| abstract | - 2k5 - Wednesday, February 06, 2008, 7:07 PM ------------------------------------------- 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: Blueshift Space-Going B-1R Lancer Cliffjumper Breakdown Venom's Exhibit - Alien Ant Farm Wheelie's Exhibit: Card Table Octane's Exhibit: Do It Yourself Energon Maker Exhibit: Some Sort of Exo-Suit by "Calvin Xavier" Perceptor's Experiment - Flashlamp Pumped Ultraviolet Laser Whirligig's Exhibit - A... Funny Looking Generator? Scrapper's Exhibit - Medical Bed Exhibit - K'Tor Cluster is Doomed! First Aid drops Turnover. Turnover This small little droid looks much like a normal minibot Cybertronian. His armor ranges from dark gray, light blue, and blue. His large optical sensors are light yellow in color, and the large audio recievers perhaps says he was used once for maybe communications use. By further examination of the little guy, apparently was also designed for assistance with shuttle crafts. So from the communications and shuttles, perhaps he was designed for landing crafts and keeping everyone leaving and arriving saftly. Picture speaks louder: The second day of the Science Fair is only slightly less busy than the first was. Most of the spacecraft that arrived on Monday simply stayed the two days while the crews and passengers took the time to examine the various exhibits. Chip Chase himself has already visited all of them. Twice. Some even three times. He has a list about which ones he wants to check out a fourth. Reeddan, aka the Hideous Giant Brain Guy, is at his booth, describing to visitors all about the spectacular light show that's going to happen once a binary stat system in the K'Tor cluster here in the Rainbow Climbs goes nova, causing a chain reaction across several light years of space. There's no habited planets in the region, so the discussion is mostly of an academic interest. There is the theory that the resulting chain reaction will result a significant chance for harvesting energy, though the science behind it is not exact. Aliens, Cybertronians, humans, and others crowd the beautiful observation deck, meandering from exhibit to exhibit. The sounds of deep intellectual conversations covers every corner of the space station. These are some of the brightest minds he universe has ever produced, after all. Also Blueshift. Cliffjumper is wandering from booth to booth, eating a big wad of cotton candy. Presumably, it's not /actual/ cotton candy. Maybe it's fiber-optic candy or something. Science: truly amazing. Turnover had arrived here, by doing some work to get here really. He figured his 'creator' had no clue he was here, but that was ok. The mech, a bit taller then a minibot peeked around the corner of the science fair. His light yellow optics peeked around before being pumped gently by the chrome floating orb. Turnover quickly waved his black four finger hand at the orb, and moved back around the corner, "(I told you to stay in the coat..)" "But I was.." "(shhh!)" Turnover said placing his index finger up to the lips, before he placed the 'indiana johns' like hat on and opened up the jacket pocket for the orb to go back into grumbling. Turnover then made his way into the room, looking over at everything with sheer wonder, luckily no one would reconize him, well-- maybe a few autobots, but no one mager. The space station, even as spacious as it is, is still cramped to those used to travelling the wide expanses of the skies. Fusillade, however, has other options. With all four engine clips in place, she idly cavorts about the luminous, neon hued shades of cyan, red, and phosphorescent green ion fields. Toying with the periphery of one pale yellow spider-crab nebula, she loops through one section repeatedly, teasing out a streamer of the charged gaseous material. This doesn't keep her occupied for too long, though, and eventually the bomber returns to the traffic lanes around the lower deck's docking bays. However, she deviates midway through the approach, and instead drifts up and inverted to ghost her canopy and tail over the transparent plastteel dome. Layla Bastet has been studying the displays herself. She's been here. In the background. Really. Now she's continuing to count the differences between technologies, and wondering how many of these 'people' existed in her home reality. Eh. Who cares. The cotton candy is good. The ants are amazing. The Generator is.... interesting. She stops to study the specs for a bit. And back to the science fair! Though Whirligig had already given a presentation on her exhibit, she was more than happy to set it up again, if only for those who'd wanted to ask questions but didn't have a chance. She's in very good spirits and enjoying herself immensely, even if it's just for the sheer sake of being herself. She's got her tail set to wagging a little bit as she works, then blinks and peeks at the unfamiliar figure near her table. "Oh, hello," she greets pleasantly. "If you have any questions, please feel free to ask." Scrapper is scouting out all the exhibits again. The standard air of Decepticon superiority that follows all Decepticons around has been repeatedly faltering with Scrapper as he chats with other scientists. He's clearly quite interested in what others are doing, and has no problem with saying so out loud. Every so often he asks a notable astrophysicist what might cause 'a kind of weird energy thing that appears out of a rift and tries to hack our computer banks and is impervious to weapons but is also kind of freaky and made a lot of threats', but so far nobody has been able to help him on that mystery. His booth is being tended to by... oh lets say Bonecrusher. He doesn't look all that interested to be here, as he's busy sitting in a chair behind the desk and sleeping. Luckily, Scrapper's pamphlets and brochures do a good job of explaining everything. The corpse of the most infamous non-Starscream Seeker of all time (Rupture) is sitting upright on its medical slab. Visitors are able to speak into the remote control's microphone and give zombie-Rupture simple commands to carry out. The corpse is successful about 70% of the time, and according to the pamphlets this far exceeds his success rate when he was alive. Breakdown detects some motion out of the corner of his optic and looks up, seeing the faint outline of a HUGE spaceship of some kind. "AHHH, it's the autobots, they're attacking!!" He screams, reaching for his gun. As he remembers he had to leave it at the door, he then dives under Scrapper's booth, shaking like a cyberleaf. Turnover glances over at the 'zombie' robot and his large yellow optics narrow slightly as he watches 'rupture'.. was it? Move about and do as people command him. To him, it seemed rather simple, however he watched for awhile, to see if there was a 'catch' to this former decepticon or if he reall was a dead corpse. Grapple isn't a scientist, but he -is- in a creative field, and if there's one purpose that science serves in his day to day life, it's creating materials and methods to do what he does better. He thumps his way out of the shuttle terminal, his footsteps are heavy, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the crowds for a moment, feeling an odd sort of kinship before he starts to circle through, admiring the booths, each in turn and hoping possibly to find something of particular interest. The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet. "Awright," Cliffjumper says, speaking into the microphone at the Rupture display. "Go--" the sound of Breakdown's cries covers Cliffjumper's voice for a moment "--yourself." Zombie-Rupture tries admirably but ultimately fails, as Cliffjumper watches, eating his fiber-optic candy. The zombie-Rupture is truly dead. According to the pamphlets (and the presentation on Monday), his brane (sic) has been replaced with a complicated control circuit that operates all of the Transformer's motor relays. It can't do any thinking beyond extremely trivial tasks (picking things up, walking, putting things down), and the circuit clearly still has some bugs in it, judging from the way Rupture walks, moves, and (*loud noise*s himself) in such a stiff manner. Scrapper meanwhile wanders back to his own exhibit, spotting Breakdown cowering under the desk, Turnover looking it over, and Cliffjumper... "What in the blazes did you do, you little twerp?" Scrapper demands. "I just tested a theory, Constructischmuck. It's called 'science,' maybe you should try lookin' into it?" Cliffjumper replies, taking a defiant bite of his tasty treat. Turnover stares at Cliffjumper and shakes his head. Then ahrms softly, "Mmm-aybe you should try to give it a complex order-- like tackle its maker or something." The small mech hiding behind the hat and long-coat, crosses his arms over his chest. "Or-- ask it to tell a story." Then Turnover looks over to Scrapper as he walks over, "...He told him to go yourself.." Was he suppose to say that? Well-- he was never trained to lie. Layla Bastet gives Whirligig a large grin, as the human studies the presentation again. "It is a very complicated process, is it not? Very interesting." No. The former Nova Commander wouldn't no explosives... or space... or... wait. She might. Transforming, Fusillade touches down on the dome outside, pressing her scrunched up face to the material, particularly when she spies Breakdown's darting motion around Scrapper's booth. And then... what was that Autobot getting Rupture to do? She leans in a bit more closely, if that's possible, HATE BEAMS practically radiating from her in the direction of the exhibit. Even if Scrapper HAS explained a dozen times over why she shouldn't be bothered by the homunculus. And then, she shifts weight to sit on the dome proper, giving a good shimmy or two, devilish smirk on her face. She glances down and over one shoulder to see if the dome has any scratches or clouding on it, before retro-rocketing her way down to the locks. Breakdown peeks out from under the booth, and immediately sees Cliffjumper. "If only I had my gun" he mumbles, narrowing his optics and looking around more to see if it's safe. He then crawls out from under the booth and turns to see Rupture. "HOLY PRIMUS!" He screams and makes himself scarce, moving as quick as he can through the crowd to get away. Scrapper grumbles at Turnover's explanation and Cliffjumper's sassmouth. The only thing worse than an Autobot is a sassy Autobot. He snatches the remote control and speaks into the microphone. "Uh... stop doing that," he tells it. The fallen Decepticon stops trying to do whatever it was that Cliffjumper tried to make him do. "And for the love of Primus, never ever do that again." The Constructicon catches something out of the corner of his optical visor. It's Fusillade, out in space, sending hate beams at Rupture. Ah, Scrapper figures, she must have known him when he was alive. "All discovery is a complicated process... and sometimes, it's right under our olfactories." Whirligig grins, then rocks back on her heels. "There's still a lot of work to do... more equations to test... I've got a lot I haven't brought with me. Stuff that's way too experimental." She tips her head to one side. "If at first you don't succeed, right?" Turnover tilts his head gently to one side, "So I take it this guy, does simplistic commands on a robotic level like those found within a human factory. It has basic root functions and if it goes outside of a normal command line function, it most likely would go into a loop?" Layla Bastet nods, "Success is rarely easy." Layla walks around the machine, if it is even possible, and studies the backside. "I was never one for this sort of experimentation, however. I wonder... what materials do you use for the fusion? Hydrogen?" Laughing callously, Cliffjumper wanders off to some other exhibit. As far as he's concerned, Autobots 1, Decepticons 0. As Breakdown wanders through the crowd, he thinks over the horrible ghost thing that attacked yesterday, and now Rupture! The poor paranoid Stunticon doesn't know much about either, but he's sure that they can't be good news. "Why's everyone always picking on me?" He mumbles to himself as he approaches Whriligig's booth. He leans on the booth, giving the femme Autobot a very nasty look, and then turns his attention to her display. "And what sort of devious Autobot invention is this? A spying device perhaps!?" He exclaims in an accusatory tone. Whirligig nods slightly, watching as the mock generator is examined. "Hydrogen's the most efficient. Cold fusion is believed to be a leftover product from /nuclear/ fusion, so it's a matter of isolating the reaction..." Her voice trails off when Breakdown comes over, taking a nervous step or two back as she sort of... /stares/ at him as he looks at the display. "Um... it's actually a generator. A fuel cell of sorts..." Chip Chase is currently at the exhibit discussing the theory of what's going to happen in the K'Tor Cluster. He can be seen gesturing from his chair as if in a deep conversation with the Hideous Giant Brain Guy. Every so often the alien pulls out a star chart from the pile of papers and enthusiastically points to something, to which Chip would point at something else and make some counterargument. The conversation seems to be pretty lively. Breakdown looks over at the fleshling and then back at Whirligig. "A likely story! I bet this is some sort of..anti-decepticon bomb!" He points a slightly shaking finger at Whirligig, and pounds his other hand down on the display table just enough to shake it. Stepping through the crowd just now is none other than Soundwave. Despite his technical ability, few people really see him as much of an inventor, not like, say, Wheeljack or Scrapper. Nonetheless, he finds an empty spot, unfolds a small table he had been carrying, and puts a teeny little device on it. Is that... a music player? Soundwave drops Soundwave's Exhibit: A Spiffy Looking Music Player. Soundwave's Exhibit: A Spiffy Looking Music Player This appears to be some sort of a music player. It's small enough to fit in a human's pocket, has a boxy shape, and appears to have a clear slot in the front for memory cards. The coloration is... ah... somewhat familiar. After jumping, startled at the pounding on her tabble, immediately reaching to steady the display. "It is /not/ a bomb! It's a cold fusion generator!" She's pretty sure the Decepticon won't know what that is, of course, but perhaps that's all for the best. She makes an attempt to make a nasty face, but it just comes off as... well, as a sort of childish glare. Something a kid may give a parent for kicking over their tinker toys or something. But no one ever said Whirligig was particularly mean or spiteful. There have been those that have said she hasn't a rude chip in her plating. She tones down a bit when Layla steps in between she and Breakdown, and she seems to relax somewhat. Never underestimate the tenacity of a human! Layla Bastet actually bristles as Breakdown starts glowering at Whirligig. She doesn't seem to be afraid of him. . . Actually, she's stepping between the two. "Machine. You should be so lucky." The commander snaps. "Learn some manners, and do not break the display, lest security be needed." Or a very large broom. Cliffjumper drops Cliffjumper's Exhibit: ???. Cliffjumper's Exhibit: ??? Covered by a tarp. Breakdown Hurumps and crosses his arms, a bit afraid of the human but not showing it. "I'm doubt it's JUST a generator.." He turns his attention towards Layla now. "And as for you, you're the garbage who should be taken out. The mighty Decepticon empire will see to that..some other day!" He sheepishly recedes from them booth and the display, blending back into the crowd. Scrapper busies himself making sure that Rupture survived (so to speak) his horrible clash with Cliffjumper. Bonecrusher continues to sleep in the chair, unaware of what's going on. Thus Cliffjumper lives to sass another day. Overhearing the sounds of commotion coming from a nearby exhibit, Scrapper finishes resetting Rupture and glances over at Whirligig and Breakdown. "By Primus, Whirligig, you made an /anti-Decepticon bomb/?" He shakes his head as if disappointed. "Autobots... unable to do anything without trying to make weapons of war." Yes he's just trying to jerk her around. Turnover hrms as he gets ignored and continues to venture around, ah well-- after all, why would a decepticon want to explain to a 'droid' how something worked. Eventually making her way up from the bay, Fusillade gets halted by security at the doorway. The blanket weapons policy is getting doubly enforced after the display two days prior. "YoUr SiDeArM pLeAsE," an overly polite, but solidly built tentacle beast insists in a stilted tenor. Fusillade grunts, and hands over the weapon, but the Adharan Sporidium doens't budge. "UGH, you've got to be kidding me," she shifts weight to one hip, and cracks open the foreward fuselage on her torso plate, and begins fishing out the entire complement of CBUs, flechettes, bombs, and missiles. This takes a REALLY long time. After four crates, she huffs, "Can I GO now? It's going to be OVER by the time I get in!" With a spasm of cilia, the Adharan relents, before rendering one last indignity of snapping out two flagella to snap her wingblades from their holsters as she turns to waltz into the display area. She half-jumps, but then wearily sags shoulders, no interest in stirring up the waters this far from home. Denuded, she finally meanders in Scrapper's direction, taking advantage of his relatively shortness to peeeeeeeer over his shoulder at Whirligig. Layla Bastet makes that expression. Yeah. You know it. Eyerolling. Disgusted 'pheh' noise, as though she's spitting out something distasteful. "Stupid walking tin can. You are one of the reasons that the Cybertron purges were considered a good idea." A moment to calm down, and then Scrapper gets up in Whirligig's face. Figures. "And as for you, ghoulmaker..." Whirligig scowls at Scrapper, and for once, she manages to look /mean/. "It /isn't/ a weapon of war. If my experiments pan out, this could revolutionize the production and use of energy not just for Earth and Cybertron, but for so many other worlds." Huffing indignantly, she mutters under her breath, "Fair bit better than a /zombie/ anyday..." As the white and blue Stunticon wanders through the crowd, he nearly trips over Turnover. He glares down at the small droid. "Watch where you're going service droid!" He then reels back suddenly, raising his arm across his chest as if in shock and terror. "You..you aren't an Autobot..a..are you!?!?" His other hand is grasping around for his non-existent gun. Scrapper stands up tall (but not tall enough to block Fusillade's view) and puts his hands on his hips as Layla addresses him. It is not a posture of annoyance or defensiveness. No, it is a posture that Superman might take while bullets bounce harmlessly off of him. He is not insulted by being called a Ghoulmaker. "So you say, Whirligig. But Breakdown here is in charge of the Decepticon Ministry of Paranoia and Suspiciousness. If he says it's an anti-Decepticon bomb, well we have to take that paranoid delusion seriously." To Layla, he asks, "Yessss?" Chip finishes his conversation with Reeddan, and the two part company. Both are smiling and waving, suggesting the discussion was at least interesting. One of Chip's aides - a blob like alien that looks like slithering JELLO (lime) with fruit pieces in it (pineapple pieces) rolls along with the hoverchair, gurgling something. Chip glances at his watch and says, "Ok, lets head on over." The pair head towards the centre of the dome, where a small 360 circular stage is set up, along with an adjustable microphone. Chip reaches up and takes the microphone off its stand and holds it out. The lights dim slightly, and conversations throughout the observation level begin to quiet down. Turnover flails gently as he nearly gets knocked over, losing his hat, and then quickly swipes it back up, "I am not a droid!" He barks back at the decepticon, "As for an autobot," He says prushing off the hate, "Maybe I am," He plots the back on his head, "maybe I am not." Layla Bastet shakes her head. "You really should work on your presentation. That ... creature of yours is very --" Ooh. Lights out. Time to hear Chip! Whirligig opens her mouth to retort, but before she can get anything out, the lights dim. Perking up, the engineer femme turns to look toward the stage area, optics bright and curious. Breakdown begins backing away from Turnover, and takes the chance to scurry through the crowd away from him as the lights begin to dim. "They're EVERYWHERE!" he mumbles to himself. Turnover would sweat drop if he was an anime character, "...talk about a coward." His optics shutter as the lights dim and then glances up toward the stage where Chip was, "oo.." Soundwave turns his head towards Chip Chase. Ah, that damnable human. How many times has he inexplicably been able to hack into Decepticon computer systems and cause problems for his faction? At least he seems be in retirement from the hero business, otherwise he'd have to send of his tapes to "chat" with him. Turnover leans back against one of the pillars in the rooms and just watches the presatations and so on. "Hello everyone," Chip Chase says, giving his best slightly-nervous smile. "Welcome to the third and final day of the Science Fair, and the second day of presentations. We have a lighter schedule today, but the participants and exhibits are no less fascinating." Like last time, Chip doesn't need to read from notes. He already knows all the participants and has read up what there is to know about the exhibits. "Up first we have Soundwave from the Decepticons. Welcome to the station, Soundwave. I haven't had a chance to visit your exhibit and chat with you yet, so I'm really interested to see what you have to show us today." The spotlight falls on Soundwave and his futuristic music machine. Soundwave is still staring at Chip Chase as the spotlight falls onto him. Yes, he just bets Chip Chase is interested in what he has to offer. Head swiveling to face the audience, Soundwave announces, "Greetings, sapient beings of various species. I am here to present the most advanced portable music player in the galaxy, the S-Xtreme. It is capable of wirelessly connecting to any computer system, and downloading and playing thousands of different music files. Not only this, but it reproduces the sound with crystal clear quality. You will not believe the information your audial receptors are sending to your higher brain functions." He gestures towards the music player. "All guests are welcome to try the S-Xtreme for themselves." The music player, people might notice, looks AWFULLY familiar... Chip can't really get a good look at the thing from here. He has an iPhone-micro for his own music (and just about everything else) needs, but seems interested at the very least. "Can you give us a demonstration?" he asks. Wending her way through the exhibits, Fusillade only gets a cursory glance at the displays before Chip directs the spotlight to the Tape Master. Folding her hands together, she dips her helm in greeting to Reeddan, still a bit curious about what software he was using to get those positively fabulous star charts. And still mulling over the idea of energy harvest. She hrns a bit as the entertainment device is unveiled, and even the driest, most stoic of scientists seem to perk up. "Oh, that's narcissistic," she utters cattily. However, she has sworn to herself get more involved with these sort of things so she doesn't get chased first thing out of workshops and labs, and so, she asks in a louder voice, "What is the significance of this development? What's the big picture? Why should we care?" All the other scientists could probably expect similar, get-to-business treatment from her. The words, despite their bluntness, don't carry any malice to them. Layla Bastet doesn't really look interested. Probably because her music isn't available in the proper formats-- besides. She's more interested in antiques than cutting edge most of the time. Soundwave nods his head slightly at Chip Chase. "As you wish." Plugging a digital cable into the top of the music player, then attaches the other end into his chest. Soon after, the entire observatory is filled with crisp, high-quality audio.... Blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night Madman drummers bummers, Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older, I tripped the merry-go-round With this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin, the calliope crashed to the ground The calliope crashed to the ground Whirligig peeks over at whatever it is Soundwave is displaying,, tipping her head to one side as she listens to the sound from the stereo. Her wings twitch slightly as she laces her fingers behind her head, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Pretty impressive for such an archaic looking device... Breakdown ducks as the spotlight comes on, as he was headed towards shockwave's booth. "They're following me, I knew it!" He then heads in the general direction of Reeddan's booth, popping out to see Fusillade. "Oh thank Primus, a fellow Decepticon.."He leans in, narrowing optics as he looks her over. "Or ARE you?" "You don't know your commanding officers so well, do you, Stunticon?" Fusillade flashes fangs brilliantly, and hooks one clawed hand up. "C'mere and find out." Oops, looks like security didn't get all of her weapons. She shifts weight so that the 'Con symbols on the horizontal tail aileron of her jet mode are visible. Breakdown coughs and waves his hand. "Sorry Fusillade, had to make sure you weren't..one of them.." He looks side to side suspiciously and then leans in to whisper to Fusillade. "They had this absolutely HUGE spaceship watching us over the dome earlier!' He stands back up as he then looks over the Brain man's charts. Turnover seems slightly interested, he had to admit, it was highly crisp sound-- he could /only/ imagine what the decepticons could do with such a.. wait-- isn't that the guy's name who terroized Teletraan 2 and nearly killed his comrade, Bitbucket? Yes, it is, in fact. Scrapper stares at Soundwave, "You made a glorified music box? Soundwave, Soundwave, Soundwave... you really wasted your time," he says with a sigh. He doesn't see any useful applications with this device. Soundwave waits for the song to finish, then carefully presses a few buttons on it, shutting the device off. Unplugging himself from the player, Soundwave intones, "This science fair is not for tools of war, Scrapper. I devised something for civilian applications. And as for your concerns, Fusillade, you may not have much use for this music player, but I am certain many sapient creatures would enjoy utilizing a player that is capable of understanding thousands of formats, reproducing their sound with high quality, and still conveniently fitting inside a pocket or pouch." "I guess," Scrapper says with a shrug. "Maybe you can sell copies of it for energon or credits." He doesn't have anything against non-military applications. He just finds sonic based devices to be really quite dull. Nevertheless, the Constructicon wanders over to get a better look at it. Chip Chase listens to the music, tapping his fingers against his armrest to the sweet sweet tunes of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. "Very impressive, Soundwave. I can't wait to go check it out in person." Frankly Chip can't tell the difference. iPods already have perfect audio systems, it seems. The link-up to other computer systems is probably the most interesting part of that invention. He moves on and introduces an alien presenter. The alien gives a long talk on the theories of time travel and why it just might be possible provided one takes care of the proper, extremely difficult to handle calculations. The presentation is heavy on the technical side and goes over the head of just about everyone. Even the presenter himself seems to get lost in it more than once. Once the presentation is done, other participants slowly but thoroughly go through and dismantle his arguments and theories one by one. Breakdown yells over the crowd, hoping not to attract to much attention to himself at Reddan's booth. "Heh, do you have Rockwell's someone's watching me on that thing Soundwave?" A trio of ferret-hummingbird creatures flitter up to Soundwave, squeaking and chittering foul accusations that the Decepticon's touted format translation will encourage music piracy. The ruby-throated stoat whirrs a peevish, ululating obscenity, while the violet-crowned ermine wheels in frustrated loop de loops in Soundwave's faceplate. Taking advantage of her colleauges distraction, the Berylline pine martin darts past Scrapper to more closely examine the touch features with her fuzzy beak, whistling /her/ triharmonic delight at the potential to reach a wider market. Musicians. Turnover chuckles as the bird like aliens seem to upset with Soundwave, but smirks gently, however as the chrome orb tries to poke back out of the pocket, Turnover slams him back down again. Breakdown hand falls and voice drops off as he glimpses the strange furred creatures swarming Soundwave's booth. He turns his attention back to Reddan's booth. "Say buddy, could someone use this explosion event as a weapon?" The Hideous Giant Brain Guy, aka Reeddan, smiles as he gets attention, though he would prefer it didn't involve weapons. Scratching his brain the way someone might adjust their glasses, Reeddan looks up at Breakdown and replies, "It's a natural phenomenon that's going to occur in a several-light-year sized span in this cluster. I don't see how it could be used as a weapon unless you somehow trapped someone there during the nova or the chain reaction it causes." Chip smiles sympathetically for the presenter who's defending his views. Most of the presentation went over his head, as it's outside of his own specialties. "People have been asking me all day what's under that tarp and I've been forced to tell them that I don't know." Really, Chip thinks, a lot of people sounded genuinely scared at what might be under it. "But we're going to find out shortly." A spotlight falls on Cliffjumper and his exhibit. Chip's other aide, a pretty young woman, hands Cliffjumper a microphone. It inflates slightly the moment the Autobot takes it, going from human-scale to minibot-scale. Turnover getting annoyed with his dear 'orb' he slinks out to have a talk with it. Was he ever this annoying to his creator-- seriously. As Cliffjumper is handed the microphone, he smirks proudly. "Awright, let's do this," he says, pulling the tarp off of his display. "Me an' Scattershot have been workin' on this in our spare time," he says as he begins to fit large pieces together, making what appears to be some kind of large cylinder with... a scope? a handle? A tripod? Other extensions. "Had to smuggle it in, too, by breakin' it down into these pieces, so I hope you don't mind me rebuildin' it as we go..." "Yuh huh, Breakdown," Fusillade murmurs, tilting her head a bit at the heckling that Soundwave receives. "Entertainment has its value, of course." She furrows optic ridges briefly as she tries to figure out the best way to phrase these questions without looking like a total dummy. "So, what are the specifics on the mechanisms that make it so cutting edge?" Even as she keeps a mental tag on the conversation between Reeddan and Breakdown. Layla Bastet continues to hover somewhere around the cold fusion booth, between Whirligig and Scrapper... Breakdown nods as Reeddan explains the event. "Well..are you sure the event is entirely natural in it's cause then..that someone.." His optics drift to the Autobot booths for a second. "..Couldn't trigger this explosion then?" He looks back at Reeddan, appearing very concerned and skeptical. Soundwave nods at Breakdown. "Affirmative, in addition to many other songs." To Scrapper, he says, "Do not be so short-sighted, Scrapper. There are many potential applications for this device that would..." He looks about, and his voice drops in volume so that only Scrapper (hopefully) can hear. "...advance Depticon interests without others knowing of it." Upon being assaulted by the bizarre trio of ferret-hummingbird things, Soundwave actually steps back from them, alarmed. The third one, messing with the player, begins to play some horrible Paris Hilton song, though only at a volume loud enough for those close by to hear. Unable to turn them into a fine red mist with a good sonic blast, he has very options for dealing with them, so instead of confronting them himself... "Americon, eject!" Soundwave says, depressing the eject button and launching a red, white, and blue tape. "Operation: Conversation!" Transforming into robot mode, Americon grins, hands on his hips as he levitates in front of the flying creatures. "I would be VERY happy to discuss galactic copyright laws with you... IN AMERICA!" Relieved, Soundwave turns his attention towards Cliffjumper's presentation. Thank Primus he has a chest full of reinforcements available at any time, especially since the songs on that player really were stolen! Whirligig is watching everything quite curiously, occasionally turning to tinker with her device mostly as a way to keep her hands busy with something. A rash of murmurs pass over the crowd as Cliffjumper reveals what's under the tarp. Most of the people don't know who this Scattershot fellow is, but Autobots are generally only a bit less warlike than Decepticons. Tripod, cylinder, scope, handle... /had to smuggle/ it in. Surely this isn't what it looks and sounds like it might be. "Okay. Just about got it set up," Cliffjumper says, and when he finishes... he appears to be aiming a gigantic cannon at the crowd, mounted on no less than three separate tripods and easily three times the size of Cliffjumper himself. "Awright. Nerds and geeks, check out Killzooka 2.0 -- the ultimate in Decepticon extermination." Breakdown claps his hands as Soundwave's confirmation reaches the Stunticon's audio receptors. Cliffjumper's display however, catches his eye, and forgetting completely about Reeddan for the moment, he points at the red minibot and screams. "HOLY PRIMUS, HE'S GOT A CANNNON!" Scrapper leans in and listens to Soundwave's aside. The Constructicon thinks about it and nods discreetly back at Soundwave, dropping the question of whether this sound device he created has any useful applications. Perhaps Soundwave has some grand plan in mind. Meanwhile, Cliffjumper introduces the Killzooka 2.0. Without missing a beat, Scrapper takes one big step to the left, and is now out of the line of fire, using Soundwave as cover. Fusillade --**SQUEALS!!!**-- but it doesn't seem to be in terror. With a kick of thrustered feet, she lunges toward Cliffjumper, nearly bowling him over as she latches onto the main stock and barrel. "It's BEAUTIFUL!" she exclaims. Her processor appears to have nicely expanded 'extermination' to include everything. Soundwave finds himself very, very glad that the security guards can't confiscate his built-in sonic blasters. For now, he just watches the minibot carefully, making sure the killzooka doesn't point directly at him. The cowardly Scrapper gets an annoyed glance from him. "You are always doing that!" he complains. You say, "It always works!" Cliffjumper is, indeed, bowled over. "Careful, you crazy robot broad!" the red mini-bot protests, getting himself back to his feet. "Uh, this version isn't actually complete, though. It requires a more significant power source than I could sneak in here, ideally bein' hooked up to, er, a nuclear power facility." "I think I saw Shockwave in here earlier," Fusillade offers helpfully. "No, I mean, like a dedicated power plant, not a freak with no face," Cliffjumper notes. There's really no-where for the crowd to run anywhere, but they do all take a trepid step backwards, as if this would help against the Killzooka 2.0. There's an audible wave of relief as Cliffjumper says that the cannon doesn't actually work. Chip Chase meanwhile lowers his hand. It had raised up to the left side his chest. His inevitable heart attack has been staved off for another year. A niggling question enters his mind. Don't ask it, he thinks. Don't ask it! Chip asks it anyway. "What... what happened to the, um, Killzooka 1.0?" he asks into the microphone. "Uh, it got taken away from me," Cliffjumper says. "Ironhide said he didn't trust me with it on the Moonbase, and that was the last time I ever saw it." With cheek still pressed to the brushed nickel stock, Fusillade scowls down at Cliffjumper, before pushing herself up in a sitting position on the weapon. "What's the fun in that? You can't carry that around! It'd have to stay in one place, or be attached to a... ship." Her fulminant yellow gaze immediately snaps over Scrapper. DING! Application idea... Soundwave is somewhat glad to hear that, although the Killzooka only ever seemed to just give away Cliffjumper's position so that he could send some of his Deceptitapes his way. "Well, obviously this is just the prototype," Cliffjumper says. "An' Computron didn't have much of a problem carryin' it around, so guys his size can use it. In fact, Computron calculated it only has a 20% chance of makin' whatever nuclear power plant you hook it up to have a complete meltdown, so the prototype is 80% safe -- we haven't gotten approval for actual testin' yet, though." by this time Breakdown has dove under Soundwave's booth, wishing so much he could have brought his gun, and whispering up to the large cassette commander. "Can't you do something!?!?" Chip Chase crosses himself at the mention of Ironhide. Truly that mech's heroic actions are still being felt throughout the universe. His voice still slightly shaky from this latest scare, Chip says into the microphone. "Our next presentation is scheduled for ten to fifteen minutes from now. Until then, feel free to check out the various exhibits." Scrapper steps out from behind Soundwave and stares back at Fusillade. "Oh no," he says. "Oooooooh no. I'm not going anywhere near an invention that /Cliffjumper/ and \Scattershot\ made. The thing will probably blow up!" Scrapper gestures with his hands, quickly spreading them apart to show the likely explosion that he thinks would result from the Killzooka seeing action. Yeah, Whirligig really looks just about ready to leap behind her own exhibit. But she calms, quiets, and puts her hands gently against the mock generator. After all, Cliffjumper is an Autobot, right? No reason to fear a fellow Autobot. ...right. Giving a little sigh, she turns back to her exhibit to pick up a datapad or two, pouring over the equations on them, her ungainly wings twitching. Soundwave peers down at Breakdown. "Negative. However, if the Autobot attacks with his weapon I will respond in kind. And unlike the Killzooka 2.0, I will not detonate in an uncontrolled reaction when I do so." Meanwhile, Americon keeps the humming-bird ferrets busy by rambling at them about Bruce Springsteen's 'Born in the USA.' "I was born in the USA, too! On the Streets of Philadelphia! While Soundwave was driving back to Cali! In America!" By now the hummingbird-ferrets are probably so baffled by him they might've forgotten why they came here! Fusillade wallows a few more times on the weapon, fit for noseart, before Scrapper's gesture catches her attention. She hrns? and then cups her hands indicating a small explosion? Then she stretches her arms WIDE, fingertips flexing as she asks if it'd be more like THAT kinda explosion? She hmmphs, and then slides off the thing, deigning to give the minibot a patronizing pat-pat on the helm before she returns to Scrapper's side. "So, by eighty percent, does that mean per operation? Or per 100 tests? I guess that whenever it happens, it'd be a 100 percent explosion rate..." "Actually, both," Cliffjumper says, frowning at the pat on the head. Breakdown visibly cheers up a bit, if not totally. "Yay!" He makes his way out from under Soundwave's display table, inadvertently knocking it and possibly causing Soundwave's music player to fall over. He then makes his way through the crowd, trying to choose the next exhibit to criticize..er view, all the while keeping an optic trained on the mini-bot and his death cannon. The Berylline pine martin cheeps and raises a ragged, metallic green crest in delight as she finds the deep sea song of the KLUG. Raising her beak starward, she harmonizes with a cheery tweet. The ruby-throated stoat rocks out. The the violet-crowned ermine still seems a bit more hostile, even going so far as to wend itself ticklishly into Americon's chest reels. "It's made by Cliffjumper and Scattershot," Scrapper explains as if this was all that needs to be said. "There's no way that it's going to be any good. Now if it was Huffer and Grapple, maybe." Despite his own words, Scrapper slowly and gingerly steps towards the Killzooka 2.0 to get a better look at it. Killzooka 2.0 looks like a jellied-plasma flamethrower with everything blown up to about six times the usual size and any and all safety measures completely abolished, on a surface examination. Layla Bastet actually drifts off at some point during the explanation of the Killzooka. Probably doesn't want to be in the blast radius without armor. Americon clutches his chest, face twisting in panic as the creature attacks his chest cavity. Every time he tries to grab onto the hummingbird-ferret, it seems to flit right out of his grasp and resume its attack! "Hrrrgh! Arrgh! Gnnnngh Nyagggh! Soundwave, this creature is killing me! Saaave me!" But Soundwave pays him no mind, still watching Cliffjumper and his weapon carefully. Venom's Exhibit - Alien Ant Farm An honest to goodness ant farm (Cybetronian style). The entire display is enclosed in a transparent dome-shaped case rougly the size of a jacuzzi. The bottom half of this case filled with dirt, and there are two hives on opposite sides of the enclosure. Anyone who's seen authentic ants will quickly realize that the ants inside are much larger, some as large as grasshoppers. Looking closely, you note these ants are robotic - black cyber-ants roughly the size of crickets, and also fiery red specimens that are twice as large. Both types of cyber-ants behave much the way their real-life inspirations would - crawl around on the surface, burrow below, march around in lines. Two seperate colonies of cyber-ants...and they are at war! Small displays mounted around the outside show zoomed in close-ups of the action and various tactical displays track the number and position of ant forces - as well as a running tally of the casualties on either side. You notice that when a cyber-ant falls in combat, it lies still for a few seconds, then is up and active again. Even as the 'war' drags on, neither side's forces become depleted. Cliffjumper is carefully stenciling 'BORN TO KILL' next to a peace sign on the cannon's side. Chip Chase activates the microphone again. "Sorry for the wait, folks. Our last but not least presentation for the first annual Chase Space Science Fair is from the Insecticon Venom, who seems to have brought a very interesting ant farm with him as an exhibit." The spotlight falls on Venom and his presentation. Chip's aide hands the Insecticon the microphone, which swiftly grows to a size suitable for him to use. Venom walks up to stand in front of his case. "Thank you Chip. First of all, let me just thank you on behalf of scientists everywhere for the opportunity to present our work in such a forum. It must be rewarding to know that even though your physical form may be crippled and virtually useless, your highly developed intellect can still add value to the universe." He gives Chip a tiny nod. "My presentation is primarily a demonstration of the advances in micro-robotics. It also serves as an argument for the advantages of drone soldiers and the hive mentality in warfare." Venom hits some buttons on a control panel set on the side of the ant farm, causing the base of the display case to vibrate violently. Just like real ants, the cybernetic ants inside are stirred into action by the disturbance. As soon as the first time a black cyberant encounters a red one, invisibly signals are sent, the ant-war begins anew. "Unfortunately, the secrets of drone creation technology was lost with our dear brethren." He puts a hand over his chest briefly. "Kickback, Bombshell, Shrapnel...you are gone but not forgotten." But then Venom goes on brightly, "But if there's one thing the '1st generation' insecticons proved, it is that when quality is not available, you can still rely on quantity." Venom points out as the red ants make various tactical advances, and how the black ants desperately try to fight them back. "Well, I don't know about you but I could watch this all night. However, in the interest of time I will just tell you which side wins..." he pauses significantly, really drawing out the moment. "Neither side! Although the more military and ruthless Reds routinely trump their measely opponents, they do not make significant gains. One could ask himself, 'do they really WANT to win the ant-war?'. Perhaps another time. Suffice it to say that they routinely batter their weaker opponents into submission, but the Black cyber-ants continue to fight back." "Can you tell us more about the 'rebuild' protocols? Is this a closed system? Have you made a perpetually cycling system?" asks Fusillade. Chip just waves slightly at the backhanded compliment. He's had to put up with Decepticon jerkishness ever since 1984. It didn't bother him then and it isn't about to start anytime soon. He rests his head on his hand in a contemplative manner as Venom goes through a little introduction. He isn't terribly pleased with the idea of having robots (even non-sentient ones) fight a war just to prove a point, but what can you do. Venom nods in appreciation of the question. "Yes...this is a closed system, but we as the contollers of this experiment always retain the ability to introduce new factors." He pushes another control, and suddenly the Red cyber-ants sprout tiny mechanical wings and begin flying. They really start pounding the Black ants at this point, and soon the Reds have driven their opponents back to their home hive. Red ants buzz around it angrily, then finally settle for the most part in a siege of the enemy hive. Venom gestures at the controls, "There are also other variations, such as the Reds intercepting a convoy of Black cyber-ants and eliminating some of their oldest veterans...the Reds gaining nearly all territory and forcing the Black cyber-ants to fight a 'guerilla war' if you will. Even the Reds destroying the Black cyber-ant hive (eventually they establish another, lesser hive nearby)." "Give the red guys lasers on their heads!" Fusillade suggests! Soundwave asides to Scrapper, "Yet another weapons system introduced in a science fair that is supposedly about civilian technologies. But perhaps that reveals a flaw in Chip Chase's philosophy. Civilian and Military sciences always follow one another very closely. Seperating the two is futile." Americon, meanwhile, staggers over to the ant farm, grimacing as if in pain. "Can't get... this... thing... out..." he grunts as the bizarre creature rummages around his chest. "Maybe these killer ants can help me!" Americon begins to randomly press buttons on the ant farm's control panel. "Open, dammit, open! IN AMERICA!" Scrapper nods enthusiastically to Soundwave and pushes his way to the front, listening intently to what Venom has cooked up. Tiny little robots (of war). He smacks himself on the forehead. Why didn't *I* think of that?! He looks over at Fusillade and nods solemnly, approving of her idea. The grasshopper is learning. To Venom, he asks, "What are the applications that are available to them outside of their little cage? Can they adapt to new terrain? What sorts of things can they do out in the real world?" He pauses and then adds, "Uh... for peaceful purposes of course." Venom nods again. "Yes...perhaps a smaller subset of Reds could be reconfigured into some sort of sub-force. I'll make a note. 'Lasers on their heads.'" He turns to look at the case in alarm as Americon triggers a small panel to open. "What?! NO!" Immediately a horde of flying Red cyber-ants swarms out...but instead of helping Americon, they head straight for Venom! They swarm around him, biting and clawing at him. Soon Venom is almost completely covered by a moving red carpet tiny cyber-ants. Venom strikes Venom with Cyber-Ant Swarm. Venom says, "Aieee!" Venom swats at the ants, crushing some of them. Venom says, "AAAH!!" Venom swats a few more of them. Finally he seems to have the swarm under control. Scrapper raises his hand to ask another question. "Can they be trained not to turn on their owners in case they somehow get out?" he asks while Venom is viciously attacked by the cyber-ants. He doesn't move to help the Insecticon or anything. ...or does he? Finally overwhelmed by the tiny stinging attacks, Venom runs off towards the restroom. "Curse you Americooooon!" He shouts as he disappears from view. Breakdown optics go wide as he spots the swarm of cyber ants. "What the.. Autoants are attacking!" The deft, supple violet-crown moves about Americon's internals. However, at the sound of creaming outside, the hybrid pops his purplish head out of the tape's reel hole, and then goes to join his band mates to pick the ants off Venom. The pine martin and ruby-throated stoat cheer, and the universal translators pick up diction from them, like, "Appetizers!" "Snacks!" "POPCORN!" Chip Chase stares at the whole spectacle and groans, rubbing his temples with his free hand. Raising the microphone with the other, he sighs, "Well, that's the last presentation, everyone. I'd like to thank all the visitors for coming, all the participants for donating their hard time and ideas, and all of our sponsors who helped to make this possible." He raises his voice to be heard over the sounds of people trying to contain the cyber-ants. "Everyone did an amazing job, and I hope that you get the chance to see all the exhibits." This would have normally gotten a loud wave of cheers and claps, but some people are concerned about the cyber-ants. Breakdown lowers his hand at the sight of Venom running off. "They just don't make them like they used to I guess." He shrugs and wanders over to Americon. "Did you do that little casseticon?" Activating anti-gravs, Fusillade bobs up in the air to avoid any sneak attacks -- even if the red robotic ants could fly. Moving in the air is easier, at least. She begins eying the security booth by the exit, and her awaiting weapons. Americon phews as the horrible little creature finally exits his chest. Staring up at Breakdown, he shrugs and says, "Do what?" Breakdown levels his brow at the little cassete. "you know what, let those autobot ants loose!" He then sighs and decides to get the hell out of this autobot infested three-ring science circus. "Oh nevermind" He quips as he waves a hand at Americon and walks towards the entrance. Whirligig didn't go anywhere. Those times she didn't seem to be standing by her exhibit, watching the other demonstration(s) intently, then reappeared the next? Animation errors! Really. Scrapper finishes checking out the cyber-ant display (security, having swiftly moved in, is already dealing with the tiny menaces) and moves back towards the others, checking them out in turn. He almost runs into Whirligig next to Reeddan's exhibit about space exploding. "Tell me the truth, Autobot. Do you think you're going to get that fusion generator going?" "You want the real truth?" Whirligig asks primly, steepling her fingers, azure optics bright. She rocks back on her heels calmly, then parts her hands to lace her fingers behind her helm. "I have no idea. Like I said... the research is very fickle." Surprisingly, she's doing a pretty good job of remaining completely blase in the face of the question. After all... she /did/ manage. She's just not supposed to tell, as if the Decepticons knew, the proverbial poo really would hit the proverbial fan. Scrapper looks directly at Whirligig and listens. The Constructicon nods, "Yeah I didn't think so. Good luck on getting it to work, though," Scrapper says, sounding remarkably earnest. Most Autobots don't lie. Especially those in the engineering division. Autobot warriors are routinely assholes, but their techies? Generally class acts. "Course if you do we're going to have to come kill you and steal the technology, but hey, no hard feelings, right?" Whirligig straightens and her wings flip back as that horribly ill feeling returns to her tanks, but here's hoping it looks more like nerves at the /potential/ of what will happen /if/ she manages to finish a working generator. As cooly as she can muster, she remarks, "If I manage, I'll be sure to be on my guard." Scrapper nods and gives Whirligig a friendly pat on the back. "And hey, who knows? Maybe I'll get my body control system fully functional by then and we can have the zombies battle it out for control over all the fusion generators." Scrapper is oblivious to Whirligig's ill feeling. "Well it was nice meeting you, Autobot." he adds. "Likewise." Probably not true, but hey, Whirligig is nothing if not courteous. "Your invention is... definitely interesting." That's honestly the nicest thing she can think of to say about it. Truth be told, the thing scares the everliving scrap out of her, but that's neither here nor there. 1
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