An independent RP blog for Fixit from Transformers Robots In Disguise 15. Sideblog to mnemoiisms. Non-Exclusive. Originals Welcome. Multiverse/Multiship Friendly. Tracking 'saffronsass'. M!A: none
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Well, that does make him sit back and think. If the miners had legs, allowing them a greater range of movement and access to their surroundings, but were constantly undermined (pun unintended) for their role down here, how could they possibly be replaced? It was such a silly notion of Terminus, to think a little army of Fixit's could take over.
Surely it would cost more to remove all the doors throughout the facility or cut an arch in the bottom half since he couldn't reach door handles or keypads without a cafeteria bench, to remove all the berths since he only needed a charging dock to park on top of, to pave all of the paths down and through the mines since he only had wheels. Anything that involved a big step, a jump, a top shelf, even a middle shelf was thwarted with legs. No, Terminus was just paranoid. Him being here was just his superiors taking sympathy on him and finding him something he could do.
"Yeah, but at the same time, I can't reach anything above knee height to you which kinda defeats the purpose of being functional. The energon mines will look really weird to higher ups when its just ground level that's carved into."
Terminus thinks for a moment before laughing. "If we were better models, they wouldn't try everything under the sun to get rid of us."
Perhaps it was an act of desperation by the higher ups. Since they couldn't stand the stammer, they shipped him off to a place that could... How does one put this nicely... Ensure his demise and not feel any guilt about it?? We won't mention that.
"For whatever reason, they deemed you useful enough to join our ranks. Perhaps you being closer to the ground will help save our ailing back struts. You're compact, take less room to bunk, smaller rations... They'll probably keep you around longer than they do the rest of us."
Terminus didn't know just how well Fixit was at his prior employ... And perhaps it was better that he didn't.
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Don't worry.

He heard you
💬 Fixit
Ah yes, the little orange bot who was confused as a safety cone to most at first, and a figment of the imagination to Terminus. It took quite a long while to discern the fact that he's actually not the result of an unintentional psychedelic trip. Not that he indulged in such things.
"From an insufferable annoyance, to one I consider a friend. I've grown a liking for him. Don't tell him I said that!"
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Rations can be held for inappropriate behavior.
So, this glowing blue poison everyone drank because to stop was to starve and die, was withheld from the miners if they didn't operate as intended??
"That's ... Horrible"
Primus, even they had not been so cruel on the Alcamor. Everyone detained was kept in a stasis pod. They were warm, they weren't anxious or irritable, they didn't harm anyone, they got medical care if needed, and they were monitored hourly to ensure they always stayed above 95% fuel wise. Can't be a king pin or be part of a gang if you are counting cybersheep till trial day.
"I think they are bringing me aboard cause I got pinned under a stasis p-kzzt-p-kzzt-pod and my glitches irked the higher ups. Still functional, but, they don't hear me down here I guess" They wouldn't send wardens to go mine energon. Their purpose was swarming prison ships like a little hive to keep everything in line. Besides! Energon grew all directions like a lightning branch. How were they supposed to mine anything above helm height? They didn't even have legs. No, he was just here because he'd done really well on the Alcamor, and he was still useful! ... Right?
"... But you guys have legs. Surely you are already a better model"
Terminus hums as he looks towards the empty cube. "Unfortunately that's where you're wrong. Rations can be held for inappropriate behavior. It's almost as if they want you to have an accident so they have an excuse to scrap you. They keep integrating newer models with the hopes of phasing out the old hands. Maybe that's why they're bringing you aboard. Don't be surprised if your ilk get scrapped too if you don't live up to the hype. That little incident early could cost you your spark. Better tighten up wee one."
Then again, how could they punish something that didn't exist? He rubs his helm, trying to remember if he'd ingested anything lately that would cause such a trip. Whether Fixit was a hallucination or not, Terminus liked having him around - irrespective of how the little mech rattled his nerves. He knew he meant well.
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Servo shaken, trying to flick the dregs of energon off his grabbers as he did not want to lick his 'digits' clean if standard issue rations tasted like that, and he was suddenly very grateful that all he needed was a little dock to park on that rejuvenated his energy levels in a few hours. To be dependent on that swill? Hard pass. The miners could have it all.
"... I pick starve. I think that is my first taste of energon, and I kee-kzzt-kee-kzzt-keep it that way" Fixit muttered, licking his lips with disgust at the lingering after taste.
Wheels giving a faint hiss as they tuck in for Fixit to 'sit', even if he only drops a few inches, and he's curious about that last bit.
"What do you mean cant live without it? I assume management ensures that everyone has access to energon for their day to day workings, no? You left most of yours on the table at the mess hall, so clearly no one is fighting for it?" Or, did he misinterpret the comment?
Terminus huffed at the wee one's response to his question, but he didn't dwell upon it. No. What was far more entertaining, was watching the minibot's reaction to the standard issued rations that certainly tasted akin to bilgewater. If he didn't know any better, that was probably the bulk of its composition - with added nutrients to pass muster as 'suitable for consumption.'
For a nanosecond he'd almost felt badly for polishing off the cube so voraciously. But had there been more for Fixit to sample, it could have possibly resulted in his purging his little tanks - not the most desirable of outcomes. And did mind tricks actually require sustenance? Terminus was still at odds with himself at determining if Fixit were a fever dream.
"it's an acquired taste. You either ingest it, or your starve. Not glamorous, far from delectable, but it gets the job done. Can't live without it - not long anyway." He offers a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders.
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"It was a pretty big ship, so, it was more like four engines" Was that substantial? Was that a satisfactory answer to 'something tells me there is a little more'? He hoped so. He might be tiny, but everyone's ignorance of his presence might change real quickly when they learn his small stature was more than capable of containing violent criminals aboard a prison ship. Violent criminals bigger than him, and possessing no dents or scrapes to show for much of a struggle. Terminus, should he ever one day attempt to pick up the little guy, might find himself popping a strut out of place with how dense the minibot was. What good were wardens' if they could be thrown around, instead of throwing down?
"..." The miners did seem very dependent on these energon cubes, scrabbling in the mess hall lines of 'that ones mine!' when it certainly wasn't. Was it tampered with?
Little grabbers taking the empty cube to examine, tilting it to get some dregs in a corner for one of his prong like digits to poke into and pop against his glossa, and Fixit was reeling back with an expression of disgust. Bleh! That ... Lip smack. Well, he didn't know how to describe that, but battery acid was a close contender.
"I don't know if its because it was sitting in my subspace this afternoon, but is it supposed to taste that way?"
Terminus graciously took the offered cube, mentally taking note of the quick change in demeanor. Obviously it was a sore subject - one that the little mech didn't care to directly address. He milled over the response, swirling the contents of the cube before tossing them back with a gulp - wiping away any stray remnants that clung to his maw with the back of his arm. A smirk danced at the corner of his maw as an optic ridge furrowed.
"Something tells me there's a little more to it than that Fixit, but sure. We'll go with that. Why not."
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Little helm bobbing in understanding, well aware what it’s like to take a tumble when the ground isn’t as sturdy under his tires as expected, and he’s wheeling to a stop in front of Optimus.
“Y-kzzt-Y--kzzt-Yes” He skipped, little grabber thumping against his chassis to uncross his wire, before regarding the Prime again.
“If you put me on your back, near your shoulders, I should be far enough away from your hips that the thrusters won’t hurt you. Although, I assume you are a lot more sturdy that a little hot air won't bother you" Fixit beamed, rolling a little closer to ensure he doesn't just flop to the ground, and Optimus has a few seconds to catch the little orange jetpack now in grabbing range.
"I have jumped and fallen significant distances before, but it would be nice to be able to land... more gracefully." And less painful on his knee and pedes' joints.
Bright blue optics watch the minicon with quiet curiosity. He remains kneeling to keep himself as low to the ground as possible.
"I appreciate this offer... Do you need any assistance in positioning?"
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"So ... Why do you want a jetpack so badly? Flying is just ... You know, falling in style. The ground is so much nicer" Fixit hums as he wheels around Optimus in thought, like a little ginger moon.
He's sizing up armour plates for the best place to adhere for this. Probably ... Between the shoulders, right? Or, maybe above the hips? he didn't want to burn the Prime, it was so weird to have a Prime that wasn't Solas, with his thrusters.
@virtute-praeditum
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These are your various mutuals...
//even my mutuals from my Bowser blog breached containment to see what I'm going through here hi
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"..." Should a frame make all those sort of noises? Fixit might not be a medic, but he feels the answer is 'No' as Terminus slowly lowers himself to the ground to sit amongst the dirt, which is the perfect time for the little orange guy to pop the cube out of his subspace and hold it up and out happily.
How could you ever be mad at this lil fella? He's so nice and naive!
Tell me of your previous employ. What's it like to be on a ship?

Well, there goes all his happy attitude.
'Oh yeah, it was great. I had thousands of autobot's and decepticon's of various crimes in stasis pods sedated for centuries until the time for their trial.' That would go down splendidly.
"Um ... Well I was mostly just maintenance" Which wasn't exactly a lie given there wasn't must else to do with your charges' sound asleep. "I was mostly assigned to the engines? Oiling, wiring, making sure nothing was loose, or damaged."
"That would be lovely Fixit" Terminus mused as he sat down on the ground with a sigh - stretching his frame with a cavalcade of pops and creaking joints.
Don't you dare even interject Trepan...
Fixit had been overbearing initially, but Terminus had been growing fonder of the little guy with each passing cycle. What seemed like a curse at first was becoming an inherent blessing. Friendships weren't kindled in the mines. There were hostilities between the older and newer models, and an impending gloom of death that hung over the caverns like a darkened cloud.
"Tell me Fixit... tell me of your previous employ. What's it like to be on a ship?"
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Ooo! A tour!
Little cyan optics wide and bright with awe as he wheels along after Terminus, peering into every explained 'destination' of the Messatine Education Tour, seeming to find each desolate location fascinating with how he almost needs to be nudged to keep walking when Terminus was done, and it wasn't until reaching The Tunnel that he seems ...
Less than excited. He's intrigued, that much is clear from the bright optics, but apprehensive too from where he is huddled beside a silver leg as he stares into the gloom.
"... Lunch?"
How the frag are you hungry after talking about the murder and cannibalisation tunnel!? It is a good thing he didn't need to consume anything any time soon. His tank felt all weird and goopy, like his energon had curdled.
"I still have that cube? I only need on every 24 hours. I guess cause I am so small compared to you all?"
Terminus was ready to vent in frustration about how everything except for the caverns was all centrally located, but decided to calmly exhale - centering himself.
Motioning for the mini mech to follow his lead, he showed Fixit where to locate the barracks, the washracks, the infirmary, the entrance to the caverns, and finished off at an ominous tunnel.
"That, sweet Fixit, is somewhere you pray to Primus that you're never taken. That's where mecha are scrapped, gutted, recycled, or smelted. Whatever is deemed as waste is incinerated. Do not find yourself past that threshold as it is the point of no return."
Terminus looked over his broad shoulder, the shadows of flames danced eerily on the cavern's walls in brilliant shades of burnt orange.
"Now. Let's have lunch, I'm ravaged."
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Haha! Prepare to find that statement proven wrong! Fixit was powered on nothing but optimism ... And a little energon. He would find wonder in the smallest of things, always smiling, always curious, always questioning.
...
Probably explained why he was on a mining base now Terminus's problem.
".... I wouldn't be able to hold cards" Fixit murmurs with a glance at his servos. Hm, yeah. No way these things are gonna be able to hold a hand, let alone try and pull one out to play without scattering them all on the table.
"I also have no idea where anything is. Let's go look around! All I know is where the dispensers are from my room, but I was kinda following the leg ocean to get from there to the caverns... I am a bit lost"
Terminus nodded in agreement about being morbid. He accepted that, he owned that. There wasn't exactly any room for optimism in a place that reeked of exhaust fumes and death. Would we need to go into detail over his macabre hobby of inscribing dead miners? No??
"This is it Fixit... allll the fun you can have! No windows, no rec rooms, nothing other than group bunks, a cafeteria, and a communal washracks. That's it."
Terminus paused a moment in contemplation. "Only recreation you'll find is after dayshift hits the dormitories. They get fragged up on cheap smuggled high grade, and play cards... I'm sure you'll fit right in with them."
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"..." Well, all of that was positively terrifying to think about. Did we have mine cart trauma? Probably. Why did Terminus keep mentioning being whisked off into the darkness for death in a mine cart!?

That made sense, though. If the nose of the ship was plonked into a planet or moon or asteroid to mine it, you would have to go further up the ship till you were above ground level, or you'd have to leave the ship completely to go wheel around out on the mining base. Unfortunately for Terminus, he'd befriended the one muppet in the universe who had only ever been on great spacefaring ships (by which, we mean one) and while he knew about planets, the concept of a stationary point in space that wasn't a ship was heckin' weird.
"........... You are an incredibly morbid fellow" Fixit said after some time, grabbers flexing with a quiet clack in thought.
"Whaaaat about you show me cool places you know of? Wasn't really time for anything recreational at my old job. This is all very new. And weird. And exciting! ... And scary"
Terminus shook his head at the question of other miners transforming. "Also, I wouldn't recommend the safety cone - unless you wish to revisit the mining cart - and not by me" he mused with a soft shrug. "And I do not dillydally. If it weren't for your upheaval, we wouldn't be in this predicament - or at least I wouldn't."
The miner thought a moment. Windows? What use did they possibly have for windows? They were below ground! The window would only serve to view more dirt! Terminus shook his helm in exasperation. Fixit's optimism was tiring to say the least.
"The only way to see anything other than the underground, is to go above it. And unfortunately for you, there is no way out except for sneaking out. Good luck with that. It might be easier for a miner, but certainly not for a citrine orb. Maybe if you tried really hard and took a bath in grease and dirt, you could be a boulder. But again - you'd be hoisted into a mining cart. The only way most of us get out of here is with our offlined husks being piled atop one another and hauled away to the smelter - after being dissected for spare parts of course. I'd wipe that idea out of your databanks if I were you."
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"So none of you turn into the mining equipment like drills or trucks or axes? I bet I could be a good safety cone with some high vis tape" Fixit beamed, given he'd already been grabbed once so far before scaring the poor fragger with a yelped Hey!.
But, he's gonna pop the cube away in his subspace at the polite decline, ready to bring it back out sometime later when Terminus is thirsty. That half cube from the mess hall would easily keep Fixit going until tomorrow, meanwhile from what he'd noticed, these guys needed at least two cubes a day to keep production levels up. Guess being a newer make and model, you get more and more fuel efficient.
"... I had a mel-mel-meltdown?" He asked, thinking back to a few minutes ago. He remembered being unable to think, this odd chassis pain like a strange pulsation, but he didn't remember anything defining a meltdown. He even remembered whacking the wall and making lots of smaller rocks! That was good, right? Rocks = profit!
"Speak for yourself, I get paid in a daily ration. So you are the only one ... Dillydallying" Fixit beamed proudly. Oh, he liked that word. Dillydally. Dillydally. Dillydally. Hah! That was so much fun to say even in your head!
Why would you pay them when you've provided a service and housing for drones? Cold constructed in bulk batches, onlining with a pre installed know-how of operating a prison ship schedule, and off they go like a little golden ant hill in space! They owe you their sentience. It wasn't like it was an actual Cybertronian. It was just a complacent AI in a little spark powered body. A sentient swiss army knife.
Is there anything you wish to know?
Hm. What did he want to know? What did he want to see?
"Oh! Can I see the windows?" Surely if they were digging in the dirt, there had to be a window outside somewhere. Be it to the sky or the horizon or the stars. He'd never really been off a ship before.
Terminus shook his helm in response to the question concerning alt modes. It wasn't necessary. Some of the newer gens were drilling machines, and to be quite frank - Terminus had absolutely zero desire to be one of those.
"We never leave and we're strictly utilitarian. That's another expense shaved from overall cost."
The miner smiled kindly at the little mech, and offered a wave at the cube. "Thank you no, I'll pass. System's not accustomed to fuel between shifts, and I prefer not to reflux. As to why you were dumped into the cart, it was out of concern. If any sort of supervisor had witnessed your meltdown, you would have been pulled from the line and an investigation as to whether or not you were viable for this job would have been held. Had to get you out of there without detection. Was the quickest solution I could think of."
Terminus offered a shrug of the shoulders and an apologetic look to his "friend". Were they friends? I have no idea. Comrade perhaps we'd a more suitable term, as the mech couldn't be bothered with the frivolity of friendship.
"So now we have no rations, no pay, and ample free time as we abandoned our post. We'll also need to ensure we aren't seen dillydallying about. That's an easy enough task for me, but given your... appearance... that may prove a bit more difficult."
Terminus hummed in contemplation. He did have quite a bit of work to proofread and ammend, but the little bot didn't need to be privy to that side of his personal life.
"Is there anything of interest that you wish to know about, Fixit?"
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