Alright, I'm back from the holidays, school, and... other things. Here's the next chapter, all finished and ready! Also, I plan to upload at least one chapter per week, but the schedule's crazy right now. I'll see what I can do.
After the incident that was first break, Silverbolt and Breakdown walked down another hallway, this time plated with a dark, rusty metal. The lights that were situated in the ceiling glowed with an iridescent white light, creating a starkness that made the mechs' optics tire with fatigue. The doors that led to the hull were bulkier than those within the ship's interior, consisting of two 9-meter thick plates that sandwiched a maze of detection sensors and intruder "detention" measures, and were painted red. Breakdown had even told Silverbolt that each door was outfitted with a wireless detonator connected to an EMP device, in the event that the entrance happened to be compromised.
As they approached the airlock, bright red warning labels began to appear on the walls and doors, ranging from simple Do Not Slip messages to Caution: Electricity Hazard notifications. The last one they passed read: Explosive Hazard: Flammable Materials Prohibited.
"You're joking, right?" Silverbolt asked, his faceplate bent into an expression of doubt.
"The airlocks are the most vulnerable points in a ship," Breakdown responded, his expression deadly serious. "Keeping them intact are important to structural integrity, as they're one of the few ways one can enter the inside, where the crew's quarters and stations are located." The scout stopped for a moment, forcing Silverbolt to pause besides him, and raised a red digit towards another set of double doors that branched off of the main the hallway. These were branded yellow, instead of the red markings on those leading towards the airlock.
"Any salvageable materials that we bring in are stored in those chambers. In the past, we've received things from unrefined metal left behind by asteroids, to the cores of dead stars. Because of this, said cells are suspended within an artificial gravity well. This nullifies any consequences of bending the laws of physics," Breakdown explained.
Silverbolt nodded for moment, understanding only the general ideas of what he just heard. "That must have been expensive to install," he acknowledged. "How'd you even get this stuff?"
Breakdown allowed himself to smirk for a moment before clarifying: "Actually, it was Swindle who handled the deals and Nautica who looked over the tech and refined it. The process involved several Decepticons, a late night, and lots of high-grade Energon, but it was worth it."
The two mechs walked on again, passing through the maze of corridors and security scans until they reached the actual airlock.
Once more, Breakdown launched into a lecture. "I was assigned to be one of your two instructors, so I'll introduce you to the grunt work you'll be doing." He raised a digit and punched in a combination code on the lock, and a window slid open within the airlock, letting in a beam of silvery starlight and a view of the outside.
Silverbolt was stunned by the spectacle that met his optics, as numerous stars dotted the inky blackness. They all formed a cluster of light, drifting amidst an endless void, and shone with a silvery iridescence that was a dimension apart from the simple starkness within the corridor. The mech was enthralled, glancing over every object in the heavens. He'd known that he was on board a starship, and traveling through space, though the description could not do the experience any justice.
All of a sudden, he realized just how little he remembered of spaceflight. Silverbolt knew that he'd traveled before – he was accustomed to the strange tilts and quirks of artificial gravity – but this was the first clear image of the stars in his mind.
A hard nudge in his side edged him back towards reality, and he looked back down towards the slightly confused visage of Breakdown.
"Hey, are you okay?" the scout asked, his red faceplate bent in concern. "You kind of disappeared for a moment."
"I'm fine," Silverbolt clarified. "I just haven't seen the stars in so long, I've forgotten a bit of what they looked like."
"Really?" asked Breakdown. "You look like someone who gets around." He gestured to the wings on Silverbolt's back, as if to reinforce his message.
"I probably did, once upon a time," the mech replied. "But I don't remember when, or where, or anything else, really. It's like I had a map" – he reached out one servo towards the window, his digits outstretched – "and someone just took it for themself." The digits clenched, becoming a fist.
Breakdown placed a servo on Silverbolt's lower arm, pulling the fist back down. "Hey, don't worry," he reassured the other mech. "We're still just starting here. Don't get impatient."
Silverbolt turned towards Breakdown, a reluctant half-smile on his faceplate. "And what if I can't finish?"
Breakdown held his arms out to his sides in a conciliatory gesture. "That's what I'm here for, right?"
Breakdown stepped closer towards the antennae that contained the Knight's Temenos communications array, on the top half of the ship. The hull he was standing on was a dark, almost black material that was pitted and scarred with collisions from various space junk and debris, separated into serrated plates that more closely resembled the bones of some enormous organism rather than the smooth uniformity of a machine.
His magnetic treads had been activated upon stepping out of the airlock, allowing the scout to move about the hull without trouble. Silverbolt, on the other hand, nearly flew out the door, and would have drifted off if Breakdown hadn't reached up in time. The incident was followed by a tutorial on properly activating and using magnetic treads, as well as a long reminder on safety rules.
Silverbolt was now standing next to Breakdown near the antennae as well, his optics trained on a large hunk of metal that had lodged itself into a dent in the hull. Unlike the uniformity and, well, solidity of the ship, the wreckage's metal had contorted into a slightly jagged ball, from which a line of dust spiraled off into the empty void. Cracks lined the crumpled plating, making the object look like more a wad of crushed paper than a part of some ship or asteroid.
"I assume we'll be trying to move that?" Silverbolt asked, an edge of doubt creeping into his voice.
"Absolutely."
The silver-plated mech blinked. "What?"
Breakdown turned towards him with a grin on his red faceplate, and Silverbolt suddenly felt a drop of oil run down his forehead. "Uhm…"
"Come on, it's not that hard!" Breakdown complained, rubbing an elbow into Silverbolt's ribs.
Silverbolt simply grimaced as he attempted to ignore the sharp edge of Breakdown's elbow and pushed the arm away. "Yeah, right… What do we need to do?"
Lockdown stepped into his living quarters, the metal-plated hatch squealing into place on rusty hinges. Raising his right hand to the red screen on the left of the door, he activated the multiple cyber-metric and Energon scanners within the door's locking mechanism, after which he slid the main bolt into place.
Click.
Lifting his gaze from the scanner, Lockdown strode with slow, almost hesitant steps towards the center. All around the room, fluorescent blue lights replaced every inch of metal plating, making the walls, floor, and ceiling appear to glow. Not a single inch of darkness was to be seen on any surface, every space and crevice having been illuminated in a soft glow.
There was no furniture, either. No recharge pod was to be seen, nor any windows in the wall.
However, in the center of the room, there was a smooth, black box, with a golden keyhole in its front. On its left was an obsidian black key, its surface shining like a wet rock, the circlet at the end of its handle sharp and jagged with spikes. Simple golden letters, square and without curves of any sort, traced out a shining name in the length of the handle: Promise.
"Thank you, Bludgeon," Lockdown whispered, hushed and still in the silence of the room. Then he bent his knees and kneeled down before the black box, picking up the black key and sliding it into the keyhole. For a moment, he paused. Then he let out a long breath, the exhalation misting in the air, and turned the key. The box clicked, the ancient lock unwinding at last, and opened slightly, a small crack in the otherwise blank surface indicating a lid. Dry, dead air sighed out of the crack, freed from its centuries-old prison.
Lockdown rose from his kneeling position, planting both feet on the ground. Still holding the box, he looked down at its contents, remembering both the joys and the sorrows that they brought.
Suspended upon a fine bed of white cloth, three green darts were laid parallel to one another, their ends pointing towards either end of the box's length.