*snugs* I really like this one. It needs a jumpstart more than most. ♥
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Their last orn on Cybertron.
The gambit to launch the Allspark into space had paid off. Megatron had torn off after the artifact and left his Decepticons in disarray. The Autobots needed to move quickly and take advantage of the brief reprieve to organize their own recovery plans. What remained of the Space Defense fleet was quickly brought repaired back to flight worthiness. Each ship was assigned a skeleton crew, a variety of mechs to cover the basic duties they would encounter on their searches.
Ironhide did a final sweep of his quarters; a few shabby holographs were tucked reverently into his subspace, along with his weapons maintenance kit. A second kit he left sitting on his berth, Bluestreak would receive his time-delayed comm in an orn, along with the keycode required to retrieve it. At the door, he gave the room a final look, a sea of memories flagging to the fore of his processors, then he turned and sealed his quarters to walk to the hanger.
The weapons specialist had to weave though the mechs scattered through the halls and loading bays, those that were deployed trying to ensure their final wishes were left with friends in case they did not return. Ironhide strode straight for the Ark, moored near the end of the launch bay. He has ensured he was with the Command Ship, unwilling to be separated from his duties beside Optimus despite what else it meant he needed to leave behind.
As their Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet and Jazz boarded the Ark, having said farewell to their home planet and all they knew, Ironhide lingered on the ramp. His optics were on the crowd gathered in the hanger, pinned with laser precision on a red chevron and grey dorsal wings.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2011-02-19 12:41 am (UTC)~~~~~~~~
Their last orn on Cybertron.
The gambit to launch the Allspark into space had paid off. Megatron had torn off after the artifact and left his Decepticons in disarray. The Autobots needed to move quickly and take advantage of the brief reprieve to organize their own recovery plans. What remained of the Space Defense fleet was quickly brought repaired back to flight worthiness. Each ship was assigned a skeleton crew, a variety of mechs to cover the basic duties they would encounter on their searches.
Ironhide did a final sweep of his quarters; a few shabby holographs were tucked reverently into his subspace, along with his weapons maintenance kit. A second kit he left sitting on his berth, Bluestreak would receive his time-delayed comm in an orn, along with the keycode required to retrieve it. At the door, he gave the room a final look, a sea of memories flagging to the fore of his processors, then he turned and sealed his quarters to walk to the hanger.
The weapons specialist had to weave though the mechs scattered through the halls and loading bays, those that were deployed trying to ensure their final wishes were left with friends in case they did not return. Ironhide strode straight for the Ark, moored near the end of the launch bay. He has ensured he was with the Command Ship, unwilling to be separated from his duties beside Optimus despite what else it meant he needed to leave behind.
As their Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet and Jazz boarded the Ark, having said farewell to their home planet and all they knew, Ironhide lingered on the ramp. His optics were on the crowd gathered in the hanger, pinned with laser precision on a red chevron and grey dorsal wings.