Space Chase Science Fair 1a

Observatory - Chase Technologies

Stepping out onto the circular baseball stadium sized observation level is like stepping out into the tremendously beautiful nebula itself. The entire top floor of the station is encased in a massive two-way transparisteel dome, and the wondrous and vibrant colourful swirls and streams that make up the Rainbow Climbs are all around you. Reds, yellows, greens, blues, purples, and other hues outside of the visible light spectrum flow together, creating an exotic cosmic dance of colours. Distant flashing behind the clouds resemble faint and silent lightning. This is the next best thing to being out in space, and the view can be as dizzying as it is awesome. It's akin being inside of a snow globe.

Luckily, one can avoid the brush with vertigo by focusing on the display booths and science exhibits that are spread around the circular deck. There are all manner of alien life and exhibits being shown. Observation telescopes are arrayed on the outer ring of the level for those wishing to gaze out, and elevators can take visitors to and from the lower level habitat and docking rings. Security is present, but they do a good job of remaining invisible and non-intrusive. Visitors are required to check or otherwise deactivate their weapons.

Thing Contents:

Airwolf

Whirligig

Perceptor

Fusillade

Scrapper's Exhibit - Medical Bed

Exhibit - K'Tor Cluster is Doomed!

Exhibit - K'Tor Cluster is Doomed!

This exhibit consists of a tall display board with more star charts pinned to it than most people would know what to do with. The title banner reads in loud coloured letters that 'The K-Tor Cluster is Doomed!'. The astronomy charts showcase star fields with red circles highlighting specific locations. It is all meaningless to anyone but the most diehard of astronomy fans, as the presenter did a piss poor job of making it comprehensible to a layman. Nevertheless, a poster consisting of bullet point notes claims with fervent confidence and desperation that the K-Tor Cluster, a region of space none too far between Cybertron and Earth, is undergoing a natural but extremely dangerous upheaval. There aren't any inhabited solar systems in the cluster, but the posters suggest it could still affect nearby regions.

Although the posters and charts are difficult to decipher, a strange and short alien with a gigantic external brain is present and enthusiastic about explaining his theories to anyone who will listen. Everyone else tends to derisively call the alien the 'Hideous Giant Brain Guy,' but his nametag says his name is Reeddan. He looks something like this:

http://transformers.wikia.com/wiki/Image:Hideousgiantbrainguy.jpg

Whirligig drops Whirligig's Exhibit - A... Funny Looking Generator?.

Whirligig's Exhibit - A... Funny Looking Generator?

Well, it's not a /big/ exhibit... but there is a lot to it. Surrounding a small, disconnected generator of some kind are notes and theories on nuclear reactions (most drawn from someone who certainly knows her explosives). A Transformer-sized card reads something very simple: Model Cold Fusion Generator. A second card reads that for any sort of real technical explanations, or plans, one should see the femme responsible for the exhibit. Of course, everything around the device /does/ read off some version of "theoretical." Convenient way of trying to throw off those who would sniff out the creator of such a device... or the /truth/?!

Perceptor drops Perceptor's Experiment - Flashlamp Pumped Ultraviolet Laser.

Chip Chase looks out at the gathering of scientists from every corner of this Galaxy. Flanked by two aides (one human, one decidedly blob-like alien), Chip's hoverchair glides across the smooth floor as he chats with them. Although he has his exosuit for walking, it gets harder to use as age takes its toll. The three scientists gaze out the 360 transparisteel dome that showcases the beauty of the Rainbow Climbs. A variety of diverse spaceships can be seen slowly inching in from all angles towards the lower docking bays. Many scientists are already here, having had to set up their booths and exhibits beforehand. Many who are arriving are tourists and visitors, and Chip is visibly excited at the turnout they've gotten. "It's a brave new galaxy," he tells his aides. "When we're able to come together to share knowledge with one another. Lets see what we can learn today."

Nightbeat is here, though he's not a scientist. So one might ask... WHY is he here? Well, partially because he's fascinated with new discoveries and the chances of expanding his knowledge... but also because he does a little security work on the side, and since there's NO doubt the Decepticon's will be around, he just wants to keep an eye on things. He's helpful that way.

Nightbeat tugs his trench coat out and pulls it on, and then pulls what appears to be a large sprig of holly out of the pocket and tucks it into the corner of his mouth.

Airwolf is an engineer, not a scientist, so her presence here is more due to a desire to keep up with the current level of technology. That, and Fusillade persuaded her to attend. She has already visited several exhibits, even the Exhibit of Stellar Doom, more interested in engineering applications than anything else. She also mingles with a group of Insectoids, usually communicating with a datapad translator but also the occasional audible click and chitter of the true language.

The elevators on the eastern side of the station (the direction names having been arbitrarily chosen) slide open to release a crowd of tourists and participants. Among the participants is a lime green Decepticon carrying a large tool box with both hands. Grunting as he carries the obviously heavy load across the observation deck, Scrapper has to be careful not to step on any of the fleshlings (human or otherwise). The aliens come in all sizes, and Scrapper would feel bad if he accidentally killed one. He'd feel bad that he'd get kicked out, anyway. Passing by a group of Insectoids, Scrapper tries to wave to Airwolf, failing due to his burden. "Hey Airwolf, coming by to see what I've cooked up?"

With optics half-dimmed, Fusillade peruses the latest of nascent stars beginning to form in the matter heavy region of space. With face nearly pressed against the glass, she's situated in a vaguely at-ease position, hands clasped behind her back. As a gout of ultraviolet and visible light spurts from the accretion disk, she slides into long, easy strides as she appreciatively follows the scintillating vortices of the outgassing's shockwave. She hasn't quite spoken with anyone just yet, although it's certain that she will soon prevail upon hapless scientists to translate concepts for her. "Let's see how long the non-military application theme holds up here."

Compton Xabat drops Exhibit: Some Sort of Exo-Suit by "Calvin Xavier".

Exhibit: Some Sort of Exo-Suit by "Calvin Xavier"

Mounted on a platform is an odd looking exo-suit. It stands about as high as most other exo-suits, only this one appears to have no weapons whatsoever. It merely has a pair of strong-looking hands. Its armor looks rather thick, yet very smooth, almost like it was composed of porcelain. There appears to be several hatches that can pop out of the armor in several places, but with no indication what those hatches may be hiding. The helmet seems rather small--it's actually part of the torso itself, lending to an almost "headless" look. The pilot of the exo can see out through an orange visor.

Above the exo-suit reads the sign, "Witness the new MK-103 Heavy Industrial Suit in action! Brought to you by Calvin Xavier." Behind the exo are several booths, each one apparently indicating a different kind of hazard, and a table with various objects, some rocky or metallic, on it.

Perceptor is away, pretty far away from the Decepticon exhibits. Then again, he did that kind of on purpose. He's got a large table on which sits a large laser array. Standees give information on the experiment. Making sure everything is set up to his meticulous specifications, and taking care that he doesn't step on anything or anyone important, he takes his place next to his offering a weary looking down the row at the Decepticons, here in force, with a weary eye.

By a somewhat sparse by comparisson exhibit stands a large, dark blue femme. Her armor is shined and polished and she's looking absolutely beside herself with excitement. This is Whirligig's place to shine. Although admittedly she's timid, even /nervous/, about showing off her invention... she did take all necessary precautions to make it look like she was exhibiting what could, theoretically, be the real generator... but kept all of her plans spaced away where only she could access them. She had every intention in the world of destroying the plans once she was done here anyway... /and/ the mock-up of the real generator. She didn't want it falling into anyone else's hands, and keeping the information tightly in her own processor was just the way to go. Still, there is no way to mask how giddy she is to be here among some of the greatest minds in the universe, ready to strut her stuff... figuratively speaking, of course.

Compton Xabat is standing near his exhibit, smiling and waving at the aliens that approach him and his invention, and generally pretending that he believes that they are sapient beings worth of respect. Meanwhile, some rather unpleasant looking fellows move about his exhibit, adjusting props and generally scowling at all the strange aliens. Xabat notices, and mutters, "Cut that out, you, make them feel welcome. I don't like being here any more than you, but we're here to make money, see?" "Yes, boss," comes the glum reply.

Xabat, by the way, doesn't look the same. His hair has been dyed brown, he has a goatee, and the pockmarks on his face have been covered up with makeup (hey, it's a disguise). And, judging from the tag on his shirt, he's apparently going by the name, "Calvin Xavier."

The lime green form would have been unmistakable if she had been facing that way, but her attention was on a supposed microscopic black hole exhibit. Airwolf has her doubts about that one... No, it's the voice she recognizes, and she turns to see Scrapper and his burden. "Did you need any assistance with that, Scrapper?" she asks politely. "And yes, I'm sure I'll see your exhibit sometime today." She frowns, suddenly reminded of something, and pauses to take a careful look around. No telling who might be lurking nearby in a cloaked shuttle. Brilliant, Airwolf. Like you'd SEE a cloaked shuttle.

Paranoia does that to you, eh?

As more and more spacecraft dock with the usually quiet and peaceful observatory is slowly flooded with tourists. Chip pivots away from the window closest to him, resting his elbow on the side of his chair, propping up his arm and watching as the alien life begins to stream in. There's a thin smile that hides his nervousness. He has no idea how well this is going to go.

Octane transforms into his towering robot mode, his wings spread out on either side of him, and already hiding behind his heat shield.

Nightbeat's optics sweep over the growing crowd - these are the times he must be most alert, the mingling will allow for potential firestorms to erupt, and he's volunteered to help keep the peace - should something go wrong. He doesn't expect it'll be much more than a gibberish fight though, and those are kinda fun to watch. Scientists are so uppity when they're debating theory.

Perceptor isn't good so much at the whole mingling about thing. Especially when there's Decepticons about. The only one who doesn't get the nerd's stinkeye is Airwolf. Nightbeat gets a quiet nod and Whirligig gets a smile and a gentle wave. He is content to quietly stay with his experiment, that it won't get messed around with.

Scrapper almost drops the crate of tools and is forced to stop. "Ooof... yeah, that would be great, Airwolf," Scrapper says, trying to hold it up in a position so she can grab the other end of it. Taking the moment to glance around, Scrapper first spies "Calvin Xavier's" exhibit. The fleshling looks human, but there're enough human-look-alike-aliens to shake a turbo-stick at. "An Exo-Suit?" he calls out. "Are you from EDC?"

It really seems Whirligig won't be content to mingle. She's not particularly social, and she's... sort of mumbling to herself as she reads equations, occasionally checks plans imprinted in her processor, and fiddles with things on the mock generator. True, this isn't supposed to be a working model... but she can't help it if she /wishes/ it could be. She's done it once, she can do it again, right? She gives a wave in Nightbeat's direction, and a shy smile in Perceptor's, before she stands straight with her hands on her hip plates. "Guess that's as good as it'll ever get..."

Octane drops Octane's Exhibit: Do It Yourself Energon Maker.

Octane's Exhibit: Do It Yourself Energon Maker

A actual steel oil derrick, much smaller then it's counterparts, but one that actual seems to work. A drum of oil has been set underneath, the extracting pipe that runs vertical the length of the derrick have been placing inside it, and a connecting house has been run from the spout at the top down to a mechanism that can open or a close a valve and cause oil to flow into the stack of energon cubes placed in front of the valve. As a final touch a picture of Octane has been attatched to the front of the derrick: curiously he seems to be wearing a beret in the shot.

Fusillade plunks her skidplate down on one of the ramps leading up to the edge of the viewing bubble. Propping chin in one palm, she rnnghs a bit, disappointed at the lack of malfunctions or scientific catfights.

Octane is not mingling: he's too proud of what he has done today to come down off that cloud. He stands beside the derrick, which is smaller then the Transformer who built it, as he waits with barely concealed excitement for someone to come over and ask him how it works.

The alien named Reeddan, aka the Hideous Giant Brain Guy, is at his booth, currently engaged in a deep conversation with several tall and lithe aliens who have stopped by. He gestures enthusiastically at the star charts and notes he has attached to his display while he gives them a short little presentation.

Compton Xabat's face twitches as he looks up at Scrapper. It takes every ounce of his will to suppress the look of rage and anger that swells up within him. Yes, that was one of the Decepticons that was there at the Battle of P'yongyang. Bastard! "Well, yes, it's an Exo-Suit, of sorts. But it's totally for industrial and civilian applications. There isn't a single weapon on the thing." Of course, it can always CARRY a weapon, which Xabat is fully aware of. "Ah, I... wasn't in the EDC, but I did design a suit for them." Inwardly, he grimaces. His "Skymaster" was rejected in favor of another transforming aerial exo.

Airwolf forcibly drags her attention away from potentially lurking monsters and catches the other end of the crate. If Astracius is out there, then he's out there. She may as well wait to panic until he actually makes an appearance. She ooofs as well, as that's heavier than she expected. Being on the opposite side from Scrapper, she can't see who he's talking to, but she can listen. An EDCer? No, apparently not. She wonders if there are any Autobots there as well; she's only seen a quarter of the exhibits so far. Now's not a good time to try to look around, unfortunately, so she keeps her optics on the crate and where she's going.

If Scrapper notices the rage barely hidden by the fleshling, he doesn't show it. Instead he looks to be rather interested in the exo-suit itself. "Ah, the fleshlings are branching out their exo-suit technology... for industrial purposes." Scrapper is worried. This is the first step towards every human army getting ahold of Exo-Suits. And when that happens, Scrapper suspects that pain will be the name of the Decepticon game.

As Airwolf grabs ahold of the other end of the crate, the pair of them awkwardly carry it over to his booth. Scrapper has to walk backwards, and Airwolf forward. Like carrying a particularly awkward and heavy couch, this is remarkably difficult. Nevertheless, they prevail, and the crate gets dropped on the floor next to the sheet-covered medical bed. "Thanks."

Compton Xabat shrugs. "Yes... but the suits will be offered to... aliens, as well. We can build them in a variety of different sizes... well, except for yours. Sorry." He smiles placatingly, but in fact he just wanted to rub it in.

And if Xabat knows about Scrapper's fears.... well, it's a good bet he's looking FORWARD to exo-suit tech being commonplace!

Dredge put puts into the room, transforming after he clears the doors, and walks around, looking over each booth. As he comes to the exo-suit booth, he rubs his chin. "Heh, these are pretty..lame!" He lets out a hearty chuckle, not impressed in the least by the human' attempt at robot technology.

As parts shift around, Dredge changes into a tall intimidating Decepticon with a large bucket-shovel for a left hand. A drill occupies his right shoulder and a small bucket-wheel excavator his left.

Scrapper shouts back to Calvin (he shouts because he has been taken away due to tool crate carrying needs), "No worries, flesh creature! We already tried exo-suits recently and it didn't pan out!" Scrapper wasn't disappointed by this. After all, the Autobots got the technology as well, rendering any advantage they'd give moot.

Whirligig watches the hustle and bustle around her with a smile to end all smiles, and she does stop to chat on numerous occasions with a great many aliens who swing by to see the strange generator the femme whipped up. They chat equations and blueprints, and it absolutely cuts her to the spark every time she has to lie and say there isn't a /working/ model of the generator. She's still nervous about letting anyone else know about the working one she built. She does seem happiest, though, when talking to those who drop by to talk tech and theory.

Airwolf is happy to lose her burden. She eyes Scrapper speculatively, wondering what's in the bloody crate, but doesn't ask. Instead, she glances towards the exo-suit, comparing it with her memories of the top-line Unity. It doesn't compare well, mostly because the Unity is definitely a weapon and looks the part. The Pretender shells, she never saw. Back to reviewing the exhibits. Autobots are there after all. She inclines her head politely to them, spending no more or less time with their displays than anyone else's.

Compton Xabat sneers up at Dredge, unable to contain his contempt for Decepticons any longer. "Oh...? Well, I didn't build a robot with a pooper scooper for a hand, so I've got that much going for me, don't i?" His smile turns cruel. "Anyway. I'm going to look at some of these other exhibits before the presentations start. Boys? Watch the exhibit for me. And if you're asked any questions, use those little cards I gave you." The Euro-trash thugs tending to his exhibit nod, looking at the cards apprehensively. They're definitely more used to beating people up than this sort of thing, but they're getting paid to do it...

Xabat stops by Whirligig's generator, and taps his goatee'd chin as he looks it over. "Hmmm."

Wheelie drops Wheelie's Exhibit: Card Table.

Wheelie's Exhibit: Card Table

A simple folding card table, Transformer-sized, with Wheelie standing behind it.

The big, bulky femme looks down at "Calvin" with a bright smile, shuffling her broad feet a bit. "Ah... hello! Um... my name is Whirligig... if you have any questions about the exhibit, please feel free to ask me." There's the smile like a thousand-watt daisy turned up to eleven. She's enjoying herself... well, enjoying doing something that isn't repairing the gravely wounded, transporting the gravely wounded, or hearing about the gravely wounded.

Wheelie stands behind his card table, smiling happily. There is no actual diorama or anything on the table -- it's completely bare. Wheelie does not seem to mind, although he gets a few odd looks.

Dredge throws his hands up mockinly "Ohhh, I'm SOOO offened. Primus knows I could outperform anything you built anyday." He chuckles as Xabat leaves, then sneers heading over to the next interesting looking display, which just happens to be Octane's. "What cha got here 'Tane?"

Raising one fingertalon to rest on her chin, Fusillade juts one hip out as she considers those present. Well, if they weren't going to leave their posts, she could very well go visit them. With hematite lips parted slightly in a smile that takes most of the edge off of her fangs, she weaves between booths like a lioness slinking about in the tall grass. She seems to take particular pleasure in lingering at the periphery of the footprint of each exhibitor's demonstration, shrewd gaze aiming to pick up on any nervousness. That smile becomes a bit wider as she cruises past Xabat and Whirligig, although she doesn't seem to care to linger. Instead, the animated gesticulations by Reeddan, and the familiar territory of astrogation charts, eventually pulls her over. Tak-tak-tak. Her feet snap on the floor, drawing her ever closer to the hideous brain guy. "What is the anticipated date of this cluster's destruction?" Saffron optics flick over the bullet points, before she pulls amber goggles to rest upon her helm, seeking a pattern in the order and velocities of the paths of red-highlighted stars.

Octane stands even straighter, if possible. His moment has now arrived! Octane does not speak but, turning toward the handle of the valve, he takes hold of it and pushes it forward slowly into the open position. Oil begins to flow out of it and into the energon cube placed below it before shutting it off as the cube fills. He presses his foot down on it, compacting the cube and filling it with that bright shifting glow, before picking it up and proudly displaying it to Dredge. "This is the future of Energon production! With modification these can be modified to turn any energy rich material into energon and, due to their small size, can be secreted anywhere for emergency reufeling situations. It's my own modification on clumsy Terran technology."

Compton Xabat stands on his tippy toes, head bobbing about as he tries to examine the generator. "Yes... yes... ehm... this generator, what does it run off of, hm?" He peers at it closely. "This thing... will it even run properly..." he mutters... but not because he's truly wondering that. Rather, he's making an attempt at undermining the Autobot's confidence.

Dredge rubs his chin some more at witnessing this production. "That's..cute..and all, but what's to stop anyone else from using them?"

The Hideous Giant Brain Guy reaches up and scratches his exposed brain the way someone might adjust their glasses. He has to look way up to get a good view of Fusillade. He looks happy to have visitors. He speaks with a universal translator that leaves a thick alien accent. "It's hard to say when the exact date will be. But you can see here from the build-up of ionic radiation from this binary system," Reeddan shuffles through papers and holds up a starchart that looks like all the other starcharts, except there's a bluish haze around one of the many points of lights. This is circled with a red marker. "...that it's going to eventually ignite this pocket of hydrogen just outside of the solar system, and lead a trail to this cluster here...." he shows her another chart. "Which will carry on the cascade reaction. It's very hard to tell when this will happen and how long the process will take, but it should be within this astro-year. Sooner rather than later, I wager."

Whirligig puffs herself up. "Well, it's a cold fusion generator. This is a non-working model." She motions at some of the connections. "The equations here all relate to the necessary nuclear reactions to produce the cold fusion reaction." Smile smile smile. "Unfortunately, a lot of the reaction is unstable... you get spikes of energy that require it to be shut down somewhat frequently, so until that problem is solved, the world's energy problems won't be quite solved yet." But she looks like she's proud of herself for getting through that dissertation without freezing up. When talking tech, she is right at home.

Chip's alien aide gurgles something, and both Chip and the other aide laugh as if it was a witty comment. Gliding to the centre of the observation deck, Chip lowers a microphone stand and turns it on. There's a loud squeal of mic feedback that fills the deck, and most of the conversations quiet down. "Heh," Chip says, his voice amplified by the sound system. "All this technology and we still haven't perfected the microphone." This gets a few chuckles from the audience.

"First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for showing up tonight. I'm hoping to make this an annual event if it's successful, and judging from the turnout we're well on our way to making that happen." This comment gets a variety of cheers and claps, though the manner of displaying approval differs from race to race.

"Ok, I'd like to get us started on the presentations. We'll have a bit of time for question and answers before we move on." The lights dim slightly and a spotlight falls on Whirligig and her generator. Chip doesn't even need notes. He's already read up on who everyone is. "Up first we have Whirligig, an Autobot from Cybertron." Chip smiles sheepishly, "Sorry Whirligig. I didn't mean to make you start over."

Chip's human aide approaches the Transformer and reaches up as high as she can, handing Whirligig a portable microphone. If Whirligig grabs it, it inflates slightly, growing to a size more comfortable for a Transformer to hold.

Scrapper dusts off his hands and doesn't answer Airwolf's unasked question about what is inside the bloody crate. "Come on, presentations are starting," he tells her, jogging towards where the crowd is assembling to hear Whirligig talk about the generator. If Airwolf is still near him and doesn't smack him one for it, he'll practically be dragging her there. He's that excited about all this. The Constructicon has brought a datapad with him to make notes on.

Compton Xabat hrms, shrugging. "Well, an interesting... attempt, then. Perhaps one day you'll come up with a working fusion generator, then, hm?" Smiling in a friendly manner--more friendly than his bitter, true self, anyway--Xabat stalks back over to his exhibit as Chip announces that the presentations are starting.

Octane looks uncertain how to answer Dredge's question but, thankfully, he's saved from that by Chip as the human starts to speak. Octane, relieved, puts a finger to his lips and points to the podium where Chip is standing.

Nightbeat lurks here or there, observing the exhibits, picking up tidbits of information... he doesn't stay in one spot for long. His eyes scan the crowd, enhanced optics seeking for anything out of the ordinary even as the increased sensitivity of his audial units filters for particular noises. All is quiet and safe for the moment, and the Detective is pleased... with any luck, things will proceed without a hitch and afford him a relaxing day for a change.

The small golden Autobot -- 'Wheelie' to some, 'Wild Boy of Quintessa' to others, 'Sexy Pharaoh' to a select few -- watches the presentations from behind his table, not moving from his spot even if he can't see because he's teeny.

Perceptor continues to stand with his experiment and begins to listen to each presentation. If only Wheeljack were here..then they'd be able to see something majestic. There would probably even be explosions!

The blue, Jedi-like apparation of Wheeljack watches from one side, ears lighting in a smile. Next to him are Ironhide and Hayden Christiansen.

Whoa. In the spotlight so soon? She'd almost forgotten she'd signed up to actually /present/. She gives that same bright smile as she thanks and excuses herself from Xabat, then reaches down to accept the microphone with a relatively toned down "thank you." That finished, she stands straight and makes a noise as if she's clearing her throat, but it's more to make sure her vocalizer is free of any staticky interference.

"Ah, hello everyone." Another smile. She's practically forcing herself not to get stage fright. "As introduced, my name is Whirligig... and I would like to present for you the cold fusion generator." Propellers spinning at a decent pace on their props, she motions to the device beside her... and then she really gets to talking.

Forgetting stage fright, the femme goes into equations, theoretical outputs, imperfections with the use of cold fusion, problems with potential use, the connections and inner-workings, and how the generator could revolutionize energy in the future. Once she's finished, she gives a shy smile. "And... that... is the cold fusion generator. Ah... thank you very much for listening."

Furrowing her optic ridges in concentration, Fusillade shifts position to take a seat down a bit closer to optic-eye level with the alien, fanning out her wingblades behind her to keep from sitting on them. "And... then? How far would it actually spread?" She snaps out a hand and peers closely at the bluish haze around the star. "Hydrogen?" She seems skeptical, and then hands the image back. "/Someone/ I know said that's /red/, Reeddan." she quibbles. However, as the formal presentations begin, she backs off, and straightens her shoulders as she looks toward Chip on stage, and then toward Whirligig.

Airwolf was about to head for Perceptor's exhibit, but Scrapper's enthusiastic grasp on her arm draws her to the presentation area. No, she won't smack him for something like this, though she doesn't like being handled. After they come to a stop, she looks towards Whirligig's display with crimson optics narrowed in intense thought. Drawing her datapad from a side compartment, she begins to take notes, tapping in commands with clawed fingers.

"Oh!" Whirligig claps her hands together, as if she forgot something. "I'm sorry... one last thing. Um... I haven't managed a successfully working generator thus far. These equations are, as I stated before, just theoretical."

Dredge attention is drawn to the announcment and Whirligig's presentation. He turns his head, watching the cold fusion explination, thou not really being impressed much.

Scrapper is, of course, very interested in anything with an energon-producing application. It is his speciality rivalled only by creating giant lasers. Scrapper initially has to stand on his tippy-toes to get a good view over some of the freakishly tall aliens out there, but finally gives up and just hovers up with his flight systems. Nobody can block his view now! He aims his datapad at the display and takes a photo of it. Datapads are like cell phones of the future, after all.

Red Alert is a much more obvious observer compared to Nightbeat's blend-into-the-crowd work. While Nightbeat is capable of being subtle and blending in, Red Alert relies on his conspicuous emergency-vehicle color scheme (along with his rep for taking 'security' a step too far into the realm of 'oppression') to be a more visible presence. Sure it's completely unnecessary with all of the security already in place here, but Red lives and breathes this stuff.

Galvatron pushes open one of the doors at the back of the room- he was finding a parking space for the shuttle. He glares daggers at Chip, or as he is known to Galvatron and certain other Decepticons, the Human with Wheels, but seems peaceable enough for the moment as he stalks up and down the aisles, looking for Scrapper.

NOW Things get interesting... Nightbeat's internal warnings all just screamed at once as the Lord of Destruction made his presence known. Nightbeat steps off the beaten path, his head turning to watch the Decepticon Emperor's progress. He didn't -expect- trouble, even the Decepticon's coould restrain themselves from random firefights occasionally - but with evil incarnate walking around, he was suddenly very worried about stopping trouble if it started.

"Well," Reeddan says with a smile, "The chart is not a mere photo. There has been computerized enhancements. 'Red' is a bit too far along the electromagnetic spectrum to comfortably view." He's about to answer her other question about the range, but he hushes up when Whirligig's presentation begins.

There are a few questions from the alien crowd regarding the fusion generator. A lot of them are easy, from scientists who simply don't specialize in this sort of thing. Others are very difficult and involve nit-pickings of calculations, trying to challenge Whirligig into thinking about and rethinking about her theories. One alien briefly relates how the government he represents got a cold fusion plant to work, but it malfunctioned and melted and they never tried again.

Chip Chase activates his microphone again, "Thank you, Whirligig. I have to admit most of that was beyond me. I haven't looked into fusion in a long time. Most of my energy producing ideas end up getting shot down due to security reasons. Still, we're going to be interested in the progress you end up making." The spotlight now falls onto the industrial Exo-Suit. "Up next..." Chip's voice cracks slightly as Galvatron arrives. He smiles that nervous smile again. He quickly regains his beat, "...we have Mr. Xavier, from planet Earth. Take it away, Mr. Xavier."

Viator shuffles in closely behind Galvatron, glaring angrily at all of the science.

Whirligig answers all questions politely and energetically... though she /really/ does hate lying about whether or not there's a working generator... and then she quiets up for "Calvin" to get to talking.

Compton Xabat bows once before the audience, smiling graciously. "Hello, ladies and... gentlemen." He's not sure if those terms apply to the various creatures here, but whatever! "I am Calvin Xavier of Earth.Today I would like to present an amazing breakthrough in exo-suit technology by humans! No longer are they used exclusively for warfare. No, this exo-suit, the new MK-103 Heavy Industrial Suit, is EXCLUSIVELY for industrial and civilian applications. But that doesn't mean this exo-suit isn't tough! Believe you me, it's even tougher than the Cybertronians!" He gestures at each of the giant robots in the room.

"Observe!" He points a remote at the exo, and a hatch opens up on the front of it, allowing him access. Smiling, Xabat clambers inside, and seals himself up. Immediately, the suit stomps around and moves its arms with ease despite its bulk. He steps into a booth labeled, "Fire!" and says, "Watch as these flames do nothing to the suit, despite searing temperatures that would melt ORDINARY alloys!" The exo is briefly engulfed in white-hot flames that noticeably raise the temperature in the immediate area a few notches. Xabat steps out, and seals himself inside of another labeled "Acid!" As fluoroantimonic acid (REALLY strong stuff) sprays the exo, Xabat shouts, "Watch as this super acid merely runs harmlessly off of the armor! And finally..."

After a sonic shower shakes off any remaining acid, Xabat steps out into another booth labeled, "Radiation!" Stepping inside, Xabat declares, as the booth lights up, "See this aluminum can?" He holds such a can up... but it suddenly sparks, then vanishes in a brilliant electrical crackled! "I am being bombarded with massive doses of ionizing radiation... and yet... inside this suit I am completely safe." The light dims, and Xabat walks out of the booth. He can be seen grinning as he walks up to the table on his exhibit. "The suits also come with a wide variety of tools." A drill pops out of his arm, and he drives it deep into a block of concrete. From his other arm, a saw pops out, which appears to effortlessly slice a titanium block in half.

"All that and more!" Xabat says, as he brings the suit back to its starting position and steps out. "Feel free to ask me ANY questions you may later on in the day." He bows.

Dredge boo's as Xabat's name is announced.

Perceptor sees Galvatron arrive, and blinks. BLINKS. Then tries to keep himself in check as he begins to tremble ever so slightly. This isn't good, not good at all.

As Galvatron enters, Wheelie maintains his position behind the card table, smiling graciously at anyone who passes by in the course of avoiding the Decepticon leader.

Octane cups his hands around his mouth before calling out to Xabat from where he stands beside his table. "Do it again without the suit on, human! I want to see the difference!"

One of Xabat's Euro-trash thugs sneers at Dredge, letting him know what he thinks of the robot with one of his fingers. Xabat snaps, "Cut that out!" at him.

Xabat clears his throat. "Ahem, I couldn't possibly survive any of those booths unprotected. Hence, the suit!" He mumbles to himself that that should've been obvious...

Dredge smirks at octane and then makes his way through the crowd over to wheelie's table. "Heh there lil bot, what cha got?"

Whirligig is listening intently to the human talk, and she somehow manages to miss Galvatron's entrance... although considering she has a yellow streak as long as Cybertron's orbit, perhaps it's best she hasn't noticed the presence of the Decepticon dictator yet.

The little golden Autobot giggles. "Until the emcee points my way, what Wheelie's got he cannot say. Keep your eyes peeled, not bored or glazed -- prepare your circuits to be amazed!"

Dredge chuckles at the little autobot's rythme. "Sure thing little guy, I'll be looking forward to it. He then glances through the crowd to see Galvatron, and moves away towards him.

As the tromp of heavy feet makes the deck reverberate, Fusillade glances up from the Hideous Brain Guy, and then stands when Galvatron and Shockwave enter. The purple quotient has just leapt upward exponentially. Sparing a smile for the colorful demonstrations of the protective attributes of Xavier's suit, she pivots her two-toned grey frame around, and directs a radio transmission Airwolf's way.

Shockwave walks into the observatory in order to check on what is new in the domain of science. Quite uncharacteristic for him to be here and not lay waste to the Autobots but...now is not the time for such behavior.

There's a lot of murmuring from the audience as Xabat shows off how indestructible the Exo-Suit is. A few people even cheer as it survives the flames and the acid. It's a very impressive show. Several audience members approach, getting into hushed conversations with Xabat about whether or not he'd be willing to sell some of the knowledge he has. The peaceful applications are enormous for exploration and safety. And... military applications as well, coincidentally.

Scrapper is not among those who cheer, however. It is impressive, but he fears the day when every human army has access to these. The Constructicon scowls at the thought, wondering how the suit would hold up to a laser pistol. Or to a fusion cannon. The stray thought about fusion cannons is as Scrapper spies someone out of the corner of his optic. Still hovering above the ground so he gets a good view of what's going on, Scrapper nods to Lord Galvatron. He's quite visible, seeing as he's hovering. And lime green.

"Thank you for the presentation, Mr. Xavier," Chip says into the mic. "We'll have to talk after the presentations are over. I've put a lot of work into developing non-military exo-suits. I'd love to see it finally have a practical application in the industrial and commercial sectors. I guess there's something to be said for an indestructible industrial exo-suit... up next we have Reeddan, who's going to share with us his theory on the fate of the K'Tor Cluster of space." The spotlight falls on the Hideous Giant Brain Guy.

Fusillade side-steps a a few paces to get out of the spotlight's glare.

Galvatron leans in towards Shockwave to share a few private words with him in passing.

Galvatron mutters to Shockwave, "Keep your eye open... that may... us.... small... Thunderwing's... armors... supply."

Airwolf isn't hovering, so she doesn't have Scrapper's nice view of the area. With her attention on the presentations, the impending arrival of the purple brigade is as yet unnoticed. Whirligig's display was the most interesting so far. Xavier's exo-suits would be more applicable to organics, especially witht the failure of the Pretender shells. And now... Mr. Doom and Gloom. Fusillade's transmission reaches her, and she frowns. Hmmm.

The Hiddeous Giant Brain Guy, aka Reeddan, scratches his brain absentmindedly and takes the mic as it's handed to him. "Thank you all for attending. As you may know, the K'Tor Cluster - that's a small region of space here in the Rainbow Climbs - has been growing more and more unstable. I've sunk in a fortune on research and believe that the sector is going to undergo a cascading change, starting with the destruction of several stars here... here... and here..." he holds up and points to star charts, but they're too small for most of the people in the audience to really see.

"I expect this trail of hydrogen to react by igniting, which should take out this star system... this star system... and this star system." He points to each, but they're all just dots on a paper from this angle. "My colleague here," he gestures at Fusillade, not knowing if she's a scientist or not, "Asked about the range. I suspect the entire sector will be affected. A total of twelve stars will be extinguished and left as radioactive husks. I expect the chain reaction to take place sometime this year."

"I'm happy to report though there are no habitable planets or stations in that region, though I want to caution you all that this is not an easy thing to determine, especially here in the volatile Rainbow Climbs. It should be an amazing light show, at the very least." The brain scientist shuffles the star charts back onto his desk. "Any questions?"

Perceptor continues to watch the presentations, optics regularly flickering over towards Galvatron and Shockwave. If he wasn't nervous before, he sure as hell is now. He glances down and double checks his experiment, making sure all his information is in place.

Nightbeat is still off to the side a little bit, eyes looking up at the stage, but those whom know the Detective know he's paying very acute attention to everything being said by the Decepticons. The heavy footfalls of Quickswitch are caught and he glances over, smiling, "Hey there Quick, decided to come check out the show?"

Dredge see's Galvatron already has company, and decides to head over to Perceptor's booth. He smirks, looking over the display, then addresses the autobot scientist. "Heh there..Perception is it?"

At long last, when Whirligig is about to ask a few questions herself, she spots Galvatron and Shockwave and oh boy. Her vocalizer just freezes up. Lips pressed tight and jaw locked, she turns back to the presentations and thanks everything that's decent in the world that she only put up her failed equations that came /before/ the finished product. Maybe she should've taken Peacekeeper's advice and brought something considerably less attention drawing than a cold fusion generator.

Compton Xabat frowns as he listens to the presentation. He calls out, "So many chain reactions, across such a vast distance, in only a year? Pure nonsense. The chain reaction would have to travel faster than the speed of light, which I rather doubt." Not all of his contempt for aliens manages to leave his voice.

Xabat does notice the Decepticon leaders in the room, but only pays them a passing glance now and then. He is certainly making sure to keep an eye on their positions, though...

Scrapper, apparently not caring about what happens in some region of space that isn't going to affect him, is paying more attention to Whirligig's display than anything else at the moment. He gives her a reassuring thumbs up. "This is all very interesting, Autobot" he tells her. "Very interesting."

Galvatron spies Scrapper by his color and his levity (so to speak) and heads over in his direction. "What is this, Scrapper? Cold fusion? The device is remarkably compact. I find myself skeptical!"

Whirligig blinks, peering over at Scrapper with bright optics. Okay, she's not going to look nervous. In a very matter-of-fact tone, she states, "Thank you very much. I'm still working on the theory, but there's a lot of work yet to be done on it. I don't predict a working model for a /very/ long time, if ever. It's very fickle tech." Aaaiiiiiiie Galvatron. There goes her vocalizer again.

"Well it doesn't actually work, my Lord," Scrapper says, touching down on the ground. "Yet, anyway. But it is possible that the Autobots will get it functioning sometime. I would not put it past their scientists to figure it out within a vorn or two. If they do, it could mean big problems for us." Scrapper doesn't seem to mind saying all this in front of Whirligig. Responding to her, he says, "You're welcome. It is very good work."

The much taller mech leans down to say a few words to the detective-Bot, in a low voice, the two purple Decepticons kept in a very prominent corner of his optics, "Show? Oh yes.. the Science exhibit," he nods flexing his hands, empty of their photon blasters, "I came to keep an eye on /them/ mostly," with a smug smile, he indicates Scrapper, and of course, Shockwave and Galvatron. And he perhaps, might learn something here in the process.

Shockwave paces around the exibits and fades into the background due to the call of RL pulling away.

Whirligig watches Scrapper and Galvatron for only a few minutes longer before she turns to start fiddling with her device, purposefully forcing herself to make wrong connections to keep the thing from working. She knows how to do this. The blueprints are right there in her processor. And for any tech, it's painful to force one's self to get it wrong. But she wants to make /sure/ the information she has is as incorrect as possible... so whatever the Decepticons try, it'll take them longer than she did to figure it out. Hopefully. And besides, the fact that she's trying earns her points from the science community...

The brain alien gets a few questions about his theory. Since it's not going to affect anything, the questions are academic. A lot of the calculations he used are using untried and untested assumptions, which he freely admits upfront. Being able to accurately predict what's going to happen is beyond most current technology, though the Cybertronians are probably on the cutting edge, having had millions of years of observation to draw from.

Replying to Compton, Reeddan scratches his brain again. "Faster than the speed of light is not impossible, Xavier. Note however I said the chain reaction should begin within a year, give or take... um... a year or so. I don't know how long it will take for it all to carry out." The alien seems a bit miffed at Compton's dismissive attitude towards him.

Chip activates his microphone again and smiles in Wheelie's direction. Despite what others say, he's always had a soft spot for Wheelie, no matter how annoying he may be at times. Chip is just too kind hearted to hate such an Autobot. "Up next we have Wheelie, an Autobot. He's going to be presenting..." Chip smiles, "Well I'm not really sure what he's presenting. What do you have there, Wheelie?" he asks as his aide hands him a microphone.

Compton Xabat folds his arms, scowling a bit at the Hideous Brain Alien. He supposes that his answer makes some sense, but really, why freak out over something that will take thousands of years or even more to work its course? The look he gives Wheelie before he gives his presentation isn't much better.

Quickswitch remains near one side of the room, painfully observing the tech and assembled people as they demonstrate devices, mill about and talk, and talk, and circulate, and make speeches and talk tech for which there should be only /one/ productive purpose and understanding none of this. He leans his finned head back against the wall as much as he can, with a thick furrow beneath his helmed brow. He remains observant from his present vantage point, in case all hell does break loose. He wasn't actually hoping it would, was he? (still idle)

Perceptor's Experiment - Flashlamp Pumped Ultraviolet Laser

A large and impressive laser array. A large laser emitting diode which appears connected to the pump of a human blood pressure measurement device sends beams of purple light down a series of glass cylinders, painted with arrows to designate the beam's path. The standees surrounding the tables describe how the laser was created, the fuel that it's using (iodine-bromide), and it's application purposes.

As the spotlight is cast upon him, Wheelie giggles. Making the poor aide hold the microphone, he withdraws a deck of Galactic Standard playing cards and shuffles them, doing flashy Space Vegas shuffling tricks like fluttering them over his shoulders. "Not all scientists must be droll, and Wheelie's here to fill that role! Science might not get you laid, but my breakthrough will get me paid!" Slapping down two red cards and one black one, he flips them over and begins some intensely fancy shell-gaming, continuing to speak as he giggles at the audience. "Twenty standard credits to play, and this might be your lucky day! Your cash comes in if you pick the black, otherwise there's no cash back! Who here feels like a lucky gent -- or female, if you're of that bent? Come one, come all, bring cash in paw, and ignore that this is against the law!" He giggles again, standing in front of the three face-down cards, the shuffling of the three complete.

The Reavercraft's wings split apart as it transforms into the four-armed Unicronian Airlift.

Red Alert eyes Wheelie dissapporvingly as the little mini-bot begins. It takes Red a moment to realize what Wheelie's exhibit seems to be. "Wheelie! This is a science exhibition! Not a...a...a gambling den!" He walks over to the card table. "Besides, it's obvious the black card is...is..." he points at the middle one, then the left one, then moves his finger back and forth uncertainly, wavering. "No, that one! That must be it!!"

With a thoughtful incline of her head, Fusillade points out, "If it's between Earth and Cybertron, though, that's going to impact FTL transit paths between the two systems. Say... would there be enough energy in this stellar mess to do Cybertron any good, if we flew it through there?" She makes a whooshing motion with palm scooped out. She's resumed standing by the organic who is prediction the Doom of K'Tor, and demonstrating an ounce of knowledge, liberally seasoned with imagination. The space-going bomber pauses, though, and stares pointedly at Wheelie's hustle.

The aide holds the microphone for Wheelie, looking flustered as she stands so close to the idiot minibot. As it dawns on the scientists just what Wheelie is doing, the reaction is mixed. Some grumble and complain about how their valuable time is being wasted, while others take part in a good laugh to lighten the mood. Some others even step right up to pick the black, all of them assuming there's some of trick involved, and all of them determined to figure out what it is. Red Alert gets first dibs to lose his hard earned energon, though. The aide finally lowers the microphone and switches it off, leaving Wheelie and the people he's enthralled alone.

Chip grins, obviously in the group that found it funny. "I'm not falling for that one again, Wheelie," he chides the minibot. "Up next we have Perceptor, who seems to be showing us a laser of some sort. Perceptor is easily one of the smartest beings I've ever met, so be prepared to be impressed." The spotlight falls on the Autobot scientist.

Wheelie flips the first card Red Alert pointed out -- the middle. And it is...

red :(

Wheelie giggles, flipping it back and reshuffling the three cards. "I know science can often confuse and amaze, but don't succumb to that ignorant haze!" It's then that the aide, when leaving, bumps the table and Wheelie slips with the cards, exposing all three to be red. "Uh--" Wheelie raises his finger as if about to spout another clever rhyme, then just kicks the table up at everyone, transforms, and speeds the hell out of there.

Huddling down and hiding his face, Wheelie's car mode is ready to race!

Wheelie retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.

Wheelie's announcement makes his head turn, and Dredge chuckles at the little display. He makes his way over to the giant brain looking alien guy, and overhearing the conversation between Fusillade and him, decides to interject. "Why don't we take the safer route of building energy collection satelites nearby?"

Perceptor just shakes his head at Wheelie's antics, then realizes that he's been called. He advances towards the podium in a very cool, businesslike demeanor. He clears his vocalizer and smile sheepishly, "Let it not be said that science cannot be found in all facets of life, specifically the combination of probability and prestidigitation." he says, hoping to make light of Wheelies, ahem, debacle.

Hideous Giant Brain Guy seems pleased to have a captive audience in Fusillade. "Oh my, the energy released should be considerable, though I'm not sure if it will be safe to harvest." He shuffles through the star charts again, showing the map of the binary star system again. The one that's supposedly going to start all this. "The interference in the region should be minor and shouldn't affect conventional FTL drives. Subspace communications may suffer slightly. I'm not sure." He /sounds/ terribly intelligent, even if he has to say 'I don't know' a lot.

Galvatron crosses his arms and tilts back his chin, only slightly interested in Perceptor's laser- hot fusion is where it's at as far as Galvatron's concerned. "Has there been anything else of interest, Scrapper?" he asks. "Anything that works?" Referring of course to the supposedly non-working Whirligig device.

Whirligig just sort of... /stares/ after Wheelie. The tiny robot completely distracted herself from being terrified, but... well... heck, that would distract /anybody/. "That, um... wow. That was weird."

Scrapper had been looking over Gig's display, but when Perceptor's laser device is mentioned, Scrapper's attention is snapped away. "The fusion generator is probably going to be a dead end. The exo-suit is actually somewhat worrying given the fleshling's demonstration," he tells Galvatron. "But... a laser! Just think of all the things Perceptor could do with a giant laser." Scrapper begins to rush off to check out the laser.

A few ecology-conscious aliens near the giant brain and Fusillade mutter to eachother disapprovingly before moving away with their noses turned up. Cybertronians, being the sapient equivalent of a fleet of enormous gas-sucking SUVs, are galactically infamous for their ravenous fuel consumption, and there are apparently those who find the whole discussion a bit distasteful.

Compton Xabat watches bemusedly as Wheelie makes his desperate escape to... where, exactly? "I wonder what personality he's based off of? I can't think of any sociopathic rhyming con artists on television, not off the top of my head, anyway," Xabat muses. "Maybe he's just crazy, boss?" one of his thugs offers. "Quiet, you!" Xabat snaps. "They don't have true personalities, just stereotypes. They're just lifeless machines. Remember that!"

Octane looks at some dust starting to gather on his oil rig. His eyes narrows, and with the motion of one slowly drawing a pistol, he pulls out a cleaning cloth and vigorously starts cleaning off the dust. Take that!

"Perceptor already IS a giant laser," points out Galvatron, but he moves off with Scrapper to have a look at Perceptor's project all the same.

Airlift drifts in through one of the entrances, his large wings folded down behind his back to be more out of the way, and makes his way through the crowds towards a grouping of transponder frequencies that at least show 'friendly'. His visor is down and a pair of arms are crossed over his chest as he walks slowly towards the 'current' head of MSE. Another pair of hands is holding a datapad and flipping through the information on it curiously, as he makes his way past various mechanical and organic life forms.

Perceptor clears his throat once more, "Now, onto my presentation. Since time immemorial, we have relied on solid state relays in ever facet of our society both Terran and Cybertronian. Circuits, toggles, and the like have sent signals to activate various functions both within ourselves and our transports for too long." he says, letting the statement sink in. "What you are looking at, is actually an oversized version of what a working model would be like. This laser, and its applications, would eliminate broad circuitry in most transports. When a button is pushed, a laser with the correct switching will be sent - not an electrical signal, but a light signal."

Scrapper gives Airlift a hurried nod as he slips into his booth. "Not a problem," he tells Airlift. Scrapper starts the presentation once the spotlight falls on him. "Greetings, fellow Cybertronians and various flesh-based organisms," Scrapper starts off in his most diplomatic voice. He is standing behind the cold metal medical slab. Something is on it, but it is covered with a white sheet. "Since the dawn of time we have all struggled to fight against our greatest enemy - no, not scum sucking Autobots. No, not disease ridden Quintessons. No, not slimy humans. And finally, no, not even gigantic useless hunks of crap named Omega Supreme. I speak of the greatest enemy of all: Death. Well today we are one step closer to beating that enemy."

Scrapper yanks off the sheet covering the display board. He then reaches into the crate that he and Airwolf hauled out of here earlier and pulls out a large remote control. It's more like an RC Car remote rather than a television remote. There's a little microphone attached to it. Scrapper flicks a switch, and the sound of grinding gears can be heard under the sheet. Speaking into the microphone, he intones, "Arise, fallen Decepticon."

A pair of Seeker arms thrust upwards underneath the white sheet, pushing it aside. A teal, blue, and grey non-Conehead Seeker can be seen underneath, quite clearly dead judging from the state of disrepair it is in. "I have not wired up the Decepticon's corpse, but instead replaced its brain with a complicated data processing unit that activates its motor relays."

Despite being dead, the Seeker jerks to a sitting upright position. Scrapper is holding the remote but not pressing any of the buttons or levers. Its dead optics stare out at the crowd. It is here that one might notice a little note tacked onto the Seeker's orange cockpit window, identifying the fallen mech. It is the most dangerous and terrifying Decepticon Seeker since Starscream. Autobots fear his name. Decepticon wince in remembrance of his mere existence. He is legend in Junkion lore. Humans... probably wouldn't recognize him. Still, for all to see, the tag reads the infamous name: RUPTURE.

Whirligig shifts to one side, turning to watch Scrapper. She's unconsciously moving toward someone she knows - that is, Perceptor - mostly due to her nerves. And... /immediately/ a sick feeling rises in her tanks. It's a /dead Decepticon/. And it's /moving/. she suddenly feels very, /very/ ill. She does her level best not to make a face or show her discomfort, but it's difficult, and her propellers have gone stark still on her back. Probably not the most pleasant thing she's ever seen... and now she remembers why she didn't want to apply herself to the medical field.

Red Alert watches the Decepticon zombie incredulously. He moves around through the crowd of onlookers to view at from different angles. "Scrapper...you're mad!"

Galvatron ratches up an eyebrow a few notches. Distasteful! But he can immediately see the potential benefits.

Fusillade freezes, and stares at Scrapper as if he's deigned to wear white shoes after Memorial Day. An involuntary shudder at her own experiences at being reanimated at his hands after being turned into confetti slides down her spine. "That... almost seems like a step backward from your Lazarus technique, Scrapper," she hisses out.

Dredge is just a bit shocked by scrappers presentation, and puts his shovel over his face, shaking his head. "Scrapper..Scrapper..Scrappper." He then makes his way through the crowd to get a look at this sad and apperantly well recognized corpse, whispering to a nearby decepticon. "Who is that corpse again?"

Airwolf doesn't find the display very pleasing herself. She sighs regretfully and looks downwards, remembering the reason why he was executed so many years ago. Hot wiring a corpse is a scientific display? Shaking her head, she turns away from the morbid sight.

Airlift eyes Red Alert with a cold gaze, a slow, harsh laugh coming from his vocals as he looks the Autobot over, "Ahh the sound of fear.." he says with a smirk. He then raises one hand, picking something from under one of his claws with the sharp tip of another as he glances at the Autobot again, "Shouldn't you be off having a panick attack or disassembling Metroplex to find the listening devices we planted in it or something anyway?" His eyes turn towards Franken-Seeker then and he smirks slightly, "The question is though, can it do anything, or is it a mindless automaton that can accomplish nothing without it's puppetmaster?"

Compton Xabat's eyes go wide for a moment as the seeker sits up and stares at the crowd lifelessly. Then... his shock and bewilderment gives way to amusement. "Eheheheh," he chuckles, elbowing one of his thugs. "They claim to bring back their dead, but how can they do that if they aren't alive to begin with, hm?" The thug replies, "Uh, I dunno, boss." Xabat sighs. "Idiots... I'm surrounded by idiots..."

Galvatron clears his throat with an electronic cough of static. "Scrapper... how is this different from a telepresence device? Or even a drone, such as those Shockwave deploys whenever he finds himself significantly understaffed?"

Apart from being rather grotesque, that is.

Rupture stares forward blankly. He seems to be drooling slightly. Whether this is because of him being dead, or because... of him being Rupture, is perhaps difficult to say. "One step back, one step forward. This one was done on the cheap, Fusillade." As Red Alert calls out to him, Scrapper just chuckles, "Mad? I prefer to think of it as creative."

To answer Airlift, the Constructicon leans into the microphone and says, "Fallen Decepticon, give the crowd a wave." Rupture waves to the crowd in a halting manner. "Fallen Decepticon, please pick up the crate." With remarkable strength, Rupture gets off the slab and picks up the crate. Although it no longer has the remote in it, this required both Scrapper and Airwolf to haul in here. Rupture holds it up over his head.

"Since there is no functional lasercore in here, Airlift, it is indeed rather useless without its puppetmaster, as you call it. But it can be programmed for basic jobs, such as-" Scrapper had been -this- close to saying 'killing', but he catches himself in time, "-picking things up, moving them to another location, and then putting them down again. It's also great to have watch over the Cassetticons when you're out for the evening." To Galvatron, he says, "The cost benefit ratio, my Lord. Why, this could be added to non-Transformers as well I imagine. Say... taxis, for example."

Compton Xabat taps his chin again, looks from the zombie, then to his suit. Hm. Autonomous exo-suits, that fight on their own without the need for risking human lives? Very interesting indeed, but then, they wouldn't really be exo-suits anymore, would they?

The -CHAK-chakt!- of a leg dispensor spitting out the chromed disruptor into Fusillade's palm. She levels the muzzle of the barrel to the chest of the staggering Rupture. Several organics shrill in dismay, and dive for cover under the assorted displays. Through clenched jaw, fangs practically grinding against each other as she wrests with rage, she stammers out, "/SCRAPPER/ You... y... got it to work for ones who have been dead for a longer period of time?!" She doesn't seem particularly placated by the explanation that this demonstration was a low-end version of the process she went through only a fraction of a vorn earlier.

Whirligig just quietly turns back to her project, not wanting to look at the reanimated corpse again. And... then the outburst. She turns... then makes a startled sound, edging back against her table, optics bright in startlement and... yeah, not just a little bit of fear. Not an optimal situation, oh no. She's starting to very much wish she wasn't here right now.

Dredge optics go wide as Fusillade draws her gun. "Heh now lady-con! Watch were you're pointin that thing!" He shouts out, thou not really concerned.

"Put it away, Fusillade," Galvatron orders coolly. "What do you think you could do to it? It's already dead."

"Oh... oh! Oh no, Fusillade," Scrapper says, trying to assure her. "Rupture is quite dead. His body is merely being used. Airlift's puppet analogy is quite good! No reason to be alarmed." Scrapper seems completely surprised that anyone would have any objections to this invention. "Er, fallen Decepticon," Scrapper says into the microphone, "Please return to your medical slab and power down."

Rupture stumbles back towards the slab, not reacting to the weapon that was pointed at its chest. It may or may not have even been aware of it. Rather than properly sitting back down on the slab, Rupture seems to get stuck part way, and ends up just leaning over it slightly as it powers down in a half-standing position. Close enough, Scrapper thinks.

Red Alert pipes up again, "Taxis? You really are insane! Don't you know how many taxis there are just in North America? What if these things get out of control?" Sure they call Red Alert paranoid, but this time he's got generations of sci-fi and horror movies on his side! "I notice it's responding to your voice Scrapper...what happens if it starts responding to other input? What if one starts responding to the voice commands of another? What if...what if..." He trails off when he see a weapon flash, and instead starts backing over towards Whirligig and Perceptor's exhibits. His optics dart back and forth at all the Decepticons present.

Red Alert is still standing over by the Autobot exhibits. He turns his darting gaze on Airwolf as she gets close enough, processing furiously. On the one hand, Autobot intelligence has classified Airwolf's overall threat level as 'laughable'. BUT...securing the Autobot science on display here has been deemed high priority. Add in the probability Whirligig will be able to keep a secret under questioning of any rigor (less than 2 percent by Red's estimation) and he decides he'd better get involved. "I'm afraid Whirligig won't be able to discuss future plans in complete detail. In fact, we're not completely sure she'll be continuing this work at all, at least not in it's present form."

"Who has him now?" Scrapper asks Fusillade in regards to Fulcrum. He finishes packing up the remote control, and Rupture is back under his sheet, waiting to some day terrorize the galaxy (or just the Decepticons) again. "She is high on the fiesty scale," he confirms to Airlift. "She's the Operations XO. That's what we call Military Operations now, by the way. I guess we decided it was pretty obvious."

"Red Alert," Airwolf acknowledges pleasantly. She apparently doesn't hold any grudges against him for shooting her down in the battle for the Hephaestus. Then again, she nailed him with a frying pan, and that apparently makes them even. "I didn't mean to pry, if this is a matter of security. Please excuse me." With a nod to Whirligig, She moves next to Perceptor's exhibit.

Right as Whirligig is about to make a comment, there's Red Alert! Good ol' Red Alert, good at keeping folks from doing stupid things. In this case, from revealing the truth behind her research. She smiles at the mech in that shy fashion of hers, opening a direct line to him.

Airlift smirks at that, "Drat..and here I thought 'Operations' was the new sales and marketing division.." he responds with a glance at the femme. Then shrugs, "I noticed MSE got shortened to Engineering as well.." He smiles slightly then as he spots Airwolf across the ways a short distance, "Is your dead friend more or less okay on his own or are you up to wandering over to harass the 'bots a bit?"

"Ooh ooh ooh! That means it's something /GOOD/," Fusillade chirps out to Airwolf as Red Alert intercepts her. And then, with a haughty snort, she turns back to Airlift and Scrapper. "Hello? I'm right HERE. But considering that you don't remember that Fulcrum is a weaponsmith, either, I guess I shouldn't be surprised." She's in a mood tonight, and being a bigger aft than normal. From her point of view, there just isn't any reason to display any competence at the moment.

Airlift glances at Fusillade, "Of course you're right there.." he agrees with her as though she just said they were standing on a floor. "Where else would you be? And remind me who Fulcrum is..the name's familiar..maybe.." he crosses his arms, both sets this time and wanders over a bit closer to Airwolf and the Autobots. "Airwolf..it's been an exceedingly long time.." he ignores Red Alert as he eyes Whirligig, "I'm not familiar with the nervous one though..interesting device.."

Red Alert nods sincerely to Whirligig. "Yes, and your efforts are appreciated," he says aloud. He spends a minute looking at Whirligig's exhibit, an almost wistful expression on his face. Then he goes over to Perceptor's exhibit, watching it as well. After making sure it's safe to do so, Red Alert holds a hand out and moves it through the laser beam a few times at different distances, purposefully breaking the beam, analyzing how it feels as it touches his hand, watching what the light looks like on his hand.

Whirligig gives a little sigh, turning back to her exhibit to start gathering up her equations to put away for the night. The display will go back up on Wednesday, naturally... but thankfully, the way it is, it's no use to anyone but her... since /she/ knows what's going on with it. Her wings twitch on her back, her propellers spin, and nervous as she is... well, one /could/ chalk it up to this being her first presentation ever.

Airwolf is also next to Perceptor's display, but that esteemed mech seems to be busy answering someone else's questions. She stares at Red Alert's... play, her mind elsewhere, only to have her attention caught by the sound of Airlift's voice. "Airlift," she greets, turning to face the mech. "No, I haven't seen you for years. Cold fusion generator," she continues, gesturing towards the device. Tilting her head to one side, she asks softly, "Any luck?" Even with the Autobots right there, she speaks in a normal tone.

Scrapper ignores Airlift's sarcasm. His booth is all packed up. He'll unpack it again for Wednesday, but he won't be giving a presentation there. "Yes, we went on a renaming spree. Rupture will be fine on his own, but careful with harassing Autobots." Still, Scrapper gets ready to follow Airlift. To Fusillade (who he has no problem with talking about in front of her), he shrugs, "Fine, be the way. Sulk all night for all we care." To Airlift, he helps out, "Fulcrum's the Seeker with the beard."

From time to time, Fusillade casts a concerned glance in the direction of the K'tor display. "Got a feeling that's going to come back and haunt us," she says her final piece on the matter. A bit more coolly, she answers, "Fulcrum is a Seeker that is a general medical practitioner, and a weapons specialist. Turns into a MiG-29. REAL original name there. Fairly competent on the field, and he did design THESE!" She flashes an overly eager grin as she snaps up the wingblade and pops the monomolecular edged, layered blades open for inspection. She gives a "Huh?" to Scrapper, and protests, "I wasn't sulking."

Airlift smirks at that, "If he likes beard's, I'll trade him..he can join the Sweeps and I'll take his job.." he sighs, "I wonder if any of my spare arms are still in my old cabinet in the back of the lab.. It's really annoying to have to wait after Scourge rips a pair out and I've never really fit in with the Sweeps..probably because I was a Seeker and MSE first and can actually still remember it most days." he glances then at Fusillade, "Scrapper's a professional in behavioural analysis among his other accolades, if he says you were sulking..you were sulking. You can trust in his expertise on the matter."

"The building's still standing," Fusillade offers as a counterargument.

"Good point," Scrapper says of Airlift's proof of Fusillade's sulking. "Ah, good return," he comments of Fusillade's counterpoint. He seems content to not get involved in the question of whether Fusillade was sulking or not, regardless of the fact that he started it.

The crowds are beginning to thin as the evening wears on. It's tough to tell what the time is with the glowing and swirling energies of the Rainbow Climbs all around, but a glance at a watch or a check of an internal chronometer will tell people it's far later than they would have guessed. There is of course going to be another day for scientific sharing.

Satisfied with the nod by Scrapper, Fusillade takes her leave. "Time to go play." She clicks her double-thrustered heels, and begins to shimmy out to the lower air locks and docking stations. A few moments later, her dart-shaped form soars past the obervatory's dome, the glittering green, yellow, and pink phosphor of St. Elmo's Fire trailing from her wingtips and ailerons.

As soon as she has everything together, Whirligig stretches and takes her leave until Wednesday night. This is proving to be a lot more fun than she expected it would be.