2016-07-27 The Stars in their Courses

From Transformers: Lost and Found

The Stars in their Courses
Date 2016/07/27
Location Ratchet & Orbitalls Habsuite
Participants Orbitall, Ratchet
Summary After a rocky start, Ratchet and Orbitall find some common ground by looking to the sky.

Ratchet was on his berth, face down...more or less, sleeping restlessly. The floor was covered with data pads and a stylus as if he was scribling notes on one of them. The position he was in, one arm over the bunk, a leg half propped against the wall, it almost looked comical, like he fell asleep while reaching down for something under the bunk. The other arm, was along his side but the hand and part of the forearm were laying somewhat across his lower back.

Orbitall has been trying to keep himself relatively busy and out of his shared habsuite with Ratchet. It's not too difficult. He doesn't mind sitting in Swerve's or the common room instead of coming back to the hab suite. Right now, he's entering in order to retrieve a datapad. At first, he assumes that no one is in there, until he sees Ratchet sprawled on his berth. "Oh," Orbitall comments, then closes his mouth. Probably shouldn't be speaking when Ratchet's apparently trying to sleep.

Ratchet lets out a low moan and his face scrunches somewhat into confusion and worry. His fingers twitch as his body shifts a little closer to the edge of the birth. He mumbles something '...can't do this.....don't...'

Being quiet is hard for someone of Orbitall's size. He gives it an effort, though. He doesn't want to just walk out of the hab suite, because he needs something to occupy him until his next shift starts. So he clomps through the room, his token effort at silence meaning his footsteps at least don't ring out with the sound of metal on metal. He keeps an audial peeled for the sound of Ratchet shifting, so when Ratchet starts muttering, he pauses and looks toward the medic, helm cocked curiously.

Ratchet suddenly jerks as if he'd been hit by something, perhaps in his replay circuits. He lets out a bit of a shout, startling awake and it's all that's needed for him to topple off the berth and slam into the floor. He groans as he shifts, trying to get his arm out from under his bulk. He doesn't seem fully awake as if unsure where he is and what just happened.

...Well. Orbitall blinks. He certainly wasn't expecting a reaction like that. He watches as Ratchet goes tumbling off the berth, but on the other side of the room, there's not much he can do to prevent it. He takes a few steps closer as Ratchet begins to stir again. "Everything intact?" he asks, as he comes over to offer Ratchet a hand up.

"Where...?" He pauses to look around, then looks up at the offered hand, "How did I...?" He can't seem to finish his thoughts as if he's a bit scrambled. Still unable to get his arm free from under him without looking like a turtle on his back, he holds up his free hand as if asking Orbitall to pull him up.

"Hab suite, on the floor," Orbitall reports in response to Ratchet's confused mumbling. "Might've rolled off," Orbitall rumbles. "Did you hit your helm there?" That silent request (Orbitall takes it as a request, anyway) doesn't go unnoticed. Sure enough, Orbitall takes Ratchet's hand and pulls him upright, with maybe a bit too much force in the tug. "Seemed like your recharge was giving you trouble, though."

Ratchet gives a grunt as he feels himself pulled up and he hangs onto Orbitalls hand for a moment as he gets his feet under him, looking a little more awake. "I was?" he asks. Looking around he lets go of Orbitall's servo, then checks his chronmetor, "I must have really needed recharge...I've been out for cycles now."

"You've been grumpy," Orbitall supplies, apparently in agreement with Ratchet on his need for recharge. He puts his free hand on Ratchet's pauldron to steady him once he's upright, then removes both of his hands once it seems that Ratchet's found his footing and won't stagger in a sleepy daze. "I thought you'd still be working when I came in here."

Ratchet looks upward at you, "I should have been working. I wonder how I went into recharge. I set parameters not to until I finished my research." He looks then down at the floor and the data pads scattered around and then back up. "I havne't seen you around lately."

Orbitall shrugs. He doesn't know how Ratchet could have fallen asleep, but he's willing to bet that he was tired enough that he either set the parameters wrong or just fell asleep anyway. He glances down at the datapads when Ratchet does, then steps back, to give Ratchet room to pick the datapads up if he'd like. "I haven't been," he answers Ratchet, as he moves back toward his own berth. "Since you didn't want a roommate."

Ratchet had bent over to start picking up his data pads and the stylus but when Orbitall mentioned not wanting a roommate, Ratchet stood back up. For a fleeting moment, there almost seemed to be a look of embarassment on his face. "Yeah, about that," he mumbles, "Sorry I was aft head." He doesn't say anything else, going back to getting the floor picked up so nothing is stepped on.

Orbitall continues on toward his berth, and kneels to pull a rather large datapad out from underneath it. He tucks it under his arm, but doesn't make a move to leave the room just yet. "It's your room," he comments. "Was your room? Whatever. I'm glad you didn't just assume I was breaking in."

Ratchet straightens and with arms full of data pads he looks over at Orbitall, "Was just having a...rough patch. Had too many lugheads getting themselves hurt for no reason." He glances down at the data pad in your hands, "You heading out somewhere?"

"Isn't that what soldiers are supposed to do?" Orbitall wonders sotto voce, but he doesn't linger on the comment. He glances down at the datapad he's carrying. "Just to find a window," he answers. He flips the datapad screen on and holds it up to show Ratchet. The whole thing is covered with star charts, detailed all over with a shaky hand. "I've been mapping the sky around the colony."

Ratchet blinks and looks at the data pad, then looks out the window, "You did all of that?" he asks almost in awe. "Was that what I saw when I met you that first night?"

"The projector?" Orbitall says, shaking his helm. "I made that one too, but it wasn't Dunia. That one was Cybertron, before the war." He nods toward the projector, which is still sitting at the head of his berth. "It's probably changed while I was gone, and I didn't get enough time to update it before we left." He looks down at his datapad, turning over the stylus that goes with it. "I like it the way it is, though."

Ratchet seemed to suddenly jerk in place, "You mapped the stars....of Cybertron...." He pauses, as if he's afraid to ask for a small favor, afraid to see something he had dreamed of for millions of years after war broke out. In a quiet voice, he asks. "Can I see that...again?"

Orbitall blinks at him, his stare lingering for a moment. Finally, he sets the datapad aside and reaches over to pick up the projector. "Sure," he says, setting it down in the middle of the room. "Just don't take it out of here," he adds, his hands lingering over the projector. "I don't want something to happen to it." That said, he finally switches it on, letting the panorama of stars sweep through the room again.

What Ratchet sees as he looks up makes his intakes stall just a little. The stars of home, of a time when life was innocent, mechs walked the streets for the pleasure of it, meeting with friends, lovers, partners. There were always problems below the surface but most mechs were average 'Joe's', hard workers, got their pay, went home and enjoyed life.

Ratchet turns slightly, carefully setting the datapads down on his berth as he still stared upward. "I used to sit and watch the stars, go out to the outskirts the city with Orion Pax or one of my classmates. We'd sit for hours just staring out at the stars, wondering what life held out there." He points upward, "The Ometer Cluster," then points to another grouping of stars, "The Primus Major". He takes a few moments to look around, pointing out and naming a multitude of groupings, formations and annomolies. His voice grows quiet as memories flood his processor, of mechs that died milinnea ago, senseless deaths.

Orbitall sits in silence for a while as Ratchet looks around, and starts pointing out cluster after cluster. "You know," he says eventually, his voice rumbling in the room, "I never knew that they had names. I just called them by their quadrants." He falls quiet again, content to listen as Ratchet fills his map with history.

Ratchet nods and sits on the edge of his berth, "They all had one remembers them though." He grows quiet, and sits, staring upward.

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