Intro: Dreadnought

“Blackbox” A monstrous mech approached, casting heavy shadows over the newest crew member.

“Y-yes?” The miniscule biplane replied, tipping his framed head to meet the Captain’s eyes.

“Sir,” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” 

The astro class nodded, satisfied with his compliance.

“I am Eggshell, captain of the Dreadnought. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blackbox replied. Eggshell frowned at the informality this bot was portraying. Not even a bow. He supposed he looked like he could be a disposable class. Perhaps no one taught him manners. 

“Rules,” His voice rumbled low, made the smaller bot shudder, “I am your captain now, and you will act as such. You will not question orders. My say is final. I reserve the right to execute you if I feel I have ample reason. Disloyalty and disobedience will not be tolerated. Am I clear?”

He nodded, looking as if he were trying to put on a brave face. Eggshell trilled his turbines softly, mulling over whether it was logical for him to be disappointed already. He would say this soldier needed to be whipped into shape, but that really wasn’t his style. In the end he let his Decepticons get away with a lot, so long as they did what he told them and stayed out of his way. That being said, he would be surprised if the small, sheepish mech lasted a week.

Eggshell gestured to one of the two flyers set behind him, the one poised like a guard. 

“This is Skyhigh,” He introduced, “If ever I am unavailable, she will be left to take charge. Should you have any pressing queries, bother her before you think it’s a good idea to interrupt my work.”

Skyhigh made intense eye contact with the biplane. He looked like he wanted to ask a question, but held his tongue. Rather fortunate, as questions were frowned upon within the command of the Dreadnought.

“This is Hivemind.” Eggshell gestured unceremoniously towards the other flyer, a short mech who had been staring at Skyhigh (or something near her?) the entire time. He slowly turned his burning red visor to regard the new mech, wordlessly, and then slowly turned back to Skyhigh. Eggshell made a displeased sound. 

“Skyhigh. Introduce Blackbox to whatever or whoever else you deem necessary. Hivemind. Come.” He turned on his heel with no more than that, lumbering back to some dark part of the hangar. Hivemind soundlessly followed. 

Skyhigh watched them go, and flicked her cold gaze back to Blackbox. Never one to waste time, she began walking in another direction. She expected he would at least be aware enough to know to follow. 

“There are some crew members not currently on board. You will be made aware of them eventually,” she said. They travelled down dimly-lit corridors, silence holding a moment. Captain Eggshell may not have enjoyed questions, but she found clarification most efficient, and did not intend to answers questions her soldiers were too scared to ask.

“Why are they away?” He finally spoke. 

“They are much better suited to undercover work, and are able to do so independently. So long as they report in consistently, they are best utilised gathering information.” 

“I understand.”

“We will be meeting our medic, first. Designation Backtrack. Try to be wary with him.” Skyhigh expected Backtrack would try something, first impressions be damned. He really was less-than-useful, but they’d yet to be able to replace him. 

 

The cause of the Deceptions had always drawn out… characters. Some were more tolerable than others, and inevitably, there were those that couldn’t be further from it. The insufferable ones of the lot, the ones with delusions of incredible grandeur and all knowing glory. Aboard this particular ship, they had the displeasure of housing two. Along the hall ahead of them, the self-proclaimed strategist and his lackey were loitering, apparently deep in some so-called intellectual discussion. As she and Blackbox approached, they drew out of it enough to notice their arrival.

“A new arrival,” the Empurata stated smugly, as if it were so clever of him to have stated the obvious. Skyhigh often found she had to work to keep the disdain from her face around Rumblestrip. 

“Yes, this is Blackbox.” She let the smaller bot step forward and give the larger bots a nod. 

“I am Rumblestrip, the strategist.” Ever quick to turn the discussion to himself.

“Unofficially,” corrected the younger bot with him.

“That’s only because our Captain is foolish and petty, Autocorrect,” he snapped. 

Skyhigh needed only tilt her head so deliberately, and could see him shrink back by the twitch in his shoulders. 

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Blackbox cut in, and she had to wonder if he had picked up on the blunder or merely missed it.

“Likewise,” the younger replied, and earned himself a smile. Poor thing, thought he was making friends with Autocorrect. Well, he’d figure it out sooner or later, she supposed.

“We’re very busy,” Rumblestrip grumbled.

“Yes, we are.”

“I’m sure.” Skyhigh said, and turned away without missing a beat. Blackbox started and hurried to catch up with her long stride. 

They continued on in silence, whether it was uncomfortable or not she couldn’t care less. Occasionally they would pass a room of note and she would explain its purpose- there the barracks, and there the armory, and so on-- but not much conversation carried beyond that, save for a question.

“May I ask,” he began, “Why was Hivemind watching you before?”

She pondered how much she trusted him to know. The result was not much.

“I have something he covets.” 

“I see.” 

Silence reigned once more.

“This is the medbay,” Skyhigh introduced, stepping into the generous space. He followed, craning his head around. She wondered how he could wear those goggles all the time, when they clearly inhibited his peripheral vision.

“Who is it?” a low voice called, almost singing the words. His disconcerting normalness she’d grown numb to. She almost pitied that he would soon learn that at the point of a medic-worthy injury, death would be more than certain, and most definitely a mercy (Granted, he was never so overtly sadistic in casual conversation.) Blackbox didn’t seem to pick up on the danger yet, but he did seem to shift at the sight of the good doctor. A chunk of metal had been viciously torn from around his left optic, and no small amount, either. An old wound, but the exposed wires and machinery clicked and shifted in such a way they often made even those familiar with the old bot shudder. 

“Backtrack, this is the newest member of the crew, Blackbox.” She gestured stiffly towards him. 

“Ah, I’d heard tell of your arrival,” he said, moving closer. Closer, and closer, uncomfortably closer. “You came from another crew, correct? Not a new recruit.”

“N-no, not new to the Decepticons, if that’s what you mean.” Blackbox shuffled back a little, not that it did him any good. 

“Of course, of course, your parts hardly look fresh, after all. Nonetheless,” he paused to cackle to himself, “I am pleased to be acquainted. I am sure we will be acquainted further in the future, when you inevitably get shot or so on.”

“...Yes,” he, clearly at a loss, turned to her. She decided to show him mercy. 

“If you don’t mind, doctor, we have more to do.”

“Ah, yes, be on your way, then.” He slunk back from Blackbox’s personal space, the smaller bot visibly relaxing as soon as he did. The two watched as he retreated into some dark corner of the medbay. 

Skyhigh tipped her head to the door and he followed her out, sparing a glance back as he passed the threshold. 

“Next is the command deck, where you’ll report every morning for the day’s duties. Do not be late,” Skyhigh said. 

“Will that be, uh, Captain Eggshell handing out missions?”

“Most often, yes.”

They marched on. 

Though it was expected, Skyhigh found Eggshell waiting for them on the command deck. Or, more specifically, making a valiant attempt to get work done. With him was Exhaustpipe, a rather large jet, and Eggshell’s dreaded SIC. The Second was a dark, miniscule helicopter and being a menace as usual, whining to the Captain and trying to drape himself around the astro class’ arm. Exhaustpipe was trying and failing to drag his attention away.

She cleared her throat.

All three turned their attention to her. Eggshell seemed to be pleased. 

“Skyhigh. I presume all is well.”

“Yes, Captain, we’ve been acquainted with Backtrack,” She could see Blackbox twitch in her peripheral, “and I was instructing our recruit on the morning procedure.”

“Very good.”

“Who’s this?” Suddenly the Second was scowling, turning his face down to the new arrival. He was small, but Blackbox was easily smaller. He loomed.

“Voidstorm,” Eggshell’s tone was laced with thinly-veiled annoyance, “I told you we were getting another crew member.”

“Ohhhh. Ohhhhh!” Voidstorm’s face split with a malicious grin. “The new blood, I remember! Someone new to push around,” he snickered.

“Yes, yes. Skyhigh, I require your input. Exhaustpipe, take over for her, would you?”

“Sure thing, boss,” the jet finally spoke, his voice smooth and unburdened. Voidstorm seemed to pout in the background at being brushed off.

“Well, then, enjoy your new tour guide,” she said, turning to Blackbox.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” he replied. Eager to leave this company, it seemed. Skyhigh nodded and turned, striding over to join her Captain and the joke of an SIC.

Exhaustpipe meandered over, towering well above Blackbox so that he truly had to crane his neck to peer up at him. He grinned apologetically.

“Guess we should get goin’.” He gestured to the door. The other bot seemed to hesitate, but went on through after a moment. “So what’s your designation?”

The other peered at him. Already distrustful, was he? Well, that was about normal around their little corner of the universe. 

“Blackbox,” he said.

“Oh, right, they said back in the other room.”

“You forgot…?”

“Ahaha, yeah,” he chuckled, “I do that sometimes. I guess you probably already heard mine then, too, but just in case, I’m Exhaustpipe. Just Exhaust is fine, if you want.”

“Um, oh, thanks.”

“So then, which places have you already been?”

“The medbay, the barracks, and the armory. And the landing bay, I guess.”

“Cool, so I guess we’ll go to the Energon storage next.”

Blackbox didn’t seem to talk much, Exhaustpipe thought. He was used to that much, though, considering the Generics were the same way before he got to know them. He was probably just scared, like them. Granted, Eggshell wasn’t much for talking, either, and he wasn’t sure he was a bot capable of being scared. 

“So where d’you come from, Blackbox?”

The other started, thought about it, turned and frowned.

“You mean before all this?”

“Yeah, sure.”

This made him frown more, but he relented with “Vos.”

“Sounds about right. Most of us are,” Exhaustpipe chuckled. 

“You are, too?”

“Why, you sound surprised, hm?”

“Uh, not really. Just… never knew Vos to make, you know, non-seeker frames. Or giants. Or blue optics.”

“Ah, yeah. Guess the Well wasn't always so empty. The optics are kind of a trinket from my days before the deceptions, though. You could say they were the only thing I was attached to, haha.”

“You, you mean…?”

“Hm? That I didn’t start as a ‘Con? Sure enough.”

“Oh, uh, that’s…” Blackbox seemed uncomfortable. He wondered if he’d lost anyone to Autobots. He knew plenty of others who had.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be going back or anything.” He shrugged and grinned, trying to put the other at ease. 

“R-right, of course not.”

“Eggshell’d kill you if you tried,” another voice butted in. Oh, there was Lookout. Exhaustpipe wondered how long she’d been sulking in the hall like that. He admittedly hadn’t been paying attention to where they’d been walking. Hopefully this was still the direction of the fuel storage.

“W-would he?” Blackbox stuttered.

“He’s quick to take in strays and quick to get rid of them if they don’t pay him back.” The drone’s antennae tipped ever slightly towards him. “You’re the new one?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Blackbox. You’re…?”

“Lookout. Pleasure’s all yours.”

“They brought on someone your height, isn’t that nice?” Exhaustpipe beamed.

“Make one more innocent remark about my height and I swear to Primus I’ll make you regret it,” she snarled.

“Ahaha, moving onnn,”

“Oh! Here we are.” Exhaustpipe clapped his hands together and led the way to a set of doors. He didn’t miss the look Blackbox gave him. Apparently he’d noticed they’d been going in circles one or two times. 

He stepped through to show him the organization system, but instantly lost his train of thought upon spotting a mass of pink metal lounging in a pile, Energon cubes scattered around, organization to the wind. Less than ideal, Exhaustpipe thought, realizing who it was. 

“O-oh uh hey uh, w-we were just cleaning this up-” a sleek Seeker stood to the side.

“Never! Cleaning is for squares!” The pink mass suddenly sat bolt upright, sharp and wild grin on her face. She had accidentally launched her Sharkticon, Eventide.

“Well. We were just about to leave,” Exhaustpipe said, “but I suppose you ought to meet Blackbox, since he’ll be part of our team now.”

“What! A new one?” She jumped to her feet. At her full height, she was monstrous, an astro class to put even Eggshell to shame. Add to that a hefty bulk and she became a steep, imposing figure, a terror to all her fellow crewmates. Exhaustpipe himself was intimidated. Looking to Blackbox, it seemed he felt very much the same, if not significantly more. His eyes seemed drawn to the massive torpedos in place of her arms. 

She burst into a fit of laughter.

“You’re tiny! What’re you even gonna help with? HAAAHAHA!” 

“That’s not very nice, Hammerhead…,” the Seeker almost whispered, in contrast to her booming voice. 

“It’s fuckin’ true! What’s your name, shrimp?”

“Blackbox.” He looked distressed. Maybe it was time to go.

“I’m Hammerhead! The strongest Decepticon on this damn ship! That’s Icecry, if you touch him, I’ll kill you, hahAHA!”

“Please don’t,” Icecry said.

“So we’re leaving now,” Exhaustpipe cut in, gesturing Blackbox out first.

“‘Kay, took ya long enough!” There was the sound of crashing as the doors closed behind them. 

Blackbox flicked his wings; presumably shaking nerves. 

“Y-eah, sorry about that. Didn’t expect anyone to be in there. Try not to hang around Hammerhead too much, she’s a little, eh, unstable.”

“I see that,” he said. 

Exhaustpipe was sure he was making a poor impression. The Dreadnought really wasn’t all that bad, after all. He had plenty of good friends. He hoped to put the newbie’s nerves at ease, but he was probably just making them worse. 

His train of thought was evaporated at the sight of yet another figure ahead. 

“Hey,” he called, ambling towards them. The figure, a Genericon, lifted their head, shoulders relaxing when they saw him. He glanced at the box of Energon cubes in their arms. 

“Mm, hey Miku, now might not be a great time to move those,” he jerked his head back to the storage room behind them, “Two of us were just in there, Hammerhead and Icecry are hanging out, apparently.”

Miku made a soft ‘oh,’ nodded their thanks to them both, and went past them. Somewhat alarmed, he turned to watch, but with relief saw them pass by the storage room and down the corner behind it. 

“You know them?” Blackbox spoke.

“Ah, yeah, most of those guys. They’re nice, if you ever want a good conversation.”

Blackbox appeared to doubt this.

::All crew, report to the Main deck. Immediately.:: The message buzzed through both mechs’ internal comm links.

“Wonder what’s up,” Exhaustpipe said. 

Blackbox said nothing.

Through the looming windows at the back wall of the deck, an approaching planet shone, its surface bright and barren. Its glow at Eggshell’s back deepened the shadows that clung to him, made his optics burn feverish. 

“Prepare for battle,” he declared, “there are Autobots to hunt.”

“Icecry, Lookout, Exhaustpipe, Blackbox, you’re with me.” Skyhigh stepped forward from Eggshell’s left. “We’ll go in right after the Genericons.”

“Hivemind, Eggy and I will be close behind!” Voidstorm spoke from the right. Eggshell growled under his breath, pinning him with a withering glare.

“The rest of you, figure it out.” the Captain took center stage once again, “This is an onslaught. We have the element of surprise,” he paused, “Wrack up a good body count for me.”

Blackbox couldn’t claim he fully understood what was going on. He took in the faces around him. Rumblestrip fumed, while Autocorrect watched blankly. Hammerhead was cackling, Sharkticon companion rested comfortably on her shoulder, compared to Icecry looking as if he were about to have a panic attack to her side. Voidstorm seemed far too excited. 

He moved into step behind Exhaustpipe and Lookout, who were following Skyhigh down to the landing bay. They all seemed similarly calm, with the exception of the mech, who had a lazy smile on despite the circumstances. Blackbox tried to make himself steeled as the femmes. Icecry caught up to them, dragging his feet as he walked beside him, wringing his hands. He looked so miserable, Blackbox couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“We’ll be alright,” he lied.

“Have you ever been in a fight?” the Seeker asked.

Blackbox checked his radio.

They stood at the edge of the open hatch, the ground miles from their pedes. Skyhigh held her arm up and they waited in bated silence, watching. The second it dropped, they did, too. The sky was a friend to flyers. Wind whipped between their wings fiercely as they fell. Skyhigh transformed with grace, sliding through the currents. They followed suit.

Fire peppered the airspace. Blackbox noted how expertly the others dodged the shots. Icecry was a little jerky, and Exhaustpipe was far more languid, but they were clearly all experts. He startled as one barely missed his propellor. He felt the heat of it. 

Skyhigh lead them low to the ground. If Blackbox hadn’t been having trouble before, he was now. The guns were closer, the time to react far less. The others split off, so he took the liberty of curving away to the fringes of the fight. He shifted back to root mode to take quick shots, re-holstered his gun and flew off again. He noticed from the sky that a good cluster of Autobots had boxed themselves behind a crook of rock formations. With a sudden bang, everyone’s attention was on one Decepticon in the middle of the field, and by the shrill shrieking laughter he could’ve taken a guess as to who it was. He stopped to take a shot at an unstable rock tower, which toppled only slightly off and succeeded in merely frightening the cluster. Oh, well. 

 As a side-effect, that got him a lot of attention. He yelped as one shot got way too close and ducked and rolled behind the closest cover. 

Peering around the bend, he saw an array of Autobot-colorful paint, poking up and down and still sending fire his way. He took out his handheld gun, and sent a few back. He ducked down again and quickly decided his position was not ideal. Thinking, he took stock of his surroundings. A line of rocks led further in where the fight was concentrated, but closer to his newly minted allies, as well. He figured if he played it slow and methodical, he could get around without the group he attacked noticing he’d even moved at all.

He jumped from cover to cover, checking back to make sure he wasn’t still being targeted. Didn’t look like it. He stopped at the end of the row to observe the fight.

A crash erupted behind him and he whipped around to come face-to-face with an Autobot. 

They locked eyes. 

The Autobot froze, staring at him wide-eyed. He was a biplane, too, but lanky and unarmored, and didn’t appear to have any weapons at all.

Blackbox didn’t shoot.

::Retreat.::

Blackbox stared at the other bot. Slowly, he holstered his gun at his side and raised his hands. The other tilted his head down, something like a nod. They don’t break eye contact. Then they both jump, and in a heartbeat Blackbox was already in the air and flying back to the Dreadnought.  

For a moment, there was overwhelming relief.