| abstract
| - 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. This wasn't exactly the area he had in mind when it came to planning a deep space invasion, but with all of the other terminals within walking distance currently occupied by one gumby or another busy with tasks of importance it was all he had left to him. Typing away on one of the Med Ward's consoles, the soldier diligently worked on his task- pulling up file after file of explored territories and the notes taken on those with pre space age sentient species. It was a long arduous task, and Coldwar had spent the better part of the day on nothing but. Backfire is looking over Coldwar's shoulder, annoyingly trying to find out what the robot-personality'd Decepticon was doing. All the while, trying to keep his cool and not give away his ulterior motive. The simpleton whistles a terran tune he heard on the radio earlier, sweeping behind the Med Ward console. Hinder has spend the better part of the day...well, honestly, the ENTIRE day right where she is now, curled up in the crook of Windshear's neck. Windshear had enjoyed his conversation with Smokestack while he was there and had then spent the rest of the day being bored, sleeping, bored, got his armor finished, bored, sleeping.. well you get the idea. He has talked with Hinder from time to time and enjoyed her company but was pretty much just waiting for the ok to leave. But things picked up when Coldwar came in. He was busy so Windy hadnt really bothered him, just watched him from time to time as he was busy at the computer station. Then Backfire came in and that livened things up a bit. And the Seeker then decided to make a case study of his Seeker brother trying in silence to figure out just went on in that CPU... I mean there was something wasnt there? One could hope... With Backfire 'sweeping' around behind him, Coldwar broke his concentration for a moment at best evidenced by the slight twitch of his left optic. "May I help you, Lackey?" he wonders idly, still typing away at a couple hundred symbols per minute. "If you are curious... I have a specific objective in mind, and perhaps I could use an extra hand," he offers without really offering. Casting a brief glance toward Windshear, the Soldier took note of Hinder and seemed to all but stop what he was doing entirely for several nano-cycles before returning his gaze to the monitor to commence typing yet again. "Hinder. I think I will need your assistance on another mission relatively soon." "What, little ole me? I'm just sweeping comrade, nothing to see here. Please, continue ... I insist." Backfire replies, trying to keep his calm cool collected demeanor. He trots over to the spare parts bin and ruffles around inside it, coming back over to Coldwar. He drops an item on the desk, then continues sweeping. It's a severed hand from a fallen Seeker, plasma scorching still fresh on the digits. "One spare hand Coldwar, all you had to do was ask." Hinder lifts her head to regard Coldwar for a moment herself, and puts her head back down right where she had it before without replying to his words. It's not in her to refuse, but unless he tells her to go with him RIGHT NOW, she'll stay where she is. Coldwar, once Backfire had dropped the severed Seeker hand, lifted his gaze to regard the other Decepticon for a moment before peering between him and the proferred limb. "...Glad to hear it, soldier. Grab yourself a seat at the terminal there and help me find a world ripe for low resistance invasion." Another glance to the Seeker hand, and Coldwar vents a brief exhaust in the form of a scoff. "Funny." Then he's right back to work. "Really?!?!" Backfire exclaims, plopping himself down in a seat next to Coldwar. "Not that you noticed or anything, because of my superior acting talent, but I was spying on you the whole time comrade! I know, how very -deceptive- of me ... right?" he laughs, clasping a hand on Coldwar's back. "Gosh, we're like two small terran vegetables in a small domicile." Before Coldwar has a chance to comment or nudge the hand off, Backfire is already going to town ... combing the databases for known planets for Coldwar's tastes. "What's funny comrade?" One of the monitors has been left on the visual of the Spaceport area, and an unfamiliar starfighter craft is seen landing there. It isn't particularly large as far as spacecraft go, but has a bizarre turquoise, purple, and white color scheme. Surprisingly, the spacecraft transforms upon landing into a large robot with an intimidating form, holding a whole concussion blaster in each hand. The figure looks about the landing area as if scanning for other beings, and walks over next to a shuttle, and looks behind itself once more. It then swings his elbows so the nasty looking cannons are pointed upward, and strides with a power walk through the corridor to the personal quarters area! Windshear bursts out laughing suddenly at Backfire as he watches that scene play out. "I might know of -- hey whos that?" Windy asks suddenly motioning as he spots the survailence on a nearby monitor. Coldwar looks to Backfire again, watching as he begins to 'go to town' on the other console's keys. Whatever he was going to say, or whatever protest he may have been about to make seems to be silenced by the actions taken by the Lackey. "I thought that was an attempt at humor..." he comments, eyeing Backfire for just a moment longer before he's looking back to his screen busily tapping away. Hearing Windshear's laughter, Coldwar muses to himself in the tone of a hum. Looks like he was right. The sound of the new arrival draws his gaze then, and upon spotting the Lieutenant he pauses briefly to offer the other mech a curt nod. "Lieutenant Sixshot, Solo Assault," Coldwar greets and introduces. "Your reputation precedes you, Lieutenant." Hinder pops her head up again at Windshear's question, studying the monitor. "Connecting to computer core and running a visual identification search." "Oh him, that's Sixshot. Galvatron's walking arsenal and personal cannon to point at whom or wherever he wants ... usually it's pointed at the Autobots." Backfire states, getting back to work on finding an acceptible planet for Coldwar. "Quite the combatant, according to his file... I think we could use someone like him at the tail end of this mission," Coldwar asides to Backfire. "With all of the different modes that he can assume if he isn't needed closer to home we may not need nearly as many mechs..." Windshear frowns at like everyone. "Looks like hes heading to the bar -- which is where I want to be.. I promised myself as I was in a Wrecker wrecking sandwich I was goign to get aftfaced if I survived it -- I did, the hell with the med techs, hell with duty, COLDWAR, lets go." and he deftly slides out from Hinder so as not to bounce her around, offers a hand to her and prepares to get up and walk out. "There is nothing more important than duty," Coldwar replies to Windshear, but oddly enough the soldier does rise from his console before tapping a few keys to lock in his extended search. "I have been at this console for most of the cycle... Perhaps a break is necessary, as to keep from burning out." Hinder looks over at Backfire when he names the mech before she can find him in the database. And then everyone starts planning to leave the repair bay. She thinks it's a bad idea, but is honestly too small to stop Windshear if he really wants to get up and leave. So instead she opts to stay with him in case he needs someone to call a medic for him later. When he offers his hand to her she promptly uncurls and clambers up onto his hand. When he feels her clamber into his hand, Windshear gets up and walks to the door. "A break from duty is good every once in a while, Coldwar." he says. "And what was this about multiple modes?" he nods at Backfire to follow as he opens the door then walks out. Backfire , like a grunt following the crowd at mealtime, draws in behind them all. "Hey, Backfire ... would you like a drink? Sure, I'd love a drink comrade. Thank you for being so -polite- and inviting me! No problem Backfire, that's what friends are for. Gee thanks!" he mutters to himself, nasty scowl across his face. Shark's Rib Beyond the barracks and past the soundproof barriers is the NCC's residential tavern, the Shark's Rib. The walls and ceilings are a deep blue colour, and various lighting creates a shimmering effect. Large curved support beams above the ceiling provide a protective cage over the recreational area. Energon flows through transparent spiral-shaped piping behind the bar to the right of the entrance, indicating to even the most over-energized Decepticon where to go to for a refill. Bartenders are available to dispense energon of various grades and blends. For people willing to part with more imperial credits and who know who and how to ask, the good product is kept under lock and key. There is seating at the bar for Decepticons of various sizes. There are also numerous booths for large groups. There is a small exposed area to serve as a dance floor with a raised level in front of it, complete with all the equipment necessary for public announcements and live group performances. Due to the lack of importance to the overall Decepticon mission, even more aesthetical decorations have been put into the Shark's Rib. Thin metallic spirals decorate the bar area, the furnishings and the walls. Music is often played through hidden speakers - often trumpet music, but also classic Imperial soldier tunes that every Decepticon knows well. Coldwar walks into the Shark's Rib, apparently leading the line of newly arriving soldiers and almost immediately does the Pointman look completely lost. His optics search high, they search low, they search left and right and still he doesn't move. "Someone...with more experience with this part of base wish to lead the way?" he wonders, having never actually set foot in any of the actual RnR facilities within NCC. As the oters enter the Shark's Rib, Sixshot is standing up against the counter, his optics glowing brightly as he's got the Sharkticon pulled halfway over the counter, the creature's throat in his hand.. "Whaddaya mean you're /out/ of Rigelian Blue? I come all the way out from that boring patrol in the rim of the Dyson Ring to Earth and you can't even gimme a Circuitslammer? You imbicile, I think I'll just squeeze you like a moonfruit and see what sorta drink I can make outta your fluids!" he barks at the terrified bartender. Backfire stumbles into the Shark's Rib, and he's not even drunk! "Blasted feet, I told that medical gumbie they weren't size eleventy!!" he growls, knocking over a barstool while he's at it. Then the Seeker notices Sixshot and the Sharkticon drug over the counter, menacing glare on his face and all. "Barkeep, I'll have what he's having!" Windshear walks in with Hinder and the first thing he sees is this unknown mech throttling the bartender. He snickers a bit and tries to head over to the bar but theres a mech in his way. "Coldwar why are you stanging in the way of progress here? Come on." he gives the mech a gentle nudge toward the bar and then goes around him and sits down near the large con. With a polite nod to him his attantion is suddenly diverted to Backfire and he just chuckles. "Ok make that three." he sets Hinder down, "What do you want.Hinder?" "Yeah... Yeah, I copy," Coldwar replies to Windshear, giving a slightly uncomfortable shrug of his pauldroned shoulders before starting forward. Eyeing Sixshot as he roughly handles one of the bar staff, the smaller Decepticon squints slightly with disapproval. "So, this is what they mean by 'entertainment'..." Hinder doesn't get the full gist of what's going on. All she knows is that this new guy -- Sixshot -- is being mean to the Sharkticon that brings them energon to drink. NOT. NICE. The moment all four of her feet touch the bartop where Windshear sets her down, she bolts toward the altercation and hisses at the large mech warningly. "Nono. Let go." If Windshear had eyebrows they'd be reaching for the sky right now. As it is his optic ridges do a fair imitation and he scrambles to try and grab her away from the large Decepticon, "Hinder! No!" he rasps as he tries to get her away from the mech. Combat: Windshear misses Hinder with his grab Hinder!! (Grab) attack! "M-m-m-mister Sixshot, sir, I...I can make you one of our NCC specials!" the barkeep says." I-i-it's just l-l-like the Circuits-s-slammer, but without the s-s-surges." Sixshot pulls him closer over the bar. "What's a /Circuitslammer/ without the /surges?/" "G-g-g-g-" the now quivering Sharkticon replies, dropping the mug he was holding to the floor with a crash. "Gah!" Sixshot replies with a disgusted tone. "Set me up with some high octane Energon. I've had better drinks in scrap-pile dives on Torqulon! Wha-" He pauses mid sentence, and slowly turns his head to look straight at Windshear and Hinder. Coldwar continues to observe Sixshot, studying the Lieutenant quietly even when Hinder races across the bar to challenge the TC. When Sixshot finally turns his gaze to Hinder and Windshear, Coldwar steps forward and takes up a position at the bar on the side of Sixshot that Backfire had chosen. "Agent Hinder, stand down... Excuse her, Lieutenant. She's not too fond of others roughing up the help... So, what's good here? Anything different from the standard ration?" Backfire saunters up, plopping down in a seat next to Sixshot. "Don't mind them comrade, new blood and all ... never respect when a mech needs a mech-ly drink. Say Sixshot, where have you been? You've missed out on our glorious campaign in regaining Cybertron from those vile Autobuffoons!" he states rather seriously, nodding to the bartender for their drinks. "Yeah, like now ... before he does rip you apart and make drinky-drink out of your innards." Windshear realizes hes missed gettign a hold of Hinder and just watches his hand like in slow motion heading straight for the arm of this mech that just turned to stare straight at him. As his hand hits Sixshot, thinking fast he suddenly brushes the plating as if trying to get somethign off ot it. "You.. had something on your shoulder there, mech... names Windshear..." he says nonchalantly. Hinder snaps her mouth shut in surprise when Coldwar tells her to stand down. She looks from the chilly mech to Sixshot and the Sharkticon and back. Has he let go of the barkeep yet? If not, she's standing her ground even if her hissing has stopped. Sixshot drops the bartender with the ohand still holding on, and and he flops to the floor behind the bar on his posterior. "I'll serve you folks in a minute...ah...after the Lieutenant of course." he says, standing up and dusting off his paron, grabbing the high octane energon tap shakily. Sixshot, meanwhile, turns his head dismissively away from Hinder and Windshear, and his optics flash as if blinking. Repeating the slow head turning gesture, he turns to look at Backfire, and tilts his neck in each direction, servos cracking as he loosens them up. "I think you've mistaken me for someone who cares." he says, and turns his attention back to the bartender, who nearly drops the glass he's preparing for the Lieutenant once he realizes the mech's attention is back on him. Coldwar glances toward Windshear for a moment, almost as if he was trying to communicate before looking again to Hinder. "Easy, Agent..." he adds just in case, given the way that the little ferretcon is eyeing Sixshot. "You two must have been close," he comments at Sixshot's response to Backfire. Was that a joke? "Sure thing bud." Backfire replies, grabbing his drink from the barkeep and slamming it back. "Ahh, nothing like some fresh ener-brew to get the circuits sizzling." Lips smacking together, the simpleton looks to the barkeep. "What... is... this?" "I-i-it's Magnesium Magnolia Sunrise, sir." the Sharkticon barkeep stutters out, still scared of physical harm. "Windshear, you've -got- to try this stuff!!" Backfire laughs, taking another sip of the tasty concoction. Windshear motions for Hinder to come back to where hes at and lowering his hand looks at the Barkeep as if to say 'wheres mine?' "also a small dish of energon for the small con." he says as he pulls out an energcig from a forearm compartment and lights it. He doesnt seem bothered by the larger Decepticon, just more curious then anything else. He looks over then at Backfire and smirks, "Thats waht I ordered." and hes still waiting for it. But hes not in a real big hurry. Coldwar doesn't know a thing about the mixology of energon drinks. No, he's always just taken his standard ration however it was prepared for him- usually in the form of an uninventive brick. Seeing as how that's worked for him for all of these millions of cycles there doesn't appear to be any urgent reason to change the recipe now. "When you have a moment, Barkeep- I will have the Standard." Yawn. "Boooooooooooooring." Backfire laughs. Hinder watches the barkeep after Sixshot lets him go, then shuffles back along the bartop toward Windshear ... until that smelly stick starts to emit smoke. She promptly stops, shakes her head, then violently expels air through her vents in the equivalent of a sneeze. The 'sneeze' is strong enough to knock her off of her feet but she stands again immediately. "Some motley lot you are. It's no surprise Galvatron's recalled me back here. Looks like the quality's sufered on all fronts." Sixshot says, taking a big swig of the lava-like drink the bartender sets down in front of him. "We've driven our foes before us, they scurry like vermin before our might ... the EMPIRE is stronger now, than it's ever been!" Backfire looks to Sixshot, taking a sip of his drink. "Perhaps comrade, our flawless leader Lord Galvatron has brought you in for one big push ... or to bask in our glory." he adds, finishing the drink off completely. "Take your pick, soldier. Barkeep, another!!" Coldwar accepts his ration from the bartender and nods his thanks, despite the odd look that the Sharkticon gives him for placing such a bland order. Lifting the cube, Coldwar doesn't even drink the thing but rather carefully drops it into his mouth instead- not even attempting to just drink his energon like everyone else. Nodding once at Backfire's words, Coldwar's gaze remains forward. "Indeed. I'm thinking we've been pulling our weight quite well around here. With all due respect you're likely here for additional muscle, Lieutenant." Sixshot finishes off the first drink keeping an optic on Backfire as he speaks, then sets the glass down, eying Hinder. "That's not surprising, your pest control's the only one here I see with any spark." Coldwar does something relatively uncharacteristic and allows himself to chuckle, the sound rather genuine if not entirely strange coming from a chilled con like him. "Agent Hinder has plenty of 'spark', aye Lieutenant... However I would suggest stopping by the Medical Ward and having Hackjob run a diagnostic on your perceptive nodes." Windshear finally gets his drink, cant help but smirk at Hinder's sneeze and then turns a steely gaze to Sixshot at his last comment, "I bet your pardon?" he says in the closest to his original shudering bass voice he used to have till Grimlock and Air Raid got done with him months ago. "Cassette has got spunk, I'll give her that Sixer ... I can call you Sixer, right?" Backfire chuckles, sipping off the new glass of ener-brew. "Only if I can call you slagpile." Sixshot says, and proceeds to pull the whole stool out from under Backfire as the seeker is about to take a drink. The glass shatters as Backfire falls into it splashing the entire contens all over his chassis, and his face smashes into the edge of the bar, leaving Backfire on the ground with a dribble of his own energon coming from the corner of his mouth. Falling forward, knocking his face off the bar, heaped into a pile on the ground. Sounds like a night of drinking now! Slowly stirring, Backfire wipes the excess energon from his mouth and kicks the stool. "Damn faulty barstools, someone should really get those looked at comrades!" Oblivious to the end. Coldwar watches Sixshot's 'handling' of Backfire and the Pointman averts his gaze for a moment, though his fingers curl and unfurl at his sides as his hands switch back and forth between fists. "With all due respect Lieutenant... We are not rabble here. We are the tip of the sword, and every soldier here on Earth deserves your respect. You are here not to clean up our mess, but to complement our efforts." Windshear really has no business getting into a scuffle right not but this he cant sit back sit back and take a med pass out on. He jumps up to help Backfire up then gets oin Sixshot's face, "Why dont you pick on someone your own size?" Backfire bumbles, "You're not even his size Windshear." Getting up, he looks around. "Why is everyone getting all bent out of shape about a faulty barstool, let's get KRUNK'D!!" he shouts, grabbing at Sixshot's drink and throwing it back ... which boils down to him pouring it mainly all around his mouth and on his face. :("Air Warrior, stand down... You are talking to a Lieutenant," Coldwar notes to Windshear, his hardened gaze switching focus from Sixshot to The Bladerunner. Windshear twitches a wing at Coldwar's order and stands his ground looking up at Sixshot, his hands slowly fisting. "I think he meant *hic* sit down, seriously ... how can you stand down, that's a conundrum!" Backfire adds in, wiping some ener-brew from his optics. Looking to Backfire for a moment, Coldwar squints. Seriously? "Yeah..." he trails before returning his gaze to Windshear and Sixshot, but mainly Windshear... "I said stand down, Air Warrior! There is a chain of command, and it requires respect. Nay, it demands it. I do not wish to pull rank, and perhaps if the Lieutenant wishes it then he may decide that rank is not an issue if he wishes to allow your challenge... However untilt hen you will stand down." REST OF LOG MISSING. :(
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