NCC Medical Ward
Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swiveled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are molded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets.
Hook grumbles and bit, and glances towards the source of the disturbance. "If you do not have business in this medical bay, you should leave. There is serious work being conducted here!" He snaps at the Terrorcon, as cutthroat picks and prods at important medical technology.
Scavenger puts down the diode he was tinkering with, de-zooms his vision from the small work vision mode and peers around at the emergence of the noise maker. Terrorcons. He gets more than his wanted trouble dealing with them. But he lets Hook step into it this time. He simply grunt-nods in agreement.
At the door of the medbay, a slight ruckus emerges. "Yes of COURSE I am allowed in!" comes the gruff voice of Blueshift as he shouts at a gumby. "I am Blueshift, finest warrior the Decepticons have produced, and you are just a fool with one optic!" The gumby stutters with "but I have t-ARGH!" as Blueshift stabs him in the eye and strides in to the room. "Greetings all, have no fear, I have returned!"
Cutthroat stops. It's a complete halt too, his left foot is jutted out jauntily like an R. Crumb cartoon, his foot just inches from the floor. It hovers there. Is other knee twinges a single time and you can hear a spring snap in the ensuing violent silence as all his weight comes bearing down on that one point and crushes it.
"Pardon me?" He asks in quiet tone, pausing just for a few seconds, "Are you telling me my business isn't serious. Why..." He shrugs and causes his hands to spin around on their wrist mounts in a few full circles and then leaves them completely limp at his sides, "Was I not informed of your appointment to official adjudicator?" Cutthroat doesn't even look the way of Scavenger and Blueshift until the flash of the knife and he breaks his attention from his own serious business for only a fraction of a second before he returns, unimpressed, to the matters at hand. He lets his other foot drop finally and then crosses his arms before rocking back on his heels.
Just as Hook has turned back to his work, Blueshift makes his entrance. Sparks fly, acompanied by a small puff of noxious black smoke. "HOW am I supposed to work with all of this noise going on? And now this optic interface I've been working on is ruined. Are you satisfied? Get OUT." Hook says, kicking the table in frustration, then pushes the burnt-out optics across the table. Then, an idea: "Hmm... Perhaps you may be of /some/ use afterall, Cutthroat. You don't need TWO optics, do you?"
Scavenger turns to Blueman McStabby and makes a quick assessment of the damaged optic of the gumby. "Blueshift. With your magic healing touch, I still wonder how you failed to get my position as XO." He then turns back to Cutthroat. Zooming sight on the knee. "A crutch won't appease your needs, would it?"
Blueshift shakes his fist at Scavenger. "Yes Scavenger, obviously some petty politics have something to do with it. There is still the matter of that very steep and dangerous flight of stairs that I wish you to inspect with me at some point of the future. Now!" he looks across the room. "Why are we all not serving me? I have needs too, more so than that peg-legged Terrorcon!" he pauses at this. "Uh, no offense"
Cutthroat opens his mouth halfway. This is the only movement his otherwise statuesque form makes as it considers Hook's words. "My model schematic specifically necessitates two. It's Blot you're thinking of. Don't you know anything?"
"Half of what I know would be more than enough to overload your entire cognitive system, Cutthroat. That's why I am the scientist, and you are the loud, brainless monster." Hook glares at Cutthroat, while crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, if I were to remove your optics temporarily while I perform an expriment, you would still have your creature mode optical systems intact, would you not?"
Scavenger is grinning internally behind his featureless face at Hook. Sly. Then to Blueshift... reluctantly... "Fine, what's your medical problem? If it's about your swollen ego, there is still no lance designed to drain you of that particular malfunction."
Cutthroat uncrosses his arms and points a finger at Hook, but! He stops half way, "Ye-." He recrosses them, BUT! Stops HALFWAY! He half begins to point, then regresses, "No, umm, If you borrow Blot's optic he will still be fine, you can have both of his." He finishes pointing as an after thought having kind of gotten away from himself before he expected to solve the problem there. "Right." He nods his head with satisfaction.
Blueshift just glares at Scavenger. "How did you know about my swolle- oh, ego. Yes. Quite. Funny Scavenger, very funny." He waves a fist at the Constructicon again. "I have been designing a new and updated internal gyroscopic system for myself, to increase my reaction time. Like so!" He takes out a piece of paper and unrolls it over a medical table. On it is a drawing it Blueshift with speed lines and the words "Goes faster" written on there.
Hook sighs. Good parts are so hard to find. "Yes, but as disruptive as you have been, you are far cleaner than that unbeleivably filthy comrade of yours. I would rather shoot myself in the face than let Blot into this medical bay." Hook replies. He takes a moment to look over towards Bleushift after he says 'internal gyroscopic system'. "I was not aware you had the brain power required to speak those words, let alone actual design one. I highly reccomend you insert your design into your tailpipe immediatly, and then go away."
Scavenger humoringly takes up the 'schematic'. Pretends to give it thoughtful consideration, and then rolls it up. "Yes, we have exactly what you need." He produces a datapad and makes a few entries, bringing up various speed enhancement proceedures. He inputs Blueshifts schematic record, and then devises the most effiecient means of accomplishing a boost. He nods. He declares, "Like you wanted," and then briefly shows it to Blueshift, kinda like a cop flipping hsi badge out. "So here it is... and you get the option of racing stripes as bonus if you wish it."
Cutthroat squints at hook and raises a laser pistol at the constructicon. "I could shoot you in the face?" he says helpfully.
Blueshift starts to try to peek like a naughty child at the pad. "Ah yes..." I see I see, I WAS nearly MSE XO you know! We are practically peers and co-workers. But I have saved you time, look!" He produces some battered racing stripes. "I already have some experimental racing stripes, stolen from the filthy human germs! Hail to the Decepticon Empire!"
Lab's intercom>No shooting in the medical ward. Do not make me drop this experiment to apply discipline.
Scavenger nods. "I see. You are well prepared. I'm sure you'll want to manage application of those yourself later. Are you prepared to undergo the proceedure now? It will not take long." This is the path of least resistance, humoring Blueshift and just getting done what he came in for instead of offering the sarcasm and ridiculue he rarely gets a chance to dish out to others. No, set a good example and reduce the headaches. :p
"That would be an exceedingly bad idea, Cutthroat. Besides the fact that you would likely miss, you wouldn't be allowed in this essential repair bay for a long time." Hook replies without any sign of being afraid of the weapon. Hook *humphs* loudly as Scavenger whips out the datapad. "If you want to use old-fashioned techniques and out-dated parts, then yes. But I have been perfecting new coordination and reflexive response systems that would leave anyone using those old schematics in the dust."
Blueshift strokes his chin, throwing the racing stripes onto a nearby table. "Of course Scavenger, but your procedure had better be up to my standards, or I will no longer be your loyal co-worker! Instead you shall find me as deadly an enemy as any Autobot or ball of twine! What must I do for your ghastly act?"
Scavenger slams the datapad down and almost starts to shout out a curse. He stiffles it. Just as he was getting his mojo working once again Hook comes in to spoil it and Scavenger loses face to the talents of his smarter more talented kin. "You know, you're absolutely right, Hook. What have you got for us?"
Hook shifts in his seat slightly, obscuring his earlier experiment that was on the table. The one with the optics. That caught on fire. "Many of the parts and system connections in that old database lack finesse and are rarely optimized for use on any one individual. In addition, the application of a new reflexive system will increase response time in combat scenarios."
"Yes yes" Blueshift mutters, waving a hand at Hook as if the constructicon was talking to him. "I know all of these sissy connecters. And refector cystons. I have many functions, my genius chief amongst them"
Cutthroat says, "Sounds like upgrades for Hook. Way to go Hook you lucky construction guy."
Scavenger is now, sans thunder, simmering his anger to a low boil. Simply because it takes a lot of concentration to follow the words Hook speaks. He's good with the doing. Not so much the thinking. "One of these days, Hook, you really need to update our databases and share these breakthroughs of yours instead of holding on to them as surprises."
"And bear in mind that the only reason I'm willing to cooperate is because the less times you get shot by the Autobots is less time you'll have to be in this medical bay, Blueshift." Hook replies, and makes his way to one of the central repair bay bed stations. "And deprive myself of these moment to show my exceptional technical prowess? Scavenger, you know me better than that." Besides, the particular upgrades Hook has in mind are currently /theoretical/ in nature. Blueshift oght to make a perfect test subject.
Blueshift rubs his hands together. "Excellent, if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is letting those mangy Autobots shoot me. Primus forbid I should ever come into the medbay, save for glorious upgrades!" He too walks over to the bed, though with more of a march. "Hook, where is the screen? And do I get to wear a little gown? I read that it is VITAL for such procedures to succeed!"
Scavenger cannot argue with Hook's strong reasoning on both why to aid Blueshift and his flare for pulling medical rabbits out of his aft. He falls into his tired old assisting mode and preps a rolling table with med tools. He eyes Cutthroat. "Feel like assisting? Who knows, it could lead to you becoming chief medic one day." Oooh, he did not just open that can of worms did he?
"I can activate a monitor on the ceiling. But few robots enjoy seeing thier cranium opened and gutted like a fish on live TV." Hook replies, as he begins to arrange the tools upon Scavenger's cart. "Get on the table, Blueshift." He says, putting on his professional attitude.
Blueshift starts to grumble, lying down on the bed as he stares across at his fellow Decepticons, but more importantly, the cart with the tools. "Now, are all those *really* neccessary?" he mutters. "Especially that one with the eight prongs and what looks like a grenade attached to it. In all my seconds of medical study, why I have /never/...."
Scavenger holds up said tool with the eight prongs and what looks like a grenade attached to it for brief inspection. "This one is the most necessary of them all." Mostly because it scares the rust out of most patients. ;)
Hook flicks on the extra bright lights aove the bed, hopefully blinding Blueshift with the unexpected glare. The overhead monitor comes on as well. Hook was going to say that the ugly-looking tool with the grenade-type object at the end was a temperature probe. . "First I'll be opening your chest compartments, try not to move around too much." Hook says, and lifts up Blueshift's vehicle-mode cockpit section into a virtical position. Hook begins removing panels from both the body underneath and the underside of the cockpit.
Scavenger stands ready with the first tool Hook will be asking for. How humiliating, but he's used to it. He also switches on the fluid suction device, set on standby... just in case Hook's precision isn't enough to prevent potential snafus coming from experimental proceedures. Blueshift gives a manly "gnnaaargh!" as the light shines in his optics. "What trickery is this, Decepticons can work in the dark, like masters of stealth. Not in the light! And... ow. Ow ow. Ow ow ow." He keeps stating this phrase over and over again. "Ow ow ow ow. That's my chest Hook, that is where I keep my things. I shall report any 'bad touches' to Shockwave, you hear me!"
Cutthroat rolls his eyes and silences his tongue more and more as the rest of them start running off on some technical mumbo jumbo. And he lurks around waiting to see what they'll do now that it doesn't personally involve his optics.
With the skillful application of a wrench and pair of surgical forceps, Hook begins removing components from Blueshift's body, and laying then out on the table beside the patient. Most of the larger components still have cables running back into Blueshift's torso. "Now, I will be disconnecting your primary and secondary gyroscopes, which is likely to produce extreme vertigo and nausea. Please resist the urge to vomit your energon reserves. or at least do so in Cutthroat's general direction." Hook says, and sever through the connections, freeing the gyoscope.
Scavenger makes a mental note of how much more useful Blueshift looks with all his components out on display as he passes tools back and forth to Hook and perfoms minor stableizing checks and tweaks to each removed component keeping them stable.
Cutthroat lifts a finger queryingly, "Can you make the voice go all deep?"
"Of course" Blueshift snarls. "I am full aware of what that entails OH GOD WHAT THE HELL WHY DID YOU PUT ME ON THE CEILING?" he suddenly yells, writhing about and trying his best to spring up. "NNN now I am on the wall, what have you done Hook, what have you..." the wiggling form of Blueshift then kindly vomits his energon reserves in the direction of Cutthroat
Scavenger leans in and starts pinning Blueshift down to still him, fastening restraints on limb by limb.
"Scavenger, if you will: I require the suite of additional micro-curcuitry tools from the cabinets. These ones lack the precision I will require." He says, and makes his way up to Blueshift's head. Taking a few more tools from Scavenger, Hook is about to release the magnetic and mechanical seals on Blueshift's helmet when he starts writhing and kicking. Hook leans in with his considerable strength, and holds him down while Scavenger fastens the restraints. "Now, there will be some discomfort. Remain calm or I'll leave your guts on the table." He says, and then proceeds to remove Blueshift's helmet.
"So you are in on this too, Scavenger!" Blueshift yells as the Constructicons pin his thrashing form down. "It is all a plot to get the Terrorcon to steal my energon, I..." his head starts to twirl as he gets even more dizzy, and it hits the bed with a solid *thunk*. "Don't steal my brain, Hook..." he mumbles. "And don't rebuild my body into a crocodile or anything silly..."
Scavenger finishes restraining the big blue baby and then goes to fetch the requested tools. Magic time. He loads up a small tool box and brings them back over. He peers into the open helm and asks, "Is it safe?"
Hook tsks tsks, mostly to himself. "When was the last time you had your head examined, Blueshift? I think there might actually be COBWEBS in here. Your brain wouldn't even make a good paperweight." He sighs, and then magnifies his vision on the curcuiry within. Hook could do the gyroscope first, of course. But by postponing it, he can leave Blueshift in a head-spinning state longer. Hook takes some of the tools from Scavenger, the tips of which are barely visible with unagnified optics. Begining the meticulous work of realigning Blueshift reflex center, Hook remains as still as a statue, aside from his busy fingers.
Blueshift growls, trying to look at what Hook is up to, but unable to, due to the whole 'being tied down' deal. His hands twich at every touch of Hooks, and a little moth flutters out of the cranial cavity before exploding into dust from old age. "Nnnn you better not be stealing all my ideas, Hook!" he mutters, staring straight upwards, fixed in position. "They are mine and mine alone!"
"Scavenger: Do we have any microprocessors left over from the new suite of warheads for the airbase? I think some additional computing power in the pre-cognitive areas will be required before I can make the new gyroscope interfaces." Hook says, and he continues the extremely fine operation on the smallest of curcuitboards and connections, using all of his pretigious precision and skill.
Scavenger uses the suction to keep dust out of Blueshift's head where Hook works. "Yes. Very few but if you need it we can spare it." He removes the suction and fishes for a microprocessor.
Cutthroat can't stand to see good energone go to waste, and scoops it up in his hands and puts it into a compartment for later.
"Careful with that suction Scavenger, I would not like you to suck out my brain!" Blueshift grumbles, straining slightly at his bonds. "And get my energon back from that Terrorcon! It is not fit for him!"
Cutthroat latches his energon storage compartment shut and makes a face at Blueshift. He reaches over to grab a surgical scalpel-circular saw and fires it up with a hideous whirrrrZZZZZ on his first tentative button press, "What's this do, it's neat!"
Hook deftly replaces a few tranisitors with higher-doped semiconductors, before applying additional neural pathways to allow higher bandwidth functions. Hook delicatly inserts one of the microprocessors into the optical interface inside Blueshift's increasingly full cranium, and makes the precise connections, rerouting all of Blueshift's incoming sensory inputs through the new processor before it enters his reflex-control subsystem. I like big words. "Move your eyes around, Blueshift. Do you notice any distinct sensory lag?"
Scavenger darts a glare at Cutthroat. "It renders users energon impotent. I'd turn it off and set it down carefully if I were you."
Blueshift slowly looks up at the ceiling again, and then, after a while... "No, I don't see one. What does it look like, Hook?"
Hook sighs. "I MEAN, do you notice a lack in response time between when your optic sensors move to when your cognitive sector percieves the motion. Useless..." he mutters. Hook rummages around in a drawer under the table, and comes back with a pair of goggles, connected by a fine wire to sort of switch. Hook slides the goggles over Blueshift's face, and the switch into Blueshift's hand. "When the sequence of lights appear on the visor, press the switches at the right time. We need to make sure there's no lag in your vision before I put your skull back together. Pretend it's a game."
"I do not understand!" Blueshift snarls. "And what I do not understand, I must destroy! Thus, a pile of devestation follows in my mighty wake!" He calms slightly as Hook tells him that it is all a delightful game. "Ah well, of course. I am excellent at games. I won at that pathetic 'chess'. My opponent foolishly tried to move one piece at a time, whereas I just shot the board! Hah!" He starts to concentrate as the lights come on, pressing the button every time. "Is this it? This is no game for a warrior? Will there be a boss fight?"
Cutthroat rolls his eyes and puts the tool back down. "So that's why only you and Hook get to use the tools?" he asks disinterestedly.
Moving on to the previously removed Gyroscopic sensors, Hook returns the microsurgery tools to the box. He takes out his handy medical scanner, and performs a thourough scan of the gyroscope. "It will become progressvly difficult as you progress, Blueshift. Let me know when the flashes become too fast to follow." Hook replies. He takes out a magnetic device of some sort, and begins to re-orient and refine the rotational properties of the gyroscope.
Blueshift smirks under his visor. "This ball of light fellow is easy to click at, if this is the best combat simulation you have Hook, then you should try harder. It is just a dot, no arms or legs or weapons or anything!" His thumb still hits the button with speed, and then, after a while... "There are four lights!" He cries. "No, there are five!"
Hook grumbles as he works on the gyroscope. "This is not a combat simulator, Blueshift. Just making sure your optics are still working properly." And it was supposed to keep him /quiet/ for a little while as well. Hook inserts the second aquired microprocessor into the gyroscope, and solders the connections and making tweaks to ensure that the processor will interpret the gyro's output correctly.
Blueshift shakes the button as he is defeated by the lights, throwing it to the ground as hard as his pinned arm allows him. Which isn't very hard. "Well, of course it isn't, I knew that!" he glowers. "But of course I appreciate this, if you need someone killed for you, you have only to ask, and I shall bring their head to you on a silver platter!" A pause. "... of course, the silver platter must be paid for seperately"
Reconnecting the gyroscope to the power supply and sensory lines it was previously connected with, and returns the gyro to it's proper place inside Blueshift's body. "Ok, that should be sufficient." hook says as he pulls the visor/goggles off of Blueshift's face. "I will further analyze the data from the simulator to make sure you weren't being an idiot and pressing the button wrong." With the gyro returns, Hook releases Blueshift from his rstraints.
Cutthroat says, "I'm a malpractice attorney, I've got your back Hook."
Blueshift gives a cry of triumph, and removes himself from the bed by tumbling off it onto the floor. Slowly, he stands up, clenching his fist, testing out his new internal systems. "Yes... yes!" he cries. "I feel the power flowing through me! I will build you a mountain of corpses Hook, I shall wade through energon waist deep. Die Autobots, die!" he punches the air again dramatically, and then feels a little sheepish. "Ah yes. Well. Uh, can I have your card too, Cutthroat"
"Try moving around a bit. All of the disorientation should be gone now." Hook says, and begins to enter some data into his datapad for future reference. He also tosses Blueshift's helmet unit back to him. "I'd like to run a few quick tests on your reflexes." he says, and throws a scalpel at Blueshift's face. Hook succeeds in grasping Blueshift, throwing him off-balance.
"Yes, well!" Blueshift mutters, as he fixes his helmet back in place. And then with a *twang*, gets a scalpel in his right optic. "Uh... Hook..." he slowly says. "That's not meant to be there, is it?" He moves his hands near it, unsure if he should yank it out or not.
Hook lets out a sigh, and carefully retrieves the scalpel. "You clearly require more time to become accustomed to the inclusion of the new microprocessor curcuitry. I would suggest doing so in the training room before you encounter any Autobots on the field." He replies, and makes a few minor repairs to Blueshift's damaged optic, using a low power laser to melt and refine the lenses.
Blueshift grumbles again as Hook fixes his optic. "Yes yes" he says, waving a hand dismissivly. "Training training, how boring. I am sure with my amazing skills, I should be able to make full use of these new systems with the greatest of ease. No problems there Hook. And I shall invest in a pair of goggles the next time I enter medbay"
"Forgive me. I thought the MIGHTY BLUESHIFT would have no dificulty evading sharp objects." hook replies. "Now get out of here, I have work to do." He says, and returns to his table where he was working. Scavenger, the assistant, can put away the tools.
Scavenger puts away tools. Le sigh and woe.
Cutthroat throws the buzzsaw scalpel to the ground, "Yeah, tools for tools!" he chuckles and stalks out of the hallway.