Title: Science Chat
Players: Drake, Quentin, and Kita
Location: L.A.: Visitor Consulate - Lab
Synopsis: Kita makes a discovery, but so does Drake. Who's is better?
LOG BEGINS
<VisRadio> Kita swears audibly into her radio. "Cleanup crew to the front gate of the Consulate."
<VisRadio> Drake says, "Did the Insurgents attack?"
<VisRadio> Quentin says, "Or did the local humanspawn leave one of those ever-so-charming bags of flaming excrement on the doorstep again?"
<VisRadio> Kita says, "Not an attack, no. Just dumped a headless body at the gate and left, evidently."
<VisRadio> Drake says, "Headless body? How quaint…. and primitive."
<VisRadio> Kita says, "One of ours. I'll have to have someone confirm who it is."
<VisRadio> Drake says, "Well, is it an Officer? Check the Rank Insignia youngster… We have so few Missing Officers."
<VisRadio> Kita says, "Yes, it is an officer. A Captain. Fairly easy to guess who it is, but I'm going to confirm it anyway."
<VisRadio> Drake says, "Thorough, ain't she? If it is a Captain, I am sure it is Captain Kadjem. Poor Chap. Oh well, perhaps now pilots will check their ships for booby-traps."
<VisRadio> Kita says, "Yeah. Rather stupid not to."
Drake rolls his fake eyes, and just goes back to studying a material sample under a microscope, "Interesting… Almost as good as our Titanium… Wonder where it comes from…"
Quentin frowns and mumbles something in Sirian about if the dear, diminutive Lieutenant expects him to sacrifice one of his staff to come down and confirm what is already known that she can think again. His fingers dance across a keyboard and he observes a computer simulation. "Blast," he says angrily as apparently something hasn't gone to plan.
Drake glances over at Quentin, the Life-Scientist, "Problem? Something I can help with? I'm pretty OK with Computers."
Quentin shakes his head at that. "Your concern is noted, appreciated, but unnecessary. It's just that according to my simulation, this blasted enzyme isn't acting fast enough or lasting long enough…"
Drake ahhs slightly, "Oh… Whatever…" He smirks, and turns back to this new material he found, or so he thinks, "It reminds me of Uranium, but it is denser… Not Radioactive either. Could be just the thing to beef up our armor…"
Quentin tilts his head at that. "I suppose the big question is if it'll affect the aerodynamics of our craft in a negative fashion…"
Drake looks over at Quentin, "It would depend on the Mass issues. It could positively effect the aerodynamics. If we can use less material to get just as strong of a hull, with less mass, we could get better speed and over all performance." He pauses, "The Density of the material would lead me to believe this is the case.. but where would we get all of this… Umm, for lack of a better term, depleted Uranium? It must come from the inside of a Nuclear Reactor, that is no longer in use. No Radioactivity in it…" He looks thoughtful, "What did we do with the waste of the Old Nuclear Reactors we had, 40 years ago?"
Quentin rubs his chin at that. "Didn't we dump the lot of it on the satellite of one of the outer planets of our solar system?"
Drake looks thoughtful, "That sounds right. We might get someone to bring it to us. We could use it at least in a test vehicle. See if my theory stands up under practical use."
Quentin turns back to his simulation. "You do that," he says somewhat impassively as he tries to twiddle with a couple of problematic helixes.
Drake nods slightly, "Sure…. Just order a Mothership up from the front with the other enemy. I'm sure the Leader would approve…" He smiles, knowing how to play Politics, "But, you are the Science Mission's XO… you could convince Diana, and she could order it…?"
Quentin takes a deep, resonant breath. "That might be too great a use of resources on something that's just a theory," he answers with a friendly sort of honesty that comes when a higher-up has to say 'no'. "It might be more expeditious to try to attempt to obtain the materials locally… Say, perhaps, enough to create a working prototype?" It's a way of hedging his bets, to be certain. "With that, we would be able to sway Diana, and through her the Leader, more easily…"
Drake hmms, "Well, I could try… They were using this stuff as ammunition for their tanks… There should be some Ammo-Dumps in our territory…" He looks thoughtful, and moves to a computer, pulling something up, "Ahh yes… Fort Hood in Texas. A Full Corp of Tanks were stationed there…"
Quentin smiles broadly at that, the problem having seemed to have solved itself with minimum inconvenience to himself (which, frankly, is the best kind of solution). "There. See? And with an intellect like yours," he continues, trying not to sound too envious of Drake's technological savvy, "it should be no trouble at all to come up with something that will make these little pink monkeys soil themselves in fear."
Drake punches something up, "Going to see if I can not find some Shock Troopers to go raid that Military Base." He ignores the false compliment, or what he sees as one.
LOG ENDS