to see the fate of th others. All within line of sight were lifeless husks.
Movement at the edge of his vision. Optics flared and tightened as they spotted one of the impossible beings. "Where's Hock-Shop? What happened to Lithograph?"
The weird creature stared at him, the white spheres with round dots of color looked so fragile and inefficient. Every visual indicator gave rise to the belief that the creature couldn't understand Cybertron, let alone replicate the specific harmonies and tones that created the language. So Hot Zone thought.
"Hock-Shop, Lithograph, RockWool, the others - they were disposed of after the information held in the quantum memory catches were absorbed into the Asuran collective. Their knowledge will be shared and relevant facts kept."
Thrown for a loop, Hot Zone glared. "Why was I spared?"
"You were their commander." Said the Asuran representative using the glottal like a true Cybertronian. "We have need of you.
"You will go to your government leaders, and demand they stay away form this planet.
"We have no need, nor desire to be subjugated by this Prime Nova, who seeks only to exploit everyone around him." The thing, already of equal height to Hot Zone, gained mass as it continued to absorb the interconnected nanites that composed everything in the city. "To make sure our warning is headed, I will accompany you to your homeworld."
Hot Zone watched, dumfounded, as the once tiny creature shifted forms into the exact likeness of Ohmmeter, one of the mechs who hadn't survived the landing.
"Well, that explains how you'd remain unnoticed and undetected," Hot Zone muttered to himself, before raising his voice to be heard by the unseen listeners. "What designation is yours?"
Faux Ohmmeter crossed its arms. The movement was unnatural for a real Transformer, yet somehow it fit the fluid-like ability of this ... strange alien. "What was the designation of this one? It will suffice until I can return here."
Hot Zone vented. This was supposed to be a simple supply run for one of the far-flung colonies, not a first-encounter situation.
TITLE: A sign of cowardice?
RATING: K
CHARACTER(S): Jazz, Bluestreak, Cliffjumper
UNIVERSE: Generation 1
GENRE: general
SUMMARY: Meaning of symbols is influenced and very depended on the culture one is raised in.
PROMPT: #5 Choose a prompt from the Master List 2012. 18th February, number one White feather
"... Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni. Yankee Doodle Dandy...." The song, sung by an exuberant group of fourth-graders echoed across the playground, resonating in the audios of the visiting Autobots.
"Feathers?" Bluestreak unfurled from his vehicle mode. "Why would this Yankee Doodle add bird plumage to his clothing, when humans can't even fly in the first place? Who was Yankee Doodle anyhow?"
Cliffjumper and Jazz also uncurled from their wheeled appearance. Jazz stretched, removing the kinks in his cables. Cliffjumper bounced on the balls of his feet. "You're curious about the feathers? I thought macaroni was a food item, not an insult."
"Do you think it was white?"
"What does the color have to do with the hysterical - "
"Historical, not hysterical, CJ" Jazz smoothly interrupted, helping his companions use the proper word. "I think Yankee Doodle refers to the American Colonial rebel."
Cliffjumper accepted the vocabulary correction. "Historical song? Nobody remembers because the color isn't important!"
"Colors do mean something!" Insisted Bluestreak. "I know yellow is used in reference to a coward -
"That's Yellow bellied patsy!" Cliffjumper rushed forward, only to be stopped by Jazz.
Jazz smoothly stepped between the two youngsters before the mild, playful argument could escalate into a fist-fight or worse. "Blue, why do you think it was a white feather this fictitious Yankee Doodle added to his hat?" He asked out of curiosity.
Cliffjumper pouted. He removed the pout when Jazz looked at him.
"Humans put a lot of stock in colors, and white has important significance." Bluestreak shrugged, uncertain. "I guess the exact color doesn't matter - but I still want to know what a feather symbolizes."
TITLE: Unspoken
CHARACTERS: Red Alert, Perceptor, Inferno
RATING: K
REALM: Any/All
SUMMARY: While actions speak louder than words, speaking is still necessary.
PROMPT: #6 A misunderstood apology
"Perceptor, I need your assistance in checking the circuit board of these cameras." Red Alert deposited dismantled computer chips in front of the red microscope.
The scientist looked up. "Oh, so now you want my help? I am still waiting for an apology."
"Apology?" Red Alert gapped. "I just did."
"How is dumping malfunctioning security equipment in front of me, demanding that I find the problem, and provide a working solution a proper apology?"
Inferno's not so quiet chuckles had the security director and scientist turning their ire towards him. "That's just Red's way of admitting he might have been overzealous in claiming you were willingly working with the enemy, and asking for forgiveness for jumping to conclusions."
Perceptor glared at Red Alert. Red Alert glared right back. Neither mech gave an inch.
"Face it Perceptor. If Red still harbored a smidgeon of suspicion, he wouldn't request your expertise - getting a verbal 'I'm sorry' from Red is almost as impossible as getting him to reveal a secret, or having Ratchet spill something he holds under doctor-patient confidentiality."
Perceptor grudgingly picked up a battered case. "I suppose I can double-check the mother-board - but hearing (or even reading) an apology would be appreciated."
Red Alert nodded once, stiffly. "I'll do my best to make sure you won't ever require one from me."