кєєקєг ๏Ŧ tђє є๓๒єгรt๏ภє

power series — telekinesis [ˌteləkiˈnēsis] 

Space (dancer series 4/6)

￤𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐.￤

A burst of static answered her instead of the usual grunt of affirmation she was expecting. Vehicons were replaceable to an extent, though losing them on an outing with little explanation would likely be frowned upon by superiors. A waste of resources and Commander Starscream’s ‘invaluable time’ as he liked to put it. Hauhet could think of many different things to describe the Commander’s presence other than invaluable, but it was during those times she found it wise to keep one’s thoughts to themselves.

Returning to the task at hand, her servo reached behind her shoulder to the gun resting heavily between her wings. It glowed gold upon recognizing her signature, scope extending in preparation of precise striking. As she drew near their previous position, her scanners became increasingly muddled. Resetting her visor just to be sure it was not her optical augmentations, all four pupils narrowed upon the digital map that had projected itself in front of them.

The screen flickered before her with the landscape hovering in three dimensional form, narrowing to the two purple insignias of her soldiers. Which were flickering heavily from interference ,the coordinates sputtering before blanking out completely. It was a short attempt to locate them, but it worked. Navigation was completely dependent on her optics and other senses, something that made the rear of her processor tick with anticipation.

Shadowed frame moving swiftly through what appeared to be a wooded area, the miasma within her core expanded from its usual circumference. It was enough to make her nearly slam into a tree from the sensation, one she’d not felt since…them. Energon lines danced as if they were aflame, restrained energy metaphorically leaping from the cracks in her armor. Yet she was drawn to whatever was creating the digital disturbances.

And what was suspending her Vehicons in the air, their visors dark but frames still thrumming with life. Hauhet wanted to repel from the field that swept over her, and judging by the gilded figure in front of her, they were just as confused as she was.

She couldn't allow them to go free, yest they contact whatever maniac ran that branch of the Decepticons. While a giant glowing femme with six optics and eight arms would spin quite a tale, there was always the chance of it being taken in truth. Her ship was built for stealth, not battle. And using the warp drive in such close proximity to an inhabited planet posed its own problems. Killing them was the last thing she wished to do. 

So here she was, pacing and mumbling to herself what to do with these...Vehicons, were they?

Her answer came in the form of a small seeker, who nearly tripped over her own pedes at the sight of the two soldiers suspended in mid-air. Immediately her EM field flared out in guarded curiosity, the returning wave enough to make her feel suddenly nauseous. Outwardly she appeared just as surprised as the Decepticon femme in front of her, but like the other, a war was happening within. 

The presence that had drawn her here stood before her, looking quite uncomfortable to say the least. She rasped out a soft exclamation of surprise, the hint of a Kaonite accent tickling her glossa. 

Quintus had felt this before. Similar to the tug between herself and her cousin, Stella. Or Megatronus, perhaps. The polar opposite to her Emberstone, but lesser, as if diluted. Still running deep within the thrumming spark of the other, (she could hear it), but nowhere near strong enough as one born with the taint or directly infused with a shard. How interesting.

Whereas Quintus had felt nausea, it appeared as if the seeker was about to purge her tanks. Pale face plating, strainged grim-oh.

Oh dear. 

Seems she spoke too soon. It's a good thing she was used to the sight of half-digested energon, what with her younglings and all.

“I fear that it is o-over, the time of Primes. Without one, we all fall. P-Perhaps it is for the best..”

There was little to show for her efforts, other than a few planned mining sites. The task was simple, allocate energon sources for later use and return to the Nemesis. But no. Something was messing the signal, enough to make it that even her heightened senses could not detect the faint thrum of resting energon crystals.

A slit that allowed light to enter her optic shield flared lilac in irritation. What in the name of the Unmaker could be causing this? A dampening signal? Surely her team would have picked it up, traced it to its source and eliminated anything undesirable. Vehicons were useful for three things. Target practice, running errands, and the occasional frag. Though, she supposed, they weren’t all that bad. She’d been dubbed Twiddles by a familiar few that she didn’t want to put between her cross hairs. They remained in her good graces..for now.

The Quartermaster let out a deep growl, the golden plates adorning her fins glinting in the sunlight. She wanted to do nothing more than return to the Nemesis with cargo in tow and relax with some organization. Hauhet grumbled as she swiftly made her way to the last known area of her Vehicons. It had been an hour since they had split rank, and they were due for a check-in.

No issue had come of it, none that she remembered at least...

Still, the call in her chest was there. It was not friendly, as if her spark were recognizing a sibling or their creator. Nor was it completely revolted at the presence of Unicron's antispark. The confusion kept her wandering, tendrils moving carefully behind her as she sought out the feeling. It had never been wrong before, though it did happen to get them both into mischief.

Wandering had led her to what appeared to be a traversed path, though not by humans, but her own kind. The steps were uniform in the soft soil, pedes identical in a way that confused her. Twins, perhaps? She knew no twins other than her young, unless..

The hum of two blasters confirmed her suspicions, Quintus inwardly scolding herself for such lack of attention. She'd walked right into a patrol, the red visors of the scouts telling her they were not Autobot. The aimed blasters did not help. One barked out a command to remain where she was, addressing her as 'Autobot.' That made her arch an optic ridge. It seemed they thought she was their enemy faction, a useless thought really. She was unaligned, though she did lean toward the peaceful side when so inclined. 

"I believe you have an incorrect idea. May we resolve this peacefully?"

PSR B1257+12 systems pulsar planets

Jet in Carina