red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

The Start of Something Interesting...

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time. The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on. The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased. He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity. It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors. Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

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"Well yes. It is supposed to be unsettling - it defeats the purpose if it is not."

Mirage gave Cliffjumper a long, searching stare. Did he really, really want to know? He was clearly disturbed enough as it was... Finally, he shrugged.

"Probably. You might have to ask for specific instances though. Things I know as 'true' might not register as rumor - and I surely do not know all rumors that lack any truth."

Cliffjumper just huffed at that, once again wondering if Mirage was just having him on, but something told him that no, Mirage wasn't. So that still left something existing that was pretty terrifying to think of, and not in a way that could be rectified.

"Didn't really have any in mind... just, ya know... remembered there's always these things people say sometimes, even if they don't believe 'em?" Gesturing with a hand loosely, Cliffjumper shrugged and stared at the floor.

"... really hope they won't want us to do too much stupid stuff... Especially not any slagging thing like you'd feel right at home with," Cliffjumper said, changing the topic mostly because he was tired of feeling unsettled.

Not that thinking about possible high-class parties or whatever was much better, if in a very different way.

"Oh, I'm sure they will have us do things that will keep us both on the edge of our struts," he laughed, giving the red mech a shrug. They still had some time left - the conversation was getting interesting enough to delay a little longer.

Especially when it came to regional superstition. Something the Towers themselves were not immune to, of course, but no way to know for sure what Cliffjumper was actually referring to.

"You're going to have to give me examples, Cliffjumper. Vanishing t-cogs? Rust walkers? Spark ghosts? Circuit watchers? I've heard a number of stores, but I doubt I've heard them all."

Shifting in his seat, Cliffjumper huffed, looked out of the window, and then back to Mirage.

"... Like spark ghosts, yeah. And, ya know... stupid stuff like destined spark mates, or bein' able to use more than the one ability some people get through the power chip rectifier... slag like that."

He hoped Mirage wouldn't laugh about the mention of spark mates. Not that he believed in that, or anything, but he was embarrassed just mentioning it. He had to admit he was curious about the tales of those who either had no power of the spark mediated through their power chip rectifier at all still being capable of using abilities like they did, or someone having more than one.

"Well, I don't know about destined spark mates," Mirage grinned, helm falling back with a chuckle. The idea was as cheesy as it was sparkwarming, really. It wasn't something Mirage pondered all too often, even if it warmed his vents at the thought.

"That is rumor and legend even to us, despite some rites that may hint otherwise."

He shook his helm, optics bright. Sorry Cliffjumper, no yes or no answer on that one.

"But yes, there are confirmed records of spark ghosts - very rare - same for multiple-ability outliers."

"Oh." Cliffjumper wasn't sure whether he was relieved or a bit annoyed it wasn't true. Even if Mirage didn't know one way or another. Because the thing was if it was true, then all the twittering about it would at least make sense.

On the other hand, if it wasn't true there wasn't anyone who fit better for anyone else beyond the usual ways.

With a little huff, Cliffjumper shook his helm and then looked back at Mirage, frowning.

"Really? How's the latter even supposed to work anyway?"

"Ghosts? Or you mean outliers?"

Mirage could only shrug, somewhat helpless.

"We are unsure. Most aren't stupid enough to allow themselves to be caught and tested. Sparked with multiple chips or a glitch in the chip-reading programming? I don't know, I am a priest not a theoretical medic."

"Both, I guess..." Cliffjumper said, tilting his helm as Mirage attempted some scientific explanation. And while that was probably more logical and funny both, it wasn't what he'd expected as a reply.

He grinned nonetheless.

"Well, maybe you should change career, that was a pretty good attempt." Well, to be honest, Cliffjumper didn't know at all if it had been, but teasing Mirage, even now in this sort of truce, just came out anyway.

"Ha ha, very amusing." Mirage huffed, only half serious.

A quick check of his internal chronometer made Mirage start in his chair, sitting up with a quick stretch.

"Well. If we're done here, we should probably get going. Or at least, I should. You could probably stay here if you wished, though I should take that tour soon."

Though relaxed once again, Mirage wasn't sure if pressing Cliffjumper to take the tour and behave at the same time would be a wise course of action.

Cliffjumper, torn between wanting to know what their (very) temporary 'base' looked like, and not at all feeling like treading on whatever fine line Mirage considered 'reasonable' in this situation, hesitated for a moment before he grunted and shook his helm.

"You go. I'll keep an optic on things in here," Cliffjumper said, and he'd just have to... trust that Mirage would tell him anything he needed to know from the tour. Even if that made his spark rebel, he also didn't feel like having the same sort of situation like when they'd first gotten onboard.

"Very well," Mirage agreed, trying not to sound too relieved. Stretching, he slid out of the comfortable seat with a florish, plating and field settling back into a more appropriate 'priestly/diplomatic' mindset. He gave himself a once-over in the nearest mirror, buffing a mostly imaginary scuff from his arm with a quickly appearing-and-disappearing polishing cloth.

"Comm me if anything changes."

Giving Cliffjumper a final nod, Mirage headed out the door, giving the diplomats a comm ping to let them know he was on his way.

By the end of the trip, worrying over the impending pressure of properly playing diplomats... and a couple, Cliffjumper was definitely ready for the flight itself to be over.

Sitting in the passenger lounge, Cliffjumper was facing one of the large viewports, which, for the moment anyway, was giving an excellent view of Paradron.

The planet was much smaller than Cybertron, but at least three times as large as Earth, and had a strangely green look beneath the swathe of clouds, kind of like verdigris.

Six moons hung like a necklace around Paradron as well.

"There's a large amount of copper-rich rock in Paradron's crust, which turns most of the mountains and any bare rock on the ground green... and the sand as well," the ambassador said, smiling a little, "the equators are rather unpleasant and have wide stretched deserts; most of the population live north and south of the tropics."

Scrunching up his nose a little at the thought of deserts, Cliffjumper thought it didn't sound too bad besides that. Reluctantly but yet impossible not to, he glanced up at Mirage.

The trip had been a wonderful opportunity to get closer to the Paradronian representatives. Mirage was feeling much more confident in his ability to read them and gauge their reactions properly. Not completely, of course, but much better than he had when they first arrived, especially since nothing dire had happened.

Hopefully the trend would hold.

"It still has quite a lovely look, I must say," Mirage commented, slipping up behind Cliffjumper to the view ports. Arms crossed, he glanced down and gave the red mech a faint grin.

Maybe it was dumb, but as soon as Mirage's optics met his and the grin registered, Cliffjumper suddenly felt embarrassed and ducked his helm, scowling out through the viewport instead.

It would probably help their cover, but it was annoying how easily he got flustered by Mirage, sometimes...

"From here, it looks quite unique, yes," the ambassador said, sounding a little proud, "but it's far more lovely on the ground, of course, even if can't quite match the full splendor of Cybertron."

Cliffjumper cocked his helm and almost snorted quietly at that, cynically wondering if she was trying to suck up or if it was just the sort of admiration one would have for a long-lost home and the fact that Cybertron was metal from core to surface, uniquely suitable and made for them.

"I look forward to seeing it in person," Mirage agreed diplomatically. He briefly quirked a brow ridge at Cliffjumper, though the smaller mech probably missed the gesture entirely.

"I know several mechs back on Earth who would quite love to get their servos on some small samples, if that could be arranged."

"Ore samples?" the ambassador chuckled faintly and nodded, "but of course. Shouldn't be a problem... ah, scientists."

There were quite a few understanding smiles or chuckles around the passenger lounge, and Cliffjumper grinned reluctantly at well, since he could also easily think of who would love ore samples to go through.

As they started to descend, Cliffjumper squinted at some devices orbiting Paradron that didn't quite look like satellites, glanced to Mirage and then turned around, pointing to the closest one he could see.

"What're those?"

The ambassador's optics flickered and then she sighed.

"Atmosphere controls. Paradron didn't have an atmosphere before it was settled, and it can't keep onto one without assistance. Not that we necessarily need one, but it makes things easier, yes?"

Cliffjumper nodded, thinking about what a pain it must be to keep seeding atmospheric gasses if they kept being stripped away.

"Indeed," Mirage agreed, chuckling along with the group. He perked up at Cliffjumper's question, peering through the viewfinder to better see the floating devices himself.

Curious.

"They are certainly useful," he agreed, both referring to the devices and the atmosphere itself. "Though on Earth at least, it tends to lead to some rather interesting weather phenomena. What causes the atmosphere to disperse? Solar winds?"

"Weak magnetic field in conjunction with solar winds, yes," the ambassador said with a nod and Cliffjumper, meanwhile, had basically disconnected from the discussion. It was interesting that they needed the devices, but he wasn't really interested in the particulars around it.

What was interesting, though, was getting to see Paradron's surface grow closer with each passing minute as they descended, the deserts over the equator passing away for more hospitable - if still mostly rocky, it looked like - ground more southwards.

And with the shift away from the deserts came more settlements, some small, others large enough to be impressive on their own.

Especially as they weren't ravaged by war, which was obvious even from this height. Cliffjumper tried to stand still, but he both wanted to get this landing over with, and very much to be back on Earth.

Because when they landed, that's when the real difficulties would begin.

It was called making polite small talk, Cliffjumper, and it was an artform.

Mirage continued the conversation idly as they continued down, asking about the atmsphere production and composition itself before gently breaking the talk off before it could get too tedious or distract from the excitement of the actual landing.

"-either way, I mostly look forward to experiencing it myself. It has been all too long since we have been under any Cybertronian-born sky."

It was useless and boring, was what it was!

Mirage's comment, which was the first Cliffjumper had really registered in a bit, made the minibot grimace and nod in agreement. Nothing wrong with Earth's atmosphere, really, but the planet itself was a mudball.

"You have been fighting on Earth that long?" this time it wasn't the ambassador that spoke up, but rather one of her aides, and Cliffjumper frowned, glanced to Mirage, and then looked at the slender mech.

"Nah. But we crashed on it millions of years ago and got stuck in stasis lock." He couldn't quite stop the grimace, and there were a few sympathetic looks in return. Stasis lock was almost perfect, but sometimes you briefly got more aware as your systems checked the surroundings.

"Yes, that," Mirage sighed, making a face at the recollection, but his field flickered in muted approval at Cliffjumper actually joining the conversation despite his dislike of everything.

"Quite a unpleasant waste of time. So you can see why living life to the fullest is a bit more appealing that it might usually be." He joked lightly.

He wasn't pleased with that little flicker of approval. He didn't care, all right? Except, of course he did and Cliffjumper made sure he didn't grin, because that'd just be embarrassing.

Soft laughter and a few nods went through the cabin, and then they'd finally landed, the city that had risen up to meet them so much like what he could remember from before the war it almost hurt.

There were, of course, even obvious differences Cliffjumper noted while the ambassador led them out and he honestly didn't listen to whatever she said, at all. Far more interested by seeing proof of a genuinely and proper cybertronian city.

Stepping out of the ship was an experience.

Basking not in the alien sun, but the sights and sounds and fields around them, Mirage paused when he took the first steps off the ship's ramp.

It wasn't the same.

It wasn't home. But nothing ever could be home again.

But it was close. It felt like the colony worlds he'd been on before.

Optics flickering, he took a moment to appreciate the experience, arms spreading wide in the opening chorus of a blessing upon a colony world.

Edited 2015-07-10 06:04 (UTC)

Cliffjumper almost stomped right on - after he'd had his own moment of quiet staring - when Mirage stopped, but when the crowd that was waiting for them registered, plus the fact that Mirage wasn't moving, Cliffjumper stopped.

Glancing back up at Mirage, it didn't take much to realise he must be doing some sort of... priest thing, and with a quick look around it was obvious the gathered Paradronians approved.

Well, that was a good thing, he supposed.

Resisting the urge to roll his optics, Cliffjumper dropped his gaze to the ground - that ought to be safe enough, right? - until Mirage was done.

It wasn't even for show; Mirage was doing preforming the rite before he even realized it. It was almost as much of a surprise to himself as it was to Cliffjumper; falling right back into the role of priest as if he had never left it.

Thankfully, it was fairly brief - it was too informally started to be anything but brief - song echoing from his vocalizer with true feeling despite the short duration of the rite. He wasn't terribly surprised when a few others joined in, matching tone if not words. Some things had obviously changed between Cybertronian and Paradrion versions, but the sentiment and purpose matched, and that was what was important.

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The Start of Something Interesting...

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