Damnit Jim, I'm a Scientist ... Not a Crosshairs!

Orion Pax - Laboratory

While the Ark II may be a massive military space carrier, the Autobots' more magnanimous duties, including research and exploration, are well-represented in the ship's on-board facility. The laboratory is "cozy", but with enough space for the efficient-minded to get serious, hard-boiled scientific work accomplished. The science block is in fact a converted cargo chamber filled with a number of compartmentalized research capsules -- each one designed for a specific scientific pursuit, such as astronomy or exo-biology. The stellar cartography section seems to be afforded the most space, with a nest of space probes and independent launch mechanism located in the main research cluster.

Crosscheck is, as usual, working in the Orion Pax's laboratory. Unless many Autobots, he preferes to spend his free time on a spaceship rather than grounded on a planet and the Pax is his baby after all. At the moment, the scientist is working on complexe equations about the fractal energy and wierd symbols seems to shuffle at random on the large screen before him. As for him, he's just standing there, in front of tht screen apparently trying to make sense of that mathematic mess.

Impactor strides into the Pax's laboratory, peering around and regarding everyone present with a questioning glance before looking elsewhere. He must be looking for someone, but then again ... Wreckers can be snoody on occasion. Walking up behind Crosscheck, Impactor juts the Operations CO with an elbow "Hey, you seen Crosshairs about?"

Crosscheck was lost in his thought and he spins on himself to face Impactor was the wrecker juts his elbow, "What the... oh it's you." Then he shakes his head, "I haven't seen him recently. He doesn't come up here very often, did you check in Autobot City armory? I think he spents a lot of times there."

Impactor sighs, "Yes, why do you think I'm here right now? I've checked /everywhere/ and no sight of 'em." Stepping to the side and walking forward a couple of feet, the Wrecker rests his aft on the edge of a table. Glancing down to his harpoon attachment, he continues. "I need ta ask him a technical question, something right up his alley. Hey, yer a smartybot right?"

Crosscheck would raise an eyebrow he doesn't have if he could, "If you really wish to talk to him you can always ask Teletran to locate him. But if you have a technical related question I'm probably more than qualified to answer you."

Impactor snorts, "Ask a machine where another machine is? Nah, I'm good." Leaning forward, the Wrecker leader detaches the harpoon with his other hand and holds it out. "Well, what's the worst that could happen, eh? Problem is..." he starts, extending his arm and the harpoon out to Crosscheck for inspection. "My hooks 'ave been bending upon impact lately, first noticed it when I got jumped by that cowardly lot 'o Cons."

Crosscheck grabs the hook and closely inspect it. A red light comes out of his optical visor as he scans the weapon/hand, "This is an old alloy...several million years old in fact. I'm surprised you didn't ask for it to be remade with something more...modern." He completes his inspection with a last comment, "I can always reinforce it with steel but I think you should get a new one. That would be way more efficient and not much more troubles for us to make."

"Git a new one? Where in the 'eck am I gonna find an alloy strong enough to pierce this new Cybertronian armor the Cons are sportin'? Heck, back in mah day we didn't wear armor ... and we didn't have fancy weapons either." Impactor gruffs, giving Crosscheck a nasty sneer. "We all had sticks and a rock. And we had ta share the rock!"

Crosscheck sighs and shakes his head as Impactor gives him the Kup speech. "Yes yes I know but those days are long gone. Technology is now what gives us the edge on the war." Turning his back on Impactor, he types something on the keyboard on front of him and the screen switch from fractal equations to the image of a medium sized gray planet, "You can find what you see there. Planet Mechanus. There's a rare kind of metal that can only be found on that planet. From it we can mke an alloy that will allow your hook to pierce through Decepticons armor... of course there's a reason why we don't exploit a mine there : Mecannibals."

Impactor shakes his head, kids these days. "Yah yah yah, technology this and engineerin' that. So, has anyone been able to retrieve this crud from Mechanus as of yet?"

Crosscheck nods, "Yes. Many years ago a team was sent there. The only survivor came back with a sample of the metal. That's how I know it would be perfect for your needs and that's also why I don't have enough here to make it. You will need to go there and get what you need yourself. Optimus forbade any more mission on this planet...but I'm sure Rodimus can be convinced."

"Impossible odds, somethin' no one's done before ... I like IT!" Impactor gloats, thrusting his stump-hand into the air. Relaxing a bit, the Wrecker leader reaches out for his weapon attachment. "So, you in Doc ... we sure could use ya planetside to help locate and extract the raw material?"

Crosscheck shrugs, "If you need me I'll go if you need me. I'm pretty curious to get the chance to observe those mecannibals by myself. I'll be able to locate what you need but extraction is mroe your thing than mine." he adds.

Impactor grins from audio processor to audio processor, "Yah, I'm am pretty awesome." Putting away the harpoon attachment, the Wrecker's hand shoots out of the forearm and reaches for a spare datapad on the table. "Observe all ya want, but the moment you become a liability in tha field ... you'll have ta cut that inquisitive nature short. The Wreckers aren't babysittahs and this ain't no nerd cruise. First and foremost, it'll be a joint Operations - Millitary mission."

Crosscheck reaches behind his back and grabs a metallic cylinder, a moment later he activates it and the ionic blade spreads from the tip of the cylinder, "I can take care of myself." he simply comment before sending the sword back into a subspace pocket. "Just do your parts and operations will do theirs."

"Yah yah, I've heard that before ... you have no idea how many times I've had to bail you're likes outta fryin' pan stemmin' from talk like that." Impactor groans, selecting the planet and course for the journey. "Let's get this straight while it's just the two of us. Operations is acting as backup, merely there as a advisory force. You leave the heavy liftin' to tha Wreckers!"

Crosscheck crosses his arms over his chest, "You do as you wish. /We/ don't run into every situation gun blazing. That's your way. Operations will gather the data we seek and find you what you need that's it. But if it comes to defend ourselves you won't have to babysit us. Now if you're done doubting the effectiveness of my division, I'll go back to my duty until you're done with the preparation of your mission."

Impactor tucks the datapad away and starts walking out of the room. "Say what ya want, we'll see what tha future has in store for you types on the battle field." The Wrecker leader exits the room with a cocky strut, his head reappearing in the doorway a couple of seconds later. "Don't forget it was the Military division that pulled Fairway outta harms way!" And without saying anything more, Impactor vanishes ... having gotten the 'last word' in edgewise. What a stinker!

Crosscheck completly ignores Impactor's last comment and refrains from commenting that Defcon used to be in the Operation Division! Instead, he goes back to his work and the fractal equation appears once again on the screen before him.