Repairing Nova

November 6, 2011
Back To 2011 Logs
Nova Black Quickrazor
(Repair Depot, Polyhex)
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Nova Black walks into the medbay, trying hard to keep her steps even, and not particularly succeeding. Scorch marks from Autobot laser fire pepper her frame, and there's an especially nasty-looking burn mark on one of her wings, right near the joint. Some of the circuitry beneath the plating is exposed, and energon drips from the wound. Her optics flicker with weariness or pain, but as she catches sight of Quickrazor they glow brightly. She knows very well she can't hide the extent of the damage, but she'll be slagged if she's going to let herself show weakness. "Hey, Doc," she calls, her voice loud and strong despite the sorry condition of her frame and the considerable pain in her wing.
Quickrazor looks up and the small piece of machinery in his hand drops to the small table he's standing at. "What the /pit/ happened to you?" He points to the nearest berth. "Was this related to...no, I do /not/ want to know. Sit. On second thought, lay back before you /fall/." He forces his professional mask to smother more protective feelings and shakes his head ruefully. "Nova, you...I hope you at least /enjoyed/ it." He rummages around in a drawer for some supplies before approaching her.
"I've survived worse," Nova mutters, growling slightly, but she lays down on the indicated berth without even making a pretense of arguing with him about it. Whatever she might or might not admit to out loud, she's exhausted and it hurts.
"And there's a hole in *his* shoulder about as big as that one." She tries not to think of the fact that he doesn't have wings, so the hole she poked in him might not hurt this much, extra stab wound or no. Still, doing that at least was satisfying.
Quickrazor nods. "Good. Now..." He cyckes his optics and scans her, noting each and every bit of fresh damage upon her. Seeing a literal hole in her wing, he doesn't even ask, but sprays something over and into the wound- it has an immediate cooling effect to it. He knew that if he asked, Nova would tough it out. Which is admirable enough, but what he's going to have to do to fix that is going to feel like liquid fire. "I'm sure you have. However, I don't let patients that I like suffer too much, especially when I will be shortly digging into that wound to clear out the damage. I reserve the right to save resources when my patients annoy me, though." He places a thick square of mesh on the oozing wound, briefly magnetizing it to hold pressure. The scorch marks don't look /too/ bad, but..."Don't they teach you to duck in basic training?" He was teasing just a bit.
Nova Black's engines rumble in discomfort, or perhaps in mild annoyance at his comment. She doesn't particularly like the coolant -- feeling nothing at all unnerves her -- but at least it quiets the agony racing through her sensornet. "Do whatever you need to do, Doc," she hisses, grimacing. "Probably slag in there that needed fixing anyway."
Quickrazor "Possibly. Despite the numbing agent, this will hurt. Call me whatever you wish if it makes you feel better." He quickly removes the temp patch, looking into the hole. Right through. Ouch. His own winglets twitch in sympathetic response. He adjusts his vision to the microlevel, noting the damage and calling out, "Demolition, kits 12c and 21a. Microclamp, wing hydraulics, and hurry up." One of the drones, presumably Demolition, rolls over to the appropriate areas and retrieves the materials. While it gathers needed things, Quickrazor attends to Nova's scorch marks, ensuring that nothing was amiss there.
Nova Black nods, glowering in lieu of twitching her wings, because that would be a terrible idea at the moment. Missing that natural motion is strange and disorienting, though, and almost as irritating as the pain. She stares at the far wall, attempting to amuse herself by thinking of creative things to call Quickrazor when he starts doing whatever exactly he'll have to do to fix that.
Quickrazor eyes the waiting drone, who had several items on a tray. "Stand and wait and observe." he instructed it. His fingertips shift into those tapered probes, and with a silent apology he puts his forefinger probes into the hole, taking out ripped and scorched and damaged wiring. One top glowed white-hot, temporarily cauterizing a leaking hose, and he waited for a screech, a dagger in the hand, or a ringing slap upside his helm. It couldn't be helped, though, so Quickrazor just continued, probing past the surface where he found something odd. "Your sensor here is degraded somewhat. Have you felt slow recently, or unable to properly read air current?"
Nova Black 's turbines whirl frantically as Quickrazor probes the *hole* Shark left *in* her slagging *wing.* She snarls, half roar and half curse, and it's probably a good thing that it's not entirely clear what she just said. Then one of his probes heats up, cauterizing something somewhere in there. She gives another growl of rage and her hand transforms -- that *hurt*! But there's no place here to direct her rage. The Autobot who injured her is long gone, probably gloating, and the mech poking around in her plating isn't the one she's interested in poking more holes in.
Cycling air raggedly through her intakes, she settles down again, focusing on what Quickrazor is saying. "Slow? I -- heh. Maybe. There was this one fight, with Blue, a quartex or so ago -- somethin' happened. Thought it was my targeting computer. Came back and got fixed up, and everything seemed fine, but -- hmm. Maybe that wasn't all of it."
Quickrazor nods, half-distracted. "Well, what I'm finding is a problem, affecting efficiency and such, so I'm replacing it. Slagging traitors left you half-afted." It's apparent that he's fairly contemptuous of their skills. "While I'm at it-/steady/, Nova, please- I'll check a few more systems...but that can wait until I get this properly taken care of." He turns away. "Disaster! Get your dronish aft over here with these..." He rattles off a long list of things in Tech-ese. "Then return here and wait." The little drone rolls off. Quickrazor returns to Nova's wing, manipulating delicate wiring with thin, needlelike probes that his fingers had become. Every now and then a small spark jumped, and a flash of light combined with the scent of ozone signifying a microweld.
Nova Black snarls in irritation, but quiets. She'd never seen anything wrong with the repairs she'd gotten before -- slag, she'd even *liked* Robustus, before she'd known he'd do what he did. And she'd never found fault with his repairs.
But all that had happened before she'd known what he would turn out to be, after all. Her engines rev with rage, some remembered, some fresh, as she forces herself to keep still for the repairs.
Quickrazor raises an eyeridge at her reaction, but wisely says nothing, figuring that he's already torqued her off somehow as it was. The little meddrone returned, squeaking somewhat, and Quickrazor plucked a bit of circuitry with connecting wires off its tray and installs it, mumbling to himself. "This will quicken your flight, though nost noticeably in your jetform. After I seal this wound, which by the way requires new plating, a little anyway- I will test your reflexes. Perhaps that is why I managed to land a hit at all during training." Quickrazor chuckles at his own comment. He reconnects wiring, sparks flying, and then shifts a finger into a cutting tool. "This is where I suggest that you hold on." At that, he begins smoothing the edges on either side to prepare it for a symmetrical replacement.
Nova Black transforms her hand again and does as Quickrazor tells her, grinding her dental plates hard enough to spit sparks as he works on her wing. Still, it's worth it if it will improve her flying, and this is a far more thorough repair than any she's had in a very long time.
Quickrazor finishes the smoothing cuts, leaving square-shaped areas where wiring coukd be clearly seen. It was tangled, but that's normal in such a thin and compact area. He takes thin plating off of Demolition's waiting tray and scans for a measurement, two microns wider than needed for the replacement. Using a clamp, he poditions the plates on either side, ensuring their placement...and finding himself satisfied, his left forefinger sprouts a miniature arcwelder that glows almost white with heat. He welds the edges, then, working quickly, carefully, and before he knows it, both sides are finished. There's a pair of ugly squares that will need painting, and it's going to be sore for the next few joor, but that, at least is done. "There. I will remove my tools for this procedure-" his finger becomes a finger again "-and return with a few more things. Wait for me, please." The deference in his tone was for her alone. The drones chirped at Nova, twice each.
Nova Black winces again as he welds the plating onto her wing, but feels her spark whirl with excitement as she watches Quickrazor walk away. She *likes* to fight, and anything that will make her *better* at it is something she approves of. Besides, she owes Shark for that pounding he gave her. Her wings twitch instinctively in excitement, then promptly freeze again as the movement sends pain zinging through her sensornet.
Quickrazor returns with a batch of odd-looking equipment. A small holoprojector, some thing that seemed to be made of metalline springs, a small handheld light source, and a small box, its lid closed. "The holo first. This will assess your targeting and ability to track. I will observe. And for Primus' sake, target, don't fire!" He turns it on and from it springs three small images- one a generic groundcar, one a Seeker frame, and the last a tower of some kind. He fiddles with the controls and says, "Nova, what I need is for you to lock on to each, but the stationary target has an inherent weak point. Target it instead of the structure as a whole. Begin."
"Heh. Don't fire. Like I don't know not to do that in a slagging medbay," Nova scoffs. Maybe he *should* have targets in here for any time he needs to do this with anyone else.
Shrugging because twitching her wings would hurt, she focuses on the stationary target first. She studies it visually for a moment and then activates her targeting computer. Her weapons systems crackle with energy, and out of the corner of one optic she notes the medic staring intently, as if to launch into a Lecture if she fires at the pristine wall.
She shifts her attention to the groundcar, again watching it for a moment to track it visually before attempting a target lock. She does the same with the third target.
Quickrazor says, "Very good. Except for the deviation." He taps at the projector, causing the targets to emit beams of reddish light that shows just how far off she was. Not terrible, by any stretch...but it could be better. A lot better. He moves behind her, tapping at a bit of plating at the base of her neck. "May I?"
Nova Black tilts her head slightly, surprised, and glares at the projection. What the *slag*? And how long has her targeting been off like that? "Fine."
Quickrazor removes said paneling with an audible *snick*. He then starts fiddling around in there with something tiny and flexible. He knew some said that it itched, others that it tickled. His optics focus upon the microscopic, finding the tiny relay. He rummages around with three unchanged fingers in the box, whose lid flipped open at a databurst, and he brings out a new microrelay. "Hold still." he said, a bit of force in his tone. "A slip here and you'll be staying in here longer than you may wish to."
Nova Black 's hands twitch as Quickrazor pokes around in her neck. Getting shot at, she's used to. Pain, she knows what to do with. *That* sensation? Is a unique blend of annoying and bizarre that makes her want to tear his hand off. She wills herself not to move, though, because doing so would mean he has to do it more.
Quickrazor can feel her tense up, but what has to be done must be done. "This will feel...odd." he promised, and detaches the relay that assists with visual acuity, tracking, sensory data, and its booster that makes it move through her neural network more quickly than groundpounders. The sensation lasts only a short time- this component is designed for easy replacement since too many airframes neglected maintenance or simply could not make it before the need became critical. Leaving the panel open and withdrawing his finger-fiber optic wires, he turns on the holo once more. "Try again, if you would."
Nova Black twitches, now that his finger is no longer *in* her neck, and turns to the holograms again. She snarls, energy feeding into her weapons systems. It's probably a waste of time to bother being *angry* at *holos*, but she is -- that was embarrassing. She zeroes in on the first target with a mix of anger and excitement and then turns to the groundcar, holding the lock on it for a long moment, concentrating. Something does feel different now. Grinning, she turns to the flying target, imagining it to be a certain flying enemy from her past. Her optics flare as she keeps herself locked on it, as if she might just forget where she is. Then she freezes, remembering, and waits.
Quickrazor smiles. "It works. I am glad of it. I really hope that this keeps you from needing my services...at least my professional ones." He smiles. "How do you feel? Is there anything else that I can do for you this cycle?" The look on his silvered faceplates is both pleased and hopeful.
Nova Black nods. "I feel better now." She twitches her wings experimentally, the pain already fading to a bearable ache. "And I'm glad that you noticed that problem. I knew something was off for a while. But Robustus had already fixed me, so what was I going to do? Go to Shred?" She chuckles, not nicely. "That would have been even worse, I'd guess." She glowers. "I'm glad they're gone."
Quickrazor nods, looking her over again carefully. She'd been through the Pit and back. "I am as well. Or else I would never have come to meet you." He looks at the Seeker femme who'd virtually captured him in so short a time and he felt...warm. "I only wish I could do more for you. I much prefer you whole, you know." He holds up a chip, a tiny black one. "If you should want this, it enhances strength, physical strength. I will save it for you, as I have no need of it. You are one who places herself in front, a place of honor. It's the only one I have."
Nova Black chuckles. "Trouble just seems to follow me around, doesn't it?" She transforms her hands and traces her daggers through the air in front of her, practicing moves. "But now that you've fixed me up, maybe I can bring a bit of it back to that 'Bot who shot a chunk out of my wing." She looks down at the chip he holds in his hand and then back at him with an odd little smile. "I'll take it, if you want to give it to me. But are you sure about that, Doc? Considering everything you've been through since you got here, including Starscream shooting you in the middle of *your* medbay, you might just need it for yourself."
Quickrazor laughs. "Starscream has been...handled, I suppose you'd call it. It took me quite some time to repair him from Lord Megatron's....chastisement ." He considers. "I need access to the dataport in your chestplate. That's where this goes."
Nova Black's sore wings can't help but twitch with amusement at that. "Why am I not surprised?" She steps closer to him, her optics brightening. Her chestplate is close to her spark, and that's -- something she hadn't been thinking of, not when she stumbled here leaking energon anyway. She liked seeing him, yes, even in dire circumstances, but when she'd walked in she was falling apart. Then there was that business of recalibrating her systems -- exciting too, but not exactly fun, not with that little -- thing -- in her *neck* and all.
Another step closes the distance between them. She nods once, and the dataport opens with a soft snick.
Quickrazor reaches in gently and installs the tiny chip, not wanting to make her think that he's trying anything funny. That's ...intimate, to be sure, and anybody could walk in. He feels torn, though...but merely brushes two fingers down her cheek. *Whwn she wants me that way, if she ever does...she will take what she wants from me. And I ...I will allow it.* he thinks, making some small peace within himself. He forces responses down, away for the moment...otherwise he might just make an even bigger aft of himself than he occasionally manages without even trying. "Nova, I...it's done. I..uh, hope that it aids you." Lost his eloquence again, too...
Nova Black smiles as he slides the chip into the small port, energy flickering through her systems as it integrates into them. She's not sure how much it will do, at least not yet. From her own experience, she was fairly strong for a Seeker to begin with. But the mere fact that he offered, without asking something in return -- it's strange, but somehow it makes sense, coming from him.
She raises an arm, still tipped by a glowing purple dagger. Slowly, careful not to slip and do any real damage, she traces the very tip over his chestplate lightly. "Thank you."
Quickrazor shudders, his self-control stretched to its limits. "Nova. I..." His hand moves closer, running a fingertip over its edge, before reaching for her almost without thinking. "Not here, my lo- my lady. If you keep that up I will lose myself..."
Nova Black grins, pulling her arm back and transforming her hand. "There's no one else *in* here right now. But you're right. I should be going."
Quickrazor clears his intake slightly. "Come to me later. Please."
Nova Black chuckles. "Maybe I will."
Quickrazor nods, willing to accept this. "Then go get your vengeance on that Autobot who harmed you." He grins.
Nova Black clenches her freshly transformed hand into a fist. "Already planning on it."
Quickrazor grins. "Don't get slagged, all right? If you wish for me to...be close to you, there are easier ways to go about it."
Nova Black snorts. "So you think I go out on patrol just to come see you later? Arrogant aft."
"No! I just...don't want you hurt. I care for you." He sighs. Emotions are a pain in the aft. "Forgive me." Those words again, foreign...except to her.
Nova Black twitches her wings in a flier's version of a shrug. "Damage happens. If I cared too much about it I'd be -- well, you know where I'd be. And why I'm not there any more." But as flippant as she's being about it, her gaze lingers on him a long moment before she turns to go.
Quickrazor nods. "Keep safe...or as safe as possible. And get me a piece of that 'Bot! I'll forge it into a wing charm." He smiles.
"Don't need wing charms," Nova calls over her shoulder as she walks out. "The damn things just snag on everything."
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