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| - August 21, 2011, 5:53 PM Optimus Prime Ratchet First Aid Hot Spot Prowl Shark Sideswipe NPanacea (Repair Depot, Iacon) Sideswipe heaves himself up onto a berth, giving Ratchet a slag-eating grin despite the hole in his side. "Ya miss me, Ratch?" He asks, sprawling back over the table in a way that's been specifically honed to get on the medic's patience. "Sorry I haven't been visiting as much- things to do, 'Cons to slag, you know how it is." Hot Spot's trailer isn't the best for carrying people, as First Aid found out a while back when they were attacked by that dragon, so when Hot Spot enters medbay, he has an unconscious minibot in his arms. He nudges the door open with his foot and heads in, nodding to Ratchet on the way. He has (sadly) not been involved in the actual combat, but you couldn't tell for the energon, oil and soot coating his armour. He very gently sets the minibot down on a free berth, and tries not to get angry about the damage it sustained. Shark comes in after ridding of his load of unobtainium and helping another injured mech that grabbed some as well back here to the repair depot. He takes a spot on the wall and vents softly, but says not a word. Ratchet grumbles under his engine noises, irritated with Sideswipe's insouciance. "So much for my vacation," he growls, taking up a wrench with a slight toss and striding over to tap Sideswipe lovingly on the shoulder, that he might ease off his pesky display. He waves to Hot Spot distractedly as he goes to... counsel... the frontliner. NPanacea bustles along quickly, all business. She prepares a few bags of energon and other fluids (not mixed of course) for the incoming, preemptively guessing they'd probably be used. As Shark came in, she looks up, and waves him over to a nearby treatment bench - for those who didn't need to lay down but still needed to sit. "Over this way, sir!" She calls, moving to meet him there. Since the reports started coming back, First Aid has been scrambling to make sure that the usual emergency items- transfusion kits and clamps, in particular- are not just stocked at each berthside stand but actively within reach of the two senior medics on duty, Ratchet and NPanacea. He offers Hot Spot a nod and a slight-glad-you're-okay smile when he spots him, but looks to Ratchet for orders as to where he should be focusing. Prowl makes his way into the repair depot quietly, one arm still curled defensively around his abdomen. He wipes almost absently at his faceplates, a small but steady stream of energon leaking from where his chevron once sat. His doorwings, while still attached, are obviously mangled- one riddled with scorch marks and the other badly twisted. Despite all of this, he seems almost disturbingly calm, only the hint of a frown giving away any real emotions. Hot Spot tries not to get in the way of the medics or their patients. He's heading to the door to see if anyone else needs a helping hand when Prowl comes in. "Sir?" he says, before realising that the last thing Prowl will want to do right now is talk about what happened. He takes in the damage, his primary energon intake constricting. "Can I get you anything?" he says. Optimus Prime transforms back into his robot mode with a groan of metal as he enters the repair compound just behind Prowl, the transformation making a nasty clashing sound as gears grind together and misaligned struts are forced back out of alignment to reform in his robot mode. He follows Prowl into the medbay and takes up a spot along the wall, waiting for the more critical cases to be seen- his damage is significant, but not so critical that he won't see to the health of his people /first/. Shark glances at Prowl and grimaces slightly, but remains oddly quiet. Perhaps knowing better than to invoke any medics anger right now with the amount of wounded. Then the femme pulls him over and he goes along without fighting or complaining. His back took a few hits as he retreated, his chest as well took a couple hits. He takes a seat and sits still. “Just sit still now." advises NPanacea as she moves around behind Shark, quickly aiming to pinch off any leakages and turn off his pain receptors. Sideswipe's grin doesn't budge as he looks at the medic- if anything, it only widened. "Aw, Ratch, we both know you get bored if we don't give you anything to do!" He says cheerfully, totally ignoring the implied threat of the wrench. Prowl looks over at Hot Spot mildly, tilting his head forward in acknowledgment. "I am alright." He answers, though there's more than a hint of static in his voice. "Continue as you were." He steps out of the way, carefully pressing himself against the wall. He can't quite hide the flinch as a doorwing brushes the metal. "So..." Ratchet says with a glare for Prime and Prowl, "I take it you lot had a lot of fun playing rough-and-tumble today? Not often my Medbay gets graced with your energon on my floor," he says. He points warningly at Sideswipe as he begins attaching monitors. "You! I can live with the boredom, thank you -- sure wish some others around here could!" he shouts at the room at large. Hot Spot is only just able to stop himself from gawping in abject hero worship as Optimus heads in and joins the queue. Then Prowl speaks and he nods. "Shall do, sir." He gives First Aid a quick glance and sends him a very brief comm using their private channel. //Does Optimus often get that injured? Is he OK? Do you think Ratchet needs me to go fetch anything?// Shark is doing just that, sitting still. Optics gazing off into the distance as his pain receptors get turned off. First Aid crosses the medbay to pat Hot Spot on the arm. //I don't know- I've never seen him in here because he's hurt at all since I joined,// First Aid comms back. //Ratchet hates it when people are underfoot, but if you're useful, he won't say anything- you can help me hand out energon to everyone who is mobile enough to drink it themselves, if you want to stay? The energon is in that storage room over there, in the second cabinet- all the cubes on the middle shelf are regular grade, the bottom shelf is Blades' cubes with extra supplements, don't use those, they've got a weird aftertaste.// A pause, and a brief squeeze of his brother's arm. //It must have been really bad?// NPanacea looks up, her hands stilling in Sharks' back as she hears Ratchet's yelling, her optics flickering a little. As typical as it was it still bothered her. "Sorry to make more work for you, Ratchet, as always," Prime says tiredly- he would normally be smiling a bit behind the battle mask with that sort of gentle teasing, but right now, he just wants to make sure everyone is okay and then get his own injuries treated. "If you call Megatron showing up unannounced, getting two mechs killed, and losing a vital battle 'a lot of fun', you are correct." Prowl answers, voice almost frighteningly deadpan. "We would also have to discuss your idea of 'fun'." Another few moments and he heaves air out his vents. "My apologies, Ratchet. Things did not go well." Shark looks over his shoulder at the pause from the medic tending him, but says not one word at all. A little shake of his head and he looks away again, keeping quiet... too.. too quiet. Hot Spot nods. //It must have,// he says. "I should go," he continues aloud, but in a whisper. "I'm big enough to get seriously underfoot in here" He glances at Optimus and the queue of waiting mechs; they all looked as though they could do with some help. "I'll hand out the energon first though." He offers First Aid a sad smile, and heads off to the storage cabinet. Sideswipe makes a valiant (ineffective, but valiant) attempt to hide his snickers. "Don't lie, Ratch. You know you'd miss us if we stopped coming in all slagged!" He stays still, however, allowing Ratchet to hook up the monitors without any fuss. NPanacea winces at Sideswipes' comment,a nd goes back to fixing Sharks' back murmuring "Feeling better?" Shark says, "Yes, ma'am." "Fragging pit-slaggers need to learn how to quit visiting in waves with the rest of the fonging military," Ratchet mutters as he probes carefully into the wound on Sideswipe's flank. "Prime! Prowl!" he barks. "Drop your afts on berths, so First Aid can run drips and keep you from moaning over your new battlescars!" Hot Spot fetches several cubes from the cabinet, and heads over to those waiting. He hands out a few cubes as First Aid instructed, and is about to offer one to Optimus when Ratchet barks his next instruction. Optimus Prime smiles at the young mech. "Thank you, Hot Spot. Your desire to help is commendable." He turns slightly to settle himself on the nearest berth with a bit of a groan as bending flexes the charred plating and broken windscreens on his chest and carefully holding his right arm against his torso. "Aw, I know you care, Ratch, we just get busy." Sideswipe responds, grin fading only a little as Ratchet starts examining his wound. Prowl almost looks like he wants to argue for a moment, before making his way carefully over to another berth and pulling himself onto it. The movement aggravates some of his wounds, earning new streams of fluid dripping down his chest and abdomen. First Aid offers Hot Spot an encouraging smile- the Prime is very nice, after all- and focuses his attention on his work- Prowl looks as if he's in much more immediate need of attention than Optimus Prime. He steps over to the black and white mech's berth, glancing at the monitors before picking up a transfusion kit. "Sir, I'm going to set up an fluid drip to start replacing some of what your systems are bleeding out, and then I can disable your pain receptors for you." Hot Spot leaves a cube each for Prowl and Optimus by their berths. He can't help but smile at the acknowledgment from Optimus - although 'grin in a way completely inappropriate for a repair bay after a battle' might be a more accurate description - so he forces his faceplates into a more sombre expression, nods and says "Thank you, sir," and vanishes off to the energon cabinet where he can get the grinning out of his system without anyone being able to see. Shark continues to sit there quietly, listening, as he is worked upon. Keeping stock still and just waiting for any requests from the medic tending him. "So formal." remarks NPanacea softly as she finishes. "There. Now to weld the plate on." She explains, as she started to bring over a torch. Ratchet rolls his optics as he halts Sideswipe's pain sensors and snakes in a few clamps to hold the bleeding lines shut. "I catch you or your Pitspawn twin messing with that, and you'll *wish* all I do is take a wrench to your helm," he growls as he goes to examine Prowl, whose issues appear to be far more than even he could tolerate with his damnable quiet. Sideswipe gives a slightly awkward salute from his spot on his side. "No messing with the clamps or I get to meet the Unmaker, got it medic-bot!" He says cheerfully, angling into a more comfortable position while he waits. Prowl looks over at First Aid, nodding mildly. "Whatever you believe is best." He agrees, glancing over at Ratchet as he approaches. "I am sorry for making more work for you, Ratchet. I believed..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. "It does not matter anymore, I suppose." It takes a little while, but eventually Hot Spot is able to keep that sombre expression in place, and so he emerges from the cabinet again, and looks around for anyone conscious who doesn't already have either energon or a medic hovering over them. The minibot stirs, and he goes over immediately, but the small mech doesn't wake. Hot Spot can't see anyone else who currently needs sustenance, so he puts the cubes back. He's beginning to feel a bit guilty for staying. He /wants/ to stay - why wouldn't he? Optimus is there, and Prowl, and of course First Aid. But that's just it, he'd be staying for the company and perhaps to listen to any post-battle talk. It's self indulgent, and so he heads over to First Aid. "I need to head on out," he says, "there's still cargo to be loaded into storage and I'm sure there are other things I can do." "May I have your arm, please?" First Aid says to Prowl, politely, reaching for the mech's arm so that he can attach the transfusion kit. //Talk to you later?// He comms privately to Hot Spot, unwilling to look away from what he's doing, carefully unlatching a plate from Prowl's armor to access the secondary energon and coolant lines there. He attaches a drip to each line, feeding fluids into Prowl's system. //I passed my exams, by the way.// First Aid adds, almost as an afterthought- he's still proud of the achievement, but seeing the degree of injuries that have come into the bay today just reminds him how much more there is to learn. After the quick welding job, she nods. "Any other injuries bothering you? " asks NPanacea of Shark. Hot Spot heads for the door, trying to keep as much out of the way as possible. //Sure,// he replies by private comm to First Aid. //And congratulations! You can tell me about it when you've done here, yeah?// He takes one last look around repair bay, and heads out to see what help he can be elsewhere. "Your help is appreciated in whatever role you are comfortable, Hot Spot," Optimus Prime says kindly to Hot Spot as the young mech passes him on the way out. "In better days, you would have spent a much longer period in training before ever seeing a battlefield, even in a support capability. If you need to speak to anyone, my door is always open." Shark simply indicates his chest to the medic, remaining way too silent. "Why so quiet? " asks NPanacea as she starts to inspect and repair the chestplate. "What were you hit with?" Shark rolls his shoulders, "Rather not say." then a pause, "Nothing I cannot handle." "I need to know so that I know if I have to give you any supplements or scan you for minute damage that my optics cannot see." notes NPanacea, raising an opticbrow. "Copping attitude isn't really helpful to your prompt repair." Shark frowns at that accusation, "Attitude? Me? When mister blow up at everyone is around? Pft. Get me finished with already femme, I don't got the patience." NPanacea stops short at first, and looked about to bristle before she relaxes a little at his 'explanation', although her actions were more stiff. She continues "As I said - I'd finish SOONER If I knew what you were hit with. It wont kill you to tell me." her voice a little colder now. "Otherwise I have to check for everything." Shark sighs in exasperation, "Lasers." "Thank you." she smiled again "That wasn't too hard." she begins treatment for Laser damage. "Hmm. Luckily lasers mostly damage topical armor, so you wont have any problems I think "Oh, it matters," Ratchet replies as he appraises Prowl with narrowed optics. He points to the now bleeding chevron socket. "You didn't need the trim," he notes as he carefully probes in the damaged chest compartment. He scowls. Prowl allows First Aid to access his arm without complaint, looking at Ratchet with something close to amusement. "I had a Decepticon drop out of the air and tackle me to the ground." He deadpans, managing not to flinch as the medic examines him. "I was not given much choice in the matter." First Aid hangs the fluid bags on the stand at the head of the berth and moves over to Prime to repeat the process. Optimus Prime offers his uninjured arm to the trainee medic and watches Ratchet working on Prowl with concern. Ratchet places a few clamps into Prowl's chest and eyes the 2IC's face critically as he works. "Lucky you," he says drily as he assesses Prowl's fuel pump. He frowns with a grunt. "...I really did not intend for this to happen." Prowl murmurs quietly, one wrecked doorwing doing something that might have been a twitch if it didn't earn a quiet shriek from the joint. "I believed we would be capable of holding the quarry, but..." Ratchet frowns at the noises coming from Prowl's doorwings. "Primus save us from your beliefs," he says with a deep frown. He gestures for First Aid to come back around. "Sedatives, here," he mutters with a shake of his head. First Aid looks up from re-checking all of the monitors that are now focused on Optimus Prime and walks over to Ratchet to see what the senior medic wants him to do. Prowl glances over at Ratchet, frowning at the thought of being sedated, but doesn't say anything more. He's still running through the results of the battle over and over in his processor, trying almost desperately to figure out what went wrong. Ratchet indicates Prowl with his chin. "Start him on sedatives. He's going to burn himself out, and that's more than we -- or he -- should have to deal with right now." He pulls his arms from palpating the 2IC's fuel pump and moves off to check on Optimus Prime. Optimus Prime regards Ratchet levelly. "Ratchet." He nods. "How are Sideswipe and Prowl doing?" First Aid nods and goes to the cabinet where the sedatives are kept and returns with the little container, adding it to the drip that Prowl is already on, venturing a pat to the officer's arm since he looks so upset. Ratchet watches First Aid with a quirked optic ridge for a moment, then shakes his head. "They'll be back to their normal stupidities soon enough," he tells the Prime. He scowls at Optimus' chest, then takes in the condition of Prime's arm. His engine revs. While First Aid fetched the sedative, Prowl apparently took it upon himself to lay back, shifting carefully to avoid aggravating his injuries further. He watches quietly as the apprentice medic hooks up the sedatives, and the pat earns a slightly startled look, but he doesn't say anything more as he slips into recharge. Optimus Prime nods thankfully. "Very good to hear." He uncurls the injured arm gingerly with a terrible grinding noise to allow Ratchet better access to it. "I'm afraid I may have made things worse when I transformed to drive back." Ratchet scowls. "May?!" he asks in annoyance. "You're a slagging Prime -- your struts aren't supposed to bend like this!" He gently tests around the area of the deformity. "Something not quite right about your diet lately, Optimus?" he asks with a glare. Optimus Prime remains motionless, although his optics narrow slightly in pain as Ratchet probes the injury itself. "No, but I imagine catching Megatron's mace is a bit outside of the design tolerences even for my frame, Ratchet." Ratchet's optics narrow in irritation. "These aren't the kinds of heroics that inspire the troops," he says drily as he shuts off the Prime's pain sensors. He eyes the CO shrewdly for a moment, then waves for First Aid. "Yes, Ratchet?" First Aid puts down the datapad where he was adding a note about the sedation to Prowl's current medical record, and hurries over to Ratchet. "Better drop him, too," Ratchet says with a sigh as he gestures to Optimus. "Strut repairs don't bear consciousness." "Yessir," First Aid heads back to the cabinet to get another dose of sedatives, and returns to the side of the berth. "Are you ready, then?" He asks Optimus Prime, attaching the bag to the drip that's already attached, but not starting the flow. It's not the usual practice to ask patients, but well... he's the Prime. Ratchet coughs. "It's better not to leave it up to them, unless you want them to show off their processor problems to add to your workload," he tells the intern. Optimus Prime's optics crinkle at the edges, although he looks weary overall. "As Ratchet is very fond of reminding me, he outranks any patient in his medbay, even me." He tells the intern. "Slagging right, I do," the CMO grunts. "If you'd remember that more frequently, you'd probably be a lot better off. Now recharge, fraggit!" First Aid hides a small, slightly nervous smile, but turns on the sedative drip as instructed. "Rest well, then, sir." He says to Prime.
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