Unconciousness is a mixed blessing. There is no pain, there is no suffering, there is nothing. But, when one begins the slow climb back into the twilight realm of conciousness, the first system to usually come back (save for sudden wake-ups and weapons) is audio. Laying on the table with the assorted and sundry things, tubes and cables and the like attached to her frame, the hunter-medic begins to rouse. Alas, there is no outward signaling of this step, no twitching, no shuffling of wings as there are none, no hissing of air drawn through intakes as intakes are currently part of the system flushing and supporting her lifesigns. Then.. there is a murmuring, a soft whisper, raspy, hard, choked still.. "Vu;l-ture?" and the signal that the wounded has rouses is given.(repose - lots of fluff - little sustanence;>)

--      Compile walks in with a datapad in his hand and he looks. "Hey Shrike," he says to his tape brother. "How goes things in your neck of the woods?" he asks as he walks over to a computer nad looks at the information on Nae.

Cinderblock takes a small device out of the medical cabinet, peering at it for a moment, "...well, it looks fancy but no." He places it to the side, "...where's that nice circuit wash..." He peers at another glowing vial, "...emetic...I wonder what you use that for... Eh, I wager I'll need one..."

--      Compile looks at Nae. "Hold on there. LEt me adjust your vocal unit Nae." he says to her as he opens the area on the side of her neck,a nd begins to adjust the module. "Ok, try now to talk." he says as he goes to adjust it as she speaks.

<Decepticon> Trooper Fleet responds, "Pretty much everyone's getting attacked, sirs." Granted, he's only fighting a tape-bot, but that counts! Kind of. Maybe.

<Decepticon> Blitzwing says, "Nobody /asked/ you!"

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "Yeah!"

<Decepticon> Trooper Fleet replies almost cheerfully, "Copy that!"

<Decepticon> Commander Shockwave says, "I find your inability to properly sustain hostilities disturbing."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "That's cause they got us outnumbered...or something."

<Decepticon> Blitzwing says, "What Astrotrain is saying is he'd love for you to shoot someone from orbit, Shockwave."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain feels the need to clarify. "Preferably not us!"

Shrike headtilts slowly as Arachnae questions his last statement. "Vulture. Yes. A term used to describe me a few moments ago." He leaps into the air and tumbles backward, transforming into his cassettemode to reply Cinderblock's words over the loudspeakers in the medical bay.

"Is that so? I just figured you were here to munch on our lady Unicronian when her number is up."

Shrike transforms again from the computer terminal and lands on the edge of the table just as Compile touches Arachnae. "You may be a medic brother, but Arachnae is quite...picky about whom is allowed to touch her. Do so again at your own peril, as her current condition does not preclude her from having the strength to harm you."

<Decepticon> Ravage says, "On the contrary, I am not being attacked. I am located in a culvert behind the Autobots' position. I haff located a structural weak point in their potential escape path, und I am wiring it to explode."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "Bully fer you. How about throwin some of those explosives this way already?"

Cinderblock finishes acquiring a few extra supplies and closes the medical cabinet, letting the magnetic locks engage once again. He glances over at Arachnae, "Well, I wake up and there's our little pal there hovering over you. Saw a turbo-hawk do that once to a buddy of mine. He was low on energy, hell we all were, and the hawk just sat on his chest for nigh on fifty breems, waiting for his power to run out before it went to dinner on him."

Scrapper comes in from the laboratory, carrying an armful of odd-looking blue parts. Arachnae's a rather unique model, after all, and he need to fab up a great number of parts from scratch. There's still a number of parts that need to be specially constructed, but he wants to check back in on her current status. This would work better if he had someone to do the scut-work of fetching simple components...

You transmit a message to Long Haul: Get your aft in the medical bay!

Long Haul receives a radio transmission.

Arachnae triggers self diagnostic routines as her awareness levels grow. Still, as before, her optics do not kindle, remaining dark. As what few systems able to respond do so, she murmurs something in that raspy whisper, "Who else is in..." trailing off, stiffening with a shuddering of leads and cables. Monitoring systems show a drop in coolant pressure and a rise in hydraulics.. and she hiss-snarls, talons scratching at the table, hand starting to lift from it to swat at whatever, whomever just touched her so suddenly.

Fortunatly.. the hand raises a mere palmswidth before a lead attached to wrist is pulled taunt, eliciting warning chime from monitoring system. "Shrike's wiser...." attention scattered as she snarls without seeing, flexing talons.. "Why wait till fuel runs out." Trying to suck air into systems.

Cinderblock grins and snickers, "...well, most mechanimals don't have the good natured Decepticon ethic, Arachnae." He moves over to a weapon closet, and again pauses, banging the side of his head, "...what was that weapon's locker disengage code...." He taps the console a few times. <Warning. Improper Code Entered. Enter correct code in 1.2 breem or suffer immediate disintergration> Two blasters lower from the ceiling and Cinderblock blinks and begins tapping the console a lot quicker, "....oh come on!" Eventually the accept noise is given, and the locker opens... Cinderblock breathes in relief, and retrieves a few strings of ammunition from his vulcan cannon, his vulcan barrel, and a few of his explosives. Before closing the locker, "...you guys souped up security in here something fierce, I just wanted my slagging equipment back..."

<Decepticon> Compile says, "Damnit.  Rev, can you tell Nae to calm down.  She's trying to break free."

<Decepticon> Commander Shockwave says, "Then sedate her."

<Decepticon> Blitzwing says, "I love listening to this crap when I have Springer's SWORD STUCK IN MY LEG!"

<Decepticon> Revenant says, "Words from me will do little to calm her."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "Oooh, don't lost it."

<Decepticon> Shrike says, "Arachnae is perfectly calm Commanders, and quite aware of what is going on around her."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "That sword'll look good as a keg holder."

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "Buck up, Blitzwing my lad, at least that means he's disarmed."

--      Compile looks and blinks "Settle down Nae, it's compile. We are going to fix ya per Galvatrons and Scourge orders." he says to her as he jumps back. He thinks and flips a switch, turning on her optics, if they are active.

<Decepticon> Compile says, "It might be better, if Blitz literally disarmed Springer."

Scrapper doesn't pay any attention to Cinderblock's crazy antics. Instead, he fairly runs over to Arachnae's table, the parts cradled in his arms clinking and clattering as he moves. Scrapper exclaims, "She's awake? Arachnae's awake and aware? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Shrike utters in that hollow voice of his. "Irrelevant behavior notation. You are not an enemy, and I am not a scavenger. Your fuel levels will remain constant and your repairs will be forthcoming." Shrike hisses quietly toward the remaining gumby-tech in the room. The one who tried to 'remove' him earlier. "She has been in and out of consciousness throughout the cycle Scrapper."

"Long Haul, get this! Long Haul, carry that! Get your aft in here, Long Haul!" The transporter can be heard grumbling as he plods into the room. He looks in and spots his brother. "Yeah? What the frag d'you want?!" he demands before he notices what's going on. "Oh. Arachnae's awake," he says, his voice now completely calm and in total contrast to his previous shout. Then he remembers that he's supposed to be showing RESPECT to his MSE superiors (or at least Scrapper and Arachnae. He could care less about Mixmaster and Hook) so he does a quick Decepticon salute before both of them and then turns towards Scrapper. "Commander. What the frag d'you want?"

Cinderblock moves back over to a table, and sits, attaching his various arms, and refeeding ammunition to his cannon. "She just woke up. I thought she was done for a few moments ago, guess I misguessed." He cycles his vulcan cannon, and whistles quietly, "ooo, nice work, Scrapper...errr, Sir. The servo-motors don't whine anymore..."

Arachnae observes her system readouts, what few show up. Quiet, that utter stillness that could mean that she is no longer awake, no movement, talons cease their scritch-flexing. Readouts show a leveling off of various pressures until Compile moves to toggle optical systems back on.

"What are you do---*shriek*"

Optics kindle, flickering a wan green before flareing brilliantly. She jerks a hand up, moving it to shield her face, ripping out the leads attached thereof all in order to shield systems locked into a more hyper-sensitive state. No visor, bright medical overhead lights. You figure out the level of discomfort involved in sudden sight where there was blessed darkness. S

<Decepticon> Blitzwing says, "... Now'd... be a good time.... for that support... Shockwave."

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "Grrgh...just aim for the flaming winnebago!"

Shrike hisses again loudly and hops away from his perch, hovering in front of Compile with his wingblades extended and his own optics ablaze with....something. "You are causing her discomfort...brother, if you do not stop I will be forced to act on her behalf, and it will be most unpleasant...." He may do it anyway, act that is. Just not in front of Scrapper.

<Decepticon> Military Transport Astrotrain says, "Son of a bucket Fleet, when you do that you look so g..OW!"

<Decepticon> Catechism says, "...buckets?"

Scrapper nods vaguely to Cinderblock and sets down the parts he's been carrying on a nearby table as his brother arrives. "Just go-for duty," he explains curtly. Then, when Arachnae shrieks, Scrapper looks at Compile with a narrowed optic band and shovel raised high, as if to make himself look bigger. Glancing over the medical readouts disapprovingly, he hisses, "What did you do to her?"

Cinderblock takes the momentary distraction, to sneak on out of the medical bay.

Cinderblock moves west to the IHQ Central Chamber.

Cinderblock has left.

Long Haul throws his arms up and shakes his head. Well, of COURSE it's gofer duty. What ELSE do any of the other Constructicons call him in for. "Right, right," he grumbles, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders as he moves into 'pouting pose.' The arms drop again as he snaps his non-face in Compile and Arachnae's direction. "Ey!" he shouts at Compile, although he doesn't move to do anything because, well, he's not a medic and wouldn't know what he's doing.

--      Compile looks and blinks. "Oh snap." he all he says as he looks at Shrike and blinks. "I'm doing what Scourge said. How was I to knwo that the optics needed to be covered? I have never worked on Nae before." he says to the flying tape as he moves around and over to Nae. "Hang on a minute," he says as he pulls a protective cover for NAe's optics out and hands them to Scrapper. "I just turned on her optics." he says simple as he looks and mutters to himself.

Arachnae twitches, hissing as she continues to shield optics with her hand. Some randomly assembled words twisted into phrases comes out in that grolwing rasp-whisper involving improbable spatial alignments including riveters, some flex-lead and intake ports.

Scrapper knows from personal experience that having one's visual sensors turned on when one is not ready for it is a rather painful thing. He can only imagine that it must be worse if one is used to having a protective visor. The Constructicon takes the cover and gently fits the makeshift protective visor over Arachnae's optics. Yes, Scrapper can do gentle! He usually just doesn't bother. To Compile, Scrapper growls, "You study the schematics first before you start work, for one thing." To Arachnae, although he has his doubts about whether or not she is lucid enough for it to matter, he chides softly, "Now, now, no need for such language."

Shrike returns to his perch on the corner of Arachnae's table and looks quite...perturbed by her current situation. Since his words are far from calming he does the only thing he knows that she will understand as a genteel gesture. He lowers his head just a bit and nudges the side of her helmet with his beak lightly, then fans his wing out to shield her optics until the cover can be placed over them. Afterall, his wing is a little bigger than her hand.

Long Haul's opticband flashes in surprise. Boy, that girl can swear something fierce when she puts her mind to it! He circles the table and finds himself a good spot to stand, knowing, through practice, the sort of spots that allow him to stay out of the way of the folks who know what they're doing while still staying close enough to respond quickly when he's needed. He also makes it a point to stay close enough to either hold Arachnae down or snatch up Compile and drag him out of the way if either actions prove necessary.

Arachnae is slow to end the twitching, hesitant to remove her hand until both the wing is put over and then the shield. She hisses softly, narrowing optical apatures to slits eve with the covering in place. Her hand drops back down, resting on her chest, entangled in leads. The slow hiss-rattle of air being sucked in before she finds her voice, raspy soft, paper whisper, "Was.. too.. bright." halting response to the adjoinder to mollify the language usage.

Shrike nudges the side of Arachnae's helmet with his beak one final time and then nods as he pulls his wing back into its usual position when the shield is put into place. He says nothing for now, probably a million things running through that mind of his at this particular moment, not the least of which is helping to keep Arachnae calm and comfortable.

Scrapper surveys those remaining in the medical bay: his less-than-intelligent brother and a pair of tapes, and he sighs. Not the ones he would choose to watch over a patient in such a delicate condition. Still, Shrike's being fairly sensible at the moment. Shaking his head, Scrapper instructs, "Shrike? Do try to keep your brother from any further inane mistakes. Long Haul? Just be generally helpful. I need to work on some wing-panels." Then he leans down and comments quietly, "Hang in there, eh? Be a leakin' shame if us Decepticons accidentally do what that Autobot couldn't." Reassuring? Not terribly, but a reasonable beside manner is something that escapes Scrapper on a fundamental level. All that said, he paces out, heading for the laboratory to complete those wing panels.

Shrike notes almost idly. "If she were to perish on this table, a great many of your technicians would follow in short order."

You move east to the IHQ Laboratory.