NCC Medical Ward

The Crystal City repair bay is far larger than previous versions in Imperial Headquarters or Trypticon himself. Clearly it was designed by a medic, for a medic. The entire room is rectangular in nature with medical beds arranged in a neat grid pattern. The beds themselves vary, with some being precious little more than metal slabs, and others having full scanners and tools attached, as well as everything in between. In total, there are about twenty beds. There is room for more in an emergency situation. The cabinets line the walls, spaced out between medical terminals. Everything has a place, and organization is key. With battle mode being initiated, the huge windows are covered up as the bay is encased in metal for its own protection. Access can still be gained with the right codes, however. Red warning lights flash on and off.

Contents:

Arachnae

Comcast

Fulcrum

Scrapper's Art <SA> - Fourteen Pieces

MSE CO OFFICE (Earth)

Gumby Medic <NCC>

Obvious exits:

South <S> leads to NCC Central Command.

Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

East <E> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

Fulcrum frowns. "Then don't move," he replies to Comcast, moving some wires out of the way and starting work on the computer's protective casing. "I have not seen any Sweeps for some cycles," he says, not looking up from his work. He doesn't sound too choked up about the fact either.

Arachnae hrns.. "Need a particular.. hrmph.." Wings flick irritably behind her. "Any ideas on who's active with a minor to moderate stealth or cloaking capacity?" she peers at Comcast.. as DCI sis his realm.

"Stealth.." Comcast says, thinking about it whilst remaining perfectly calm. "Ravage would be ideal.. but he was recently dispatched to a long-term mission. Shade, perhaps?" Sorry Nae, now is not a good time to be asking for specific DCI members. Be lucky you've got one connected right now.

Arachnae hrmphs.. "Slaggit all to the seven shades, I need a scan.." Her optics narrow to thin slits as she stalks to a console.

Fleet walks in quietly, having decided that it would be a good idea to refuel before his patrol. Definatly superior to, say, running out midway and crashing, anyway. He gives the others a curious glance, but figures they must be working on Comcast's upgrade, and says nothing before heading to the energon dispenser.

Fulcrum picks up his sonic screwdriver, removing the casing of Comcast's targeting computer with a sound reminiciant of a dentist's drill. "Now, you may feel a little off balance" he says as he disconnects the PointMarker 2.3.

Comcast tries to prepare himself for the disconnection.. but it's VERY disorienting. Comcast starts bobbing about, half in shock, waiting for the device to be reconnected. He just sits there staring vacantly.

Arachnae taps at the console irritably. Wings flick, fan and flick. "No.. on cybertorn. No.. No.. No.. Slagnabit.." Hrmph. "Just have to go get the other thing first *then* get my scan. Fulcrum, you have medical until I return." Snap-turn.. and she strides out.

Fulcrum had medical before, but whatever. "Just as you say, Commander" he replies. "Radio should you require percussive assistance." He eyes Comcast's obsolete targeting computer crically, then places it on the bench, trudging over to pick up the new one.

Fleet drinks from his mug of energon, taking long sips as he puts off going back on patrol for as long as possible. Slacking? No. But... he may be a robot, but his active mind can still only deal with so much of such monotonous activity.

Comcast's system isn't obsolete, just inadequate for his new weaponry! Well, either way, the DCI commander is stuck here, so he might as well be stuck here with some information. "Fleet.." he calls to the yellow one. "Anything of note from your patrol?"

Arachnae continues on her way out, "I'll call if I need assistence. Should be a quick in and out run in any case. Nothing too technical about it. And only a few sparse cubic feet of material is needed." Wings mantle behind her and she's off.

Fulcrum trudges back, carefully positioning the new unit - The Force-Feedback 0-B1 - in the empty mount, carefully anchoring it and re-attaching the neural connections.

Fleet walks over, staring in his mug. "Weather. This world has lots of it." He pauses, and for a moment it seems like that's all he has to say, then he continues, "The level of technology that the natives of this world has varies remarkably from region to region. While we seem concentrate on the 'large hits' in developed nations... well, they also have the best defenses, so even if we do make out with a positive gain, we've still lost more through combat..." He trails off again as he collects his thoughts.

Fleet thinks for a moment. "The dam we hit... was in one of their most technologically advanced general localities. So it has a greater power output than some of the more primitive areas, but it's also closer to their defense resources."

Comcast's disorientation ends as his new computer is re-attached. "In other words.. you have to take what you can give." He says, musing on the matter.

Fleet takes another slow sip of his energon and nods. "Anyway, because I'm still forming my general impressions of this planet. And that's what I've noticed." He shrugs both wings.

"And hope that their response is slow and poorly organised" Fulcrum adds, quickly replacing Comcast's outer armor and running a diagnostic on the new hardware.

"Something like that," murmurs the yellow jet.

Comcast feels relieved, knowing how fully 'clothed' he now is. He doesn't respond to Fleet, as he has had a few other people telling the DCI head all their opinions about things as of late, and doesn't trust himself to say anything. He does, however, have appreciation to the blacksmith. "Thank you, Fulcrum. Is it going to run well with my other systems?" Comcast has had a bad experience with new systems screwing with his others.

Fulcrum turns. "Yes" he states. "The Force-Feedback 0-B1 is fully integrated with your systems. You can even switch it off, though it would probably cause query messages inquiring as to what was wrong."

Fleet listens. Well, he hears, anyway, as this is once more rather out of his field. Mostly he just continues to drink his energon, doing so rather slowly, not to savor so much as to put off what he knows he has to do next. His optics stay more or less on his mug and his closed stance give an impression of solitude despite being so near the other two.

"Don't see why I'd want to do that then.." Comcast mutters as he gets up from lying down. He taps a nearby medical off-duty unit.. a small green tape-con. "Take two glass disc targets from our testing station, and hold them up like so." he orders the unit, and he makes a "Y" shape with his hands.

Fulcrum watches the drone. "The interface should be intuitive, if unfamiliar. Remember - put the target in the center of the disc and fire. Put the target in the center and pull the switch."

Comcast watches the little tapeling.. whose name is Bead-Blast.. hold both discs ahead. "Huh.. easier interface that I would have thought." Comcast mutters as he eyes up the two targets sitting there. "Hey, they've worked out some of the kinks in the operation. I can see I'll get used to this." And after staring at the two targets for a few more moments, he finally unleashes his sonic waves, devastating both glass discs, and sending Bead-Blast into deafened agony.

Comcast brightly turns to Fulcrum. "It works!"

Fleet finishes his mug and heads over to a cleansing station, cleaning the mug off before returning it to its proper place. With that he turns and leaves, heading back for more lonely hours of patrol. He decides he'll defiantly have to make time for a dance this time out, if he wants to keep his sanity in-tact.