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| - 7/3/2011 Image:Doac jpg.JPG The med bay smells terrible, strongly reeking of antiseptic and solvent to fight back the armor crawl contamination in the area. Ratchet is muttering various curses as he makes his third pass around the berths to decontaminate the 'Bay, and while he's sure by now that First Aid isn't to blame -- much -- he'd rather ensure this gets done right by doing it himself. Dually strolls in, scratching idly. "Hey, anyone in here?" He calls loudly. Ratchet pokes his head up from where he's been scrubbing the lifting mechanism under a berth. "I am." He stares. "You're scratching." "Yeah, that's why I came in. Read the bulletin. Said to come in if we had symptoms, and well, I've been down in Cubicron a couple times recently, so-" Dually extends his arms. "Here I am." He pauses. "And by in Cubicron, I mean on patrol. Dunno about those femmes at the Sleazo, really...." Ratchet stands and frowns, gesturing to a berth. "Femmes in the Sleazo," he says flatly. "Some patrol." Dually shakes his head. "It really /was/ a patrol. Well, two of the times. Crackshot and I ended up down there after we got cut off on the far edge of patrol in NNW-3. And Horizon and I brought back that seeker prisoner after she was messing with the neutrals down there." "Well, then," Ratchet says as he pulls a few swabs from a drawer, "You get the prize for working so hard to get that slagging Seeker prisoner over here to us. Where have you been scratching?" Dually scratches again. "Mostly my seams- 'long here-" He indicates the seams that run alongside of his ventral plating along the outer edges of his chest. "Some on my arms. So... uh.. what /is/ it, anyway? Like, I got it from being in Cubicron?" Ratchet's lips are in a thin line while he hopes that sealant does its job. He runs a swab along the seam Dually's just scratched and another inside the mech's elbow. "It's called Cubicron Itch because that's where a lot of cases have historically been reported. You got it from being in contact with someone who had them." A pause. "Just how close did you get to that Seeker femme?" he asks as he starts off toward the microscope. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, doc- nothing like that- I just restrained her till Horizon showed up. I mean, she was hot, but, you know, the whole Decepticon thing sort of cancels out the seeker reputation, if you know what I mean." Dually grins. "You restrained her, then brought her here," Ratchet says blandly as he looks into the microscope's turret. Oh, yes, indeed, there are tiny grains moving on the fibers of the swab. He sighs, then has to squelch an evil grin as he updates Dually's medical records on a data pad pulled from a wall rack. He returns to the berth and crosses his arms, regarding the guard with barely hidden annoyance. "Well, Horizon did that, but yeah." Scratch scratch scratch. Dually leans back against a berth. "So, am I infected or not? Cuz if not, I'm off duty and Horizon's not around to tell me I can't go check out the Red Guardian Inn, even if they are a bunch of no-fun stuffy bastards who can't appreciate a good bar fight." The CMO makes a few notes on the data pad and eyes the guard, his face growing more malevolent. "Hot Seeker femme, and oh slag, you're stuck hanging onto her until Horizon makes the scene. Tough shift, huh?" he asks. More notes. Dually seems oblivious, grinning back. "Yeah, I know. Much better than hauling Crackshot's aft back here- glad to see he's up and about, by the way, doc." That last part is said sincerely. Ratchet's face is schooled to blankness as he taps a few buttons on his data pad to magnify the images he downloaded from the microscopic study of Dually's swabs. He leaves the image facing up on the data pad and sits it on the berth side stand before narrowing his optics. "I'd hate for you to serve the Autobots so very well by bringing her here only to be miserable from an allergy to Cubicron Itch," he says. "That would be truly awful. Would you mind lifting your arms a little, so I can scan those seams?" "Uh, allergy?" Dually's cooperative enough, lifting his arms up and apparently missing the sarcasm totally. "But yeah, she musta picked on the wrong neutral or something- poor mech was pretty freaked out even after I pulled her off of him. Took off and wouldn't slow down for nothin." "And that was very noble of you," Ratchet says with a nod as he runs the scanner over the irritated seams. No, no rust here. "See that picture over there? That's what's crawling on your armor right now," he says, his voice neutral. "Turns out you might've picked it up from your Seeker friend." Dually's face goes cold briefly and his voice is downright chilly. "No 'con's a friend of mine, Doc, and don't you forget it." A moment and the chill fades. "Slag, that's nasty-" he glances at the picture, making a face, and uses whichever arm Ratchet's already finished scanning to scratch with. Ratchet has trouble restraining himself from scratching, the more he looks at the picture, although the effect was generally what he was expecting. "Afraid so," he says. "They're spread by contact, of course. We think the Seeker in the brig was our source, since it's about half an orn until scratching starts. I'm sure we really needed to have her here, although not so much for the Itch." He picks up the data pad again and starts tapping the results of his scans. "Well, you're not allergic, although you've been contagious for a while. Been to the Sleazo in the past half orn?" he asks, eyeing Dually critically. Dually shakes his head. "Nah, been longer than that since I've had time to go down there. And thought it was off limits, anyway, heh. Only time I've been in Cubicron in the last orn at all's been to check in on Lifeline and say thanks for her helping me and Crackshot the other day." He leers and puts a little emphasis on 'saying thanks'. Lifeline's totally hot, after all. Ratchet's not even faking now. "You were in Lifeline's clinic with a contagious case of Cubicron Itch. Do I have that right?" he asks. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I was there and all." Dually begins to realize this may not have been the best tactic to take. "I mean, I was just visiting- didn't do nothin! Just talked to the doc." Ratchet's voice is cold. "Did she touch you -- or you touch her -- at any time? Even once?" he asks. Dually shrugs. "Uh... I dunno. Maybe?" He scratches the side of his helm in a 'thinking' gesture. Ratchet picks up his scratching wrench from the next berth over and taps it on Dually's berth in emphasis. "There's a better than random chance that you transmitted these... bugs!... to Cubicron Medical, and the best you can say is _maybe_?" He swings the wrench for Dually's head. '. Dually picks up the dicebag and rolls its agility against Ratchet's dexterity . Dually's roll fails! CLANG! The wrench bounces off the side of Dually's head. "Slaggit, doc!" He howls. "That fraggin' hurt! What the Pit aws that for?!" "Meditate on it while you're in the wash rack! And don't drag your aft out until you've sprayed sealant on every single piece of metal exposed on your frame!" Ratchet fumes, angered no end at the possibility of Dually happily passing on disease while he ogles hot femmes. Primus, where do we *get* these mechs, anyway? Dually stomps over to the wash racks, rubbing his helm with one hand and scratching with the other, muttering profanity under his breath. He stops scratching long enough to open the door, and slams it behind him. The sound of solvent turning on can be heard. Ratchet's engine revs angrily as he starts preparing notes to send to Lifeline. Honestly, if he could throw the inconsiderate slagger out of the Autobot military himself, he would... The solvent spray stops, and the hiss of the sealant sprayer starts up. "Pedes and servos, too!" Ratchet shouts over the spray. "If I have to scan you for these again in the next vorn, you're scrap!" Dually steps out of the wash wrack, dripping sealant onto the floor before shaking himself off, still scratching idly. "I'm sorry, doc, but I don't remember. She mighta touched me when I first came in, but I dunno." He shrugs. Ratchet vents a sigh. "And that's just prime, because I get to page Cubicron and let Lifeline know that you may have given her the mites when she touched you. All because you wanted to go say 'thank you,'" His optics narrow. "You're still scratching." "Oh yeah." Dually drops his hand. "Still itches, I guess." He shrugs. "Solvent and sealant'll kill the bugs, though, right doc?" "They had better," Ratchet growls. "Don't you dare try leaving yet... I want a full description, down to paint color, of that neutral the Seeker was fighting. He might be infected, too." Dually holds his hands up defensively. "It was in the report I filed, I swear!" He says. "Red, kinda scrawny looking. Some white. Big-ass blades of some sort on his back. I didn't really get a good look at him, he took off as soon as I got the femme off him and I couldn't catch up with him." Ratchet growls. "That report gets forwarded to me as soon as you get your servos on a data pad to do it." Dually says "You bet, Doc. Can I go now? I can get you that report right now." "Now would be great. Half an orn ago would be better!" Ratchet says, brandishing his wrench. Dually ducks, unnecessarily. "Can I use that console over there-" he points. "It'll just take a second." Ratchet scowls and points. Dually goes and leans over the console, taking just a moment to pull up his account on the main server and copy a file over to send to Ratchet. "There- my incident report and the image capture of the mech." Ratchet nods briskly. "Fine. Now out," he says. Dually stands up straight. "No argument here, doc." He saunters towards the door. "You have a nice day now." The door opens with Dually mere just a step away, revealing Horizon on the other side. He lifts up his chin slightly as he sees Dually, only mildly startled by the sudden close proximity. "Dually," he says in a bland greeting. Dually waves a lazy, not terribly respectful salute to Horizon and stomps on past.
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