OPEN | Minimus's Arrival

[legalcy]

CHARACTERS: Minimus Ambus and You
LOCATION: Living area and training area
DATE: Early May, pre-mission
CONTENT: Minimus organizes his room and freshens up on his combat skills
WARNINGS: tbd

Living Quarters

[His room is too barebones for his liking.

Without a proper office, Minimus's new living quarters must function as a place of work and storage for all the paperwork he will inevitably receive. At least, he hopes that he has paperwork. Surely the missions that he will be sent on won't entirely entail fieldwork.

But he mustn't complain. If all of this isn't a dream and he was told the truth, this might all be worth it. Dominus deserves this opportunity.

The door to his quarters is open, where he is checking the paintings on the wall and shaking his head repeatedly before rearranging the artwork.] No, no, no. There's too much empty space. I don't even need this closet! [Works as storage, but robots don't wear clothes. It would be best if he handed it off to someone else or used it to keep larger items, but he needs the space for a desk.

So, to make things quick, an 8-foot-tall robot leans down and lifts the entire piece of furniture like nothing. He angles it to fit through the doorway before noticing someone out in the hall.]

My apologies. Please step out of the way, I do not wish you hurt you.

Training Room

[It's been too long since the end of the war. Since he last saw combat. It's not that he's complaining, no, overseeing the Luna-1 generation brings his great joy in his life, but that career gives him little time to practice. His combat skills have gotten a bit rusty over the years.

It would make sense to practice hand-to-hand combat, considering that he ought to be the first line of defense while the more delicate organic beings stay far at a safe distance. For now, he goes through his warm-ups on a training dummy, practicing his punches. Despite all those years of peace, he finds it easy to remember how to best strike an enemy.

The poor dummy is getting pretty worn down.]

Comments

[droide]

[ Elthree has been working hard on upgrades to her new arm, but she can't keep working forever. Eventually she must return to the room she shares with Finn and recharge. She's fresh off of one recharging session, on her way to the lab to get back to work, when her path is suddenly blocked by a wardrobe of some kind. She stops in her tracks, and looks up past the piece of furniture to the being holding it. ]

...Let me guess, Cybertronian?

[ He's similarly enough designed to Drift and Megatron that it feels like a safe assumption to make. At least he isn't quite as dreadfully tall. ]

[legalcy]

Yes. I am. [He's met Megatron already, and he did mention Drift was here as well. It would make sense that she recognizes what he is.] Have you met the others?

[droide]

Yeah, we all arrived at the same time. I'm L3-37.

[ She'd offer to help him move furniture, but... yeah, no, she doesn't feel like doing that. ]

[legalcy]

[It's fine, he gets it through the door just fine by himself.]

Minimus Ambus. It's pleasant to see another mechanic being on this ship. I was planning to investigate what services the ship provides for us, considering that the design is organic-oriented.

Training Room

[aurable]

[ Drift had a problem: He had an abundance of negative enegry to burn, and the only person on the station who could safely help him was the direct cause of that. He needed to redirect it somewhere and right now the training room was his best best. If he couldn't hit something then maybe he could meditate anout hitting something while he was there.

This was all his own stubborn fault, but he wasn't ready to admit that yet. Megatron had gotten deep under his plating - right where it hurt the most and Drift leveled abuse in kind. Too much, perhaps. Maybe he'll be the bigger bot, he wasn't going to say so anytime in the perceivable future.

The doors slide open, Drift rolling his shoulders ready to strike the first dummy - when the other foot dropped. ]

Minimus?!

[legalcy]

[Minimus's fist slams against the dummy's chest and steps away. It should be dead by this point. Drift's voice doesn't even visibly effect him - though considering how his own emotions work, it should come to no surprise. Then again, Megatron did tell him that he was here, and they did speak a few days ago.

He turns to his old crewmate with a smile hidden behind the facial insignia. Drift has also shrunk and while he is still taller than Minimus, the height difference has almost entirely disappeared.]

Drift. [He folds his arms in a friendly way.] I was wondering when I would see you here. This ship is too small for us to continuously miss one another.

[aurable]

I'm difficult to miss. [ Drift answered with a flat tone, not sure what he should be feeling right now. This was almost comically unfair, and in a twisted way, a turn of fate of his own doing. ]

I wasn't aware you had...arrived.

[legalcy]

It was only this morning, actually. Apparently, Megatron arrived earlier than either of us.

[The smile is visible when he says his name. How can he not be happy? He came to address one regret, and he was given the opportunity to amend a different one.]

Regardless, I haven't seen you and Ratchet in a week. How is your clinic doing?

[aurable]

He and I arrived at the same time, actually. [ Drift said cautiously, thinking he said the other mech's name he might spit something out he'll immediately regret.

Unfortunately, what Minimus said next came down hard like a slap in the face. Drift thinks he had gone momentarily deaf as the sheer gall of the comment sends him spiraling into an icey cold tunnel where the only stimuli he could register was his own important anger and the feeling of his arm reeling back.

Before inconvenient thoughts such as the logical conclusion Minimus was from a different point in time, or simply didn't deserve his ire for an honest mistake, Drift threw the punch.

They might be similarly sized and Ambus might've been a load bearer but the hit struck true and connected with a thunderous crack that reverberated up Drift's arm and echoed with the force in the aftermath. ]

[legalcy]

You did? How- [Before he can finish the question, something strikes him in the chest and knocks him back. He's not in the Magnus Armor, and despite his strength, his small weight leaves him defenseless against heavy blows.

Minimus stumbles backward, wondering how the warm thoughts of seeing a friend and a lost companion turned into icy pain that freezes his frame. Ultimately, it's the shock of the attack that has him lose his footing and fall back onto the mat.

He lies there, processing what happened. He hopes Drift didn't break anything. He hopes nothing inside of him cracked.]

[aurable]

[ The satisfaction Drift's hindbrain had been hoping for in the impulse act of abrupt and terrible violence didn't come. Not immediately after, nor in the arduous seconds that pass between them after Minimus is knocked clear off his feet. The only company Drift's shock finds is a sickening guilt that tastes like ash and energon bile. ]

Ambus- ! I...I... I didn't-

[ Now Drift goes stumbling back, hitting the side of the door before he does what he did best: He ran. ]

Living Quarters

[spacedisaster]

[ Is the shouting what gets Peter's attention first, making him pause even if he doesn't make it a habit to spy on people, open doors or not. He doesn't recognize the voice, which is the thing, so he figures it must be one of the new orbers having some trouble.

It doesn't take a genius to tell that this is another of the cybertronians, and seeing him lift that desk as if it weighs nothing and step out of the room has Peter staring at it in wonderment. Ah, his inner 8 year old child is squeeing. His outer 39 years old man is barely stopping himself from smiling like a fool too. ]

What? Oh sorry, my bad. [ Peter does as requested, stepping to the side so he's no longer in the way but not going away completely. ] Do you need any help? You're new here, I take it.

[legalcy]

N- [A pause. He could use some help. Standard procedure dictates that at least two people carry long, heavy material under space OSHA.] Yes. I don't want to damage the walls or furniture. Help me guide this through the frame.

[spacedisaster]

Sure, it's no problem. [ Oh well, if space OSHA dictates that, who is Peter to refuse. Never mind the fact he doesn't even know the OSHA procedures of his own home planet. Peter moves around, so he can reach the side of the desk that's closer to him and move it to avoid hitting the door frame. ]

Just move it a little to the left. Your left, not mine. Easy, easy...there. My name is Peter Quill, by the way. Or you can call me Star-Lord. It's nice to meet you.

[ Cyebetronians usually find his nickname more 'normal' than his human name, so he offers both easily. ]

[legalcy]

[Minimus is slow but thorough in following Peter's directions. It takes time, but the cabinet never touches the walls as he steps to the side and barely shakes as he walks.]

Star-Lord? Is that a title, or a secondary name? [Some species have alternate designations that aliens can pronounce. Minimus assumes this is a case of the latter.]

[spacedisaster]

It's a nickname, so yeah, secondary name. I don't own any stars. Not yet, at least. [ Who knows how things will go in the future? His life is truly weird sometimes. He had a planet for a biological dad, after all. ]

And your name is...? [ Peter's hands are still up and holding one side of the cabinet to help Minimus, even if he knows from his interaction with other Cybertronian that they are way stronger than any human. Is the intention of helping what counts, though. ]

Where do you want to put this?

[legalcy]

Minimus Ambus. [He steps out of the room and into the hallway.] There should be space in the common area. I moved the furniture in case this happened.

[spacedisaster]

A pleasure, Minimus. I'll shake your hand but it's full of cabinet. [ Peter says with a smile before acknowledging the new information and starting to take steps towards the common area. He figures that Cybertronians maybe have no use for things like cabinets. Or wardrobes. Or toilets. ]

I imagine you already know we have other Cybertronians on board...? That's why we also have Energon in storage if you are hungry. Or is it thirsty?

Wildcard; medbay

[flickerandfade]

( Picking up from here. )

[ Megatron is doing his shift in the Medbay. It's quiet, thankfully, and so there's little to do but continue studying the various medical texts about organic medical practice and hope that on the next msision he has a firm enough grasp that he can provide better aid should the need arise. The close call with Doctor McCoy had been, on reflection, deeply disturbing.

He wants to be able to do better. It's all that he can do, really. He scrolls through his tablet and doesn't bother looking up when the door opens. ]

Doctor McCoy, is that you? I was under the impression this was your day off rotation, especially considering--

[ He finally looks up, stills as his eyes settle on Minimus. It still feels unreal that Minimus is here and it takes a moment for his processors to catch up. ]

...Is something the matter, Minimus?

[legalcy]

[Minimus is fighting to look calm and collected with the help of a hand on the doorframe keeping him standing. The medbay looks different than the ones on Cybertron, but the addition of Megatron makes it feel like a place for Cybertronians, too. So many foreign medical devices serve to deter him, signs that this is meant for organics.]

Tell Drift that I do not appreciate attacks on my person outside of training, especially when I'm attempting conversation! [The fire of indignation has him wobble forward.] Is there someone to whom I can complain of violent behavior? Where are the ship rules?

[He manages to make it to the medical slab (bed? Is that what humans call them?) before he has to stop.] Are you studying organic medicine?

[flickerandfade]

Drift attacked you? What happened?

[ Megatron doesn't exactly sound surprised, but he places his tablet down and moves to gently support Minimus towards the bed, one hand firmly at the other's elbow. ]

First, I don't think it's best I speak to him. He and I are on rather unstable terms at the moment.

Second, there aren't any, really. The captain of the station is a recluse and it's rather anarchic otherwise. We organize ourselves and do our best to respect each other's autonomy.

[ He gently urges Minimus to sit and turns to pluck up the massive, cannon-shaped medical kit. Opening it, he plucks out a hand-held medical scanner and turns back towards the other mech. ]

Yes. There are... five inorganic crew members, the other fifty-odd are humans or human-like organics. I thought if I was going to contribute to the success of our mission, it would be best to expand my skillset.

[legalcy]

I mentioned that I hadn't seen him and Ratchet in a week, and then he clarified that he came here with you just before he struck me!

[Minimus accepts Megatron's hand to boost himself up onto the bed. Once situated, he uncovers the wound inflicted on his torso, just under his chest plating. A few cracks are visible.]

If there aren't any rules, it's about time that we instate a few. A crew of this size can't be managed by an honor code alone!

[The scan reveals that the damage isn't deep, but the injury has cracked some sensitive sensors and twisted a cable. It can heal on its own with enough time, but it won't be a pleasant rest. Minimus huffs.]

It will be a complicated field of study. Humans work very differently from us.

[flickerandfade]

You'll need to convince the rest of the crew to go along with it. Which might be difficult--it's like the Lost Light but with organics.

[ Oh. Oh. Realization hits Megatron like Optimus Prime a truck. He looks down at the scanner for a moment, so that he can compose a way to respond. He's also distracted by the injury. He only has so much nanite paste on hand--a little putty to help mend the cracks would go a long way, but what if he needs it for a proper emergency? This isn't life threatening and Minimus will mend by the time the next mission starts... ]

Minimus.

[ He's glad the other is sitting down for this. ]

Drift... both of us, that is... we're from further along in the timeline than you.

Ratchet is dead. Spark burnout exacerbated by overwork. Drift is not coping well.

[ Megatron exhales, venting a little as his whole frame seems to shrink with misery. ]

He's here to try and have another chance at the quantum coinflip on the Lost Light.

[legalcy]

[It's as if he's being hit by another punch to the gut, only this time it manages to reach his Spark.]

What?

[Is this functioning like the Warren? Did - at some point in Drift's perspective - Minimus disappear for a few months? How long has Megatron been in prison?]

How far? [Wait, Megatron wouldn't know. Minimus holds up a hand.] No, don't answer that. How long ago did he arrive on this ship?

[flickerandfade]

The same time I did. Roughly...

[ How long had it been? It feels longer, sometimes... ]

...five months ago. Exactly five months, actually.

[ He reaches into the medical kit with a routine and takes out a self-sealing patch. Not as good as nanite paste, but it would do. He leans forward. ]

Do you mind parting this plating here? You have some twisted wiring.