bv. The Reservation. SitRep

[dens_extra_pups]

Continued from here



Nightwish: *holding an angrily squirming and horribly cursing blonde woman in her hands* I think it's the Vice President. I found her banging the guy's head against a concrete wall.

LC: *fretting now* Und se President?

Diehard: *turns toward her* Percussion shock and bruises. Her mate...

Nightwish: Still hasn't learnt that meatshield is a lousy move.

Diehard: *winces and gives her a reproving look*

LC: Ach... *fretting even more*

VP Hopkins: *very cross and saying things that the mun isn't repeating*

Nightwish: *calmly* I'm not putting you down no matter what you say.

VP Hopkins: Tough *poop*, lady. Den's hurt and freaking the *beep* out.

Nightwish: *impassively* I don't think she needs someone to help her freak out.

VP Hopkins: That *beeper* deserved what he got. *scowls and takes her glasses off to wipe at the lenses with her shirt hem*

Nightwish: You just made more work for the medibots. If you wanted to get him out of the way you should have... *stops and gives Diehard a quizzical look as he slaps a hand over her mouth*

Optimus: *sigh*

Ordnance: *tired snerk*

LC: *quietly* Schutz vould be safer san sis place...

Diehard: *also quiet* She was attacked for befriending us.

LC: ... *very upset now and trying not to let it show*

Optimus: *wearily, as he absently shakes a leg with a Mira attached and then shakes his head at the twins* This is her homeworld.

VP Hopkins: *snort* Those *beeps* aren't the only people she's *cheesed* off since she took office, Prime.

Optimus: *another leg shake* I know. They only left her in office because they feared having you there.

Mira: *clinging with all her might, despite being knocked sleepy by Nightwish earlier. Tried to scale the larger femme to rescue the Vice President*

VP Hopkins: *more snort* Well, now they'll have to deal with me.

Optimus: *tired satisfaction in his deep voice* Yes, they will.

Jazz: *soft grumble from where he's sitting to one side of the infirmary door, just a bundle of heated tarp*

LC: *fretting and fussing quietly in her mother tongue*

Mira: *mumbles something in Keylendar*

VP Hopkins: ... If that means what I think it means... *smirk*

Ordnance: Nope.

VP Hopkins: Darn.

Ordnance: She just told me to get you a white ribbon.

VP Hopkins: ... Why? *both brows raised*

Ordnance: *points to the stripes painted on Mira's head* White's for the first coup.

VP Hopkins: *amused snerk*

Mira: *starts to say something else, but finally loses the battle to sleep and lets go of Optimus' leg*

Ordnance: *reaches down and scoops up the wife*

Diehard: *turns and looks as steps approach, then lights up* Orion, Cygnia, Sirius, Cassiopeia.

Optimus: *eyes WHITE with amazed wonder as he turns and sees his four eldest grandchildren for the first time*

Showtime: *is that tiny blue bot in Cygnia's arms that's trying to sit up straighter, but failing. He's not grouching about it or cursing about it, however*

Diehard: *brightens further as he reaches for his best friend* Showtime, do you know what's happened?

Showtime: *quietly* Because of recent events there are things I have missed, Diehard. Would you mind filling me in, please?

Diehard: *quietly* One of President Pratt's bodyguards was a member of Cemetery Wind. He threw an explosive device into her bedroom at 15:15 local time. Nightwish provided immediate care for the President, her bond mate, and her personal bodyguard, and then saved the assassin from the Vice President and gave the man to the rest of the Presidential bodyguard.

Cygnia: *looks inside, and then slaps Orion on the side. Both young bots go in and start helping with the injured*

Showtime: *sensor wings barely move, but they do twitch upward with dismay as his optics brighten* Oh no. Was anyone else hurt in the explosion?

VP Hopkins: *scowls* No, but India's gonna be out of commission until the stab wounds heal.

Diehard: *looks from Showtime to Hopkins* I thought the Vice President didn't live at the White House?

VP Hopkins: How the *beep* do you think that *bleep* managed to get that bomb inside Den's bedroom?

Diehard: ...Is this the reply to my question?

Ordnance: *sighs and goes to sit by Jazz and soak up some of that warmth as he cuddles his wife and lights up a shell*

Mira: *is that whisper of a purr that just started*

Showtime: *bleary frown as he tries to make sense of the questions*

VP Hopkins: *expression going black as she sees the big green guy lighting up*

Nightwish: Now what's your problem? *doesn't sound like she really cares, though she's keeping an eye on Sirius and Red Alert, who are both on high alert*

VP Hopkins: I dropped my cigarettes back in DC. *scowl*

Mistfire: *as she walks around the corner* You tryin'ta give Ratchet a core crash?

VP Hopkins: He's got his vices, I've got mine.

Mistfire: *slight lazy smirk despite her concern* His vice don't stink.

VP Hopkins: *snort* Whatever. *attention going to the infirmary. Her worry for President Pratt is clear in her posture and movements*

Mistfire: *more smirk as she holds up a cylinder that looks very tiny in her fingers* Stink stick?

VP Hopkins: How much?

Senaiji: *soft soft sound of alarm at sight of the black cherry flavoured cigarillo*

Mistfire: *shrug* I got it for ya.

VP Hopkins: *soft snerk* I'm starting ta like you more 'n more.

LC: *quiet, worried trill*

Optimus: *frowns from the golden and black femmebot to the blue alien man* What's wrong?

LC: *will nod toward the cigarillo, because it's rude to point* Sat ist nicht illegal?

Optimus: *blinks* *quick glance toward the door of the infirmary* No. We're outside, and above the required distance from the entrance to any dwellings.

Senaiji: *tries to understand* *worried glance to his wife*

LC: *so much confusion in her expression*

Optimus: *slight frown as he quietly explains the laws regarding smoking in the United States of America*

LC: *still a bit confused* *quietly* Se drug ist allowed here?

Optimus: So far. Many are trying to change that.

VP Hopkins: It'll be a cold day in *heck* that I'll let that happen.

Senaiji: *soft distress* But it's poison.

VP Hopkins: *seriously* And I'm a grown woman capable of making my own choices. Now lemme enjoy my *bleeping* cancer stick in peace.

Nightwish: *boosts up and sets her on the roof*

Showtime: *soft clicks as he frowns slightly*

Diehard: *quietly* There's no tobacco on Home. Will that be a problem?

VP Hopkins: *grouching about not having a way to light her "cancer stick" now*

Showtime: ... *confused* Who is going to Home? *trying so hard to make sense of things through his second-hand confusion*

Diehard: *looks down to his friend and quietly explains the situation so far concerning those who want to leave, and Optimus' reticence to take humans away from Earth*

Showtime: *small frown, slow nod. Is trying to hear what Primus and the Greatest Creator have to say*

VP Hopkins: *looks over the edge of the roof* Anyone got a way to light this up?

Mistfire: *lifts a hand up over her head. Fire on! WHOOOSH!*

VP Hopkins: *startled whoop, then she's laughing* I owe ya one!

Mistfire: Yeah, I'll put it on your tab.

Optimus and Diehard: *frowning as they watch to be sure that the human isn't hurt by that rush of flame*

VP Hopkins: *sticks the end of the cigarillo meant to go in one's mouth in her mouth. Will wander around the roof a bit as she smokes*

Mistfire: *turns the flame off, and then wanders over to see what Ratchet is doing now*

LC: *quietly* Sere are ozzer humans who live on Home. Und some even live in Schutz.

Optimus: *head turns with quick surprise*

Diehard: *nods*

Showtime: *quietly* If there are humans here who want to leave... It's okay for them to do so.

Optimus: *looks at Showtime, and then turns back to Lady Commander* How can there be humans on your world?

LC: Sey haf been sere a very long time... Longer san even I haf been sere. Nobody knows vhere sey came from.

Optimus: *silent amazement* *then* Where is this world?

Senaiji: *quietly relates coordinates*

Optimus: ...A sector that I know nothing about.

LC: It ist safe.

Optimus: Diehard's told me that. I'm just surprised to learn about humans living here.

LC: Some of se humans look different san se vones here.

Ordnance: *leaning back against the wall as he chomps his shell* Different how?

LC: Some of sem haf short fur, und it ist brightlly colored und very soft. Sey often haf tails as vell. Some haf vings... Und sose vings can be leazhery.

Optimus: Wings? Have they been genetically altered?

LC: *headshake, attention going briefly to the small blue mech Diehard is holding*

Showtime: *tries to stay awake for the explanation, but is soon nodding off and slipping into recharge against Diehard*

Senaiji: They've been like that for all the time we've known them. There's a partly human race called the Feen as well, but their wings are different from human wings. Feen have six limbs.

Ordnance: ...What colour fur? *blinks and looks quizzically toward an irate sounding huff* What? I haven't met any 'a those yet.

LC: *startles and looks to Astaria*

Senaiji: She's just objecting to a question about fur.

Ordnance: *snorts* Not like I wanna pet it or anything.

Astaria: Yeah, right.

Ordnance: You ever heard of static electricity? *very gently elbows the Jazz bundle and gets grouched at softly*

Diehard: There are countless colours. Many have more than one. And the people who don't have fur often have hair colours that are different from anything that happens here.

Ordnance: *very gently shakes his wife* Hey, you can have that little green human kid after all.

Mira: *sleepily* 'M glad. *snuggle, conks out again*

Optimus: *distracted by Ratchet's approach* How are they?

Ratchet: The youngsters insisted on helping... And they asked me to get their uncle.

Diehard: *gently holds out the sleeping Showtime*

Ratchet: *will carefully accept the sleeping mech, scanning Showtime as he does so* *soft tsk as he sees the condition of the mech's sensor net*

Diehard: *sudden understanding* Your human friends are going to be alright, so Cygnia and Orion have asked you to work on Showtime now.

Ratchet: *quietly* President Pratt will need assistance working through the trauma she experienced... Her mate and bodyguard will both need physical therapy, but they're no longer in danger.

Autobots: *collective sag and sigh of relief*

Nightwish: *idly shoots at a coyote that just slunk over to look at the firepit** in other words, she's not even paying attention, and apparently could care less*

Ratchet: *soft snort, shakes his head, and moves to bring Showtime into the infirmary*

Optimus: *quietly* Those who aren't working in the infirmary should go back to their beds and shut down again.

LC: *quietly* Ve should go und vrest as vell.

Optimus: Ah, you didn't bring somewhere to sleep. *looks around*

Diehard: There is plenty of space in Fortress Maximus.

Optimus: *relieved expression* Of course. That's a good idea.

Diehard: *quiet look for his father that says he hates seeing his people living in such cramped and unsuitable quarters. Then turns toward his friends to bring them to his ship*

Optimus: *sighs as he turns away*

twin pastel-colored jets: *just broke the sound barrier and are speeding toward the ground with a teal and gold jet in their wake*

Lumen: *is that startled squeal from the other side of the fence*

Grumbler: *is the source of those two massive tires that just slammed into the lead jets*

gold and teal jet: *pulls up sharply and narrowly avoids colliding with Grumbler*

pastel jets: *each yelp and then transform*

Diehard: *starts running in that direction!* Grumbler, no. Ack!

Optimus: *also running*

Ordnance: *leaves wife tucked in with Jazz and follows the Primes* Hoo boy.

LC: *hurrying to see what all the commotion is*

Senaiji: *on his wife's heels, absently whistling his alarm note*

orag: *growling as he follows*

gold and teal jet: *transforms and the Mak hovers in place a cautious distance away* Wh't th' scrap?!

pastel Maks: *each holding their heads where they're seated on the ground*

Diehard: Grumbler, they're Taubots. Back off!

Optimus: Stand down, Grumbler!

Grumbler: *such a black expression on her face as she stops herself in the very act of grabbing a Mak to lay a beating. Turns and picks her husband up instead*

Ordnance: ... *chortle* Woman, you just decked two TAUBOTS!

Lumen: *going to hide against you now, Gumbler. The sonic booms scared him a bit*

one pastel Mak: Th't 'urt!

gold and teal Mak: Ah done tol' y'all not t' flah so close t' th' ground! But noooo, y'u 'n Jem di'n' listen!

Optimus: *sharply* Who are you?

Diehard: This is Blackwing, she came with the youngsters and Showtime. But I don't know who these two are.

Blackwing: Th'y's Crystal 'n Jem. Th'y's Flashpoint 'n mah cousins. *stern look for the pastel Maks* 'N Ah 'ntend t' tell th'r Ma wh're th'y got t'.

Jem: *where she's still holding her head* Aww, Blackie, Ma knows we's wit' y'u 'n Flash. Knows Jackknife's wit' us, too.

Blackwing: *startles* Wh't?!

Polaris: *is that soft call from Fort Max's ramp. Is standing there with Aunty hugged in one arm, and New Uncle hugged in the other* *came to help New Uncle find out who was flying*

big, burly flier: *helping Polaris by supporting the red flier on the other side. Is also looking around curiously*

Blackflight: *startles at the call, looks, facepalm. Will hurry over to fuss over sibling and sibling's mate*

Crystal: *tries to get up, wobble, has to sit back down* Oww...

Diehard: *hunkers down by the young girl* Don't try to get up. Let me scan you.

Ordnance: *laughing as he stands by the other twin*

Crystal: Wh't w's th't th't 'it me 'n Jem? *a bit dazed*

Optimus: It was an enraged Constructibot. You're lucky you're still functional. *so stern*

Crystal: ... No ahdea wh't th't means.

Blackflight: *quiet discussion with the big tan flier, will click softly to Polaris*

Diehard: Constructibots can take on those of Quadriate stock with impunity.

Ordnance: Hey, Captain Obvious. *snerk*

Blackflight: *gentle patpat for Polaris' shoulder, will move to approach Diehard and Optimus* 'S th're moah th'n 'un medic 'eah?

Diehard: *glances up* Let First Aid catch her breath. She just dealt with the aftermath of an accident.

Blackflight: *wings droop slightly* 'N accident? *worried now*

VP Hopkins: *from the rooftop of the infirmary* Hey! It's *BLEEPING* cold up here!

Optimus: *startles and hurries back, an easy bound taking him over the fence* I'm sorry, Miss Hopkins, I'll get you down.

Diehard: *to the twins* You're uninjured save for dents. Go aboard Fortress Maximus and have a reboot. *tone brooks no argument*

Crystal: Yessir. *moving to get up, slowly, while Jem does the same*

Blackwing: *fretting quietly now*

Nightwish: *suddenly pokes Jackknife out of nowhere*

Jackknife: *startles and looks over his shoulder with wide optics as he makes to protect Polaris, Flashpoint, and Sharpshot*

Nightwish: *shows on no scanners*

Diehard: Nightwish, leave him alone.

Polaris: *perks and clicks*

Jackknife: *slight frown, still keeping himself between Nightwish and his family*

Diehard: She won't hurt you. She's part of my team. *perks* First Aid and Ratchet are ready to see Sharpshot.

Blackwing: *small nod* Th't's wah Ah w's askin' 'bout a medic. Mah brotha's 'er mate now...

Diehard: I know. *turns his head* Ah. They're bringing the patients to First Aid's lab. Good. *excuses himself, tells Polaris to stay put, and goes to help carry three injured humans, a yellow bot and her baby, and a small blue bot to the big, well lit and warm infirmary and medical lab*

Ratchet: *quietly, as he walks down the halls and comes to First Aid's lab* At least this part of the ship is quiet enough that they should be able to get some rest. *relieved to know that at least one of the legendary citybots has survived*

Polaris: *clicking away softly as he follows his parents and the yellow guy. Has never seen a yellow guy before! So pretty!*

Diehard: *gentle talk to his son as he carries Bumblebee and his baby brother*

Bumblebee: *grumbling sounds. NOT gonna wake up*

bittyPrime: 83 *ANY excuse to wake up and play!*

First Aid: Put India here, Ratchet. She can lay on this biobed. *gently sets the President and her husband on the larger biobed and tells it that it has two patients to scan*

Ratchet: *so surprised to see equipment he hasn't seen since before Cybertron went dark*

First Aid: *walks over and lays a gentle hand on his leg* Ratchet?

Ratchet: *quietly* It's been so long since there was access to proper equipment. *gently setting India on the smaller biobed and scanning the woman's vitals*

First Aid: *softly* We came as soon as we could. But there were things we had to do first.

Ratchet: *small nod* I understand.

Polaris: Good. Good good good.

First Aid: *just learned that her baby knows a word!* *delicate face lights up as she looks toward the tall youngster*

Ratchet: *soft chuckle* Yes, it is good.

President Pratt: *groggy murmur of nonsense. Thankfully, none of it is anything bad*

Polaris: *always loves the reactions to that word! Will try his other one* Aunty!

Ratchet: We'll help your Aunty feel better. *nods*

Jackknife: *quiet clicks for the youngbot who's taller than he is*

Polaris: *suddenly intent focus on the yellow bot's face as he concentrates on what was said* *face gradually brightens, and he's clicking urgently by the time he holds Sharpshot out for the yellow bot to take*

Diehard: *watching in silence from where he's standing in the hallway to the private hospital rooms with his bright-eyed baby brother in his arms*

First Aid: *hands to her mouth with mother pride that her youngest understood Ratchet and is actually offering his precious favourite person to the medic*

Ratchet: *nods and very gently relieves Polaris of Sharpshot, setting the femme on an unoccupied table*

Jackknife: *more quiet clicks to Polaris, will shift Flashpoint a bit so the red flier's head isn't at a funny angle anymore*

Polaris: *wants New Uncle now. Arms out and soft clicks and squeaks*

Jackknife: *will gently tuck Flashpoint into Polaris' arms and give the younger mech a small smile*

Flashpoint: *turns his head slightly, but doesn't wake*

Polaris: *gently brings New Uncle over and lays him next to Aunty* *quiet conviction* Good. *closes his mask and looks at the yellow bot*

Ratchet: *nods* Good job. *can tell this youngster is also one of Diehard and First Aid's children, and that the drone is showing strong signs of having medical coding as well*

First Aid: *softly* That's my youngest, Ratchet. I'm afraid he's not going to want to get any further than that from his aunt right now.

Ratchet: *small nod* Then perhaps we should make this a lesson for him, since it seems he has medical coding as well.

First Aid: *bit of a smile* He wasn't talking when I left Haven to come here. He's not even a vorn old.

Ratchet: *surprised* And already showing strong signs of sentience? *also very pleased*

First Aid: *smile becomes a beam* All of his brothers and sisters started around the same age. Though for the longest time the only word that Sirius said was one we wished he wouldn't.

Ratchet: ... Who taught it to him? Showtime doesn't seem like the sort to use that kind of language.

First Aid: *gentle head shake as her smile goes sad* It was Sharpshot. But everyone's reaction bothered her so much that she stopped talking completely.

Ratchet: *small frown* How long has it been since then?

First Aid: Sirius is twenty vorns old. *up on the table now, and scanning Sharpshot*

Sharpshot: *systems running slow and spark showing the frequencies of a bonded femme, as well as strings of coding that aren't her own*

Ratchet: *small frown* And she's never said anything since then? *moving to scan the red flier next to Sharpshot*

First Aid: *as she gently strokes Sharpshot's helm* She's sounded like a drone, except when she growls.

Ratchet: *frowns and moves to scan Sharpshot's processor, absently making a note of the coding of the red mech next to her* *pause* Her optics are damaged as well?

First Aid: Yes. She's totally blind. *quietly outlines what else is wrong with her friend*

Ratchet: *small nod as he listens* Do you have the parts necessary?

First Aid: *points* The blue drawer.

Polaris: *walks over and gets the drawer, then brings it back* Good good!

Ratchet: *soft chuckle, will nod to Polaris* Yes. Good.

First Aid: *soft smile is back* *softly* Tell him where you want him to put it.

Ratchet: *blinks, then indicates a clear spot next to Sharpshot* The drawer needs to be put there, please.

Polaris: *sets it down carefully, then goes to a counter at the back of the room and picks up a bin* Good. *quizzical look*

First Aid: Not that one, Polaris. *shakes her head*

Polaris: *puts it down, and picks up the next. Looks for approval again*

First Aid: Not that one. *shakes her head again*

Polaris: *perks slightly and picks up the last bin* *looks to his mother*

First Aid: *nod nod!* Yes. Bring it here.

Ratchet: *watching and making note of how to interact with a drone, as it's been long enough since he saw one that he's forgotten how to do so*

Jackknife: *moving to sit in a corner where he won't be in the way*

Polaris: *brings the bin of materials and sets it right beside the drawer of parts* Good. *looks from his mother to the yellow bot, ready for the next thing to do*

Ratchet: *can't resist the urge to patpat Polaris on the shoulder, even as he begins to fully understand that the legacy of the Primes is far from extinct*

First Aid: *soft chuckle, and then points to Ratchet* Polaris. Grandpa. Grandpa, Polaris. *adds the soft Cybertronian word for beloved family*

Polaris: *perks* *the pretty little yellow bot is family!* *MUST HUG*

Ratchet: *surprised to hear himself referred to as 'Grandpa'. Doesn't object to being hugged though*

Polaris: *happy but gentle squish, and then smiles down at Grandpa*

Ratchet: *soft chuckle and patpats for Polaris' arm* Let's get your Aunty repaired.

Polaris: *bright-eyed look as he waits for further directions that he can understand*

First Aid: *gently, as she points to Jackknife* Sit on the empty seat, and wait.

Polaris: Good. *lets go of Ratchet and walks over to plunk down in the indicated seat*

Jackknife: *patpat, will work on trying to teach Polaris a fun finger game he learned from his mech-creator*

Polaris: *watches intently*

Ratchet: *as he moves to get to work on repairing Sharpshot, starting by putting the femme into stasis* So which of the children is the biggest handful? *has a hunch that five Primes would be quite the group to keep track of*

First Aid: *quick assistance as she replies* That's Sirius. I don't know if you noticed him standing beside your security officer.

Ratchet: *slight frown as he thinks back* *blinks a bit* I believe I may have noticed, though I was likely distracted.

First Aid: *soft chuckle* He's dark like his father. Grey and silver. But he's taken to wearing a matte finish.

Ratchet: *soft snort* Vanity reasons?

First Aid: *quietly* It made him harder to detect when he was working on his dig sites.

Ratchet: *small nod* *softly* I see. Does Sirius have siblings in addition to Polaris?

First Aid: *chuckles* You met Orion and Cygnia.

Ratchet: *blinks, and then he's chuckling softly* Ah, yes. I remember now.

First Aid: *quietly* Orion is growing.

Ratchet: *blink. Blink* He is? *brow ridges up*

First Aid: Yes. And his frame is filling out. Right now his feet look too large for the rest of his body.

Ratchet: Hmm... And is Orion older or younger than Sirius?

First Aid: Cygnia is eldest, then Sirius, Cassiopeia, Orion, and Polaris. *soft sound as she removes a damaged part from Sharpshot*

Ratchet: *nods, wincing as he sees the state of Sharpshot's processor* I suspect the repairs will come as a relief to Sharpshot.

First Aid: *softly* And to Showtime.

Ratchet: *puzzled look for First Aid* And to Showtime?

First Aid: They have a sibling bond. Very strong. It was how he saved her life after the building fell on them.

Ratchet: *small frown, studies the damaged parts of Sharpshot's processor* *quietly* Some of these connections have scarred over.

First Aid: *softly* She's feral. I'm not large enough to catch her and hold her down, and the only person she'll let touch her is Polaris and sometimes Cygnia.

Ratchet: *small nod of understanding* *quietly* Well, she's going to get the repairs she needs now, and that's the important thing.

First Aid: *sighs* Yes.

Ratchet: And since Showtime has been repaired, that will also help her. *quieter* As will being bonded. *has seen how affectionate Ordnance and Mira can be, and how Flashpoint and Air Raid enjoy quiet moments where they can simply snuggle*

First Aid: *quietly* About that...

Ratchet: Hm?

First Aid: *looks up at him* I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Mistfire.

Ratchet: ... *quietly* Yes, I have been.

First Aid: *soft blue eyes behind their visor gently ask him questions*

Ratchet: *quietly, still working on repairing connections in Sharpshot's processor* I enjoy her company.

First Aid: *nods, then looks back to her work* You're the first man she's let herself get close to. She has a hard time trusting.

Ratchet: ... *softly* I see.

First Aid: She's not as tough as she appears. And she's chronologically younger than her function level.

Ratchet: ... *okay, that surprised him* She is?

First Aid: *nods* But I think that's all that I should tell you. It's up to Mistfire to tell you more if she decides to.

Ratchet: *small nod* Alright. *attention back to repairing connections, frowning as he has to work through layers of scarring in some areas* *quietly* What shape was Sharpshot in when she joined your family?

First Aid: *databurst*

Ratchet: *accepts the databurst* *intakes hitch sharply as he reviews the data*

First Aid: He synced their systems to save her.

Ratchet: *quietly* If she had gone, she would have taken Showtime with her.

Showtime: *very softly* I would do so again in a sparkbeat.

First Aid: *glances toward him, and then pings Mira, who she knows will be coming out of the sedation*

Mira: *groggily* //Huh?//

First Aid: *gently* //Do you remember the blue bot you told me that you dreamed about?//

Mira: *starting to wake up a bit more* //Yeah... Why?//

First Aid: //Peek out of Jazz's tarp and look toward the East.//

Mira: //...// *mun isn't writing that*

First Aid: *sends her a map to the infirmary* //He might like meeting Sunstreaker.//

Mira: //...Jes' lemme get untangled.//

First Aid: //Alright.//

Mira: *mutters, not realizing she's still on comms* //Eeesh, quitcher gripin', Jazz. I'll find ya another dame ta snuggle.//

First Aid: //Oh. Poor Jazz.//

Mira: //Huh? Oh. I got 'im wrapped back up jes' fine, 'Aid.//

First Aid: //...Where IS Sunstreaker? I saw Red Alert by Ratchet's infirmary when I came out, but I didn't see her or her sister.//

Mira: //...How the scrap should I know?// *will try comming Sunstreaker* *snickerfit* //She 'n Sideswipe're both drunk as lords.//

First Aid: *sits up, eyes bright with surprise* //Drunk? On what?//

Mira: //Dunno, but I'mma go find out.//

First Aid: //Don't forget that you were coming to see Showtime.//

Mira: //Yeah, yeah. I might need Ordnance's help ta get Sunstreaker there, too.//

First Aid: //Alright. I'll see you soon.//

Mira: *signs off with a click*

Showtime: *has spotted the blanket-wrapped human on the table nearby, is talking quietly to her, and to the other human on the table with her*

Ratchet: *replaces a badly damaged component in Sharpshot's processor, is quiet as he listens to President Pratt's groggy and disoriented chatter slow down*

First Aid: *listening to Showtime soothing the traumatized woman as well, but then lifts her head with astonishment* Is Dutch hiccoughing?

Ratchet: *frowns and scans the man*

Dutch: *breathing on his own, so the machines have stopped doing it for him. Is starting to come out of sedation, and announcing it with hics*

Ratchet: *can't help the amused and relieved snerk he just did* *quietly* He is, and he's beginning to come out of sedation.

First Aid: Oh. But those diaphragm contractions might tear his stitches. *worry frown*

Ratchet: *quick search online for remedies for hiccoughs*

President Pratt: *hears the familiar sound of Dutch waking up from strange dreams, tries to move so she can kiss him, frustrated sound as her wrappings prevent that*

Ratchet: *puts the part he was working on from Sharpshot's processor down on the table, will move to gently reposition President Pratt*

President Pratt: *smooches husband*

Dutch: *sighs and goes to sleep*

President Pratt: *quiet sigh, rests her head on Dutch's chest and closes her eyes, listening to his heartbeat*

Showtime: *quiet as he watches the humans, making note of how the actions of affection helped calm both members of the couple. Wonders silently to himself if the lady he's meant to meet would object to such a display of affection* *hopes to see her very soon, as he knows this is the planet she is on*

Diehard: *from where he's baby dancing by the inner hall* Are they alright?

Ratchet: *looks up from scanning the couple* President Pratt and Dutch are alright.

Diehard: Good. *looks down at bitty brother* ...I probably taste like dust.

bittyPrime: *muffled clicker*

Ratchet: *soft chuckle* Then perhaps you should visit a washrack soon, Diehard.

Diehard: *wry look for the medic* Would it make any difference, in this desert?

Ratchet: *going back to his work* Perhaps.

Showtime: *starting to doze a bit*

Mira: *pings First Aid's comm* //I am so turned around, it's not even funny.//

First Aid: *squeak of surprise* //What do you mean, Mira?//

Mira: //Where are you 'n the blue guy?//

First Aid: //In the large ship.//

Mira: //...Duh. What part though?//

First Aid: *soft laugh* //Ask him.//

Mira: //...Ask who?//

Fortress Maximus: //I think she's talking about me.// *such a deep voice*

Ordnance: *unprintable over comms*

Mira: *ditto the unprintable*

Fortress Maximus: *slight amusement* //Just follow the guidance lights.//

Mira: *very creative with her obscenities*

Fortress Maximus: //Do you think Showtime would like to hear you say that?//

Mira: ... Who the *bleep* is Showtime? *no, she has no clue that the blue guy she's been talking to for years in her sleep has a name*

Fortress Maximus: *surprised* //He's been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.//

Mira: ...

Fortress Maximus: //He was part of a stage crew before the war. He got his name from that.//

Mira: ... *'wings UP with surprise as she recalls a story the blue guy told her once*

Ordnance: C'mon, babe. Let's get junk delivered.

Mira: Y-yeah. *nod, doorwings still in 'high alert' positioning*

Ordnance: *frowns and shifts his load till he can reach down with one hand and rub between the door wings*

Mira: *squeak, and then she's purring and sagging*

Ordnance: *swoops her up onto his shoulder, and then straightens and follows the lights*

Mira: *comforted by being set on her favorite perch*

((Written with random_xtras))

Continued here