|
Post by Swerve on Jan 8, 2011 0:09:13 GMT -5
Swerve looks from Long Haul, who doesn't look like he needs Swerve standing around while he deals with the fuel issue, to Xaaron, who doesn't look like he needs help lugging Perceptor aboard. However, Swerve is supposed to be dealing with Perceptor's medical issues, or so the story goes, so with a grumbled curse or two, Swerve trudges after Xaaron.
"Why would I do that?" He gives the gold-plated buzzard a disdainful stare. "I build for performance. I make my own stuff. Why would I wanna just copy something else?" he demands, waving off the idea with a rudely dismissive swing of one arm. The drastic movement makes his back twinge painfully and he grimaces but otherwise keeps it to himself.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Jan 8, 2011 22:03:26 GMT -5
Sadly, Xaaron will have some explaining to do to Botanica. Not that Perceptor is trying to eat his "gag", however, it is still a somewhat crumbly pastry item that the drugged scientist continues trying to sing around; most of it is getting sprayed outwards, but, especially as Perceptor is rather unceremoniously dumped into the crash netting, some invariably ends up heading down the other way.
Fortunately, the attempts at singing trail off as Xaaron gets Perceptor secured, limbs tangled perhaps a little more... rigorously... in the netting than is strictly necessary for safety sake. On a positive note, Perceptor is no longer attempting to grope his object of "electrum plated bliss".
No, now he's nuzzling the netting holding him securely from head to foot, and some of the murmurs around what's left of the doughnut are becoming more and more decipherable. There's definitely something about "his precious morphobot" in the midst of all the mumbling, at least, and if the beaming smile on his face is any indication, he's quite content with his new circumstances. And he is giggling again. About "the monkeys in the theatrical quantum flux uno."
"They have purple wings, you know. Of course you know. Their mimsy was over just last daffodil," he explains around the last of the doughnut, twisting his head to rub his cheek happily against the morphobot tentacle wrapped around his head.
Poor Xaaron; dumped for a cargo net and a hallucination.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jan 11, 2011 16:16:29 GMT -5
If Perceptor ever decides to stop living in sin with the cargo net, Emirate Xaaron is a justice of the peace in at least three legal systems! Though it really takes twisting his arm to get him to officiate for Decepticons.
Long Haul should have the official credit line for official Autobot purchases. Emirate Xaaron trusts Long Haul to just use that now.
He muses to Swerve, wisely not commenting on the twinge, "What if you could set yourself to rapidly reconfigure to your CAD models? Might not be as solid as just building the design yourself, but it'd be quicker for testing purposes, and you could do more real testing iterations on the road with more tuning tweaks quicker. Then, when you have a design down, you can build it solidly. Best of both worlds, I think. After all, they have to translate a scan into a schematic before enacting the new mode. You'd just be drafting your own new schematics yourself."
C'mon Swerve, install a rapid prototyping system under the hood! Be the ultimate tuner! What could go wrong?
He looks up at nothing in particular and comments, "Thanks, Skyfire. Much trouble on the way down?" Unsaid, who is Emirate Xaaron going to need to calm down from irate screechiness?
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Jan 11, 2011 17:38:17 GMT -5
Long Haul accepts the datapad, verifies things, and signs, entering in whatever code is needed to verify charge-approval. He then hands it back to the insectoid. "That do it? We in the queue for take-off?"
|
|
Skyfire
Major
I'm a scientist, not a....
Posts: 891
|
Post by Skyfire on Jan 11, 2011 22:16:17 GMT -5
Skyfire's engines begin to spin up again as he waits for Long Haul to board.
"Oh, not really. 'Emergency Medevac' is a magic passphrase that cuts through quite a few traffic control hoops. 'I'm coming in ballistic at Mach 10' is another one for clearing traffic," Skyfire replies. "They'll bill us later."
The blue-green thranx checks his datapad. "Well I'm good and your fuel is good. Take-off queue is Ground Control's problem, not mine." The insectoid quickly unplugs the bowsers fuel connectors, reels the hose in, then jumps into the cab and drives off.
"I'm taking off as soon as you board, Long Haul," the big white shuttle says.
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Jan 11, 2011 22:18:45 GMT -5
There is a very long, unguarded moment wherein Swerve – gape-mouthed expression betraying his utter surprise – does nothing but stare at Xaaron as if the other Autobot has just revealed a supercar vehicle mode. He almost laughs; it comes out more as a quick, shallow huff and one side of his mouth starts to pull up in a lopsided smile.
Then the moment passes and Swerve turns surly and shuttered again, shaking off that feeling of almost pleasant shock to hear Xaaron talking something that makes sense. He latches instead onto wondering just why Xaaron is so invested in getting him to try the idea, which gives him the distance he let slip.
"Hey! Long Haul!" he bellows back down the ramp. "Thought I was s'posed to be backin' you up with this scrap!" Because clearly the hardened oil-sport racer needs Long Haul present to deal with a drugged, cold-fingered, touchy-feely scientist.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Jan 11, 2011 22:19:10 GMT -5
"...and then, the wombat claimed parley with the waterfall gibbet, and that was that," Perceptor babbles happily at the attentive Morphobot pod hovering just over him, listening with rapt attention. "But the nebula was most stylus with the wiffle bubble, and demanded a quarter turn round on the thermal wavefunction. Their closet had quite a ti--" Perceptor breaks off as Swerve bellows, grabbing his attention. For one moment, he can actually focus on the racer.
"Swerve! I've been meaning to speak with you!" he exclaims. "I have been experimenting with some heat resistant ceramics in the buttercup. I thought you might... might... Umm... Bollywood and periwinkle. Wait... ah..." he frowns as his thoughts fragment and flit just out of reach.
"Perhaps I may examine your struts later and test the polycarbonates for the fish?"
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jan 11, 2011 22:59:40 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron is something of a futuristic. He rarely implemented the ideas himself, but he did used to fund them. He smiles back at Swerve. When Swerve closes up again and calls for the back-up for the back-up, Emirate Xaaron holds his gaze a moment longer and suggests, "Think about it."
Then he paces over to strap himself into a seat, not too far from Perceptor, so that if something happens, he can... be totally useless. He looks up and replies, "Good enough, I suppose, Skyfire."
Emirate Xaaron'll let Swerve defend his own honour against Perceptor's questions.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Jan 12, 2011 9:21:06 GMT -5
"Arright, Skyfire," Long Haul answers as he plods up the ramp. At Swerve's question, he shrugs. "Don't take two of us to sign a form. Well, not that form, anyway," he points out. Then, keeping in mind that 'helpful Swerve' is probably something to be encouraged, he adds, "'Preciated, though."
That's encouraging, right?
He heads towards the back and starts strapping himself in place.
|
|
Skyfire
Major
I'm a scientist, not a....
Posts: 891
|
Post by Skyfire on Jan 12, 2011 12:43:26 GMT -5
"Everyone aboard?" Skyfire asks, but closes his ramp without waiting for the answer. He's already counted heads--the question is a checklist formality that he expects to pass. He won't launch without getting the answer, though.
Engines spin up to a roar, shaking his whole hull and severely annoying anyone outside who stands too close--he's got his directional thruster fans in opposition to each other so he can build up power without quite launching.
As soon as someone confirms that all are aboard as are coming aboard, both fans swivel down and Skyfire surges off the tarmac. Positive G Forces might well knock down anyone happens to be standing around off-balance, but those who are strapped in experience something like the sinking feeling of a very fast express elevator going up.
Once he's well clear of the ground, Skyfire lights off his rockets and the G-hammer really comes down!
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Jan 13, 2011 12:27:44 GMT -5
Perceptor mumbles something about Swerve's struts and the racer recoils like he's just been splashed with liquid nitrogen, wheels spinning madly.
"NO, you fraggin' can't examine me!" he barks. It isn't medical aversion or even touch aversion; Swerve is injured and he'll need looking at unless he wants to find out if he can remove his head to visually inspect the damages. But Perceptor was only recently rubbing himself against Xaaron and has already turned grabby on Swerve once. The last thing the racer wants is those cold hands on him again when Perceptor's in such a queer mood.
Swerve continues to back away until he reaches a seat that lets him continue to monitor Perceptor without being too close. Xaaron is, in fact, nearer the scientist than Swerve is. Strapping in is a completely different matter; he eyes the seat and the safety harness with no small measure of loathing. The seats aren't really built in mind of bots with large portions of car on their backs. In the end, Swerve just tightens down a lap belt and holds onto the rest of the harness with either hand.
"I meant with him," he says acidly to Long Haul, jerking his head toward the firmly webbed Perceptor. Then he glowers at Xaaron, not so far away that a half-hearted lunge couldn't close the gap, and he says much more quietly, "What's it matter t'you?"
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Jan 13, 2011 23:09:12 GMT -5
Swerve has just broken Perceptor's metaphorical heart. At least, that's the look Perceptor is giving him, anyway. He just wants to help! Swerve doesn't have to be so... so... so mean about it!
But then they are in motion, and Perceptor forgets all about mean old racecars, because he's got a very frisky Morphobot curled around him, and the whole world is spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, wheeeee!
"Pink and purple horses! A house made of dawn!"1 he giggles, then seems to offline his optics and just relax back into the netting, letting the Gs thrum through his body, clearly on a whole other planet than everyone else.
1 - taken from "House Made Of Dawn" by N. Scott Momaday.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jan 14, 2011 11:47:52 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron gives Skyfire the, "Yes," to everyone being aboard that he's expecting.
Space travel is still... unpleasant for Emirate Xaaron. He's not used to it, especially in fast, zippy little things like Skyfire, as opposed to big, fancy starships with extensive inertial dampeners. He grimaces where he sits as he gets absolutely hammered by the forces, though his strapping holds up.
Clutching his straps, Emirate Xaaron grits out to Swerve, trying to keep it nonchalant, "Eh... nothing, really. But it seemed like it might mean something to you. Speaking of... Long Haul! You enjoying the launch?"
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Jan 14, 2011 12:59:09 GMT -5
Long Haul is strapped in, but like Emirate Xaaron, he's relatively new to space travel. But still. Space travel is AWESOME, isn't it? Besides which, he's a big tough strong guy who's made to carry lots of weight, even if it isn't usually his own. Also, luckily, he doesn't have a face to grimace with.
"Yeah! Loving it!" he grunts at Emirate Xaaron with (transparently) forced enthusiasm.
He does turn his head towards Swerve. Not all the way, because that takes effort, but enough to show that he's answering the racer. "Oh. I knew that. Erm. I thought you did pull back-up? I mean, you caught 'im and all."
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Jan 19, 2011 12:28:58 GMT -5
OOC: Skipping Skyfire due to timeout.
Swerve, as has been established, hates flying in general. Life on the Event Horizon hasn't been his favourite thing ever, but he can at least start to forget he's on a ship, as stable as the hulking thing is. This, however, is everything he hates about flying and, by extension, space travel – the noise, the pressure, the inescapable feeling that something will go horribly wrong and they'll wind up crashed in a swamp without functioning radios. Head tucked down, he tightens his grip on the harness until his knuckles pop and he still isn't sure he won't get pulled out of it.
"Ngh," is all he answers to Long Haul or to Xaaron, though the latter may find himself on the receiving end of a scowl that manages to look surprised more than it looks suspicious.
|
|