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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Mar 30, 2010 19:54:02 GMT -5
Mayday nods as he rifles through the tool box, either in understanding of the monetary restrictions in acquiring ship-building material or in understanding of the problem with the engine. Probably both. Grabbing a tool, he pops up to watch as Breakaway gestures at the diagram, nodding some more.
"Mm-hm, mm-hm," he says. "Not a clog, but there's plenty of other things that could go wrong with a regulator mechanism." He makes a face at the thought of having to work on something so closely attached to a stew of micro-organisms, but bolsters his resolve with a steady mental stream of 'engine, engine, engine, fancy alien engine' and 'ship parts, ship parts, ship parts'. Hefting the tool, he points it at a spot on the diagram, craning his neck to look at the equivalent spot on the real drive. "There's an access panel there, right? Let's get this pretty beast open!"
He could almost seem normal when he's working! If only he could shake his generally twitchy demeanor.
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Post by SceneMod on Mar 30, 2010 22:07:42 GMT -5
It doesn't occur to the clear amoeba that he might be bothering Mayday by his presence, so he slithers nearer the Autobot technician. "Mayble Ib canb help," he offers, slipping an extension behind the plate and easily popping it off.
He's probably very close to Mayday. Good thing he's clean!
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Post by Breakaway on Mar 31, 2010 21:26:24 GMT -5
Breakaway catches the access panel as it falls and places it on the floor, peering into the space beyond. "Wow. That sure is a lot of wires and pipes. So where do we start?" He looks down at Mayday questioningly.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Apr 2, 2010 20:15:38 GMT -5
It had taken some time to reach his destination. It was in this moment in time that Phobia recalls why he wasn't a spy. His paranoia slowed him down immensely. It took all of his willpower to move another step and all his concentration to not jump the moment his heel touched the floor with a wholly imagined 'clink'. This was new territory and unfamiliarity induced fear took out all the grace he'd had in his limbs.
He could hear the Autobot's voices now, at least, and strained, putting his audio settings on the highest sensitivity he dared to put them on. Just a little bit closer and he could then finally hear them clearly enough.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Apr 2, 2010 20:27:50 GMT -5
While the clear amoeba may exude clean, logic doesn't help a whole lot with Mayday's deeply ingrained feelings of 'ewww, organics'. Still, he manages to only cringe away slightly as it pushes by to pop open the panel. "Uh, thanks."
Being very careful not to touch anyone - which takes a few odd contortions - Mayday manages to plant himself between Breakaway and cling-on, the clear amoeba, and the open panel. Barely tapping various pipes and bundles of wires in turn, he mentally matches them with the diagram. "Wires and pipes are about par for the course."
Tapping on the visible portion of device into which several large pipes and a multitude of wires feed, he says, "Main pump, yes? Er, is power to it shut off? I, uh, prefer not to take electrical shocks while on the job. Does weird things to your circuits..."
While he waits for a response he starts counting connected wires and checking the seals on pipes.
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 3, 2010 17:43:11 GMT -5
The problem is, the ship is crewed by very large single-celled creatures.
A single-celled creatures do not, by and large, 'click.'
In fact, some single-celled creatures do not even slither or ooze - the transparent 'omelets' fly, for example. And one flies around the corner as Phobia is listening at the door.
Now, to the 'omelets,' multi-cells and other solids serve a number of purposes. They have hands, which is sometimes more convenient than a pseudopod. They can typically communicate in more languages than the 'omelets.' And finally, at times it's handy to be able to work on electronics without accidentally shorting them out with the liquid of one's own body. It's one of the electricians that rounds the corner and he has that idea, thinking to use Phobia's body to aid in repairs. And thus the thing zooms towards the Decepticon without hesitation.
Meanwhile, the clear amoeba backs away and answers Mayday, "Ourb elecbtribtian shoulb habe taken careb ofb that," he says.
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Post by Breakaway on Apr 3, 2010 23:14:21 GMT -5
Breakaway looks down at the transparent amoeba. "Your electrician should have taken care of it? Okay, never mind, my yellow friend here says the power to the pump is off." Breakaway's usefulness in this particular situation is limited. He's simply too bulky to get into the access panel, so he stands back and lets Mayday do his thing. "So, Mayday, I gotta ask . . . could you honestly not think of anything better than standing in the hall with a sign?"
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Apr 4, 2010 6:53:06 GMT -5
Add 'dealing with aliens' to the list of things that Phobia can't do very well. Especially when one of them pops out of bloody nowhere and attaches itself to his head. The bike lets out an a strangled noise of panic and backpedals into a wall, trying to grab the omelet- before feeling something nudge against his mind.
On the bright side, he manages not to scream.
On the downside, he was walked into the room a moment later, still trying not to scream and he struggles not to look so panicked when he sees the Autobots.
"Uhm," Phobia squeaks.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Apr 7, 2010 19:30:12 GMT -5
"Oh, that's good." Distracted Mayday is distracted. Finishing his inventory of what's attached to where, he hums to himself. "Well, everything out here seems to be where it should be." Tapping the tool in his hand against his chin guard for a moment, he pauses, stares at it, then quickly skitters back to the tool box to switch it for something else.
"Eh, I've never had to market myself before," he says to Breakaway as he moves back to the open access panel and begins disconnecting wires and unfastening the front of the main pump box. "I mean, working the shipyards was just, uh, y'know, my place in the big Autobot machine. Then when I went into freelance piloting, I already knew people. Because, well, shipyards! And then it was mostly regular customers and recommendations..."
He'd probably be more embarrassed about the whole thing, but it's hard to feel troubled when he's working with an engine.
He's distracted enough not to notice Phobia's entrance, for the moment.
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 8, 2010 8:45:51 GMT -5
The clear amoeba backs away from the panel. As Phobia is walked in (assuming still in disguise?) it manages a blurblely sigh.
"Ib hobe youb realibe you'lb habe to put thab back when yourb done," it says tiredly, in a tone of exasperated acceptance.
One gets the impression that the borrowing of bodies is a fairly common event on this ship.
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Post by Breakaway on Apr 8, 2010 10:31:48 GMT -5
Mayday is a mechanic. His job is to work with machines. Breakaway is a soldier. His job (at the moment) is to kill bad people to keep them from hurting mechanics. In short, he does notice Phobia come in. Wheeling around on one foot, he takes in the situation. The guy from the corridor is in here, he's not supposed to be. Possible hostile? Civilians present. (Mayday may be a fellow Autobot, but everything about him screams 'civilian.') Enclosed space, no room for sniping. Radio HQ? No, he can handle this. Of course he can.
The jetformer drops into a crouch between Mayday and and Phobia, deploying his gatling gun and spinning the barrels up to full cut-down-a-tree-with-bullets speed with an ominous hum.
"Mayday, find cover. You in the trenchcoat, you have one minute to explain why you're here before-" Suddenly, Breakaway's arm jerks up and his gun stops spinning, emitting a horrible grinding noise. "Hey, quit it! What? I can do it without hitting your guy if it comes to it! This sleaze-bag has no business in here! Come on!"
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Apr 8, 2010 17:25:50 GMT -5
Still disguised, Phobia was about to answer the amoeba with something like a nervous greeting and maybe relay a message from the parasitic space omelet. Instead, he ended up far, far away from any of them, somewhere behind the door he'd just come from, the sound of hyperventilating air intakes muffled through the barrier.
Too much was too much sometimes, and not even an omelet in his motor controls could stop Phobia's panicky reflexes.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Apr 11, 2010 9:30:53 GMT -5
Mayday is busy and trying to tune out everybody else. However, someone telling him to find cover is very distracting, and his head swings around just as the panel he was working on comes loose.
"Buwah?" he manages, staring with wide optics first at Breakaway, then catching a brief glimpse of Phobia as he flees. This is before the detached panel drops onto his foot and he turns back to frown on it with a disapproving, "Ow, hey-!" Disapproving quickly turns to horror and he scuttles back from the machinery with a high-pitched squeal.
Inside the newly opened pump apparatus is a mixture of circuitry, wires, and pipes, much of it covered with a thick, almost glittery silver goo. A large drop of silver ooze slowly drips from the main mass, coming free to splash outside the pump box.
Mayday makes a choking noise and retreats further.
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 11, 2010 12:37:26 GMT -5
The clear amoeba (let's just start calling him Fred) looks around at the reactions - Breakaway's aggression, Phobia's fear, and Mayday's... uhm, different fear.
"Sombtimbes his tybe will 'borrowb' bodies tob get work done." Fred turns to look towards Phobia and adds, tone annoyed, "Sombtimbes they'reb not sob good at warnings, eiber. We'llb habe tob compensate himb, but web will. Ib woulbn't be alarmed."
Then he slithers nearer the silvery black goo and hrms. "Ohb dear - leak."
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Post by Breakaway on Apr 11, 2010 23:05:12 GMT -5
Breakaway stares at Fred incredulously, finally giving up and retracting his weapon back into his wrist. "That's the guy from the corridor. He's an intruder on your ship. You're telling me that doesn't bother you?" He sighs and looks over at the gooey mess that is the pump. "It looks like the nanites have been replicating out of control. There, I said it. Don't make me hit myself. Now can we please get back to the whole 'sketchy guy running around unsupervised' issue?"
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