The impact was jarring, no surprise there, seeing as the ship they all were in was the equivalent of a puddle jumper. Very small, very cramped, and designed to go very short distances. So whether it was by luck, fate, or some freak accident, that they survived an impact from an ion cannon and the subsequent merciless spinning through a wormhole and crash landing on a distant planet, Optimus couldn't say. He was just glad they all seemed to be in one piece and suffering nothing more than a few light scrapes and some disorientation.
Glancing back over his shoulder, Optimus couldn't help feeling slightly amused despite the grimness of the current situation. His two young proteges were arguing and grumbling between themselves, one complaining about the state of his plating and wax, and the other lightly mocking him for it. It was comforting. It meant that they were intact and whole, if not stressed and a bit fearful. At least that's what he picked up from the harmonics in their glyphs and their jagged EM fields.
That they had survived was a weight off his spark and shoulders. He cared for them so much; it would've crippled him with guilt if they had perished. But they hadn't. And that's what mattered. He'd have to keep reminding himself of that.
For now though, Optimus needed to get a handle on their situation. Where they were. The actual state of their little ship. And where to go from here.
Focusing, he began the process of trying to access the on board AI for more information. The ship, while obviously damaged, still had enough residual power to allow him to access its data banks and tentatively reach out for the AI.
Much of the databases were corrupted, and when his tentative searching for the AI produced results, a surge of pity pierced his spark. The poor AI itself was badly, badly damaged, yet hanging on, preserving as much data as it could and desperately fighting to survive. It's little pings of desperation and fear, rattling around in his processor when it felt Optimus access its systems.
But it was dying. Little by little, very slowly, its sense of self was fading. Soon it'd be like it never existed. A small sound of sadness escaped even Optimus' iron control.
Questioning, concerned brushes of EM fields so similar, there was little doubt they belonged to twins, nudged him from continuing his spiral into sorrow.
"Optimus, what's wrong? How bad is it?"
The uncharacteristic seriousness in the young voice jolted Optimus from his lament more effectively than any electric shock would ever be able too. The young voice that spoke was not meant to sound so grave, so concerned, so very different from its usual teasing cockiness.
Smoothing the ragged edges out of his own field, Optimus flared it out to stroke gently across the two still uneven and afraid. Turning a little to look at the two younger mechs while doing so, he couldn't help in that moment, remembering just how young they were. Despite their past and their capabilities, the two were still very, very young.
And both were shaken by seeing him shaken.
Venting in slowly, Optimus stared somberly into the young, blue-violet optics of the red twin that posed the questions, debating how to phrase his hurt. And how to soothe both he and his golden twin.
"This ship's AI, it is fighting, but dying. It will be gone soon."
The words burned as forced their way out. Optimus hated such a senseless loss of life, even if was a life born artificially. He wouldn't, couldn't let it fade to nothing. Not without trying to help first.
"I wish to attempt to save it. I need you both to look for anything with the capability of storing it, if only temporarily."
Optimus wasn't sure there was anything on the ship, besides the actual ship itself that could feasibly contain the AI, and the young mechs knew it. He could see that they knew in the glance they shared, but neither seemed inclined to argue. It was most unlike them to not question something they saw as pointless or a lost cause, but their definition of such seemed ever changing. Nevertheless, their compliance was something that he was grateful for, especially when he turned his attention back to the AI and saw it had lost most of its ground in its fight for survival.
The sharp click of aggravation that escaped him caused the two searching to pause and glance over, but Optimus quickly gestured for them to continue what they were doing. Distraction now would be costly and irreversible.
Each moment that passed seemed an eternity and only strengthened the dread he felt as he monitored the AI. It's pings growing fewer and fewer, until they were only coming at sporadic intervals. Fists clenching the console's edge, in a rare display of distressed anger, Optimus allowed his plating to puff up and clamp back down sharply, an angry rumble of his engine following the movement.
A loud whoop of triumph was enough to make Optimus swing around and watch as an excited red and black blur, clutching tightly onto something, nearly rocket into him. Luckily, the young mech was able to stop just shy of completely ramming into him, despite stumbling.
Blue-violet optics framed above a cheeky grin stared eagerly and more than a little hopefully up at him. Black servos clutching at a small box offered it out for him to take, "Optimus! I found this, maybe you can use it."
Nodding in gratitude, Optimus takes the box carefully and examines it, his servos making it look even smaller than normal. It was a dull gunmetal grey and had small grooves on the sides. He recognized it vaguely, and after a moment an old memory from a life long passed, surfaced. Boxes like these were used as quick storage spaces for important data like Intel or personal messages and passed from mech to mech. A few nonsensical glyphs, completely unfamiliar to him, decorated it and distantly he thought it likely belonged to someone with specialized training or education.
Looking at the red and black mech in front of him once he finished inspecting the box, Optimus gives him a small smile, "Thank you Sideswipe."
Turning quickly, Optimus knew there was no more time to dwell on the box, or it's strange glyphs, action had to be taken. Optimus didn't know if the AI could or would fit, but he had hope. It was damaged, so perhaps it wouldn't take up enough space to make this impossible.
Either way, he had to try.
Brushing a digit over one of the grooves, he was pleased when the cube's edges transformed back to reveal a thin cable and connector. Grabbing it delicately, Optimus plugged it into the console's port after a moment or two of searching.
The console took so long to register the connection that Optimus feared all this was for naught, and the AI was doomed. Fate or luck still seemed to be on his side this day, because after a klik or two of anxious waiting the connection finally showed. The second the console registered the connection, the AI's reaction was instantaneous. With a sluggish, flanging screech, what little was left of it surged through the connection and fled into the cube. It took noticeably longer for it to move between connections than it would have normally. Optimus felt the flinch and roil in the twin's fields and the high snarls of two high performance engines at the sound; he was inclined to agree with their sentiment. The sound it had made was awful; it had been the sound of something tortured.
Armor plating held more tightly to his protoform than strictly necessary, Optimus quickly disconnected the cube from the console and subspaced it. He believed that they'd bought the AI a little time, though it was only a temporary thing. After he'd established where they were and what their situation was, Optimus would set to work looking for a more permanent solution.
Turning away from the console, Optimus focused his attention on the still agitated twins. Gold and red armor plating was flexed outward and vibrating slightly from the revving of their engines. Taking a step forward, Optimus reaches out to give them both a brief pat on the shoulder.
Figures that the ship's power would choose that moment to shut down abruptly.
All three of them were plunged into the darkness instantly, nothing but their biolights and optics shining faintly. Instinctively freezing, Optimus clamps a hand down on gold plating that he can feel, but not see. A disgruntled curse and shrug is enough to make him remember himself and remove his hand from the other's plating.
"My apologies Sunstreaker."
A smooth voice marred by an audible pout answers him from the darkness, "My finish is gonna be ruined."
Opening his mouth to further reply, Optimus is interrupted by a slightly deeper voice filled with amusement, "Aww did Sunshine scratch his paint?"
Almost giving into the urge to roll his optics, Optimus ignores the snickering that gets cut off abruptly with a yelp and clanging of metal on metal, and carefully reaches out behind him to find the edge of the console. From there he trails his servo over it, shuffling slowly to the side as he does so, until he reaches one wall of the ship. Firming his servo against it, he finally fixates on the sound of a small scuffle and two pairs of glowing optics.
Venting out quietly, he knows he can't pull them apart without risking all three of them tripping over something, so he'll have to use his next best weapon right now, his voice.
Letting his voice rumble just so, and flaring his EM field out slightly in admonishment, he watches two glowing pairs of optics focus on him, "Enough. We need to leave this ship. Carefully come over here and follow the wall."
For a moment, he's unsure the two would listen as they focused on one another again, stubbornness lacing their flaring EM fields, but slowly began to shuffle toward him. Relieved, he continues shuffling his way away from the console, using the wall as his guide. It takes all three of them the better part of three breems, filled with cursing and arguing, to get to what, by feel, seems to be the door to their little ship.
Thoroughly becoming fed up with the growing bickering trailing from somewhere behind him, Optimus takes a step back from what he presumes is the door. Shifting his weight back and onto one ped, he lifts the other and delivers a brutal kick to what's directly in front of him. He feels the metal begin to give and bow outward, little streaks of light piercing the inky darkness around him. The sound of the rending metal effectively silences the voices and for a moment, even as his ped throbs a little, he's grateful. Then two voices in tandem shatter the illusion.
"Holy frag."
Pulling back his ped again, Optimus delivers two more solid kicks to it, both more forceful despite the growing warning in his ped that it was being damaged. The final kick was enough to send the door flying into a brownish-orange substance.
Cycling his optics rapidly, Optimus stared, completely frozen and stunned at the alien expanse of red pillars and that soft granular substance that the door landed in. Distantly he felt the twins come to stand at his side, shock clearly written in their fields.
They were all very, very far from home.
