Chromia shouldered through the crowd with a scowl, sidestepping Cybertronians as they celebrated their victory, some while still bleeding out. For every drop of energon they couldn’t spare for Caminus, it seemed, they had a gallon to waste. How much had been wasted, she wondered, in the slagging millions of years of their war? Would they ever get tired of it?

Not that Windblade was deterred, of course. She was still set on her grand mission, no matter how Chromia had tried to make her see that it had failed before they’d ever left Caminus. The cityspeaker was duty-bound to keep trying-- and Chromia was duty-bound to remain at her side.

But that didn’t mean anyone else had to go down with them.

Nautica was, as expected, still exactly where Chromia had left her, wringing her hands around her wrench as she stared up at a hastily painted banner that hung on the side of the massive ship that had brought them here. She shuffled aside as Chromia came up, giving her a clear view. Not that she couldn’t have seen it perfectly well as she’d walked up. It was big and flashy, its color choices seeming almost to scream at passersby.

TODAY ONLY, it read, LOST LIGHT CREWDITIONS.

An arrow almost as big as the text was underneath, pointing the way. A series of smaller-- though no less flashy-- signs were set up further along, some stuck to the ship and some attached by magnetic poles to the torn metal ground. They all boasted things like, “Crewditions this way” or “Keep going to join our quest” or, in the case of one sign out of alignment with the others, “The Knights of Cybertron are NOT this way, turn back!”

Some big, blue bot who looked like he turned into a boat was standing and frowning down at that last sign like it’d told him a joke he didn’t understand.

“Well,” said Chromia as she dismissed the boat and tracked the path of the signs, “they certainly wanted to make sure you knew where to go.” She turned a shrewd look on Nautica, hands on her hips. “So, then, what are you doing still standing out here?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, a quest?” Nautica said, but she sounded wistful despite herself. “We only just got finished helping save the universe, apparently. And to hear some of the current crew talk-- and they’ve been talking a lot, let me tell you-- this isn’t even all that unusual for them.”

“So?” said Chromia, though without the same conviction as she’d walked up with. She wasn’t inclined to give much credence to space-farers’ tales as a general rule but considering what they’d just been through… Still, just about anywhere had to be better than here. “Don’t tell me your thirst for adventure has been quenched already.”

Nautica hunched her shoulders and ducked over a laugh. “Oh, come on. You know I only came along as a favor to Windblade.” Air hitched through her vents and she straightened, face suddenly alert. “I completely forgot to ask! What did she--?”

“Windblade is staying here,” Chromia said, not bothering to hide what she thought of it, “and that means I am too.”

Nautica deflated, darting a forlorn look up at the sign before bracing herself to say, “Then I guess--”

“There’s no reason for you to be stuck on this scrapheap too,” Chromia cut in firmly. “And I’m going to have enough of a headache keeping our cityspeaker safe anyway, without trying to keep an eye on you.”

“It’s not your job to keep an eye on me,” Nautica said, gaze dropping, quieter than it seemed like she meant to be.

Chromia felt herself go soft again-- and felt her resolve harden. She squeezed Nautica’s shoulder; when Nautica’s gaze lifted again a moment later, Chromia caught it tight and said, “What, you think that would stop me?”

Nautica ducked again, too slow to hide her smile. She shifted closer, though Chromia couldn’t say whether she meant to. Taking it as an invitation nonetheless, she curled her arm around Nautica’s shoulders, tucking her protectively against her side and checking her lightly with a hip. Then someone behind them got into a loud argument, breaking the moment.

“There’s nothing here worth staying for,” Chromia said, scowling over her shoulder, “whatever Windblade thinks.” She turned back to give Nautica a grim smile and added, “And you can’t be in that much of a hurry to get back to Caminus, can you?”

Nautica hiccuped a weak laugh at the idea.

“Come on, then,” Chromia said, giving her a friendly jostle. “It’d be a weight off my shoulders knowing you were out there seeing the universe you’ve read so much about, surrounded by people with the sense to leave this place.”

There was a long moment of silence. From the edge of her peripheral, Chromia noticed the boat mech finally turn away from the stray sign and follow the others. Nautica bit her lip and nodded up at the banner and said, “That isn’t even a real word.”

Chromia did a double-take, opened her mouth only to close it again. Rolling her shoulders in a shrug, she said, “I don’t know, maybe it’s some kind of regional term.”

“No, I’m telling you, it’s just not a word.”

“It’s their banner, Nautica, they can write what they want on it,” Chromia said, throwing her free hand up. “Anyway, what does it matter? You’re going to let that stop you from applying?”

Nautica opened her mouth and closed it much like Chromia had. She looked up the banner, clutching her wrench to her chest. Chromia’s spark pulsed in victory as she watched Nautica’s expression set, felt Nautica straighten up under her arm.

Finally, Nautica said, “No.” Her lips twitched into a nervous but determined smile. “No, I’m not.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Chromia said, sliding her arm off of Nautica’s shoulders and slapping a hardy hand on her back. This lost cause of a planet felt a little less hostile already, knowing it at least wouldn’t threaten Nautica much longer. “Go on, then, get in there.” She gave Nautica an encouraging push between the shoulders and stood back with her hands on her hips.

“R-right,” Nautica said, her bravery dimming. She put one hesitant foot in front of the other, following the signage. She seemed to shrink with every step she took, the charming and lively bot Chromia had come to know retreating within a shell of acute social anxiety.

Well, that was never going to win her a place on the crew.

Just as Nautica looked like she might balk, Chromia caught up and hooked her elbow with her own, taking long strides so that Nautica had to hurry to keep up. The look she gave Chromia in response to this treatment was startled but radiant, in its way.

“Come on, Nautica,” Chromia said, trying somehow to press her own determination through her electromagnetic field and into her friend’s circuits. “Let’s get you onto this crew.”