august catch-all log

[skelepun]

Who: Sans and a lot of goddamn people
When: The first half of August
Where: All around the ship!
What: Various closed prompts covering Sans' arrival + laying some groundwork for future Enterprises.
Warnings: Nothing off the top of the dome! Will update if any surface.


[ All prompts will be in the comments! Please let me know if you have any ideas for starters and either PM this account or PP safelybeds and I'll write something up for you! ]

Comments

[aminerproblem]

The Rodpod was the most hideous piece of Cybertronian technology Megatron has ever had the displeasure of seeing with his own two eyes.

Of all the respectably-designed shuttles held in the Lost Light's cargo bay, he loathed that this orange monstrosity was what the Ingress decided to pull through the dimensional funnel between their universes.

But alas, he nonetheless willed himself to tromp down to the cargo deck anyway and review its systems following the rescue mission down on the Slaver's planet. Anything to take his mind off recent revelations. The exterior of the ship was marred with black soot and burnt paint caused by gunfire, but structurally seemed quite sound. He seems too focused on the task at hand to immediately notice Sans snooping around, and opens the entrance to the cockpit.

Although the shuttle was a small craft by Megatron's standards, it would be quite large for anyone else. The main area could easily fit a dozen Cybertronians inside, and all the control panels were scaled accordingly. He takes a seat in one of the two cockpit chairs, making the shuttle hum with life as he powers on the systems one at a time. A holographic heads up display flickers to life in front of him, displaying the process as it went.

[skelepun]

It's a simple bit of work, sliding in after Megatron. His choice to eschew standard uniform footwear in favor of a pair of slippers might draw skeptical looks from some, but Sans found them far better suited for stealth. If Megatron thinks to look closely around the ship's floor, he might detect a flash of blue now and again, but nothing concrete.

Inside the ship, from his fresh vantage point behind one of the console chairs, Sans narrows his sockets while scanning the displays. Seemed to be some sort of system diagnostic?

In a flash, Sans wasn't behind the chair, but in it. Even standing at his full height, he could only barely see over the top of the chair back, eye sockets still narrowed while he felt around in his pocket for a pad and pencil.

[aminerproblem]

There was a lot preoccupying Megatron's mind besides the physical act of running through diagnostics, so he doesn't look down. Going through the routine was just something he could do to avoid falling into a pit of his own thoughts.

Sans's note-taking may be a little complicated by the fact that all the text on the screens were in compact blocks of neocybex. The controls click and whirr, oddly physical in nature despite clearly having the technology to make something more sleek. There was nothing quite the same as feeling some of the feedback through your hands, after all.

An image of the ship winks to life on screen, highlighting the fuel tanks and propulsion nozzles. Megatron puts his hand on a throttle. He slowly guns the engines, making the entire ship rumble for a few moments as thin blue flames burst out the rear. The metal rattles slightly as it intensifies further, until the screen starts beeping and two of the six thrusters flash red. The force quiets down as an annoyed growl rumbles from his own internal engine.

"Hm. One and four again."

He continues going through the diagnostic, checking the cannons and other weapons, the exhausts, minor climate control (more for comfort than anything - it's not like Cybertronians needed to breathe), and other systems. The HUD highlighted them as he went though, but most of the information was in the charts and graphs displayed onscreen, which of course were in their own language.

[skelepun]

Sans dutifully scratched out the symbols as best he could, drawing them in broad strokes. It was a failing endeavor, and one Sans abandons after a few moments of botched scribbling.

Instead he fires up the camera app on his MID, lifting the wrist mounted device up over the chair's back. Pictures were worth a thousand poorly approximated neocybex, after all. He knew enough Cybertronians with bad feelings towards Megatron to get it translated somewhere. Probably. Maybe.

The angle was awkward and Sans had to scrabble now and then to keep his vantage point when the ship began rumbling. Occasionally, his bones would scrap against the chair, but Sans endeavored to duck down whenever he made a noise loud enough to feasibly be heard. Granted, with the noise from the ship, he allowed himself a little more wiggle room than was probably wise.

Whatever Megatron was running diagnostics for, Sans was keen to find out. Routine? Maybe. Probably. But at the very least, Sans hoped to keep track of the motions -- perhaps he could mimic them later.

Or at least turn it on.

[aminerproblem]

"I assure you, a systems check is quite dull," he says, completely deadpan,"even for this abomination of a ship."

He'd heard some of the distinctly non-metallic scratching noises nearby (you get used to these things when being with stealthy Decepticons like Ravage), but only really took note when the Ship's scanners detected something electronic turning on within the cockpit. So, unless his own MID decided to acquire a mind of its own, someone else was here with him.

With two button presses, all the data present on the screen disappear, and it goes blank. Though, perhaps not before Sans could get a snapshot of the last screen he'd been looking at, holding data that would reveal considerable amounts of space-time distortion sitting right in front of him. A dormant interdimensional knot floating at robot chest level over the currently occupied pilot chair.

He glances back, not looking particularly angry, at least, but still scanning around for his unexpected companion.

[skelepun]

Sans doesn't bother ducking back down, not when it's abundantly clear Megatron knew he was there. There was always teleportation of course, but Sans' mind was too busy buzzing with what he thinks he may have seen.

The language was impossible for him to parse, but math was a universal form of communication. If he was even somewhat close to correct on his interpretation of the symbols, then this ship held a lot more interest than he previously thought.

"Uh, hey." He waves, leaning over the top of the chair with an apparent lack of concern. "You and me have differing opinions on dull."