Other Worlds [Part 2]
Mar. 31st, 2009 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceYay, title! *flops*
Title: Other Worlds [Part 2]
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Somehow, he’d fallen into recharge. Not feeling any more rested than before, he rose off the ground, mechanically stretching pinched cables and lines, getting his systems working smoothly again. He stared blankly at his door, at the rest of the world (and his cyberninja counterpart. And Prowl.) on the other side for a moment. Then, he smoothed on the placid, carefree expression expected of him, and left his quarters to be Jazz, TIC of the Autobots.
The Ark was busy. Repairs on their guests’ ship had long been complete, and the science bots had finally worked out a way to return them to their own reality. Without any means of testing the procedure however, it would be a risky endeavour. But they had to try. The situation the other Ultra Magnus had informed them of was alarming. These mechs were definitely needed back home.
The Ark’s mechs were worried for the other dimension’s bots (though some would rather rust than admit it), and Jazz knew they were just as uncertain of their odds. There was no predicting where they’d end up, or when, even, just a reasonable confidence that they would be in the correct reality if all went well. If all went well.
He entered the rec room, noting that Sentinel Prime was already there, staring into a cube of energon. Almost unwillingly (it was rather mean to do so, after all, even if the mech had been an aft at first), his smile widened briefly. The blue mech had managed to earn the enmity of the entire crew with his attitude when they’d gotten him and his associates back to the Ark, and the resulting backlash had been interesting, to say the least.
= = =
After making sure that everyone on the downed ship was accounted for and able to travel (they had two medics of their own, and they had been a great help to Ratchet in getting everyone checked out quickly), the new bots scanned Earthly alt forms.
Ultra Magnus and Sentinel Prime already had workable alts, if a little outlandish looking. The other Jazz’s vechicle mode however… Both Jazzes had indulged in a little showboating, admiring and comparing forms like younglings while the others snickered at them or tested the modes they’d scanned off the Autobots present.
Ironhide (the younger) had taken on his elder version’s alt mode, and both endured more than a little ribbing at that. Both medics had copied Ratchet once they found out what his alt was used for, but a death glare from the CMO put paid to any exhibition of humour at his expense.
Blaster commed ahead to brief the mechs back at the Ark on the situation. Jazz had snuck in a quip to Prowl on private comms to get any short circuits out of the way before they got there, because they were going to need all the help they could get in figuring this out. Prowl had initially brushed it off as a joke (and Jazz couldn’t fault the tactician there), but listened when the Ops mech insisted, all humour gone from his manner, that he was serious.
That Hoist was standing close to the black and white Datsun when Prowl met them outside the base had been gratifying.
Nearly as gratifying was the sight of the newcomers staring at Optimus Prime when the mech strode out of the Ark to meet them. The Autobot Commander towered over the newcomers, even their Ultra Magnus. Their stunned expressions when Optimus greeted them warmly, welcoming them to Earth as Leader of the Autobots had made Jazz (and he guessed, every Autobot running escort) snicker internally. Guess their Optimus was a tad different.
Warm fuzzy smugness evaporated, however, the moment Sentinel Prime ran his vocaliser.
“That is your leader? The Supreme Commander of the Autobots in this messed up place is Optimus Prime, that pathetic washout of a repair bot? Primus save us, we’re doomed.”
Before anyone else could react (and thankfully, because Jazz wasn’t sure if there’d be anything left of Sentinel if they had), Prowl had spoken, shooting a quelling look at the Ark Autobots.
“And who might you be?”
“My name is Sentinel. I’m a Prime, and that rank is second only to Ultra Magnus, our Supreme Commander. You’d better remember that, mech. Who the frag are you?”
Prowl’s expression didn’t change, though Optimus had raised an optic ridge as the Ark’s mechs growled and Jazz tensed subtly, matched by the other Jazz. The tactician simply regarded the blue mech calmly and made his reply.
“I am Prowl. Head Tactician and Second in Command of the Autobot forces. Your rank matters little now. You are on Earth, and under our watch. We have and recognise only one bot as Prime amongst all the Autobots, and that bot is Optimus Prime. You will address him by that designation, or the titles ‘sir’ or ‘Prime’, and you will address me and every other officer of the Autobots as ‘sir’. Is that clear?”
When Sentinel didn’t respond, stunned by the fact that someone had spoken to him in such a manner, Ultra Magnus cleared his vocaliser, shattering the tense air. “I apologise for Sentinel, he’s been under a lot of pressure recently.”
Shifting his focus to the silent red and blue truck, he continued. “And I will ensure that my mechs pay yours the proper respect, Optimus Prime.”
Optimus nodded, then bid the assembled Autobots under his command to return to their duties. As the bots dispersed, the newcomers were herded into the med bay for a proper examination, and to keep them in one place, out of the general population until their situation could be sorted out.
= = =
“I can’t believe this! The data is so completely novel; there is no precedent for something like it ever occurring! The odds of your group surviving this were minimal, to the best of my calculations.”
“I know. Isn’t it enthralling? Trans-dimensional travel, imagine the possibilities if we could harness it. So much we could learn from other realities and dimensions!”
“Come now, control yourselves. We need to figure out a way to get home.” Wheeljack (the other Wheeljack, not the Ark’s) cut in between the two microscopes, and both Perceptors blinked at him before turning back to the pile of data they were poring over, growing lost in their discussion again. “Perhaps if we recreated the conditions…”
“You want us to sneak everyone over to the ‘Cons’ space bridge and blow it up while they fly through?” The Ark’s Wheeljack questioned, and Skyfire chuckled. “Well, you are the expert in making stuff go boom.”
The engineer snarked at the shuttle. “Ha fragging ha. We have no idea if doing such a thing would return our friends to their original dimension.”
“Space bridge technology warps the transdimensional fabric. The explosion must have affected the process, causing the warp to be greater than normal, relocating us to an entirely different reality, rather than just a location.” The new Wheeljack (whom everyone had decided to simply call ‘Jack, for ease of differentiation) murmured thoughtfully, and the Perceptors nodded.
“So if we could determine the severity of the warp and generate something similar-” The discussion trailed off into tech-babble and enthusiasm again, and both Wheeljacks looked at each other, then at Skyfire.
“Well, they’re going to be at it for a while yet.” Wheeljack sighed, and ‘Jack did the same, agreeing. “I concur. And our twins have been too quiet.”
“Frag, so have our twins.”
“… Proceed with all haste?”
“Like the Unmaker were after us and our afts were on fire.”
Title: Other Worlds [Part 2]
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Somehow, he’d fallen into recharge. Not feeling any more rested than before, he rose off the ground, mechanically stretching pinched cables and lines, getting his systems working smoothly again. He stared blankly at his door, at the rest of the world (and his cyberninja counterpart. And Prowl.) on the other side for a moment. Then, he smoothed on the placid, carefree expression expected of him, and left his quarters to be Jazz, TIC of the Autobots.
The Ark was busy. Repairs on their guests’ ship had long been complete, and the science bots had finally worked out a way to return them to their own reality. Without any means of testing the procedure however, it would be a risky endeavour. But they had to try. The situation the other Ultra Magnus had informed them of was alarming. These mechs were definitely needed back home.
The Ark’s mechs were worried for the other dimension’s bots (though some would rather rust than admit it), and Jazz knew they were just as uncertain of their odds. There was no predicting where they’d end up, or when, even, just a reasonable confidence that they would be in the correct reality if all went well. If all went well.
He entered the rec room, noting that Sentinel Prime was already there, staring into a cube of energon. Almost unwillingly (it was rather mean to do so, after all, even if the mech had been an aft at first), his smile widened briefly. The blue mech had managed to earn the enmity of the entire crew with his attitude when they’d gotten him and his associates back to the Ark, and the resulting backlash had been interesting, to say the least.
= = =
After making sure that everyone on the downed ship was accounted for and able to travel (they had two medics of their own, and they had been a great help to Ratchet in getting everyone checked out quickly), the new bots scanned Earthly alt forms.
Ultra Magnus and Sentinel Prime already had workable alts, if a little outlandish looking. The other Jazz’s vechicle mode however… Both Jazzes had indulged in a little showboating, admiring and comparing forms like younglings while the others snickered at them or tested the modes they’d scanned off the Autobots present.
Ironhide (the younger) had taken on his elder version’s alt mode, and both endured more than a little ribbing at that. Both medics had copied Ratchet once they found out what his alt was used for, but a death glare from the CMO put paid to any exhibition of humour at his expense.
Blaster commed ahead to brief the mechs back at the Ark on the situation. Jazz had snuck in a quip to Prowl on private comms to get any short circuits out of the way before they got there, because they were going to need all the help they could get in figuring this out. Prowl had initially brushed it off as a joke (and Jazz couldn’t fault the tactician there), but listened when the Ops mech insisted, all humour gone from his manner, that he was serious.
That Hoist was standing close to the black and white Datsun when Prowl met them outside the base had been gratifying.
Nearly as gratifying was the sight of the newcomers staring at Optimus Prime when the mech strode out of the Ark to meet them. The Autobot Commander towered over the newcomers, even their Ultra Magnus. Their stunned expressions when Optimus greeted them warmly, welcoming them to Earth as Leader of the Autobots had made Jazz (and he guessed, every Autobot running escort) snicker internally. Guess their Optimus was a tad different.
Warm fuzzy smugness evaporated, however, the moment Sentinel Prime ran his vocaliser.
“That is your leader? The Supreme Commander of the Autobots in this messed up place is Optimus Prime, that pathetic washout of a repair bot? Primus save us, we’re doomed.”
Before anyone else could react (and thankfully, because Jazz wasn’t sure if there’d be anything left of Sentinel if they had), Prowl had spoken, shooting a quelling look at the Ark Autobots.
“And who might you be?”
“My name is Sentinel. I’m a Prime, and that rank is second only to Ultra Magnus, our Supreme Commander. You’d better remember that, mech. Who the frag are you?”
Prowl’s expression didn’t change, though Optimus had raised an optic ridge as the Ark’s mechs growled and Jazz tensed subtly, matched by the other Jazz. The tactician simply regarded the blue mech calmly and made his reply.
“I am Prowl. Head Tactician and Second in Command of the Autobot forces. Your rank matters little now. You are on Earth, and under our watch. We have and recognise only one bot as Prime amongst all the Autobots, and that bot is Optimus Prime. You will address him by that designation, or the titles ‘sir’ or ‘Prime’, and you will address me and every other officer of the Autobots as ‘sir’. Is that clear?”
When Sentinel didn’t respond, stunned by the fact that someone had spoken to him in such a manner, Ultra Magnus cleared his vocaliser, shattering the tense air. “I apologise for Sentinel, he’s been under a lot of pressure recently.”
Shifting his focus to the silent red and blue truck, he continued. “And I will ensure that my mechs pay yours the proper respect, Optimus Prime.”
Optimus nodded, then bid the assembled Autobots under his command to return to their duties. As the bots dispersed, the newcomers were herded into the med bay for a proper examination, and to keep them in one place, out of the general population until their situation could be sorted out.
= = =
“I can’t believe this! The data is so completely novel; there is no precedent for something like it ever occurring! The odds of your group surviving this were minimal, to the best of my calculations.”
“I know. Isn’t it enthralling? Trans-dimensional travel, imagine the possibilities if we could harness it. So much we could learn from other realities and dimensions!”
“Come now, control yourselves. We need to figure out a way to get home.” Wheeljack (the other Wheeljack, not the Ark’s) cut in between the two microscopes, and both Perceptors blinked at him before turning back to the pile of data they were poring over, growing lost in their discussion again. “Perhaps if we recreated the conditions…”
“You want us to sneak everyone over to the ‘Cons’ space bridge and blow it up while they fly through?” The Ark’s Wheeljack questioned, and Skyfire chuckled. “Well, you are the expert in making stuff go boom.”
The engineer snarked at the shuttle. “Ha fragging ha. We have no idea if doing such a thing would return our friends to their original dimension.”
“Space bridge technology warps the transdimensional fabric. The explosion must have affected the process, causing the warp to be greater than normal, relocating us to an entirely different reality, rather than just a location.” The new Wheeljack (whom everyone had decided to simply call ‘Jack, for ease of differentiation) murmured thoughtfully, and the Perceptors nodded.
“So if we could determine the severity of the warp and generate something similar-” The discussion trailed off into tech-babble and enthusiasm again, and both Wheeljacks looked at each other, then at Skyfire.
“Well, they’re going to be at it for a while yet.” Wheeljack sighed, and ‘Jack did the same, agreeing. “I concur. And our twins have been too quiet.”
“Frag, so have our twins.”
“… Proceed with all haste?”
“Like the Unmaker were after us and our afts were on fire.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-31 04:41 pm (UTC)I see it, also, you has fic. *points*/a> (http://ante-luce.livejournal.com/37850.html)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-31 04:58 pm (UTC)