All in the name of SCIENCE! [open]
Dustin had lost track of how long he'd been on this ship. Months, maybe. More than months. Entirely too long at any rate-long enough that a semi-permanent prosthetic, an on-the-spot improvisation that was meant to last him for just under three quarters of a year, was beginning to deteriorate.
Well, not exactly deteriorate, per se. But it was definitely due for some upgrades that would prevent it from deteriorating, or at any rate allow for repairs should the fail-safes give out, thus making it a properly permanent establishment within the ASIS modifications.
This required only one chip. This one chip, Dustin knew already, would cause him quite a few problems.
There was the makeup of the prosthetic itself to account for, firstly, in that he created it for functionality rather than improvement-that way he could continue to use his arm and hand for the delicate tasks that they could perform before getting smashed, such as building-surprise!-computer chips. This required that all of the standard pressure, touch, and heat receptors be rebuilt within the structure, and that all internal circuitry be wired directly to his peripheral nervous system. All of these receptors and wires, therefore, were live, and would receive any negative impact or crushing or probing actions towards the prosthetic as they would in the normal arm. As in, painfully.
Secondly-and relating to the first-Dustin had no way of turning off the prosthetic in order to dig around in the first place. That would, naturally, be one of the primary functions of this ASIS chip he was installing. It was only a matter of getting the damn thing in that would be a problem.
And thirdly, he had to find a good place to undertake this.
At first Dustin thought about holing himself inside his room, which seemed like a good enough plan until he remembered the first two points mentioned above and that, with all the noise that would likely occur as a result, Yoshimi would kick him out for disturbing her reading, or would otherwise force him to go to Medbay and have some random Engineer poke around in it. So then he thought about his forge-and, after remembering that there were customers involved, the City in general-but the only really secluded areas were several hours of walking from the primary opening by the tubes, and if something went wrong that would be another several hours of walking back before he found electricity and medical supplies and someone competent enough to actually help.
There was the Observation Deck, of course, which would work nicely at certain hours and with the right crowd. The only issue there was that the rest of the crew-all of those that didn't frequent the place during the normal hours-would be there later, and those tended to be the most fussy and intrusive people around (or the most insane). Hydroponics seemed likely, but there were the same problems there as there were with the City, compounded with a population of captive alien carnivores that may react negatively to the sound of wounded animals.
That left the Hangar and the Dart. Seeing as the usual inhabitants of that location were competent mechanics or level-headed military types-at least around the Dart's parking area-then they could be commandeered should something go amiss; there were plenty of extra supplies in his ship; and there was even an inbuilt stereo. Perfect.
Visitors to the Hangar might encounter some bizarre sounds added to the background ambiance of rumbling motors and Stacy's pulse. Faint music, some sort of upbeat partying tune from the twenties, cackled and blared its distortions from the hull of a sleek black spaceship within a crowd of fighters. And through the open airlock, prosthetic arm firmly strapped to a thin working surface next to a mountain of tools, wires and soldering material, Dustin could be heard groaning into an improvised overcoat pillow against the wall whilst he steadily undid another screw.
Well, not exactly deteriorate, per se. But it was definitely due for some upgrades that would prevent it from deteriorating, or at any rate allow for repairs should the fail-safes give out, thus making it a properly permanent establishment within the ASIS modifications.
This required only one chip. This one chip, Dustin knew already, would cause him quite a few problems.
There was the makeup of the prosthetic itself to account for, firstly, in that he created it for functionality rather than improvement-that way he could continue to use his arm and hand for the delicate tasks that they could perform before getting smashed, such as building-surprise!-computer chips. This required that all of the standard pressure, touch, and heat receptors be rebuilt within the structure, and that all internal circuitry be wired directly to his peripheral nervous system. All of these receptors and wires, therefore, were live, and would receive any negative impact or crushing or probing actions towards the prosthetic as they would in the normal arm. As in, painfully.
Secondly-and relating to the first-Dustin had no way of turning off the prosthetic in order to dig around in the first place. That would, naturally, be one of the primary functions of this ASIS chip he was installing. It was only a matter of getting the damn thing in that would be a problem.
And thirdly, he had to find a good place to undertake this.
At first Dustin thought about holing himself inside his room, which seemed like a good enough plan until he remembered the first two points mentioned above and that, with all the noise that would likely occur as a result, Yoshimi would kick him out for disturbing her reading, or would otherwise force him to go to Medbay and have some random Engineer poke around in it. So then he thought about his forge-and, after remembering that there were customers involved, the City in general-but the only really secluded areas were several hours of walking from the primary opening by the tubes, and if something went wrong that would be another several hours of walking back before he found electricity and medical supplies and someone competent enough to actually help.
There was the Observation Deck, of course, which would work nicely at certain hours and with the right crowd. The only issue there was that the rest of the crew-all of those that didn't frequent the place during the normal hours-would be there later, and those tended to be the most fussy and intrusive people around (or the most insane). Hydroponics seemed likely, but there were the same problems there as there were with the City, compounded with a population of captive alien carnivores that may react negatively to the sound of wounded animals.
That left the Hangar and the Dart. Seeing as the usual inhabitants of that location were competent mechanics or level-headed military types-at least around the Dart's parking area-then they could be commandeered should something go amiss; there were plenty of extra supplies in his ship; and there was even an inbuilt stereo. Perfect.
Visitors to the Hangar might encounter some bizarre sounds added to the background ambiance of rumbling motors and Stacy's pulse. Faint music, some sort of upbeat partying tune from the twenties, cackled and blared its distortions from the hull of a sleek black spaceship within a crowd of fighters. And through the open airlock, prosthetic arm firmly strapped to a thin working surface next to a mountain of tools, wires and soldering material, Dustin could be heard groaning into an improvised overcoat pillow against the wall whilst he steadily undid another screw.