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Characters: @chronom, @stormgear Location: The Sahara Content Warnings: N/A Plot Summary: In the middle of the unforgiving Sahara, Autobots Chronon and Stormgear seek out a most mysterious Iacon Relic: The Quill.
Last Edit: Jun 13, 2016 1:58:10 GMT by Counterklock
As soon as Stormgear stepped out of the groundbridge, she knew instantly that the heat was gonna fry her circuits. The deadbeat sun of the sahara was known for it’s astonishing heat and barren wasteland, according to the infamous youtube (since she couldn't read properly, she relied on audio sources). Stormgear’s peds dug into one of the mighty dudes, the sand making the bottom of them disappear.
Today Stormgear, and another femme named Chronon, were looking for a cybertronian beacon. She was glad she could get out of the base, but she was even more stoked to see if someone had arrived! Or if it was a mislead treasure of a kind. She stood in position until Chronon came out.
"Boy o’ boy is it hot out here!" Stormgear announced to the world- and Chronon. The cheer in her voice was almost splendid. "According to the forecast, we’ve got really hot temperatures, a clear sky, and a beacon to find!"
Right now, Stormgear thought finding this beacon would be a walk in the park. But little did she know they were far from that.
Chronon dragged her hand through the side of the Groundbridge as she walked through. Exiting the portal, her hand materialized.
The scorching desert heat hit her right in the face. The radiation given out by yellow dwarf star in the sky did not help matters either. Add that to the fact that her armour absorbs quite a lot of radiation, and Chronon was almost overheating.
However, all of this didn't matter much. They were hunting for a Cybertronian artifact's signal. The interesting kind, due to its unpredictability.
"This won't be hard for you," Chronon said, looking down towards Stormgear. "You turn into a buggy, right?"
Chronon's light polarizers slid down over her eyes, reducing the light entering her eyes, while activating her cooling system. That's better.
"How did you guess that?! Let me guess, you got lucky!" Stormgear chirped. She didn't know Chronon to well. How the femme guessed her alternative mode made her wonder what else she knew.. Stormgear turned around to notice Chronon's discomfort in the sun. Storm had no room to talk. But not only did she have a light paint job, she also had less plating. And less plating reduced the amount of heat she conducted. That was theory, the heat would get to her eventually.
Removing herself from deep thought, she opened up her hub device on her wrist, tapping a few buttons until a scanner showed up on the screen. The signal was a few miles from them. There was one problem, there was a mass of interference on the other side of the scanner: opposite from them. She didn't mind it, so she began walking in the general direction, then stopped.
"The signal is transmitting from that way." Stormgear looked up to point, then back down at her scanner. "Just a few miles, and we'll be out of the heat!" As soon as she recalled her oblivious famous last words, she transformed into her dune buggy and drove slowly, leading the way for Chronon to follow.
Chronon smiled mysteriously. She was lucky, in a sense. She met an alternate universe's Stormgear once, which is why she knew her alt-mode.
Looking towards the horizon, Chronon noticed that she couldn't see that far. She could see the approximate location of the signal, but that was due to her having marked it. The haze beyond was quite worrying. She narrowed her optics. Likely a sandstorm, considering they were in a desert.
"We'd better be quick," she told Stormgear. "A storm is coming."
Chronon transformed into her spiky space warship mode. She would be quite slow as she is hardly aerodynamic. "We probably won't get there before it, so we should get prepared, I guess."
Chronon's jets fired, flying after Stormgear. She hoped they could get through safely.
As Chronon trailed her from the sky, Stormgear slowly pieced together that the huge abyss of brown ahead was actually a storm. And it looked angry. Stormgear looked at her scanner, matching the storm's coordinate's with the signal's coordinates. Chronon was right, they weren't going to make it. But she had a feeling that wasn't there only problem. Just driving up the dunes was getting harder, due to the wind changes.
"Chronon, what's the storm's traveling velocity?" She asked via commlink. "I can't get any data from down here, but I think the storm looks irritated. i have a hunch it's no ordinary storm."
As they got closer to the storm, Chronon was starting to feel the wind, and since her alt-mode was made to fly in airless environments, keeping up with Stormgear proved to be a problem.
Chronon transformed back into her robot mode, landing on the sand. "Around ninety-something metres per second," she said. "It's a lot for a storm, I think, but I don't know much about Earth weather so don't take my word for it. I doubt it actually looks irritated. It's just a storm.
"However, I won't be surprised if it's unnatural. Something has to be put in place to protect something this powerful."
Chronon could feel the power emanating from the beacon's location. Her alt-mode's time-sensitivity lets her sense the relic's threads leading both to the past and to the future, both in this universe and in others. To see the number of events it was linked to was overwhelming, to say the least. Some would start to have second thoughts about retrieving it, but this only made Chronon more determined to get it, lest it fall into Decepticon hands.
Stormgear kept driving heading for the signal. Chronon's signal had tracked back a bit. She wasn't going to verbally tax Chronon for dragging. She had her reasons after all, mostly because of the current environment. Unlike the arielbot, Stormgear climbed the dunes with resistance. The wind didn't strike her until she'd hit the top. The storm was within a mile. Panic filled her, it was irritated indeed, because it was a flipping sandstorm.
Stormgear stepped on the gas, heading for the nearest cover, a rock at the base of the dune. Storm transformed into her robot mode and activated her forearm shield. "Chronon, get to cover! Your very angry storm is a fragging sandstorm! With the wind speed you mentioned, it'll tear us apart!"
The little femme pressed herself against the rock, following up with a crouch and the shield over her helm. It was the best cover she'd get. Not even a few seconds later, the storm rushed over, sand scrapping the top of her shield. If it was enough to grind her shield a bit, primus forbid getting any of her body in it's wake!
The sand was starting to get irritating, so Chronon activated her face shield. The sides of her helmet joined together, covering the bottom half of her face, as a black, translucent visor slid over her optics. With that out of the way, she quickly caught up to Stormgear.
Seeing how Stormgear was struggling against the wind, Chronon held her riot shield in front of Stormgear, while standing behind her. She wasn't having a hard time as her jets could match the speed of the wind, allowing her to move as if it didn't exist. Her shield was another matter, however, and its large cross-sectional area made it hard to move forth. "Onwards," she said, trudging along with Stormgear between her and her shield.
It unfair how Chronon travelled through the winds. As she moved from her hiding place to tackle the wind's current, Chronon had landed and placed her riot shield infront of the duo. She seemed to take the wind well. After all she was a seeker. She had those jets. She, however, did not. Her stature surely didn't help. With her shield out, she caught whatever the riot shield didn't deflect. Minimal damages. But some of her paint had already chipped off. Speaking of which, why wasn't Chronon effected?! This storm was so strong!
" Were almost there! My marker is coming up at half-a-mile!" Stormgear stated.
The only reason Chronon seemed to take no damage from the sandstorm was that her paint was beneath her armour. Her armour was receiving quite the beating, as the sand grains were small enough to slip past the defects in her armour, causing some of her paint to flake. It wasn't obvious, especially in a sandstorm with low visibility, because her armour was keeping it in place. The areas more affected by sand were her joints, as she used regular metal to protect them rather than the graphene she used elsewhere. A few scratches could be seen if observed closely.
"Seven hundred metres now," Chronon said. Unlike her brother-in-arms, she knew not to give a ludicrous amount of precision. She directed a clicking noise forward to see if there's anything large, like a shelter around the powerful relic, but the sound was quickly lost amongst the howling wind. "Wind speed is around forty metres per second. Based on my rudimentary knowledge of cylindrical systems, it will probably increase linearly, up to... Around sixty. But again, I don't know much about Earth weather, so take this with a grain of salt. Preferably an undissolvable one."
No wonder she was taking so much damage! 60 meters per a second was fast! When Chronon mentioned the winds were only getting faster, she could only image the interference they were to run into. Hopefully this would all be worth it. They were going to acquire a relic. Anything is worth preventing the Decepticons from becoming stronger.
"Well, then Earth weather sucks. This reminds me stories of the sea of rust." She stated. "Paint-stripping sand winds, and hardly visible terrains!"
Chronon staggered to the side as the wind changed direction abruptly. She immediately repositioned her shield between the wind and Stormgear.
"Don't remind me," Chronon murmured, soft enough that it was inaudible to Stormgear. The last time she went to the Sea of Rust, her force shield had broken, as it was in this mission, and polytetrafluoroethene, otherwise known as Teflon, made for terribly uncomfortable armour, but it was the only way to prevent herself from being corroded by the rust storms.
"To be fair," Chronon spoke up. "This is probably much less deadly than the Sea of Rust. Silicon dioxide isn't as likely to react with your armour as caesium permanganate. Sand takes much more time to damage your armour by grinding."
[ occ note: I kinda want to get this thing moving. Im gonna do a time skip to the device's retrieval.]
All Stormgear could hear was yet another logical answer to one of her own accusations. Storm had no idea what it was, was she that easy to correct. Or was this femme easily taken off topic by a questionable remark. Whatever, this storm stinks. she thought. How was Storm suppose to know what the Sea of Rust was like! As far as Storm was concerned, she had no memories of there homeworld. She blamed the infamous bad guy Megatron for that.
It took an hour to reach there destination. The last stretch had been the easiest, since the storm had blown over. Stormgear made a dive into the storm to unearth a small container, skinny enough to match the dimensions of her forearm. I swear to god, this thing better have been worth it. Stormgear sat on the ground in a ciss-cross applesauce postion, and popped the top off the container. Inside was a mystical looking pen with a weird wing butt design. She didn't touch it, but she produced a dumbfound look. "a-- pencil?" she grumbled. Whatever, it was what they were looking for. She placed the top back over it.
"Where the heck did we come from? I want to go back to base and touch up on my paint and circuitry." She grumbled. "Ratchet said to go back to our original coordinates for the pick-up."
As the storm finally subsided, Chronon put her riot shield away. Chronon transformed and followed the buggy. Time to get this thing.
~~~~~~
Looking at the container, it was obviously an Iacon relic. But none of them were that small, were they? Looking down, Chronon saw the item. "Huh," she thought. "I thought it'd be bigger."
"It's Alpha Trion's Quill, I think," Chronon told Stormgear. Yep. She could sense the power in it. The subtle yet powerful changes to past events, and the potential to divert them to a better - or worse - future. All in the container as small as Stormgear's forearm. Thank Primus they got to it first.
The return trip was uneventful. Two hours (or as her brother would call it, 7.2 kiloseconds) of flying/driving along an unending desert until they arrived at their original location, where a Groundbridge was waiting. Chronon hurriedly stepped through the portal to the base. She couldn't wait to get all the sand out of her armour.