Partridge in a Pear Tree

Trees sucked, Fireflight decided as he wiggled again in a fruitless attempt to get free of his new friend, and whined when the strange, soft foliage curled tighter about him. No one had told him that there were trees out there that liked to hug things… Granted, that was why he was on the Axiom now – to find out new things. But, hugging plants? Really…?

Finally, the red and white flier sighed and resigned himself to a simple but depressing fact. He was going to have to call for help. Reluctant even with that knowledge, he turned on his comm. and logged into the primary line to the ship.

–Fireflight to Axiom.– He really didn’t want to make this call, but… Well, the tree was an enthusiastic hugger and he wasn’t getting loose. He’d been trying for almost two joor!

–Fireflight to Axiom, requesting assistance.–

There was a moment of static before a bored voice answered, –This is Axiom, Fireflight. What’s your situation?–

–I’m being… um, hugged…– Fireflight felt himself flush hotly.

–… Hugged.– The tone of the operator was flat and unimpressed. –How is this problematic?–

Fireflight tried to not cringe at the tone but it was hard. He could imagine the ‘stupid youngling’ expression stamped in big glyphs all over the mech’s faceplate, even if he didn’t know what the mech looked like. It was speaking loud and clear in his words, after all!

–By an indigenous growth!– he elaborated, and was glad no one could see him because his cheek plates were on fire. –It’s a really nice growth and all but I can’t get out of its hugging, and it’s sorta beginning to hurt; it hugs more every time I move.–

–…– Static filtered through the comm. system again for a moment before shutting off again. A moment later, it crackled back to life and the operator said, –Send me your coordinates and I’ll get someone out to you.–

–Okay,– Fireflight answered meekly and sent his coordinates as he had been ordered to.

There was another klik of silence as the coordinates processed, then a second voice came on the line. –Sit tight, fledgling. I’m on the way. Try to keep it from getting a grip on your wings if it hasn’t got ‘em already. It’ll make an extraction easier.–

–Sure…–  Fireflight wiggled the aforementioned appendages and huffed deeply. He should probably tell the stranger that it was way too late for that, but he didn’t really want to come off as completely incompetent.

More incompetent than he obviously was.

---

Cutting the line with that affirmation, Sandstorm huffed and rolled his shoulders back. Well, better get it over with…

He supposed, as he stepped off the bridge and made his way to the airlock, that he should be used to this by now. Rookies made mistakes; it was just what they did. But really? The expedition wasn’t even officially begun and this new one, this fledgling Vosian, had already got himself caught up in some nonsense by playing with the indigenous life forms.

And since he was effectively one half helo and could fly straight up while carrying weight without much effort, of course they sent him for extraction nearly every time… Sometimes he wondered if he was kept for his intel or for the new mechs they brought on and trained.

Once outside the ship, he put those thoughts aside and transformed into helo mode. After a quick prep to make sure he was all in order, he took off and headed toward the coordinates projected on his HUD, the distant forest opposite the vast sea that the loading dock faced. At least it wasn’t a water rescue, because those always sucked. Most mechs, even light Vosians, sunk like rocks and were a glitch to get out…

---

It had been such a pretty growth – a tree, as one of the older Vosians had called it. Fireflight knew he needed to remember these names but there was just so many! And none of them were at all like any crystal he had ever seen or heard of. This one, in particular, had looked soft and loose with its hanging things… er, branches. He had just wanted to touch one before they left this world! It was just a stopover point; the world was organic in nature and didn’t really have any of the things they needed, nor could it support a colony. Its sun was soft and old, the light weak and without much of an energy yield even on nice orns like this one.

But the trees! They were so pretty and majestic and soft looking, with branches that ended in long falling tendrils. Fireflight huffed again and fought not to wiggle uncomfortably even as he pouted at the thought of his current captor and its deceptive loveliness. He’d barely touched one of those tendrils before he was wrapped up and caught close to one of the branches; an odd smelling, sticky liquid had started oozing from the tendrils almost immediately after he was secured. And every movement, however small, made the tendrils hug tighter.

By now it was quite unpleasant and he felt sticky all over… He hoped his rescue would be there soon because he really wanted back on the ship. He was very much done exploring this cycle!

---

Sandstorm found himself thanking Tempestas for small favors when it turned out that the flight to the stand of trees that their wayward Vosian was trapped in was a short one. If he had to carry this Fireflight mech all the way back, he would rather have it be as short a distance as possible since more distance meant more effort and, well, the triple changer just didn’t want to deal with all that.

It was easy to see the mech once he had closed in on the given coordinates. Fireflight hadn’t really gone into the stand of trees, merely made himself known at the edge of them. For the best, Sandstorm thought based on what he knew of this particular plant.

He dipped low and transformed, pedes landing lightly on the ground just as his rotors tucked down his back. While he looked the smaller mech over for any visible injuries, he couldn’t help but call out, asking, “Are you sure you weren’t sparked a bird? Seem to be sitting pretty comfortably up there,” once he was within hearing distance.

Too thankful that help had arrived to be upset at the sudden spook (although he supposed he had heard the whine of engines; they weren’t Seeker engines, which he wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of), Fireflight shook his helm and tried to look over his shoulder at whoever had arrived, to no avail.

“Well, thank you, but no. I’m a Vosian Seeker; I’m not supposed to be perching in the indigenous growth. They just looked so soft! I didn't know they were hugging t-trees? I didn’t know there was any such thing as hugging trees, is that normal? Are there many indigenous growths that act like this?” Even if he couldn’t see them because he was being pressed face down into a branch, Fireflight was so relieved to know someone was there that he didn’t even realize he was being borderline insulted.

“Could you get me down, please? I really need a bath, I’m all sticky.”

Of course the young mech was a talker… Why wouldn’t he be? At least he wasn’t panicking. Small favors, indeed. Sandstorm sighed.

“I’ll get you down, just give me a klik.” Sandstorm took a few steps closer so he could inspect the tendrils wrapping themselves around their captive. They didn’t appear strong one by one, but many at once seemed to be an entirely different story. And they grabbed on contact, which left him with only one real option - he would have to see if he couldn’t pull the mech free without touching the branches.  As he set about looking for good leverage points to pull the mech from, the orange mech decided to get the Vosian talking about something he could make use of.

“How did it get you up that high?” he inquired lightly, vorns of practice with fledglings kicking in without a thought. “Were you flying when it caught you?”

“No… they pulled me up here,” Fireflight answered as he tried to crane his head around again to see whoever had been sent after him, only to stop a moment later with a whimpered, “Ouch! And I can’t move at all, they just tighten more! It was fine at first, except the sticky stuff is a bit gross, but now they hurt. They are stronger than they look, and really, really sticky!”

“Hey, don’t move! Gods, they’re all over…” Sandstorm growled to himself. He studied the flier’s predicament for a moment more before shrugging and deciding to pit with it. If they both got stuck, well, there were only so many branches. He’d just light ‘em up if they gave him slag.

“I’m gonna getcha free but you gotta do exactly as I say, okay?”

“Okay? But what are you going to do? There isn’t much room up here and the other tendril things are close so you can’t really–” the Vosian started to say, but stopped, realizing he was speaking all over the place when he was supposed to be listening.

“Well, there’s plenty of room down here; I’m not too worried about how much room is up there. Let’s see… The fact that the tree pulled you up tells me that the branches are stronger the closer you get to the trunk, so I have to pull you away from that, and the closer I can get you to the ground, the better. Less damage that way.” Sandstorm experimentally prodded a couple of the appendages wrapped around Fireflight’s pede once he was done thinking aloud and made a pleased sound when the leafy vines didn’t reach for him. They couldn’t differentiate between one mech and the next; that was good. It made his life easier, anyway.

“Alright. I’m going to pull by your pedes and try to get to where I can reach above your waist. I should be able to cut you loose from there, but I need you to try and hold absolutely still until then so it doesn’t pull back more than necessary. And for Tempestas’ sake, don’t fire your thrusters on me, got it?” Many a Vosian had panicked at having their sensitive pedes touched and he couldn’t count the number of times he had gotten scorched plating as thanks for his help!

“Ouch! Okay, I’ll be still, just get me out of here before this indigenous tree growth hugs me to scrap metal, please!” for the first time a bit of panic entered Fireflight’s tone, the prodding having enticed the tendrils to tighten yet again. “I promise not to use my thrusters; they don’t help anyways, just please hurry!”

Sandstorm, knowing that was the best he would get (and honestly better than he expected, sans the panic creeping into the fledgling’s voice, of course), grabbed white pedes and pulled without any further warning. There was some resistance, as he knew there would be, but the chances of an organic getting the better of him was slim to none. His only regret was that he couldn’t reach to cut the plants from the fledgling’s wings; he had no doubt that the strain of this would be worst on them, and he felt awful about that.

Nevertheless once he had a good grip on the Vosian’s waist, just below the dip of his angled wings, Sandstorm hacked at the vines indiscriminately and before either of them knew it, the triple changer had Fireflight free of the pest. The gods always saw fit to rain on his parade, though, and the weight of the flier suddenly collapsing on top him forced him to the ground with a wheeze of a grunt emitting upon impact and a curse shortly after.

“Oh!” Fireflight had been whimpering and making pained noises as the tendrils tried to hold on to him, and the relief from the pain was a surprise. He sat up and looked around, then down. He was straddling his rescuer and couldn’t help but smile, optics wide and bright with delight as he realized the other was a multi changer of some sort.

He had orange optics though? Mostly orange anyway…

“Watcha lookin’ at?” Sandstorm asked when he realized the flier was staring, the knowledge enough to distract him from grumbling about fragging heavy Vosians landing on him. Feeling oddly uncomfortable with those big (Tempestas help him, they were huge) gold optics focused on him, he shifted a little and looked away. “You could at least say thanks ‘stead of gaping like a fish.”

“You are awesome! I love you!” Fireflight enthusiastically hugged the stranger, laughing with ecstatic relief.

“Thank you so much for getting me out of that tree thing! I thought it would hug me to death or something! Who are you? Where are you from? Are you Tyger Paxian, because your optics are Tarnite orange, so I’m confused, but I really, really think you are totally awesome!”

Completely without his consent, Sandstorm’s faceplates heated and he could only be grateful for his battle mask hiding the worst of it. What the pit kind of reaction was this? He knew Seekers could be, well, openly affectionate, but Fireflight didn’t even know him! Slag, he didn’t even know Fireflight aside from his name, and that was only because he had just had it told to him less than a joor ago.

“Uh…” he said eloquently into the Vosian’s shoulder. Of all the possible reactions… He was so not equipped to handle this! “I’m Sandstorm, survey specialist… From Tarn, not Tyger Pax.”

“That is so cool! I’m Fireflight, but you probably already knew that. I’m a scout. I mean that’s my function– oh! I should get off of you, shouldn’t I? We’re about to leave here I guess, thank Primus!” Fireflight got up and stretched, making an ‘eww’ noise and drooping his wings when he realized just how icky sticky he was.

“I need to use the wash racks, and so do you!” he exclaimed succinctly, looking them both over with a vague expression of disgust. “We look like we’re covered in lubricant! Come on, let’s go back.” Grabbing a large black hand and digging his thrustered heels into the dirt, the primarily white mech pulled at his rescuer.

Not sure what else to do, Sandstorm allowed himself to be hoisted to his pedes. He was feeling no small amount overwhelmed by this strange Vosian who, among other things, apparently had no processor-vocalizer filter. Yes, they did look like they were covered in lubricant, but did Fireflight really need to point it out?

The triple changer put up no fight as he was led back the way he had flown (on pede because he didn’t want to risk them transforming and getting this gunk in their internals), though he did at least have the awareness to take his hand back from the red and white flier. He didn’t need to be led along like some turbopuppy, even if he kind of felt like one when Fireflight turned to grin at him again, all cheer now that he was free to move as he pleased once more. It was an infectious expression, for he couldn’t help grinning, himself…

As they trudged onward, Sandstorm was a little annoyed to realize that he wasn’t annoyed at the other mech for getting caught anymore. It was hard to be mad at someone who was so, well, cute! Cute and innocent and actually kind of funny because by the gods, he could talk. And talk he did, about anything and everything. And he often found little things, like other plants or some weird wildlife to look at, which made the trip back to their ship even more drawn out…

Strange to think he didn’t mind, but he didn’t. He blamed it entirely on Fireflight landing on him. It probably broke his CPU somehow.

Yes, that was exactly what happened…