- Motto: "Peace, Love, and Rock n' Roll"
- Weapon: Dirge Gun
Skids sat hunched over the station in his own current little corner of the lab, muttering to himself as he tried to think about/monitor a few dozen things at once. There were a large number of datapads scattered around him, containing information ranging from Earth history, to random cultural studies, to lists of potential alt modes, to headlines of current events. The piles even held a few Ark status reports that somehow managed to worm their way in, no doubt tossed there by some well-meaning fellow lab-dweller who knew he might miss them otherwise. His computer display, meanwhile, was covered in small windows displaying various feeds from Earth TV and radio stations, which he was listening to on a personal audio connection.
He knew some of the others would grumble from time to time about him getting to spend all of his time "fooling around" while they had to do the real work, but Skids thought his work was important, even if it turned out no one else did... the 'Cons were certainly paying attention to whatever cultural aspects they could subvert to their own purposes, after all. And while some 'Bots looked at otherworld culture as a hobby, he didn't have the luxury of observing only the enjoyable things. It certainly seemed that fully half his time was spent monitoring the multitude of Earth's violent "hot spots". This was one of the planets where he thought there was a good chance that the Decepticons would barely have to lift a finger to destroy the place - the humans might well do it for them.
Plus it was hard work trying to keep all of the information straight sometimes. At least this time he had managed to keep the list of possible places to station the Ark free of any backyards belonging to planetary rulers, unlike that one incident he hoped no one else remembered.
One of the radio feeds started to fizzle out on him, and he smacked the console ineffectually and grumbled. It was a frequent problem... even their relatively sophisticated equipment couldn't do much if the source itself tended to fluctuate or suffer interference. Still, maybe Wheeljack would have some ideas for a device that could help... he used one hand to tune into another radio station that was carrying information similar to what the fizzled one had been covering, and raised the other hand towards Wheeljack's lab station.
"Wheeljack? If you're not too busy, perhaps I could tell you about something you could help me with at some point..."
It wasn't until some moments later when he'd finally found a new radio station that Skids realized there'd been no answer. He looked up and found the labs seemed to be empty except for him. A glance at the chronometer further told him that he'd once again spent far too much time bent over his console. He hoped he hadn't missed anything important... he'd heard a few intercom messages, but had tuned them out since they didn't contain his name. He didn't think they had, anyway.
After running through his head a list of places Wheeljack might be, he decided to start with messaging Wheeljack's Command Deck station... even if he wasn't there, maybe someone else would come across the message and tell him where the engineer had gotten off to.
>>"Wheeljack? Please tell me I wasn't imagining things and you actually were here in the labs earlier, it will help my sanity. If you happen to not be too busy at the moment, I could use your help with a potential project. I didn't miss anything again, did I?"<<