Trypticon Medical Bay

Several operating tables are set in a row here, and long benches line the walls. On these benches are assorted tools and equipment used in repairing damaged Decepticons. The benches near the door are for patients waiting their turn for treatment. Scattered throughout the room are various repair droids, awaiting the arrival of more wounded to repair. The room gives you the perception of being immaculately clean, with not a single tool out of place. Your olfactory sensors pick up the faint odor of the cleansing solutions used to keep the room clean and sanitary.

Contents:

Sign

Gumby Medic

Obvious exits:

East <E> leads to Trypticon Laboratory.

West <W> leads to Trypticon Main Hallway.

Scrapper enters from the Main Hallway to the west.

Scrapper has arrived.

Scrapper is slogging through reports. In lieu of his brothers, he'll just have to settle for the canned stupidity of the reports today. He looks around now and then. Scrapper almost wishes for an interruption of some sort, just for a break in the drudgery. If he has to document another CAD drawing, he's going to hit something. Planning is fun. Building is fun. Writing it all up is not

So Scrapper needs an interruption? How handy, because here comes one! A pastel yellow seeker steps into the room and scans medical. Let's see... one lime green robot. But one lime green robot is okay. It's when they start coming in groups that things get tricky. The Seeker walks all the way and heads over to... whatever area of Medical is set aside for non-emergancy cases that are waiting to be seen to.

Scrapper spots Fleet when he submerges from his drowning pool of paperwork. Ah-hah! A distraction. He'll probably have to write a report on this, too, but he needs a break now, and what's one more report? Scrapper stands, pushes his chair under his desk, and wanders over to the low priority section.

Fleet looks up as Scrapper approaches. High command? But then, it happens from time to time, when you walk into medical while the right person is on duty. And after all, he interacts regularly enough with the Commanding Officer of MSE... and the rest of High Command... and the rest of the Constructicons... eh. Okay, so this isn't that strange at all. Even so, Fleet does take the time to stand to attention and offer a proper Decepticon salute. "Sir?" he asks.

Scrapper does reflect that it's a little pathetic he's so bored with reports that he'll go check on a rank 2 Seeker, but he doesn't dwell on it for long. Fleet isn't full of citations and regulations! But he does salute properly. Good, good. Maybe that skipping out on maintenance thing was just a fluke. So Scrapper asks, "What are you in here for?"

"Regular maintenance, sir!" Fleet answers. Gee, what a coincidence! The pastel pyramid shrugs his right shoulder as he seems to struggle to contain other movement. "I'm a bit early, but had a brief combative encounter earlier, so I thought it would be best to be on the safe side."

Scrapper paces over to a nearby terminal, pulls up the maintenance schedule with a bit of difficulty, and check it. "Ah. So I see. The medic assigned to you isn't in quite yet. I'll handle things." He tinkers with scheduling a bit and returns.

Fleet shifts absently from one foot to the other before once more stilling himself. He nods. "I've been coming in a bit more often here, anyway. That sand gets /everywhere/, and it wears you down pretty quick!" His voice, while slightly irritated, manages to fall short of actual whining.

Scrapper snorts and waves a hand in a vaguely scolding manner. He grabs a parts bin and gets out his toolkit. Scrapper says, tone matter of fact, "You probably need a better set of seals in your joints. In fact, most everyone out here could do with a new set of seals."

Lacking any holes to dig and being assigned to the med-bay today, Scavenger enters his usual happy air. In addition to the little oil lamp he found the other day, he's recently found a lot of bones. Not quite as interesting as the things he usually finds while digging, but hey, he likes puzzles and bones are like that. "Need a hand, Scrapper?" he asks.

Fleet shrugs as he approaches the nearest meditable. "Well, I /am/ here for a check up, s-" he stops. Wait a minute. What was that. The pastel seeker turns /very/ slowly and sees... another lime green robot! His optics widen in horror. Two! Two lime green robots in medical, and now Fleet's stuck here, too!

Scrapper tilts his head to one side at Fleet's reaction. Odd. One would almost think he's scared of Scavenger, and that's preposterous. Even Scrapper isn't scared of Scavenger. Then, he calls back you Scavenger, "This is just a routine maintenance check-up. You can fetch tools and parts, I suppose."

Since Long Haul isn't here to do it.

"All right," Scavenger says amiably. Sure, he's not absolutely necessary for this, but doing the occassional repair is one of his jobs. Watching Scrapper, even just doing routine maintenence, is a good way to improve his own skills. And besides, the seeker seems oddly unnerved by his presence. Scavenger may want to be liked, but he can't help but like seeing the egotistical flyboys squirm.

Fleet is SO egotistical! Why, he's practically got ego leaking out of his joints!

Or not.

It's not really Scavenger. It's the combination of Scavenger and Scrapper. But Fleet is well and truly stuck at this point, so he just resigns himself to this. After all, he was the one who requested the maintenance. But what was he saying before Scavenger arrived and his train of thought was derailed? Oh, yes... "Well, erm," he starts again, once more shuffling from foot to foot, "sir, since I am here for a check up, anyway, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to see that my joint seals are sufficient."

See, Fleet really does need new joint seals! It'll help keep his ego from leaking out, not that Seeker ego is terribly hard to replace. Scrapper looks at Fleet with a bit of scrutiny and starts running through the basics of the checkup. Then, a wonderful idea hits him. "Scavenger, why don't you file a requisitions form for new seals for this Seeker?"

Filing forms? Isn't that Long Haul's job? Ah well, Scavenger's the one here now and he /did/ volunteer to help, so he might as well do it. "Sure, Scrapper," he replies, sitting himself down in front of one of the computers. As with all chairs in the med-bay, they're set up to allow any of the Constructicons, several of whom are carrying odds and ends of their vehicle modes on their back, to sit at one easily. Now, how did he get into the requisition system again...?

Poor Scavenger. Seems he's stuck doing Long Haul's job a lot lately. And where is the Hauler, anyway? Probably off hanging around his new buddy, Soundwave, or something.

Looks like Fleet's going to get those seals replaced whether he wants them or not. Typical, really. He comes into medical, there are two lime green robots... so of course, he ends up with unnecessary maintenance done. The Seeker seems to deflate a little. That means coming back later, and risking being in medical /again/ while there's more than one lime green robot about... but at least it's not Hook. He trembles slightly, mostly with the effort of keeping from his usual fidgeting, and watches Scrapper with interest as the Constructicon works. "If you... think that's a good idea, sir," he says softly.

Scrapper stifles a muahahaha! He can just get Scavenger to do some of the less important reports. Y'know, the ones where he could turn into a photocopied picture of Long Haul's skidplate, and no one would care. Oh, Scrapper's feeling much better now! He hums a cheerful war march that probably has lyrics about dismembering Autobots as he goes through the checkup, making sure Fleet's resistivity is what it should be and all that.

Ah, there it is! Scavenger's got good technical knowledge, but he's always been a little dumb when it comes to navigting the myraid red tape of the Decepticon filing system. Let's see... a click here, a click here, patient's name, nature of parts to be requested, make and model of parts requested, nature of use, requestor's authorization code... He's starting to see just why Long Haul hates his job.

"Well, uhm," murmurs Fleet nervously as he watches Scrapper take readings, struggling hard to keep his natural need for movement bottled, "In the meanwhile, until the, erm, new seals get here, are there any other steps I can or should take on my own?" Good little Seeker he, he always does his best to maintain his fighting fit. After all, he is a Survivalist.

Scrapper is practiced and quick about the checkup. He didn't get to be one of the highest ranked engineers in the Empire by having a pretty purple wing (although that might have helped). He notes, "Everything pretty much checks out. There's a bit more abrasion than normal wear would cause, but that's due to all this blasted sand. Hence a new set of seals." Scrapper turns around and asks, "Scavenger, are you done with that? I need the seals now."

Fortunately for Scavenger--although, come to think of it, he can't really remember Scrapper every yelling at him specifically--he's just finished putting in the requisition. The little "waiting" symbol flashes onthe screen for a few seconds as the computer scans the stores, before finally reporting to him. "Er..., well," he says after reading it, "doesn't look like we've got any in stock here at Trypticon right now. Got some back at the other base though..."

"Blast!" Another Constructicon might just get out caulk or even glue Fleet's joints shut. Another Constructicon might doggedly hunt sown the joint the seals and drag Fleet along with him, obsessed with getting job done perfectly. Scrapper is not either of those Constructicons. What Scrapper does is sigh and say, "I'll schedule someone to get the new seals in you once they come in."

Dammit! So Fleet /is/ going to have to come back in. Probably at a time when there are two lime green robots in the room, too. The little yellow Seeker (although, really, he's larger than either of the lime green robots) starts to sigh before he catches himself and manages to suppress it. Then, since the check-up is over and he has been effectively dismissed, Fleet pushes himself off the table almost delicately and nods. "Thank you, sir," he says, even managing to sound a little grateful. And he probably is - to be leaving with his life.

Scrapper wouldn't kill Fleet! He'd have to file paperwork if he did. Speaking of which... Scrapper snatches a few datapads off his desk and hands them to Scavenger. Brightly, he says, "And you can finish these up, too." Without waiting for an answer, he returns to his desk, which is still clotted with datapads and reports waiting to be finished. Slaggit.

Scavenger just shrugs when Scrapper hands him the paperwork. Sure, it means a job that isn't fun, like digging, but everybody's gotta suck it up and do the not-so-fun stuff sometime. It just makes blasting Autobots all the sweeter. Of course, judging by everything piled up on the datapad, Scrapper hasn't been doing his paperwork in a loooong time.