CONCERNS OF A "NEW RECRUIT"

The Ark -- Medical Center (2)

Actually not just one repair bay, but a series of inter-
joining medical bays, recovery rooms, science labs and more
where the Arks injured and dying have been placed over the
years. Of all the rooms in the Ark this is probably the area
that is most sterile and almost unwelcoming. The Ark's
repair drones make sure that not one speck of rust is to be
found, and the metal surfaces are well polished and
immaculate. Banks of new looking equipment monitor the life
support apparatus, medical work-stations, and constantly
monitor and diagnose the ailments, and injuries, of those
Autobots unfortunate enough to find themselves here. For the
most part most of the activity seems to be centralised
around the main repair bay where Ratchet has set up shop,
and where numerous repair drones and mechanoids repair and
renovate the injured.

Starcraft stalks by the medlab, looking... bored? It's hard
to tell.

Ratchet has set himself down in a chair and coordinates his
efforts with the computer simulation at a nearby terminal.
At the moment he's trying to work on several of Omega
Supreme's componants that were badly damaged within an
earlier battle. He looks up at the sound of footsteps and
looks over his shoulder. "Ah, Starcraft. Greetings. Can I
help you?"

Starcraft turns his head and looks into the medlab. "I am
just familiarizimg myself with the layout of the Ark," he
emits evenly. "I wish to speak to Optimus Prime, Prowl, or
someone about duties." he says, head tilting. "I am un-used
to being idle."

Ratchet turns himself fully around, mulling this over. "I
see. Perhaps I can help direct you to...the correct division
do to speak. What do you specialize in?"

Starcraft tilts his head, central optic clicking. "Under
Amalgam, I was an enforcer," he emits, tone strange. "Under
Renegade, I performed duties more under security, though my
capabilities are much more overtly combat-oriented."

Ratchet blinkblinks at that answer. "Oh." He muses for a
moment. "From your scans you have an avion transform
correct?"

Starcraft says, "Yes."

Ratchet nods. "That's what I thought. But one to probably
see would be...Skyfire then. he's in charge of our air
forces. Do you know of him?"

Starcraft emits, "I do."

Ratchet tilts his head. "Then that's the one you'll want to
approach more than likely. If you wish I could comment to
him regarding your desire for assignments."

Starcraft says, "If you would. I am unfamiliar with the
protocol here."

Ratchet nods towards the mechanoid. "Will do then. How are
you finding your stay here? Are you getting along alright?"

Starcraft tilts his head, his armor hissing. "It... is too
early to tell." he emits. "I have spoken to no-one since I
arrived." His central optic whirrs. "I fear that I do not
fit in here."

Ratchet shows some concern. "Why do you say that?"

Starcraft steps into the medbay, "In the Undersector we are
all joined by necessity of one form or another and a common
experience." he says. "Here... I am an outsider.  This." he
indicates his Consortium symbol, "represents something far
different than that," he says, indicating Ratchet's Autobot
one.

Ratchet considers that and conceeds in undertanding. "And
you feel as if you have nothing in common with anyone here?
Is that it?" He glances at his own symbol and then at
Starcraft's. "May I ask what the differnces are? I admit, I
don't know too much regarding the Consortium."

Starcraft's optics dim slightly, considering his reply. "The
Consortium represents a community built on commerce, and
other, less legitimate means," he emits. "Under Amalgam it
was more of a criminal empire. Under Renegade, it has the
chance to be something more." He shifts, armor hissing. "It
is an island of survival on a world where even that is a
rare commodity."

Ratchet shifts his weight as he gains an answer. "And how do
you see the Consortium when compared to Autobots?" he asks
with another tilts of the head.

Starcraft's central optic clicks. "Frankly, I do not know
you that well. But on Cybertron, both you and the
Decepticons are seen as trouble. When I was young and naive,
I didn't see any difference between you." he says. "As for
the Consortium, we are linked by necessity, not by
construction or by philosophy."

Ratchet comments, "You've banded together to survive...any
way you could? AM I correct?"

Starcraft says, "Yes."

Ratchet glances to the floor briefly and then glances up.
"Despite our seperate factions, Starcraft...I think
sometimes it's forgotten that we're all Cybertronians...no
matter what else we call ourselves. I can understand how you
would feel the way you do regarding us Autobots...as being
trouble. Especially considering it was the civillians who
suffered the most in the war. But...many of us were
civillians as well at one time. The Autobots you see
here...this is our way of trying to survive. Only...we don't
wish to endanger others by doing so...if possible. We'd
rather avoid that."

Starcraft tilts his head. "How many innocent civilians have
you killed?" he asks, out of the blue.

Ratchet is mute for a small amount of time. The truth is, he
doesn't know. Over the course of the many years of the war
he's only fought when there had been a dire need for him to
do so. But he's knows he's as guilty as others.  There's
also the inquiry of why Starcraft would ask.  "Regarding
actions which were unintentional, I couldn't say," he
answers honestly. "And I do regret the loss of both
Cybertronian and human lives. My life is dedicated to health
and healing...not bringing about the oppisite."

Starcraft's central optic clicks cruelly. "So you have not
been /forced/ to," he emits harshly. Something is off-center
about this line of questioning, but it is almost impossible
to tell what he's thinking or feeling.

Ratchet straightens considerably at *that*. But he maintains
his calm demeaner. "I do not kill innoncents with intent,
Starcraft. This is war. No matter how hard that we try to
prevent it casualties do happen. Innocents perish."

Starcraft's armor shifts forward. "Yes. But not by your
hand," he says. He turns away, optics flared. "This is one
thing that sets us apart."

Ratchet has a feeling where this is leading. But he
questions anyway. "Would you mind explaining?"

Starcraft hisses. "...It is a hard thing to accept in
oneself..." after a pause. "I have been... forced to do
things that weigh on my conscience," he says, an almost
anguished tone creeping into his crude voice. "And some of
your comrades know this."

Ratchet regards the mechanoid and nods rather slowly. "Being
able to forgive and find peace with oneself for past actions
is probaly one of the hardest things one can do."

Starcraft says, "It is difficult to fit in here, knowing
that. But that is not very important."

Ratchet remarks, "You'd be suprised on how well you do fit
in. Sometimes war forces one's hand to do things they will
find hard to live with the rest of their lives.  Autobots
included. All I'll say is, you'll be suprised to find you
may have more in common with them than you think you do."

Starcraft tilts his head. "Perhaps," he says evenly, his
true emotions submerging once more in the obscurity created
by his body. "Thank you for your time, I must try and locate
Skyfire to discuss duties."

Ratchet acknowledges this with yet another nod before he
turns back towards his work. "I wish you well, Starcraft. If
you have need of any help...you'll know where to find me."