Carbombya

The grassy hills and savannas in the east, bordered by ancient volcanos and sprawling lava fields, are the only part of Carbombya not made up of barren desert. Until recently, the country depended on meager livestock herding and subsistence agriculture, but upon the discovery of a huge reserve of very high-grade oil beneath the shifting desert sands, things changed radically. The struggling democracy weathered multiple coup attempts by greedy neighbors and other interested foreigners before finally succumbing to the tender mercies of a home-grown dictator. There are no refugees from war torn Ethiopia being taken in as slave labor, not here under the enlightened rule of President-for-Life Abdul Fakkaddi!

Contents:

Verdant

Mixmaster

Trypticon <T>

Carbombyan Palace

Obvious exits:

East <E> leads to Red Sea.

West <W> leads to Nile River.

Fly <Up>

Mixmaster trudges out from Trypticon, looking for his beeotches.

No, wait, that's not right. He's awaiting the latest delivery of cubes from the slaves. To spike! Wait, no, he's not doing that either. He's.. uh..

Oh Crap, Mixmaster thinks to himself. I can't even lie to myself. Better smuggle some of these cubes outta here before anyone notices.

His original outing to collect more botanical samples from near Trypticon interrupted by getting into some verbal sparring with Hook, Verdant again exits the base, noticing a worried looking Constructicon not far ahead of him. Which one was it? Other than Long Haul, he had trouble telling them all apart, and that was only because he associated with the transporter the most often.

Mixmaster is the green one. With Purple and black detailing.

Long Haul is... still welding, from earlier. Hook's orders. Long Haul is... NOT ALLOWED TO HAUL. Interesting times are these. And, after the mishap with his finger, he's not run into any major difficulties. He's still primer green-gray all over his torso area, and his windows are still clear instead of purple. In other words, he still looks like slag.

Verdant would have thought Long Haul done with his task by now, but it's obvious to the optic that this is not the case. Ah well. The perplexing, worried nature of the other Constructicon is troublesome, but not enough for him to discontinue with his work. Strolling further out, he pops his botanical knife from it's recessed socket, and kneels down next to a small, flowery desert plant. How such a thing had sprung up in the shadow of Trypticon, he did not know... But it would likely yield interesting results when examined.

Well, there's lots of stuff to build! Long Haul's not working on the same spot or anything!

Mixmaster peers at the Seeker picking up a plant outside Trypticon. "Garbage patrol? Well, It's good to see that we're putting all these seekers to use." he murmers to himself out loud.

Verdant bristles at the insult, his wings twitching slightly with the irritation. "Hardly," he says, perhaps more sharply than he really should have, but he's getting darned tired of having to defend his area of expertise these days. "I am collecting botanical samples for future study and analysis of potential applications."

Long Haul finishes the frame he was working on (there? Happy?) and double-checks it against the plans Hook gave him. Naturally, Hook will no doubt complain about the weld joints not being neat enough and make him do it over again (or if he's recovered enough, set him back to hauling stuff and do the welding himself) but... eh. He looks up and spots Verdant and Mixmaster, wandering in their direction because, well, it's something to do.

Mixmaster's optic ridge raises in curiosity. Samples? Who else cares about samples other than Mixy? "Oh really? Such as?"

Verdant smiles as he notes the interest in the other's voice. On average, Transformer science dealt with the hard sciences, machines and metals, the softer sciences did not always get the attention they deserved. "Well," Verdant says, "in this case, based upon my very initial observations, this particular plant," and with that, he gestured to the plant now encapsualted in one of his sample containers, "seems to possesses high level of conductivity... ferreting out it's growth from static electrcity in the air, to compensate for a lack of sunlight here in Trypticon's shadow. If propperly applied, the nature of it's conductivity can be discovered, and possibly put to use for us."

Long Haul gives Verdant a blank look. Well, granted, he doesn't have a face, so all his looks are pretty blank, but still... this one would be blank even if he had a face. "Hnh," he grunts, which sums up his thoughts on the subject rather eloquently. He then turns to his brother, but frankly doesn't expect whatever's going to come out of Mixmaster's mouth to make any more sense to him than that did.

Mixmaster hmmms. It's not often he really gets to hit into hard-science mode.. usually whenever he does it's with his brothers, and that always breaks down into arguing about whose mastery of science is better. Or whose trumpetting is better. Or who told Scavenger to shut up and put that useless scrap back in the ground. "You know, there are a lot of naturally-occuring organics on this planet that can be converted into quality sealants or lubricants." He pauses, acquiring a boasting tone. "IF you know what you're doing, that is.."

Yes, that's right! MIxmaster is making sense! Watchoo gonna do?

Verdant nods his agreement. "I've come across the same conclusion, actually. A few of the plants I was investigating early generate a rather sticky film over their stalks," he says, clearly happy to have someone to talk science with. "While chemistry is not by direct forte, that would be botany, I know enough of it to understand the adhesive potentialities. There's also a number of pollens that inhbit gear functionality or can serve to disrupt the conductivity of cerebral circuitry."

Adhesive? Did someone just mention adhesive? To Mixmaster? With Long Haul nearby? The dump truck eyes Verdant /very/ warily, and then takes several steps back. Sure, most of this sci-chatter is going above his head, but he's able to pick out the occasional word here and there, and he knows one thing: Adhesive = Glue = BAD.

"Oh, yes." Says Mixmaster, grinning. "Those are fun too." He starts to giggle as he recalls his whacky glue adventures! Mostly with Long Haul, though there /are/ some others. "Do you have anything of note from your studies? If I can synthesize it, I'm sure I can get a few laughs out of something good. I mean.. It would further the empire's scientific repetoire." Nice save, MIxy.

Verdant nods pleasantly, perhaps just the tiniest bit shocked to meet someone who appreciates what he does. "Yes," he says, "I've discovered something... most interesting, actually. A sample I discovered on an island Fleet discovered yeilded most facinating results. The pollen of a plant I found there is unusually corrosive, especially by botanical standards... but when mixed with a little of the pollen from a Carbombyan flower... it actually causes an explosive reaction. I'm having difficulties controling the reaction... the detonating is instaneous, but not especially powerful with the small amounts I've been using."

And now Mixmaster's talking about glue! ARGH! And now Verdant's talking about making things go 'splodie! Well, okay, explosions are cool (although really more Bonecrusher's area of expertise) but really, Verdant needn't encourage Mixmaster like this! The supply officer takes another step or two away from the pair. Long Haul, an individual known, if anything, for being brave to the point of stupidity at times, is currently visibly nervous at what bits and pieces he can make out of the conversation.

Mixmaster isn't that interested in explosions, and not only because it's not really his department. Mostly because the explosions he is involved with is a botched chemical process. "I see..." He mutters.. When a chance turn of his head spots his fellow accomplice in green, Long Haul! "Hey, Long Haul!" he says, waving his brother over. "Get over here! We were just talking about you!"

Long Haul points his right index finger at Mixmaster, hand shaking. "Oh, no you weren't! You were talking about glue! I heard ya! You ain't drawing me into /that/ business again!" And then, rather than taking a step nearer, he takes another step away.

"What? No!" Mixmaster says, rushedly. "We /were/ talking about you." Well, Mixy was thinking it at least. "And besides, I don't have any glue on me." No, not on him.. just mixing and swirling around in his cauldron.

"It doesn't /have/ to be on you!" Long Haul retorts. "I know how that works! I'm not stupid!" He's just sadly average in a team of firking geniuses, and thus generally /appears/ to be stupid. Of course, doing things like letting himself get beaten to within of inch of his life over bags of cement mix and I-beams doesn't help appearances, either...

Verdant resists the urge to chuckle, not wanting to incur the violence of the much stronger (even in a somewhat diminished state) Long Haul. The easy banter between the Constructicons, the comeradery... these are things often denied him, things he misses. "I too," he says, "have no glue on me."

"Well, yeah, but you don't have a damned cauldron!" snaps Long Haul.

There's a joke in that. It involves Mixmater spraying his glue on the seeker and saying "Well, you do now!"

But as it is, he's dealing with his insane brother. His STUPID insane brother. Yeah, you heard me. "I don't?" Mixmaster asks his brother. "So how /does/ it work, dear brother? Happy thoughts?"

Well, okay. Maybe Long Haul doesn't know /exactly/ how it all works... I mean, Mixmaster puts stuff into his cauldron, and different stuff comes out of his cauldron, and who knows how exactly it goes from one to the other? The question is enough to stump the transporter. He scractes the back of his head for a moment. "Uhm... science?" he finally asks, a touch uncertainly.

Mixmaster mm-hmms. "Science. How fascinating. And you wonder why all we want to do is have you carry stuff around. I hear you can't even do that right now. So, uh, hooray for science." Mixmaster ignores his brother and the actually-useful-Seeker, as the latest shipment of cubes has arrived from the human slaves. Hooray! "I'd better leave you to whatever it is you're doing. I've got some cubes to Spi--DELIVER. Cubes to deliver." Mixmaster oversees the humans as they disappear withing Trypticon's main entryway.

Verdant nods. "I should be getting to my work as well," he says, taking to the sky. A short flight away should not only give him thinking time, but allow him to find a nice quiet region to do some sample collecting. And give poor Long Haul's frayed nerves a chance to calm down, of course

Verdant soars upward into the sky.

Verdant has left.