Chapter Text
Elita-1 winced, her optical lenses opening with a series of mechanical clicks and whirs as she slowly came to. They flitted around the enclosed space of the ship, casting a dim, blue light across the wall which the Autobot commander found her steel faceplates pressed up against.
Letting out a strangled groan, she rolled herself onto her back, bleary eyes gazing up at the faint light leaking in from the outside world. Not being the type of bot to idle, Elita-1 lay there for a moment or more, recounting the events of the past cycle, before her prossesor kicked into gear. With a hint of exertion, Elita sat upright, leant forward, and wrapped her fingers firmly around the edge of the ships door, working to pry it open.
After a bit of strain, the fortified glass door gave way and Elita came tumbling out onto the littered floor. With aching fingers and joints, she forced herself to stand, flexing her antennas as her optics took in her surroundings with a flicker. From the looks of it, Elita-1 was standing smack dab in what could only assume to be was the middle of the largest scrapyard in the entire galaxy. Piles upon piles of metallic junk stretched on for miles and miles as far as the eye can see, blurring into a jagged landscape of oranges and copper, complemented by the inky black sky flowing overhead.
Elita glanced down at the cluttered surface of the planet noting that she was ankles deep in a hoard of stray cans and cuts of sheet metal, and she found herself struggling to stay upright more than once as she slipped and stumbled through the sea of rust. Irritation mixing with her already present confusion and exhaustion, Elita raised a hand to her temple, activating her commlink with a neat click.
"Come-" She coughed, "Come in Autobots. This is Elita-1, requesting immediate assistance."
She waited for a klick. Then two. Then three. And was met with total silence on the other end off her comm. Impatience niggling at the far reaches of her prossesor, Elita raised her hand to her temple once more.
"Come in Autobots," She enunciated. Now who was it that i left on communications earlier this morning, the commander mused to herself. "...Chromia"? She tried. "Is everything all right? Lance-"
Elita felt a sharp sting, and her comm screeched in her audials. She jerked her head back, wincing in pain.
"Comms broken" , Elita thought dryly, something of a grimace forming on her lips as she ran a hand over her helm, exventing tiredly. Those who knew Elita well were inclined to say she was sharp minded and adaptable- and while she wouldn't dare admit it out loud, it pleased her so to find that her soldiers thought of her as much- intending to live up to this expectation, Elita was quick to notice a lonely, rusted, structure standing tall in the
distance. After a beat, she realised that what she was staring at just so happened to be a radio tower.
Reveling in her luck, something she had seldom felt since Optimus Prime's and the Ark's tragic disappearance, Elita-1 was quick to make up her mind."Well then!" she thought to herself, and inkling of cheer rising up inside of her, "Thats where I'll go."
And so she began the start of her trek, taking care not to slip again. As she did so, she found her mind wandering back to the events prior to her arrival on this peculiar planet...