Survival Instincts, an 07/09 movieverse fic (pt 1 of ?)
Title: Survival Instincts (1/?)
Universe: 07/09 movie
Rating: PG13 (could go up in later chapters)
Characters: Sunstreaker, Blaster, eventual appearances of Eject, Rewind, Steeljaw and Ramhorn
Warnings: spoilers for Revenge of the Fallen
Summary: Five vorns trapped together in a shuttle could have been bad, but somehow Blaster made it easy for Sunstreaker to stay sane and keep them alive.
Notes: many, many, many thanks to spotlight_noa for his input on this fic. i keep asking him for advice and he keeps coming up with brilliant ideas and answers for me. this fic would not be here without you, Noa!
also, my movieverse Sunstreaker is not the vain peacock you're probably expecting.
“You better head back in. That storm I’ve been tracking for the last groon will be on top of you soon.”
Blaster’s voice was quiet over the comm line, something Sunstreaker still couldn’t get used to--even after five vorns of living together in the same shuttle. Blaster wasn’t supposed to be quiet; he was supposed to be bright and loud. But his vocal processors had been damaged during the Decepticon raid they’d barely escaped from together--same as the rest of him--and Sunstreaker didn’t have the knowledge to repair him.
“I haven’t managed to forage enough energy for one of us, let alone both,” the warrior replied, turning his own sensors to the weather. Blaster was right; his current alternate mode wasn’t anything close to fast enough to outrun the sandstorm that was bearing down on them.
“Yeah, but if you get caught out there, there isn’t going to be enough of you left to go foraging for either of us. We can get by on what you did find and what’s left in the weapons’ batteries for a little longer.”
They really couldn’t--they were likely to need every bit of power in those batteries sometime soon--but he would also be scrapped by the storm if he kept looking. Then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take care of the communications specialist, and Blaster would deactivate alone and starving on a shuttle he was too damaged to fly. Sunstreaker turned back toward the ship without any more arguing.
“All right. I’m coming in.” If he pushed himself, he would be inside and have the shuttle’s outer hatch sealed up just before the storm caught up to him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He heard the first sounds of sand scratching over hull plating--and winced at the thought of what it could have been doing to his plating if he was still out in it--just as he was stepping away from the airlock. A moment later, Blaster’s voice crackled out of the comm speaker next to it.
“I was afraid you weren’t going to make it in time.”
“Yeah, well, you know me. I always cut it close.”
“Sometimes that’s a good thing.” The other mech didn’t need to say anything else for Sunstreaker to know that he was talking about his rescue from the Decepticons. If the warrior had managed to get away with his brother, he would never have been in the same corridor as Blaster when Soundwave decided to tear him up.
“I know. Want me to bring anything with me when I come to the bridge?”
“Just whatever you found out there.” Sunstreaker could swear he heard a grin in the other mech’s voice. “That and your pretty face should be enough.”
“Right.” he was never sure if Blaster was flirting or playing to his old vanity with those kind of statements. Not that he had time for vanity anymore; caring for two mechs--six if you counted Blaster’s symbiotes--took all the time he had. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He made his way to the fore of the shuttle--they called it the bridge to distinguish it from the recharging compartment--quickly, pulling out the small container of natural gas he had managed to coax out of the surface of the planet. He didn’t know what it was composed of, but the survival kit Perceptor had made for him a long, long time ago said it was usable as a fuel source once they ran it through their converter. It wouldn’t do much for their supplies, but it might keep Blaster going a little bit longer.
“I heard an interesting message while you were out,” Blaster said when he stepped onto the bridge.
“What, more ‘Cons heading our way?” Sunstreaker did his best to ignore the glowing cables connecting the damaged mech to the shuttle’s communications array as he stopped next to the fuel converter. They hadn’t bothered him before the raid, but seeing what Soundwave had been doing with his--how he had been violating the other mech--made him more than a little leery of them now.
“No. It was from Optimus Prime.”
The warrior looked up from the canister he had been carefully emptying into the converter. “What? You mean Prime’s still online?”
“The message was signed with his personal code,” Blaster replied. “So he’s either still online or it’s the most elaborate Decepticon hoax I’ve seen in vorns.”
If Optimus Prime was still online, then he would be traveling with his team, and that would mean a real medic for Blaster. He met the other mech’s optics, and all he could see in Blaster’s expression was hope. “What did it say?”
“That they were alive and on some back of beyond planet. He’s calling the Autobots to it.”
“It won’t be an easy trip,” Sunstreaker said.
“Have we gotten to do anything the easy way since we left Cybertron?” the communication specialist glanced over at the symbiotes that Sunstreaker hadn’t noticed piled up in the pilot’s seat. “Besides, it’s the only hope they’ve got left.”
The warrior decided not to mention that it was the only hope Blaster had left, too. He couldn’t help but notice the other mech’s shredded wings and missing limbs as he looked at him. Blaster was beaten, but not broken--though it had been a close thing.
“They’ll go offline if we don’t try.” The communications specialist sounded so spark broken, that Sunstreaker regretted his hesitation. Blaster loved the little mechs dearly, that had been well evidenced when he had sorrowfully put them into stasis to conserve what little energy they had left, and he hadn’t meant to imply that he didn’t care what happened to them.
“I know,” Sunstreaker replied. “Did the message give us any coordinates?”
“Yes.”
The warrior leaned over the pilot’s console, careful not to jostle the symbiotes. Not that they would notice. “Give them to me.”
Universe: 07/09 movie
Rating: PG13 (could go up in later chapters)
Characters: Sunstreaker, Blaster, eventual appearances of Eject, Rewind, Steeljaw and Ramhorn
Warnings: spoilers for Revenge of the Fallen
Summary: Five vorns trapped together in a shuttle could have been bad, but somehow Blaster made it easy for Sunstreaker to stay sane and keep them alive.
Notes: many, many, many thanks to spotlight_noa for his input on this fic. i keep asking him for advice and he keeps coming up with brilliant ideas and answers for me. this fic would not be here without you, Noa!
also, my movieverse Sunstreaker is not the vain peacock you're probably expecting.
“You better head back in. That storm I’ve been tracking for the last groon will be on top of you soon.”
Blaster’s voice was quiet over the comm line, something Sunstreaker still couldn’t get used to--even after five vorns of living together in the same shuttle. Blaster wasn’t supposed to be quiet; he was supposed to be bright and loud. But his vocal processors had been damaged during the Decepticon raid they’d barely escaped from together--same as the rest of him--and Sunstreaker didn’t have the knowledge to repair him.
“I haven’t managed to forage enough energy for one of us, let alone both,” the warrior replied, turning his own sensors to the weather. Blaster was right; his current alternate mode wasn’t anything close to fast enough to outrun the sandstorm that was bearing down on them.
“Yeah, but if you get caught out there, there isn’t going to be enough of you left to go foraging for either of us. We can get by on what you did find and what’s left in the weapons’ batteries for a little longer.”
They really couldn’t--they were likely to need every bit of power in those batteries sometime soon--but he would also be scrapped by the storm if he kept looking. Then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take care of the communications specialist, and Blaster would deactivate alone and starving on a shuttle he was too damaged to fly. Sunstreaker turned back toward the ship without any more arguing.
“All right. I’m coming in.” If he pushed himself, he would be inside and have the shuttle’s outer hatch sealed up just before the storm caught up to him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He heard the first sounds of sand scratching over hull plating--and winced at the thought of what it could have been doing to his plating if he was still out in it--just as he was stepping away from the airlock. A moment later, Blaster’s voice crackled out of the comm speaker next to it.
“I was afraid you weren’t going to make it in time.”
“Yeah, well, you know me. I always cut it close.”
“Sometimes that’s a good thing.” The other mech didn’t need to say anything else for Sunstreaker to know that he was talking about his rescue from the Decepticons. If the warrior had managed to get away with his brother, he would never have been in the same corridor as Blaster when Soundwave decided to tear him up.
“I know. Want me to bring anything with me when I come to the bridge?”
“Just whatever you found out there.” Sunstreaker could swear he heard a grin in the other mech’s voice. “That and your pretty face should be enough.”
“Right.” he was never sure if Blaster was flirting or playing to his old vanity with those kind of statements. Not that he had time for vanity anymore; caring for two mechs--six if you counted Blaster’s symbiotes--took all the time he had. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He made his way to the fore of the shuttle--they called it the bridge to distinguish it from the recharging compartment--quickly, pulling out the small container of natural gas he had managed to coax out of the surface of the planet. He didn’t know what it was composed of, but the survival kit Perceptor had made for him a long, long time ago said it was usable as a fuel source once they ran it through their converter. It wouldn’t do much for their supplies, but it might keep Blaster going a little bit longer.
“I heard an interesting message while you were out,” Blaster said when he stepped onto the bridge.
“What, more ‘Cons heading our way?” Sunstreaker did his best to ignore the glowing cables connecting the damaged mech to the shuttle’s communications array as he stopped next to the fuel converter. They hadn’t bothered him before the raid, but seeing what Soundwave had been doing with his--how he had been violating the other mech--made him more than a little leery of them now.
“No. It was from Optimus Prime.”
The warrior looked up from the canister he had been carefully emptying into the converter. “What? You mean Prime’s still online?”
“The message was signed with his personal code,” Blaster replied. “So he’s either still online or it’s the most elaborate Decepticon hoax I’ve seen in vorns.”
If Optimus Prime was still online, then he would be traveling with his team, and that would mean a real medic for Blaster. He met the other mech’s optics, and all he could see in Blaster’s expression was hope. “What did it say?”
“That they were alive and on some back of beyond planet. He’s calling the Autobots to it.”
“It won’t be an easy trip,” Sunstreaker said.
“Have we gotten to do anything the easy way since we left Cybertron?” the communication specialist glanced over at the symbiotes that Sunstreaker hadn’t noticed piled up in the pilot’s seat. “Besides, it’s the only hope they’ve got left.”
The warrior decided not to mention that it was the only hope Blaster had left, too. He couldn’t help but notice the other mech’s shredded wings and missing limbs as he looked at him. Blaster was beaten, but not broken--though it had been a close thing.
“They’ll go offline if we don’t try.” The communications specialist sounded so spark broken, that Sunstreaker regretted his hesitation. Blaster loved the little mechs dearly, that had been well evidenced when he had sorrowfully put them into stasis to conserve what little energy they had left, and he hadn’t meant to imply that he didn’t care what happened to them.
“I know,” Sunstreaker replied. “Did the message give us any coordinates?”
“Yes.”
The warrior leaned over the pilot’s console, careful not to jostle the symbiotes. Not that they would notice. “Give them to me.”