2017-11-13 Forward Progress
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Map Room - Science & Medical|
|Participants||Blast Off, Whisper|
|Summary||Blast Off and Whisper compare notes on the path ahead.|
Things have gotten even more interesting. Of course, Blast Off thought things were *interesting* enough as it was when the DJD suddenly showed up and then the Lost Light battled the forces of the Harbingers. Yeah, that was interesting enough for the shuttleformer's tastes, but Noooope there's even more going on now. So. Optimus Prime and Megatron have finally been *found*... maybe... and... well, Blast Off isn't quite sure what he thinks of this. But he knows one thing- he and his team in Navigation will do their best to use the coordinates they've been given and find where X marks the spot.
The Combaticon stands in the Map Room, inputting coordinates into the 3D map taking up space in the center. He looks up, violet optics focused and serious. Black fingers tap another button and an asteroid field appears in the middle, causing Blast Off to make a *hrrmmm* sound. "Looks like that's a no-go, too. I think the route through Proxilass Alpha might be our best bet for an effecient route."
Whisper tilts her head in acknowledgment, the bright yellow gleam of her visor angled up at Blast Off for an extended pause. She reaches up with a single pointed finger, drawing a line from Proxilass Alpha to bounce across multiple other star systems -- routing around a nebula, an asteroid field, and a noticeably hyperpopulated galactically civilized star system on the way. It will add distance to their travel. Whisper does not offer any speech to support her proposal; she merely turns her gaze back to Blast Off again, curious, expectant.
Blast Off looks up at the locations Whisper points to. "That nebula might be a good start." He pauses to study it a moment, then glance down to the name onscreen before gazing up at it again. "I believe that is an especially attractive nebula... one of the more fluorescent ones you'll see around this area... if we pass by when conditions are right it would be quite a show..." He taps his chin thoughtfully, a spark of eagerness in his eye. This lasts for a brief moment before realization hits and duty calls.
He clears his throat, shakes his head, and looks down to begin inputting some more data. "Well... I mean, not that we're on a sightseeing tour here. We have *work* to do. It's up to us to get this ship to these coordinates and..." He suddenly pauses, glancing up again as something sort of flips uneasily inside him. "...and perhaps actually finally *find* Megatron and Optimus Prime. For real, this time." His hands slowly drop down to rest on the small table full of equipment he stands in front of, optics taking on a faraway look.
Whisper tips her head the other way and drops her hands behind her, folding them into a neat clasp. She offers no contradictory information; the angles of her wide wingspan droop thoughtfully, and there is a deepening frown that registers across her face. It is difficult to read her eyes behind the gleam of the visor but her mouth definitely has a distinct downturn at the corners of her mouth to match the angled shift of her wings.
Blast Off 's faraway gaze lasts only a moment before he again focuses on the here and now, enough to catch that expression on Whisper's face. The Combaticon's fingers, just lightly brushing the table at first, flatten in a harder press. His own expression, what's visible of it behind that faceplate he wears, seem subdued, perhaps a little apprehensive himself. "You look... concerned." He cants his head slightly to the side. "Why? Is it Optimus Prime and Megatron?"
Whisper's hands tighten behind her back, and her shoulders draw together with the lift of her wings, a grim set to her mouth with the slight shake of her head. Her voice is low when she speaks, a murmur threaded with the soft husk of sound rarely used. "I am not interested in Optimus Prime."
Blast Off watches her, still rather subdued himself. He does himself almost chuckling when she actually speaks, not a real, actual laugh but more a bemused huff of acknwledgement. The Combaticon's gaze flicks to the badge Whisper wears, then lifts up to meet her eye to eye. His bemusement fades into throughtful introspection. "Megatron, then." His face shifts down to stare at the controls in front of him on the desk. Violet optics glance back up to hers once more, searching for something he is trying not to give away himself right now. "I suppose many Decepticons will be overjoyed if Megatron returns..."
Jaw working, Whisper turns her gaze to the map and stares at it with a peculiar intensity. Her fingertips lift to touch her own badge, tracing its shape in a light glide, and then she shakes her head without saying anything. There is not, at least, any sign of her immediately bursting into frolics of joy.
Blast Off observes her less than overtly mirthful reaction and finds the faintest hint of a smile curling one corner of his faceplated mouth. He slowly, barely nods his head, turning to look at the map as well. "...Yes." He offers, as if agreeing with something Whisper just said, and adds a little something of his own in a thoughtful, quiet tone. "I... wonder. If we do find them, if they are on board, if... things will change." Almost but not completely inaudibly he tacks on, "...Change back." The Combaticon doesn't seem particularly jovial, either.
Whisper shakes her head, and then turns to face Blast Off more directly. Her expression, in so far as it is readable, is very grave. Her wingspan seems to stretch to its full extent, high and wide, her feet planted in a wide brace, her mouth a flat line.
As Whisper turns to face him, Blast Off seems to fall silent himself. He isn't as sure about treading into this whole area, of dicussing Megatron with another Decepticon, one whose loyalties he doesn't know that well. Something fraught with peril back during the war and somehow it still seems an area to move cautiously in. Save for blind loyalty and obedience, neither of which really were ever his thing. "I... uh. Perhaps things will be just fine." He shifts where he stands, turning to tap a few more buttons on the map. "Of course, Soundwave seems thrilled. Also... very..." His face pinches with some befuddlement. "... keen on prayer."
Whisper snorts. The sound becomes a shifting whirr, air cycling through her systems as she folds her arms in a loose cross over her chest. Her head cants to one side, her head lifting very slightly. After a lingering silence, she says, "I outgrew prayer a long time ago."
Blast Off glances her way. "I know many who feel that way." He lifts one hand to scratch at the side of his jaw. "As for myself, I..." His optic ridges furrow down. "I don't know. Religion can be so... subjective at times. But it's always a bit disconcerting when someone who you've known one way for a long time suddenly *finds Primus*." He frowns behind his faceplate, not really liking it. The shuttleformer runs a few more programs in the map system, calculating various routes that pop up on the hologram. "Still... if Optimus Prime is here, and Megatron, and the *Matrix*... well, speaking of subjective views and religious fervor, I think things may get... interesting for awhile." He doesn't appear excited about the prospect.
Whisper shrugs. It is difficult to shrug in a particularly expressive way. She returns her gaze to the map, staring hard at it for a long time. At length, she speaks again. "I failed the Decepticons. I do not know what Megatron's opinion on this will be."
Oh. OH. Blast Off's head lifts up just a touch to the left, tilted. The Combaticon's violet optics fall on Whisper thoughtfully. "I... see." His gaze returns to the map and for a moment or two he simply stares at it. Eventually, however, he looks up again. "I think I understand, then. We Combaticons served well when we did, but..." He stops. Articulating ALL of the Combaticons' twisted history with the rest of the Decepticons isn't really something he cares to go into right now. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how Megatron is going to take us now. We never *were* exactly close and if he comes here, sees Decepticons like us willingly working and interacting with Autobots I..."
Black hands once again find their way to rest, pressed, on the table. "..I don't know how he'll take this, either."
Whisper rests her hand for an extended moment on the badge over her chest, and then drops it away. She returns her attention to the map, drawing another potential backup route through several star systems in long, gliding sweeps of her fingers. She says nothing.
"Or the Autobots," It seems Blast Off is feeling chatty for once, "How will the Autobots on this ship react if Optimus Prime walks among them again? Are they still going to want to continue on as things have been, or will they start wanting to change things... especially if they're also having to share a ship with Megatron? You *know* some Autobots will not take that well." Not that he's especially looking forward to sharing a ship with Optimus.
Whisper drags her thumb in a long slide over the lines of her badge, tracing it over her chest. Her head bows for a moment. Her hand closes, then, into a fist. "The Lost Light saved me," she says. "Not the Decepticons. Not the Autobots." Her visored gaze turns intently upon Blast Off. "There is no going back. Only forward. The question is ... what that means."
All that badge-touching has Blast Off glancing at the badge he still wears. Others he is close to have dropped theirs, both Bot and Con, but he still wears a badge of something he's was never as loyal to as say, Soundwave was. Yet there it still is. Maybe it's because Onslaught still wears his that Blast Off keeps it. "Yes." He nods, bringing one hand to briefly rub against the other as he returns her gaze. "Indeed." There's a pause, then he adds a little more softly, "What I've seen here on the Lost Light is... promising. I've seen... signs the leadership here intends to keep their promises. Keep moving us *all* forward." He even thinks back to Tailgate and others at the recent Briefing, voicing support for *all* the crew no matter what happens. "Hopefully they'll remember those promises. I... think they will."
Blast Off clears his throat once more, drawing in a vent of air and bracing himself in front of the hologram station. "In the meantime, speaking of moving forward, we will continue to do an outstanding job of keeping this ship on track and on course. I'm quite pleased with this division." He gives her an inclusive look.
Whisper tilts her head to Blast Off in an acknowledging way. Her yellow gaze is bright behind the shielding angle of her visor, but she apparently has nothing to add out loud, because but for the slight shift of her wings as she resets her stance, this is the only response he gets to his optimism and his encouragement; she turns, ducking her head, back to work with a weighted silence. It's probably super reassuring.