#transformers krok

You woke up with a start, sitting up to look around in the dark frantically. You quickly recognized the engine sounds of a spaceship, causing your mind to settle. With a sigh, you lie back to stare at the ceiling. Somehow, you kept forgetting that you were in space now. You had been launched into deep space in the newest line of space exploration efforts. This time, scientists had crafted a space pod that aerodynamically was capable of lesser warp speeds. The catch was that only one person could fit in these pods. After many tests, you were found to be the best fit for the first human solo trip into space within these new pods. 

Accepting the offer with pride, you were shot into space, but now, some nights, you regret it. It was lonely in space. At times, this pod felt claustrophobic, especially after bad dreams. You have had a few doomsday dreams since the pods' launch. Ones of being sucked into space, or the engine sputtering out. But this last one felt so real.

The blaring of sirens, red lights flashing, as the pod squealed around you, making noises no spaceship should make. The desperate clicking of buttons before you abandoned hope and began the dash for a spacesuit. Even the burn of your lungs as you felt oxygen pressure dropping in the pod's cabin had felt so real. It sent a chill down your spine.

You didn’t think you could go back to sleep, so you sat up, ready to wander into the front cabin and watch space go by through the viewing window. Something about watching the stars and planets go by always calmed you. As you sat up to make the familiar trek to the front cabin, the door to your sleeping quarters slid open. In the doorway stood a giant robot. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. This was not your space pod.

You had somehow mistaken this ship for yours, except now you were starting to realize everything was far too big to be yours. Somehow, you had missed this crucial detail in the dark. Scrabbling up to your feet, you looked over the side of your previous sleeping area to the ground far below. There was no way you could jump. Turning back to look at the robot, you finally started yelling out demands. “What have you done with me?! Where is my pod?! What do you want from me?!”

The giant tilted its head, and you watched its lit eyes cycle, clearly focusing on you. The mechanisms on either side of its head twitched, making a calibrating click sound. “English… you speak English,” it finally spoke in a halting tone.

“That’s not what I asked,” you snapped.

“Calm down,” the robot tried to soothe as it stepped closer to you.

“No, no–no,” you pulled your shoe off to hold it up menacingly, “don’t come any closer until you answer my questions!” It stopped, allowing you to continue. “Why am I here? What happened to my pod? What do you want from me?”

“From you… nothing. As for what happened… I’m not quite sure how it came to be –but your little pod fell apart around you. Literally. When we found you… you were haphazardly stuffed into an oxygen suit, floating in debris. We saved you.” The robot's English left something to be desired, but you were grateful to be communicating with it at all.

“We,” you asked?

“Me and my crew.”

“They call us the Scavengers,” piped up a second voice, and you looked around the first robot to see another pink one. You let out a scream before throwing your shoe, hitting the pink bot directly in its chest. “Nice throw,” he chuckled.

“Misfire,” the first robot wheeled around to reprimand the pink one, “I told you to wait, we don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“Well, I got bored,” Misfire rolled his eyes, before looking at you, “besides, you’ll like my company more than Krok here.” He pointed at the first bot while sticking out his tongue in mock disgust.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” you shook your head. “My pod broke, and then you rescued me? And you have a crew? Called the Scavengers?”

“Why did you say it like you hate the name? I think it’s a good name,” Misfire piped up again. His tone was indignant. 

“That’s because it was your idea,” Krok shot back, pushing Misfire back. As the pink bot stumbled back, you realized two more heads were peeking around the doorway. The orange one with goggles pulled his head back, his face looking scared. The other stood his ground, narrowing his eyes.

“It has a second projectile,” he eyed the shoe still on your foot, “I think we should get rid of it.”

“No, Spinister,” Misfire turned to the suspicious bot, “we are caring for the organic, remember? Besides, their feet covers don’t hurt when they throw them.”

“They’re called shoes,” you snorted at Misfire, “and I am very dangerous, so don’t try anything.”

“Yeah, alright, Squishy, whatever you say,” the pink bot flipped his hand carelessly. Turning back to you, Misfire pretended to quake in fear. Fuming, you wrenched off your other shoe and threw it at him, hitting him in the shoulder this time.

“Wow, twice in a row, it has better aim than you, Misfire,” spoke the orange bot, he was back to peeking around the doorway. You made eye contact with the orange robot, and he immediately spun back around the doorway, muttering, “why did it have to be a human?” The way he said it made you sound like you were a bug to them; then again, looking at your size compared to them… maybe you were.

As if reading your thoughts, Krok spoke, “ignore Fulcrum, he has a weird thing about humans.” The way he said ‘thing’ made it sound like perhaps he was afraid of you. How ironic would that be? A giant robot is afraid of little old you. Krok approached the slab you had been sleeping on, causing you to break from your thoughts. He gently deposited your shoes onto the slab next to you. “Here, your… shoes… I think you called them.”

“Yes,” you picked them up, “thank you.” Giving Krok a friendly enough smile, you put them back on. “So my pod, it was destroyed?”

“Affirmative, unsalvagable,” Krok shook his head, his voice leaking with pity.

“Oh,” you lowered yourself onto the slab so you could hug your knees, “then I guess I’m stuck in space… lightyears from home.” Kneeling, Krok brought himself almost eye level with you. The look he gave you seemed similar to one you’d imagine a person giving a wounded animal.

“You can stay as long as you need, it’s kinda what we do. Pick up strays, that is.” His words made you sick. A stray? Is that all they thought of you as? Were you now doomed to be the equivalent of a stray cat to these robots? You didn’t want their pity or sad looks. You wanted your pod. To go home. To take back everything and just stay on Earth.

“Oh, you’re leaking,” Krok leaned forward from his kneeling spot, only for his hands to nervously flutter in the air around you.

Reaching up, you wiped at your face, and sure enough, you were crying. “Fuck,” you huffed, “don’t look at me.” Krok’s eyes squinted almost questioning before he looked down at the floor, respecting your wishes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure none of this was as you planned, but you’ll find none of our lives have gone as planned. We are all kind of strays, so to speak… that’s why we call ourselves the Scavengers.” Krok's tone was low and comforting. “And now that you’ve joined us… that makes you one too, if you want.” At his words, you balled up your fists and slammed them down on your slab. A primal yell left you.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m lost in space, at the whim of giant alien robots. Look how far up I am from the floor! I gotta beg just to be let down,” you snapped. Flinching at your words, Krok slowly reached out, messing with the bottom of the slab. You felt it shift, and slowly he lowered it as far as he could. It slid down like a hairdresser's chair. When it finally stopped, you were just a few feet above the floor. 

“Most of this ship is minibot compatible; it should help you adjust a little bit.” Turning away from him, you huffed stubbornly.

“Just –go away!” You were being petty, you knew that. But you wanted nothing to do with them right now; you just wanted space. It didn’t matter to you if you hurt their feelings or overstepped; you just wanted to be alone. You didn’t want to think about joining them or navigating the rest of the ship; you just wanted to wallow. With a vent of air, Krok stood before turning and herding the others out silently. The door shut behind him with a definitive click. Finally, you were alone. 

The silence was deafening, almost overwhelming, but you needed it. Wanted it.