trans_9 | (no subject)

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True to his word, Allen has diagnostic exams ready for the taking. A stack of personal screens from the media lab sits next to his work table in the Engineering department, all programmed with tests. Long ones, since they're diagnostic, not cumulative.

One of them is, in fact, programmed with Superboy's name on it. Because Allen is a smartass like that.

"You know Stace, it would be nice if I could have a sign for the door. 'Open Call for Students-slash-Teachers,' something like that," he says, as he roots through the engineering department, looking for just such a thing to make a sign with.

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"That I am," Sparhawk replies. "I've met with other members of the team, and I think I'm getting an idea of their strengths and abilities. What can you tell me about yourself?"

"Short of the Brainies, I am probably the smartest individual on the ship. Jury's still out on the Time Lords, but I'm your man for mechanics, encryption, medical emergencies, and also ranged fighting."

He could be bragging, but, well -

He pauses, thinking a moment before adding, "I can give early warning regarding biological warfare as well, due to the tiny robots in my bloodstream."

Sparhawk is going to take most things that he's told at face value for the moment. Most of the skills his team have are beyond his experience, so he's going to trust them.

He also thinks that by the sound of things, Allen should have been made the Team Leader.

"What sort of ranged weapons do you use, and do you have close combat experience?" Sparhawk asks, considering. He's about to add something else when Allen mentions the robots.

"What's a robot, and what's it doing in your blood?"

Oh, there are reasons he is not - mostly socially based, because Allen is not now and has never been a rally-the-troops type. That would require him to stop running calculations in his head for a couple of minutes to come up with a statistically guaranteed-to-be-rousing speech.

"I've used a bow, but I prefer guns. I'm very good with them. And as for close combat -" he laughs. "No, man. I will run to a safe shootin' distance if something big and smashy rears its head nearby."

He pulls one of his colts from their holsters, and does not hand it over, but holds it up for Sparkhawk's judgment. "I'm not gonna say this isn't my natural scardey-cat reflexes at work, but it's also a logical route of action. I am excellent with anything involving aiming, and I've always been safer picking enemies off at a distance, especially by myself. When I paired up with my wife, who is the best close-combat fighter I know, I was still always of better service picking off the ones she didn't see coming while she cut the ones she did see coming down up close and personal."

"As for the robots -" he pauses, thinking of how best to explain them. "You know what machines are? Robots are a kind of machine built to perform a certain task without humans having to repeatedly tell them what to do. A piece of machinery programmed to do a certain thing, such as build other machines, without humans having to be operating them by hand. Usually they're large enough to see, but the ones I have in my bloodstream are too small to be seen by the human eye. On this level, they're called nanobots, or nanites, and the ones in my blood continuously circle through my body, monitoring my physical condition, checking for and eliminating viruses, poisons, and other things that are not supposed to be there. They deliver status reports to my brain, which is also partially a machine, so that I have continuous knowledge of what is in my body and whether or not it should be there."

He waits to see if this made sense.

Sparhawk nods, examining the gun. Since asking the Master Chief to help him learn how to use a gun properly, Sparhawk has been spending time in the Media Library, researching weapons, and then moving to the Sensoriums to put his learning into practise. He still doesn't have much of an eye for weapons, but the colt looks dangerous enough.

“So you would have no objections to having someone aiding you in close combat?” Sparhawk asks. He was going to use the word protecting, but decided against it. “Should the situation we're in require it, of course.”

He listens to the explanation of robots. “I think I understand, at least partially. Can these nanobots ever turn against you, or are they under your control? If you were to be injured, and blood spilled, would they go with it, or stay within?”

They're old, but they have style.

"Nope. I'd always rather be covering somebody else from a distance than doing the fighting myself. Believe me, I ain't too proud to bow. As for the blood thing -" Allen shrugs. "Yeah, I'd lose a couple. But if I'm losing enough blood for it to make a difference, I'm not going to worry about my 'bots going so much as dying from blood loss -"

Sparhawk nods in understanding. "I plan to avoid situations that involve blood loss as much as possible," he says dryly. "I'm also planning a few scenarios in the Sensoriums to make sure that we mesh as a team, would you be willing to attend those?"

And if Allen isn't, Sparhawk gets a good idea that he's either not a team player, or has that much else on he's distracted.

"And do you have any questions for me?"

"Yeah, sure." No poor sportsmanship here! "Just lemme know ahead of time, 'cause I got a lot on my plate right now schedule-wise. If I don't show up, buzz me on my com or send Leela to drag me out. We're good buddies from back home."

He scratches the back of his head, thinking. "Well, we haven't really talked a lot beforehand. Where're you from?"

That's interesting. Sparhawk will have to hunt down Leela and ask her if she would mind being assigned to guard Allen, should the situation need it. Friends will watch each other's backs more closely.

"I am from Elenia, a small country in Eosia, on our world. Compared to some of the sights I've seen here, our world seems simple, but it is home."

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