thisavrou | [video] + 001

[video] + 001

[The feed cuts on to show a Cybertronian with a red and white helm, blue optics, and what appears to be a habitually irritated expression on his face. His voice is brisk and no-nonsense.]

This is Ratchet, former Chief Autobot Medical Officer. I've been assigned here as a field medic, apparently, though I'm volunteering to lend my hand in the medical bay on the ship in my off-time. I have no idea where we are or what happened to get us here, which I can deal with considering everything else that's happened the last year or so, but I really don't like not knowing the effects this "Ingress" [brings bright red hands, chipped in places to reveal specks of blue paint, up to add scarequotes] thing may have had on us, so I want people in for checkups.

Autobots, since there seem to be some of you on the ship, I'm assuming I'm still ranking medical officer here so I'm making that an order--report to Moro deck room 022 earliest. Non-Autobots... I obviously can't order you to do anything, but barring any wild extenuating circumstances you're welcome to drop by for a systems check also. You won't be turned away out of hand.

I specialize in non-organic medicine so if there are any non-Cybertronians on board who fit that bill, I can't promise anything, but I'll take a look. If you're strictly organic, you should probably just hit the regular medibay, but I've got some experience and I won't turn you away if you want to come here instead for whatever reason.

Any current medical officers seeing this, I'd like to talk supplies and if I can get put on rotation--I have a holomatter avatar, same as the others, so I'll fit just fine. Unless any of you expect my field medic duties to take up the majority of my time, in which case I would like a much more thorough briefing on what the fresh hell is going on here.

Ratchet out.

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Oh, well. [Ratchet purses his lips judiciously.] It's a very long technical explanation, and I have people who actually want medical treatment to take care of, Bee.

If you're really that interested, why don't you drop by?

Hold up, Doc-bot!! You can't just leave me hanging like this! What if I infect half the ship?! What if I die getting to your room this is an emergency!?

Edited 2016-06-04 18:34 (UTC)

It's no problem for organics. And you wouldn't die on your way here, it takes sixteen hours, at least.

See you later, Bee.

[Not less than five minutes later, Bumblebee bursts into Ratchet's room, cooling fans on their highest setting and engines revving because he totally just drove here as fast as he could. He stumbles in, taking a moment to recover from the drive and panic, staring up at Ratchet with wide, anxious eyes.]

Doc-bot! How bad is it? Am I gonna die?!

[Ratchet snorts, eyeing him.]

Oh, did you want a check-up after all, then?

[Wow. This Ratchet is a lot bigger than Ratchet's he's used to. He's not going to get over this anytime soon. Why is he so small all of a sudden? He's not even that small back home!]

Well, yeah! If I have the plauge!!

Only way I'll know is to check. C'mon and sit down.

[Bumblebee awkwardly shifts in place for a moment, before moving to sit down, fingers shifting uncomfortably as he tries not to convince himself that he's dying.]

--But I won't die, right?

No, kid, you're not gonna die.

[Now Ratchet almost feels bad. ...almost.]

Just sit still for a minute, if that's even possible.

[That seems to relax him somewhat, but he's still squirming like crazy. Sitting still is not a thing he's actually capbable of, sorry Ratchet.]

What happens if I have the plague, Doc-boc? I had space-barnacles once and me an' Prowl turned into these freaky zombies! Sari had to save us by burning them off. I'm not gonna turn into a zombie am I?

[Ratchet opens his mouth, then closes it, excruciatingly aware that he did this to himself. He gentles his voice deliberately.]

No, Bumblebee, you won't turn into a zombie. No space barnacles, I promise. Just give me a minute to look you over, all right?

[Bumblebee vents a sigh of relief, looking up at Ratchet expectantly. He sits still for a few seconds before squirming again, ending away from Ratchet's large servos.]

How long is this gonna take? I'm kinda in suspense here...

[One of Ratchet's hands comes down on Bee's shoulder, stilling him, before he squeezes gently.]

You're built a little different than mechs where I'm from, so it'll take longer for me to make sense out of the data, but from what I can tell you've got a clean bill of health. You're fine, you're--

[Ratchet stops, staring down at the readings on his wrist, his voice shocked soft when he speaks again.]

You're under two thousand years old?

[Bumblebee blinks at the hand that's dwarfing him, trying not to think too hard about how all these other Autobots seem to be so much larger than he is. It's not exactly the biggest bot, sure, but he's never felt so tiny. This is what humans must feel like.]

--So no space barnacles or the plague? That's a relief.

[At Ratchet's next question he shrugs.] Uh, yeah? And?

I haven't seen a Cybertronian that young in--there aren't any. There haven't been any new viable hotspots in...

[Ratchet trails off, then shakes his head.]

Obviously it's different where you're from. ...what's the state of the war, there?

[Bumblebee kicks his feet that are hanging off the edge of the berth (because he needs to get rid of this pent up energy somehow) and shrugs.]

The war was over before I came online. [Oh great, so he's the smallest and the youngest.] The only one of us who actually fought in the war was you, Doc-bot. I mean, the Decepticons are trying to rally together and take over Cybertron again, but there's only a few of them! And they have to get off Earth first. Before we got mixed up in all this, everybot thought they were all destroyed.

Edited 2016-06-10 00:23 (UTC)

...I see.

[Ratchet looks thoughtful as he finishes Bumblebee's check and lets him go.]

Well, most of the ones here are sort of all right--not dumb enough to try to hurt anybody, anyway. But stay away from Tarn, and from an Autobot named Pharma. They're both dangerous, and I don't want you getting mixed up in anything you don't have to.

[After the intial shock of finding out Bumblebee's age, Ratchet will be able to see in his extended scan results that he's barely got any energon running through his fuel lines. In fact, it's mostly just human fossil fuels. He's also in a little disrepair, obviously getting into scraps and then not getting check ups with how reluctant he is. Ratchet will also be able to see that his stingers have dampners on--he's not been upgraded to be war ready yet.

Bumblebee jumps down off the berth, assuming they're all finished up, laughing at what Ratchet says.]

I've been in fights with Megatron. Y'know, the scary Decepticon warlord? I'm sure I'm gonna be fine.

[He's gonna leave out that he didn't actually fight Megatron directly. He was there so it totally counts.]

Edited 2016-06-10 00:56 (UTC)

Hey. [He reaches out, nudging gently at Bumblebee's helm with his fingertips, almost friendly.] I need to take stock of my supplies, but I want you back here for some minor repairs once I'm sure I can do them--nothing's busted, but maintenance is important too. We can talk about your fuel situation later.

And there's a lot of different types of scary, kid. Tarn... he hurts people for fun. Just steer clear of him, all right?

...please.

[Bumblebee swats at Ratchet's fingertips, staring at him in bewilderment as he speaks. This Ratchet is certainly less grumpy than the one he's used to and he huffs, rolling his optics as if coming back for maintenance is the worst thing in the world.]

--Okay, okay! I'll watch out for those guys. But do I have to come back? I feel fine, and if I don't have the space plague, what's the point? And what's wrong with my 'fuel situation'?

Thank you. And, maintenance, by definition, is to keep things from breaking. It's just a tune-up, I'll tell you when I'm ready.

Nothing's 'wrong' with it, but you appear to be running primarily on organic fossil fuels, which would likely kill me if I attempted to ingest them. I'll need to do a little more research.

Well, yeah, there's energon shortages back home. We can't exactly use it for fuel.

[he pauses, frowning.]

Wait, what are you running on?

The only thing I can run on--energon.

We don't have systems that can take fuel substitutes. Even synthesized energon can be rough. You, on the other hand, seem just fine with petrol.

--Woah, wait, is there energon here?

[He perks up a little.] I never got to run on it before! What's it like?

Some, yeah. I don't know what would happen if you just ran on energon, I'd have to look into the data I collected more. In the meantime, I don't recommend it--partly because I don't know what'll happen, and partly because I don't think our fuel source is particularly reliable here, and some of us can't live on anything else.

Y NOT UR NOT MY MOM

heelys - 2016-06-10 20:35 (UTC) - Expand

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[video] + 001

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Action

action!!

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hes got mixed up with both of those robots ratchet u need a leash

SCREAMING INTENSIFIES

8DDD

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baby wants to get drunk

UH. DO NOT.

Y NOT UR NOT MY MOM