|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 9, 2010 20:39:54 GMT -5
This is science, Xaaron! Not a tawdry seduction! Science takes time!
"No wonder I hate you sometimes," Perceptor mutters in Xaaron's direction, but there's a note of exasperated humor in there, if Xaaron cares to look for it. "If you have any questions about my approach to scientific process and experimental methodology, then perhaps you can build your own blasted spacebridge."
They have apparently skipped dating and gone straight to "old married couple". Nightbeat might even catch that before he manages to get out of earshot.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 9, 2010 20:54:17 GMT -5
As soon as Nightbeat's out of sight, Emirate Xaaron is totally going to turn into a sphinx and start killing whoever can't solve his riddles.
Okay, maybe not.
Emirate Xaaron actually stops and stares at Perceptor, apparently speechless. Then, he sputters, "You hate me?"
Oh sure, there's humour in there, but... but... but... the last red Autobot scientist who hated Emirate Xaaron almost blew up Cybertron, even if Perceptor happens to be Lucky Dip gold right now. He backs away, edging towards the door.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 9, 2010 21:06:34 GMT -5
Perceptor heaves an exasperated sigh and looks up from the panel he's pried open on his own arm with a faint scowl. "No, of course not. Have you not yet figured out that my sense of humor is on life support?"
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 9, 2010 22:24:38 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron is still seriously considering a tactical movement toward the rear. He frowns and admits, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't push you like that. I barely even know you, when I really stop and think about it."
A few years are just motes in the endless eye of time.
"Please, though, just tell me to stop before it gets that far."
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 9, 2010 22:34:35 GMT -5
See? This is why Perceptor rarely even attempts to be funny. Because even when he's intentionally trying, he sucks at it. Twice, even.
He flops down to a seat beside the platform and stares up at Xaaron tiredly. "I was joking, Xaaron," he sighs. "I know that I am terrible at it, but I was attempting to be humorous, not threatening you. Research scientists aren't supposed to like the Grant Committee, remember?" Not that he ever had any of his grants denied; his always made sense.
He saved the crazy ideas for his own time and funds.
"I have not always agreed with you, but I have never hated you. Your advice has merit, though, more for you than for me. Meaning, please, tell me before I step over the line?"
It's all so depressing, actually. The space bridge isn't working right, malfunctioning in such a rather spectacular way, and now this, after he'd thought they had made progress in their rather antagonistic-at-times relationship. "Faugh. I shall leave the comedy to Springer and stick with science."
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 9, 2010 22:51:32 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron keeps frowning and starts to lecture, "Funding is meant to be a co-operative process to ensure fair allocation - oh, nevermind. I understand that you were being funny, I just... look, the last red Autobot scientist tank I ran into tried to blow up my planet when I was on it, because he hated me."
"And he turned my best friend into a zombie."
"And. Well. I'm just a bit sensitive about it, that's all." He stares up at the ceiling, wondering how this could get any more awkward.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 13, 2010 12:16:47 GMT -5
"Blew up..." Perceptor gasps, head jerking up to stare at Xaaron incredulously. The thought is horrifying.
"I know that we have had our disagreements, Xaaron," he finally manages to add, "however, I hope that you do not believe that I am capable of that level of insanity."
Wait. Best friend? That... huh. Xaaron allowed himself to have... friends? Best friends?
"I'm surprised you would admit to it," he observes, returning to his poking and prodding within his own arm as he nods to the edge of the platform for Xaaron to sit. "Such attachments are an exploitable weakness, are they not?"
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 13, 2010 14:18:15 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron sits down on the indicated edge, but not before swiping one of Perceptor's markers. He starts writing on the floor, since Perceptor's already taken up most of the walls.
He's writing the theoretical background calculations necessary for installing reactor-powered rocket engines in a planet. There are a lot of angry annotations, and he explains as he works, "Flame wanted Cybertron to be a steerable planet. Not a bad idea, especially knowing what I knew - if Unicron can move around the galaxy at will, why not Primus? I won't deny that Flame was insane, but his worst sin was hubris. He thought he knew better than his peer review panel."
Emirate Xaaron draws some jagged underlines under the next section of equations. "This is his work. As you can see, his safety margins... aren't. His reactor tolerances weren't good enough for the energy output it was producing if it ran for any extended amount of time, which would have led to a chain reaction worse than a neutron bomb, which would have blown up Cybertron.”
He’s clearly both furious and disgusted, but he’s keeping his contempt restrained, cool. “If Flame didn’t cut corners, if he wasn’t so preening vain, his work might have meant something, but he refused to listen to advice, so we denied him. He embezzled funds and went underground. When he blew up his laboratory, we thought he was dead, but he survived and kept on working in secret.”
“Flame stole the body of my best friend and desecrated the corpse. Because he was my friend and it was another way to get at me. Is friendship a weakness?” Emirate Xaaron looks up from his notes, idly kicking one of the offending equations with the tip of his foot. “More like the worst cruelty I could inflict on a person. He wouldn’t have died if he wasn’t my friend. He wouldn’t have been violated if he wasn’t my friend. He suffered a fate I wouldn’t wish on my enemies because I liked him.”
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 18, 2010 22:27:08 GMT -5
Perceptor glances up from his tinkering to watch Xaaron's annotations with interest, frowning when the first glaring oversights are noted down. His frown only deepens as the "science" gets sloppier and worse, but manages to restrain his impulse to interrupt and correct some of what Xaaron is writing down. Barely. Really only because Xaaron is making it quite clear that he sees how truly awful the travesty of "science" is, too.
He is quiet for a long moment, still staring down at the floor, as Xaaron finishes speaking, his expression oddly... lacking. It's just still, thoughtful at most, but not too strongly seized by any particular emotion, really, until he finally speaks.
"Pareidolia."
He finally looks up, meeting Xaaron's gaze, if the Emirate allows him, and continues. "You cannot base your whole life upon the actions of a single madman. Furthermore, because of the position of authority and trust which you have, you cannot allow yourself to become emotionally isolated from the rest of us. Shutting everyone out also shuts yourself in. It is too easy to cease accepting counsel in such an isolated state, and, soon enough, one becomes the very specter of insanity one once stood vanguard against."
"Besides," he sighs, "whether some wish to admit it or not, we still fight a war. There are no innocent bystanders in a war; if you wear a symbol, you have chosen a side, and there is no perfectly safe location on either side. True, by associating with anyone in a position of leadership or skill, one increases the risk they assume."
"There is the rub, though. It is a risk which is assumed, and, once informed, assumed knowingly and willfully. I understand the desire to protect those that you can. It is a noble philosophy. But at what cost?"
He finally looks away, returning his attention to poking and prodding in his own arm. "You do not need to accept what is offered to you. But I may still think you a fool for refusing it."
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 18, 2010 23:07:03 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron gives Perceptor a hard look and says coldly, "Good Autobots have died because they were standing next to me. It's not a single incident. It's the pattern of my whole life. Do you know what happened, just before I got here? Galvatron happened. Galvatron slaughtered the base where I was just because he wanted to speak to me. That was his way of saying, 'Hello.' If I wasn't in that base, they'd be alive."
Maybe. If Unicron didn't eat them.
"The fact of the matter is that I do care, selfish and cruel as it may be of me. I am only mortal, after all. I care about every Transformer I have ever commanded, about the civilians caught in the crossfire, the aliens whose lives we've ruined, the enemy combatants who didn't know what they were doing - some more than others, but favourites are a card I cannot afford to play."
He smirks slightly. "He thought I was a fool, too."
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Dec 27, 2010 19:50:37 GMT -5
Perceptor listens, though his expression is more than enough hint for Xaaron to see that he is clearly unconvinced as he continues prodding about in his own arm. Satisfied, he finally turns and, with a gesture, requests to see Xaaron's own teal-clad arm.
"Perhaps they would, and perhaps they would not," he finally replies. "Galvatron is hardly what I would call a paragon of stability and mental fortitude; there is no guarantee that me might not have obliterated the entire population in a fit of pique, either. Or that some other catastrophic event might have befallen."
"I will not argue that, as a leader, you have a larger target metaphorically painted upon your person, and, by extension, those around you do as well. However, some of us are already quite used to that sort of environment from having served with other leaders. Please do us the courtesy of trusting that we can evaluate certain risks for ourselves and accept what we are willing to offer?"
"Additionally, I fail to see how being capable of caring can be considered selfish. Cruel? Perhaps for you, as for anyone who extends themselves in such a manner and then has their objects of affection stolen away. But selfish?" Perceptor snorts. "We already have targets painted upon ourselves, Xaaron: we are all Autobots."
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 27, 2010 20:36:29 GMT -5
"Oh, a catastrophic event was befalling. The catastrophic event," Emirate Xaaron notes absently, "Unicron. I'd say you don't know me very well at all, but shall we just agree to disagree for now? There is, after all, science to be done. The spacebridge is more important than my personal life."
He really means that.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Jan 1, 2011 13:03:55 GMT -5
"Very well, then," Perceptor agrees reluctantly. "Because I do disagree, but, I suppose that is your own prerogative." He sighs, expression smoothing into one of studious acceptance; he would not like being forced to make such choices. Fortunately, no one would follow him even if he were the last mech of rank surviving, so he is probably safe from such a quandary.
"The alterations are no more than surface, visual changes," he observes, tucking his tools away again. "And I have several more ideas for further adjustments to the spacebridge's systems to hopefully adjust for the sensory disassociation and data merging."
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jan 1, 2011 17:15:01 GMT -5
The Perceptor in Emirate Xaaron's reality somehow convinced the Minibots to follow him. Maybe that one built the Leadertron 654 to help him with leading.
Emirate Xaaron ignores the parting remarks about Perceptor's desire to disagree. As he said, there is science to be done. Emirate Xaaron starts to say, "Oh? Do explain," then he remembers this is Perceptor, and he covers half his face with his now-black hand.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Jan 4, 2011 13:47:43 GMT -5
Perceptor is all set to happily launch himself into a detailed description of the scientific principles he is planning on abusing in his quest to transport significant quantities of matter across defined distances of intervening space to set, calculated arrival points... Except that Xaaron's gesture - and its meaning - do not go unnoticed.
He deflates, ever so much; not even Xaaron in his capacity as a fellow scientist wants to listen. Not really.
"I thought to utilize chrono-particles to offset the disparity between perceptive arrival and physical/sensory arrival," he replies instead of the lengthier dissertation that would detail the exact application of those particles.
"Another possibility would be a total-immersion field dampener to dull the sensory perceptions entirely until the quantum field collapses at the end of the transport." He shrugs, resisting the temptation to explain more, and turns to tinker in the base he had just been seated on.
|
|