#Optical bubble probes
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stxr-bxster · 2 years ago
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@vortship
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrip-
Krigg casually discarded the removable pin of her cup of instant broth noodles over her shoulder, reclining back into the pilot seat of her ship. In a string of hisses and faint bubbling noises, the cup’s built-in heat pack brought the contents to a pleasant temperature. The covering followed the pin suit, and she eagerly dug into the warm food, bringing a heaping ball of soupy noodles to her mouth.
Slurrrrrrrrrrrrrrpppp-
Hmmm. Not bad. Krigg chewed slowly, watching the view of the big blue marble her ship was orbiting. It had life on it - because of course it had, but she’d decided to sneakily plant herself behind a clump of space debris and to stabilize the Revenger there for a few rotations. She didn’t exactly NEED to go planetside, or to even come into the planet’s orbit, but it was always a little more convenient to continue one’s journey after accumulating some passive momentup from going a few times around a planet.
Plus, she wanted to recharge the ship’s solar batteries. So might as well loaf around on low ship power and take a little relaxing break from cruising through the cosmos in a straight line.
Beep!
Or not. Krigg got up on one elbow from her leaning posture, stopping mid-chew. She looked over to the ship’s dashboard, where passive scans were reporting transcripts for some unusual comms arrays. She leaned towards them, squinting. Something about the wavelenghts and equipment that denoted made a faint itch pop in at the back of her mind - oh she knew those signals, she knew them, she KNEW THEM-
“...The hell are THEY doing there?” She grumbled. Oh, now she remembered. And she was more confused - Irken signals, in the litteral ASS END of nowhere, far away from conquered space?
Krigg grimaced. She didn’t like those guys in a very personnal manner. She thought they were honestly creepy. But if this was just a probe broadcasting things, the prospect of tearing it apart for the hell of it was enough to put a giddy little grin on her face.
Oh, what the hell. She could use some action. Slowly, Krigg backed up the Revenger from its hiding spot, toggled on the optical camo, and zipped Planetside, claws drumming eagerly on the ship’s controls. Maybe this WOULD be interesting!
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besteyecentre · 6 months ago
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Retina Specialist In Gurgaon
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What is the Retina?
Imagine your eye as a camera. The retina is like the film or sensor in that camera. It’s located at the back of the eye and is made up of light-sensitive cells. These cells turn light into signals that travel through the optic nerve to your brain, allowing you to see images. If the retina doesn’t work correctly, it’s like having a blurry or broken camera.
Common Retina Problems and How They Are Treated
Several problems can affect the retina. Let’s look at some of the most common issues and how doctors treat them.
1. Retinal Detachment
What is it? Retinal detachment happens when the retina pulls away from its normal position at the back of the eye. It’s like peeling a sticker off a book; once it’s lifted, it doesn’t stick back easily.
Symptoms:
Seeing floaters (tiny spots or threads floating in your vision)
Sudden flashes of light
A shadow or curtain over part of your vision
Treatment:
Laser Therapy: A laser is used to create a barrier around the area where the retina has detached. This helps the retina stick back to its original spot.
Cryopexy: A freezing probe is used to create a scar that helps hold the retina in place.
Surgery: In more severe cases, surgery might be required to reattach the retina. This could involve injecting a gas bubble or using a silicone band to hold the retina in place.
2. Macular Degeneration
What is it? Macular degeneration affects the macula, a small part of the retina responsible for central vision. It’s like having a scratch right in the middle of your camera lens that makes it hard to see fine details.
Symptoms:
Blurred or distorted central vision
Difficulty reading or recognizing faces
Treatment:
Medication: Drugs can be injected into the eye to slow the progression of the disease.
Laser Therapy: This can help seal leaking blood vessels that are damaging the macula.
Vitamin Supplements: Some studies show that certain vitamins might help slow down the disease.
3. Diabetic Retinopathy
What is it? Diabetic retinopathy is a complication of diabetes that affects the blood vessels in the retina. It’s like having a clogged pipe where blood vessels become leaky or blocked, disrupting normal vision.
Symptoms:
Blurred vision
Seeing floaters
Vision loss in severe cases
Treatment:
Laser Treatment: This can reduce the leakage of blood from the damaged vessels.
Medications: Drugs might be used to treat swelling or other issues related to diabetic retinopathy.
Vitrectomy: This is a surgical procedure where the vitreous gel in the eye is removed and replaced.
4. Retinal Vein Occlusion
What is it? Retinal vein occlusion occurs when a vein in the retina becomes blocked. This blockage can cause bleeding and swelling in the retina, similar to a traffic jam where everything gets backed up.
Symptoms:
Sudden vision loss
Blurry or distorted vision
Treatment:
Medications: These can reduce swelling and treat blood vessel problems.
Laser Therapy: This can help manage the damage caused by the blockage.
How Do Doctors Diagnose Retina Problems?
To figure out if you have a retinal issue, doctors will do a few tests. These might include:
Eye Exam: A doctor will look at the back of your eye using a special instrument.
Fundus Photography: This test takes detailed pictures of the retina.
Optical Coherence Tomography (OCT): This imaging technique gives a cross-sectional view of the retina to see any changes.
Fluorescein Angiography: A dye is injected into your bloodstream, and pictures are taken to see how blood flows through the retina.
How to Take Care of Your Retina
Taking care of your retina is important for maintaining good vision. Here are some tips for keeping your eyes healthy:
Regular Eye Exams: Visit an eye doctor regularly to catch problems early.
Healthy Diet: Eat foods rich in vitamins and minerals, like fruits and vegetables.
Control Chronic Conditions: Keep diseases like diabetes under control with the help of your doctor.
Protect Your Eyes: Wear sunglasses to protect your eyes from UV light.
FAQs About Retina Treatment
Q1: How do I know if I need retina treatment?
A1: If you notice changes in your vision like floaters, flashes of light, or blurred vision, it’s important to see an eye doctor. They can perform tests to determine if you need treatment.
Q2: Is retinal surgery painful?
A2: Most retinal surgeries are done under local anesthesia, so you won’t feel pain during the procedure. You might have some discomfort afterward, but this can be managed with medications.
Q3: Can retinal problems be prevented?
A3: While not all retinal issues can be prevented, you can lower your risk by managing health conditions like diabetes, eating a healthy diet, and having regular eye exams.
Q4: How long does recovery take after retinal treatment?
A4: Recovery time varies depending on the treatment. It can range from a few weeks to several months. Your doctor will give you specific instructions on what to expect.
Q5: Are there any side effects of retinal treatments?
A5: Like any medical procedure, retinal treatments can have side effects. These might include vision changes or discomfort. Your doctor will discuss potential risks with you before starting treatment.
Best Eye Hospital In Gurgaon
Best Eye Treatment In Gurgaon
Best Retina Treatment In India
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sunflaresspace · 1 year ago
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So sometimes I write stuff, like, creative writing for media I am interested in. I create characters and lore and background. Today it is Transformers.
Today it is the worst person I have ever created.
TW/CW: blood, needles, medical setting, surgery/operations, caste like systems, elitism, medical trauma
The processor.
Such a delicate element of Cybertronian biology, an intricate network of connection and wires, brought to life by energon, electricity moving faster than his optics could see.
It was a privilege to see the processor so up close. Lights blinking, systems whirring, the almost indiscernible clicking of the chronometer. He was ignoring his own, using his patient’s steady clicking to keep his awareness of the passing of time.
It was only when the helm was open, when the dome was removed, that he got to hear the sounds. At times he could tell just from a glance what those delicate, thoroughly designed systems were optimised to do. Intended to do.
The fans of the mech below him grew louder, a clear sign of discomfort. Of possible waking.
“Shhhh, its okay, you're okay,” Red Cross murmured, his servos stilling as his focus shifted to the machine he'd connected himself to, flooding his patient's systems with anaesthetic.
The mech stilled again.
Good.
Perhaps having mnemosurgical needles installed was not the most accepted within the medical community, but he hadn't regretted it a single day. The rush of connection, the possibilities laying at his fingertips, the complete life of someone unfolding before him. The control he had over their memories. Their thoughts. Their ideas.
It wasn't uncommon for non-medics to have good ideas. He was more than happy to hear them out, to develop those ideas for application and use within his field.
It was so easy to convince them to talk to him. To have them follow him to his domain. An explanation here, a demonstration there, they ate from his palm. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. If he hadn't been destined for medicine, if his function had dictated else, perhaps he could have been a great politician. After all, isn't politics just using the correct words to convince your way is right?
Images slid through his processor, stills of memories, thoughts and dreams. He didn't care for their other experiences, all he needed was the smell of disinfectant and the clicking of their chronometer. His lips parted, glossa running across it slightly as he pressed further, needles probing deeper into the core of this being, sliding between printplates and impossibly thin wires.
Deeper. More. He needed the treasure, he needed the fruit of his labour, he needed the victory and ecstacy of another success. Another addition. Another idea to cement himself in medicine.
His first patients hadn't survived. He'd been told this would likely happen, even with his steady servos. A surgeon with shaky servos might as well offline, what purpose could they have?
No, his servos had been as steady as ever. And in the grand scheme of things, what were a few casualties in the name of science? At times there was a price to advancement, to improvement, to the betterment of all. Why would a nameless mech be worth more than the lives of the many?
His venting hitched. The wash of memories slowed down, the first bubbles of thoughts and ideas finding their way through his connection with this mech's very essence. They sunk into his processor, his bright blue eyes dimming as victory washed over him. It filled his frame with joy, with satisfaction to its core.
He bit his glossa. He could relish in his success later.
The memories were extracted from the mech's mind, the ideas leaving nought but a trace of their existence. He'd had enough practice with tweezers, removing foreign bodies from hosts that didn't need them.
No, this nameless mech certainly didn't need those ideas. A miner could only hope to retrieve the materials for a good medic, but to aspire any higher would be foolish. Unnatural. After all, how could a demolitioner's hammer ever be of use in the delicate works of operation? How could his scalpel ever wish to carve out rocks and ore? No. Your destiny is your function. And he had just relieved this poor mech from doubting the good creator of all, from doubting the path Primus had laid out for him.
Red Cross extracted himself from the miner's helm, taking up a fine cloth to wipe the energon residue on the sharp points on his digits. The scent of freshly drawn energon no longer bothered him, he had gotten used to it early on in his career. He knew the limited amount of bleeding wouldn't be a risk to someone of his stature.
Though, in all honesty, if he died...
A glance was cast at the monitoring device.
Who would miss a nameless miner?
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jcmarchi · 1 year ago
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Salts and Organics Observed on Ganymede’s Surface by NASA’s Juno - Technology Org
New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/salts-and-organics-observed-on-ganymedes-surface-by-nasas-juno-technology-org/
Salts and Organics Observed on Ganymede’s Surface by NASA’s Juno - Technology Org
Data collected by NASA’s Juno mission indicates a briny past may be bubbling to the surface on Jupiter’s largest moon.
This enhanced image of the Jovian moon Ganymede was obtained by the JunoCam imager aboard NASA’s Juno spacecraft during the mission’s June 7, 2021, flyby of the icy moon on Juno’s 34th pass close to Jupiter. Image credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/Kalleheikki Kannisto (CC BY)
NASA’s Juno mission has observed mineral salts and organic compounds on the surface of Jupiter’s moon Ganymede. Data for this discovery was collected by the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper (JIRAM) spectrometer aboard the spacecraft during a close flyby of the icy moon.
The findings, which could help scientists better understand the origin of Ganymede and the composition of its deep ocean, were published on Oct. 30 in the journal Nature Astronomy.
Larger than the planet Mercury, Ganymede is the biggest of Jupiter’s moons and has long been of great interest to scientists due to the vast internal ocean of water hidden beneath its icy crust.
Previous spectroscopic observations by NASA’s Galileo spacecraft and Hubble Space Telescope as well as the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope hinted at the presence of salts and organics, but the spatial resolution of those observations was too low to make a determination.
Processed data from the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper (JIRAM) spectrometer aboard NASA’s Juno mission is superimposed on a mosaic of optical images from the agency’s Galileo and Voyager spacecraft that show grooved terrain on Jupiter’s moon Ganymede. Image credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/ASI/INAF/JIRAM/Brown University
On June 7, 2021, Juno flew over Ganymede at a minimum altitude of 650 miles (1,046 kilometers). Shortly after the time of closest approach, the JIRAM instrument acquired infrared images and infrared spectra (essentially the chemical fingerprints of materials, based on how they reflect light) of the moon’s surface.
Built by the Italian Space Agency, Agenzia Spaziale Italiana, JIRAM was designed to capture the infrared light (invisible to the naked eye) that emerges from deep inside Jupiter, probing the weather layer down to 30 to 45 miles (50 to 70 kilometers) below the gas giant’s cloud tops.
But the instrument has also been used to offer insights into the terrain of moons Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto (known collectively as the Galilean moons for their discoverer, Galileo).
The JIRAM data of Ganymede obtained during the flyby achieved an unprecedented spatial resolution for infrared spectroscopy – better than 0.62 miles (1 kilometer) per pixel. With it, Juno scientists were able to detect and analyze the unique spectral features of non-water-ice materials, including hydrated sodium chloride, ammonium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, and possibly aliphatic aldehydes.
“The presence of ammoniated salts suggests that Ganymede may have accumulated materials cold enough to condense ammonia during its formation,” said Federico Tosi, a Juno co-investigator from Italy’s National Institute for Astrophysics in Rome and lead author of the paper. “The carbonate salts could be remnants of carbon dioxide-rich ices.”
This natural color view of Ganymede was taken from the Galileo spacecraft during its first encounter with the Jovian moon. Credit: NASA/JPL
Exploring Other Jovian Worlds
Previous modeling of Ganymede’s magnetic field determined the moon’s equatorial region, up to a latitude of about 40 degrees, is shielded from the energetic electron and heavy ion bombardment created by Jupiter’s hellish magnetic field. The presence of such particle fluxes is well known to impact salts and organics negatively.
During the June 2021 flyby, JIRAM covered a narrow range of latitudes (10 to 30 degrees north) and a broader range of longitudes (minus 35 degrees east to 40 degrees east) in the Jupiter-facing hemisphere.
“We found the greatest abundance of salts and organics in the dark and bright terrains at latitudes protected by the magnetic field,” said Scott Bolton, Juno’s principal investigator from the Southwest Research Institute in San Antonio. “This suggests we are seeing the remnants of a deep ocean brine that reached the surface of this frozen world.”
Ganymede is not the only Jovian world Juno has flown by. The moon Europa, thought to harbor an ocean under its icy crust, also came under Juno’s gaze, first in October 2021 and then in September 2022. Now Io is receiving the flyby treatment. The next close approach to that volcano-festooned world is scheduled for Dec. 30, when the spacecraft will come within 932 miles (1,500 kilometers) of Io’s surface.
More About the Mission
NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, a division of Caltech in Pasadena, California, manages the Juno mission for the principal investigator, Scott Bolton, of the Southwest Research Institute in San Antonio. Juno is part of NASA’s New Frontiers Program, which is managed at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, for the agency’s Science Mission Directorate in Washington.
The Italian Space Agency (ASI) funded the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper. Lockheed Martin Space in Denver built and operates the spacecraft.
Source: National Aeronautics and Space Administration
You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.
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spacenutspod · 1 year ago
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This enhanced image of the Jovian moon Ganymede was obtained by the JunoCam imager aboard NASA’s Juno spacecraft during the mission’s June 7, 2021, flyby of the icy moon. Data from that pass has been used to detect the presence of salts and organics on Ganymede. NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/Kalleheikki Kannisto (CC BY) This look at the complex surface of Jupiter’s moon Ganymede came from NASA’s Juno mission during a close pass in June 2021. At closest approach, the spacecraft came within just 650 miles (1,046 kilometers) of Ganymede’s surface.Image data: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSSImage processing by Thomas Thomopoulos (CC BY) Data collected by NASA’s Juno mission indicates a briny past may be bubbling to the surface on Jupiter’s largest moon. NASA’s Juno mission has observed mineral salts and organic compounds on the surface of Jupiter’s moon Ganymede. Data for this discovery was collected by the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper (JIRAM) spectrometer aboard the spacecraft during a close flyby of the icy moon. The findings, which could help scientists better understand the origin of Ganymede and the composition of its deep ocean, were published on Oct. 30 in the journal Nature Astronomy. Larger than the planet Mercury, Ganymede is the biggest of Jupiter’s moons and has long been of great interest to scientists due to the vast internal ocean of water hidden beneath its icy crust. Previous spectroscopic observations by NASA’s Galileo spacecraft and Hubble Space Telescope as well as the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope hinted at the presence of salts and organics, but the spatial resolution of those observations was too low to make a determination. Processed data from the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper (JIRAM) spectrometer aboard NASA’s Juno mission is superimposed on a mosaic of optical images from the agency’ s Galileo and Voyager spacecraft that show grooved terrain on Jupiter’s moon Ganymede.NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/ASI/INAF/JIRAM/Brown University On June 7, 2021, Juno flew over Ganymede at a minimum altitude of 650 miles (1,046 kilometers). Shortly after the time of closest approach, the JIRAM instrument acquired infrared images and infrared spectra (essentially the chemical fingerprints of materials, based on how they reflect light) of the moon’s surface. Built by the Italian Space Agency, Agenzia Spaziale Italiana, JIRAM was designed to capture the infrared light (invisible to the naked eye) that emerges from deep inside Jupiter, probing the weather layer down to 30 to 45 miles (50 to 70 kilometers) below the gas giant’s cloud tops. But the instrument has also been used to offer insights into the terrain of moons Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto (known collectively as the Galilean moons for their discoverer, Galileo). The JIRAM data of Ganymede obtained during the flyby achieved an unprecedented spatial resolution for infrared spectroscopy – better than 0.62 miles (1 kilometer) per pixel. With it, Juno scientists were able to detect and analyze the unique spectral features of non-water-ice materials, including hydrated sodium chloride, ammonium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, and possibly aliphatic aldehydes. “The presence of ammoniated salts suggests that Ganymede may have accumulated materials cold enough to condense ammonia during its formation,” said Federico Tosi, a Juno co-investigator from Italy’s National Institute for Astrophysics in Rome and lead author of the paper. “The carbonate salts could be remnants of carbon dioxide-rich ices.” Exploring Other Jovian Worlds Previous modeling of Ganymede’s magnetic field determined the moon’s equatorial region, up to a latitude of about 40 degrees, is shielded from the energetic electron and heavy ion bombardment created by Jupiter’s hellish magnetic field. The presence of such particle fluxes is well known to negatively impact salts and organics. During the June 2021 flyby, JIRAM covered a narrow range of latitudes (10 degrees north to 30 degrees north) and a broader range of longitudes (minus 35 degrees east to 40 degrees east) in the Jupiter-facing hemisphere. “We found the greatest abundance of salts and organics in the dark and bright terrains at latitudes protected by the magnetic field,” said Scott Bolton, Juno’s principal investigator from the Southwest Research Institute in San Antonio. “This suggests we are seeing the remnants of a deep ocean brine that reached the surface of this frozen world.” Ganymede is not the only Jovian world Juno has flown by. The moon Europa, thought to harbor an ocean under its icy crust, also came under Juno’s gaze, first in October 2021 and then in September 2022. Now Io is receiving the flyby treatment. The next close approach to that volcano-festooned world is scheduled for Dec. 30, when the spacecraft will come within 932 miles (1,500 kilometers) of Io’s surface. More About the Mission NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, a division of Caltech in Pasadena, California, manages the Juno mission for the principal investigator, Scott Bolton, of the Southwest Research Institute in San Antonio. Juno is part of NASA’s New Frontiers Program, which is managed at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, for the agency’s Science Mission Directorate in Washington. The Italian Space Agency (ASI) funded the Jovian InfraRed Auroral Mapper. Lockheed Martin Space in Denver built and operates the spacecraft. More information about Juno is available at: https://www.nasa.gov/juno News Media Contacts DC AgleJet Propulsion Laboratory, Pasadena, [email protected] Karen Fox / Alana JohnsonNASA Headquarters, Washington301-286-6284 / [email protected] / [email protected] Deb SchmidSouthwest Research Institute, San [email protected] Marco GallianiNational Institute for Astrophysics+39 06 355 33 [email protected] 2023-157
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With proper measurements one can quantify the susceptibility of one's design or component to the negative effects of aeration.
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sparkledfirecracker · 4 years ago
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Wrong Encounter
Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?
@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.
Title: Wrong Encounter
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader
Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.
Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon
A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again!  I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.
ENJOY!
Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.
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How it started
The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.
The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.
 “There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.
 “OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.
 “He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.
 Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”
 “Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you
 Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.
 “Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.
 He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.
 “Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”
 “Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.
 “Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”
 “No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”
 “Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.
 “Fine.”
 “Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.
 You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.
 Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.
 “My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”
 “No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.
 “I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”
 “Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.
 “I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.
 It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”
 How’s it going?
One week later
Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.
 Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.
 Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.
 “Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”
 “Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”
 “Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”
 He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.
 You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.
 “You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”
 “Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.
 “That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.
 “I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”
 “This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.
 Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.
 “Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.
 “Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”
 “No.” you protested.
 His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.
 Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.
 You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”
 Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.
 Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.
 Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.
 Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.
 “Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”
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nonbinarybrainstorm · 4 years ago
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I hope I don't make this too complicated or anything, but could you write something where Soundwave is comforting-leading to smut with-an afab enby reader who feels just kinda insecure about their top half and not passing. Also if you can, have reader have a praise kink?..
I hope this is the sort of thing you had in mind. I know every enby’s experience is a little different so likely my own experiences and feelings bleed through to some degree. I can only hope it doesn’t touch on anything unpleasant for you and that it’s something you can enjoy!
They’re standing in front of the polished chrome of his equipment, specifically, the device used for telemetry. Soundwave stands nearby, watching as they hold out their loose shirt then shift their hands in some kind of attempt to smooth out their breasts. Clearly, they’re so enrapt by this that they haven’t noticed him yet. Not wanting to startle his little love, he makes his steps loud and moves slowly to reach in and lift them up in both of his hands. They make a soft sound of surprise as he lifts them up, still not fully used to being manhandled so effectively, absolutely. At first, they don’t meet his optics as their cheeks darken in embarrassment, telling him they likely suspect he’d been watching them.
“May I ask what it was that you were trying to do?” Soundwave probes gently, using his thumb to gently smooth over their hair.
“I… It’s just…” they falter and press their cheek against his hand, hiding their face against the warm metal.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Soundwave assures them but they shake their head.
“No, it’s okay. I just haven’t been feeling my top half, you know?” they shrug and hug around as much of Soundwave’s wrist as they can.
“If you were a transformer I would simply suggest a rebuild but it’s not that easy for humans, is it?”
They laugh albeit a touch bitterly at that, “No, it isn’t…”
Soundwave takes a moment, looking at their distant gaze and soft features that he loves so.
“What displeases you about it?” Soundwave asks but it’s more distant, like a second thought as he studies them, searching for the answer.
Not for the first time, he curses his lack of cultural experience, leaving him to ask rather than simply knowing what ails his little love.
They sigh and look down at themself, “People just look at me and think, well, they think about the wrong gender, the wrong me. Just because…”
“Because?”
“Because I have the parts that make me look like a girl to them,” their voice is much softer now with that tone that breaks his spark, one that tells him of far too many shed tears.
Soundwave raises them up higher, closer to his face as he rubs their side soothingly and in a soft tone, he rumbles, “So you defy the function of your parts… How wonderfully Decepticon of you.”
They gaze up at him with a silent question and he lets his facemask slide away so they can see the gentle smile on his face.
“I must confess my lack of reference for knowing what it is that makes others perceive you so,” Soundwave murmurs as his touches become more insistent, the excitement from being able to be allowed to touch them so building as it always does, “but from watching I can at least discern that this is a part of it. Am I correct?”
His thumb pushes under their shirt and runs gently over their soft skin, they suck in a sharp breath as the warm metal presses against one of their breasts. They nod, not completely trusting their voice.
“I know you likely know this but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate,” Soundwave whispers and lets his glossa slip from between his lips to softly run over their stomach, his other thumb tugging at the waist of their pants, “You are not your body and I love you. However, I do love your body because of how when I touch you a certain way you make the sweetest sounds. How can I not love it when it lets me make you feel so wonderful?”
They gasp as his glossa runs over their breasts and they cling to his hand.
“So may I show you?” his hot vents rush over their skin, making it tingle pleasantly, “May I show you just how much I love you as you are?”
They nod, biting their lower lip between their teeth and watch with wide eyes as he slips their pants the rest of the way to lean in and press his glossa against their folds. He adjusts them in his hands so their legs are parted further, letting the hot, wet mesh of his glossa rub against their clit and entrance. Pressing the back of their hand against their mouth in an attempt to keep their noises at bay, they watch the shiny material move between their legs and occasionally brush their thighs. The feather-light touch against their skin makes them squirm, the touch being too much and not enough at the same time.
Soundwave pauses for a moment, his optics dull with lust as he studies their flushed body, “Look at you… You’re gorgeous like this and the feeling of you in my hands… it’s…”
He chuckles more to himself than anything as his glossa flicks against them again, making them softly cry out, “So responsive. You really are perfect. I feel as though I don’t tell you that enough.”
Soundwave pushes as hard as he dares against them and lets a faint current of charge run over his glossa, stimulating every nerve all at once and holds them steady against his glossa as they writhe. He hums in delight as their thighs tighten against his face, making the already intense feeling peak even higher. They let out soft pleas and cries as they grind against his glossa until he moves it again, licking lazily over their soft folds. Crying out as the charge increases ever so slightly, they go stiff in his hands as the cum on his glossa, mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut. Once the intense feeling is dragged from their body, they collapse limply in his hands and look up, panting, to find Soundwave licking his upper lip like he just ate something delicious.
“You truly are a treat, little love,” Soundwave purrs, and a surprised laugh bubbles from their chest as they hide their embarrassment against his welcoming hand.
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dildo-swaggins-t-baggins · 4 years ago
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Lord Rodimus tortures and tries to break Thunderclash in front of the whole Lost Light crew, but Thunderclash refuses to break: the robot that send the mean message to Rodimus confesses and apologizes, but Rodimus kicks him and laughs: "Do you think that changes anything? Everyone treated me like unfairly even before they misunderstood my words about Thunderclash and nobody was there for me when I needed them most! Tarn may be horrible, but at least he sees my potential and not just my flaws!"💔
Sorry this took awhile, been worn out with everything! But I hope you enjoy it!
Rodimus jammed the shock probe in the colorful side of the the Captain, watching the colorful frame buck and groan, but not a sound escaped those golden lip plates. The wires stretched but didn’t break, Tarn was getting better with his knots, he made another mental note, making sure that the purple tank was never behind him. 
His spark shriveled, somehow the new and improved Captain didn’t even groan, where was the scream, the howl of pain, the fat tears? Rodimus pulled the probe back and watched as another ribbon of energon leaked from the Captain’s intake. Then he did something, something that made Rodimus’ spark burn, the fragger grinned and winked as his paint started to dull.
“What are you doing?” Rodimus hissed grabbing the Captain’s chin and pulling his helm up.
“What?” He wheezed a bubble of energon slipped past his denta. “Can’t I smile?”
Rodimus moved his servo down to the base of his neck. “I shouldn’t expect anything less from you, Greatest Autobot of All Time.”
“That’s enough Rodimus!” Ratchet yelled, flinging his famous ratchet.
Rodimus caught it, not even turning away from the dulling red optics, he crushed the tool in his servo and spared Ratchet a glance. The medic was covered in energon, Drift was under him, still awake but his chassis was open. “Ratchet, do you not understand the basic concept of slow death?”
“Maybe you don’t understand that you just attacked your captain, and your amica,” Ratchet glared at him. “I know that hurt, that hurt because I felt it too.” He hissed, welding up a crack. Drift whined and Ratchet hushed him with soft words, mumbling sayings of ‘everything will be okay, just hang on’. 
“So you know everything now don’t you?” Rodimus snapped, turning away from his replacement and glaring down at the doctor. “What are you going to do Ratchet? You’re surrounded, the Lost Light is in pieces, and the DJD is here. Maybe you should think this through, and you might not lose another patient?” 
Ratchet snapped his intake shut, his optics twitching, taking in Rodimus’ features. “Why’d you leave the Lost Light?”
“Why would I stay? Why the frag would I stay? Everyone said it, I was a horrible captain, even Optimus thought I was, setting me up with a babysitter. Then Thunderclash joined,” His throat tightened just saying his name out loud. “Who gladly showed all of my flaws, the crew favored him and...Getaway was right, I was a horrible captain.” He grit his denta, his helm burned, absently he reached behind his neck and rubbed a sore spot.
The Captain’s engine stalled behind him.
Rodimus glanced back, the leaking smile was gone, his optics finally held a certain fear, the fear Rodimus was looking for. “You were right Ratchet.”
“What are you going on about?” Ratchet snapped, placing wires back and closing up Drift’s chassis with a patch. 
“I didn’t stop Megatron, or Overlord, and I couldn’t save Nyon.”
“What?” The grumpy medic frowned. “What are you going on about?”
“That message you sent me.”
“I didn’t send you squat.”
Atomizer of all the mechs stepped out, his digits fidgeted. “Uh, Rod-Lord Rodimus, so that wasn’t Ratchet, that was Getaway, and well I helped.”
Rodimus’ engine rumbled and in a flash he shot off Atomizer’s helm, what left was a smoldering stump. “Figures, still doesn’t fix anything, not like it can be fixed.” He huffed rubbing the back of his helm. “Doesn’t change anything. The whole crew treated me unfairly, even before the incident, before Thunderclash even joined. No one understood, or made an effort to. Then they found me, funny that they found use of me, and overlooked my flaws.” He sighed, his spark ached, he felt it, Drift was pulling on their bond, begging for Rodimus to come back. 
“Found use?” The Captain croaked and laughed. “Really Rodimus, they found use?”
He spun around, staching the probe and slamming it into his replacement’s side, the Captain grinned through the pain, staring right at Rodimus, optics flickering. Rodimus pulled back. 
The Captain laughed. “Use? I’m sorry Rodimus, I think you just need to face it, there’s no use for you.”
“I’m sure I can kill you.”
“Then why haven’t you done it yet?” More energon leaked out of his intake. “You couldn’t kill Megatron, or Drift, so what makes you think you can kill me?”
“Thunderclash, you moron shut up!” Velocity snapped.
Tarn stomped over to Rodimus, towering over him. “My lord-”
“Take him to the ship, we have more...toys there.” Rodimus cut off Tarn. “Let the rest of them wait.” He shifted into his alt-mode and raced off, his spark burning, helm hurting and his tanks twisting. “Stupid replacement, stupid Ratchet and Drift and…” He trailed off, creating a trail of dust in his wake.
________________________
Thunderclash hissed as he was carried off, he only spared a glance at Velocity and Riptide, meeting his closest friend’s horrified faces. He offered a small sad smile, knowing that if this plan failed, he would die, horribly. But at least Megatron would get the crew out, somehow. And maybe, if this plan worked out, just maybe Thunderclash might reach Rodimus.
They carried him to the ship, his helm filled with static and system errors but he held on, just a little longer. They stopped, and Thunderclash felt Tesarus flinch, he lifted his helm a bit and saw Tarn and Rodimus, they were close, servos balled into fists. One of his audio inputs was somewhat working, he focused on it, on what they were saying.
“You said you would kill him off!”
“Well I’m going to.”
“When are we going to finish off Megatron?”
“You will, I’m not satisfied yet!
“They were right there, he was right there, I could’ve made your whole crew’s sparks fade!”
Did Rodimus winch at that? “You’ll get your chance, not like I’m going to let them escape.”
Tran rumbled. “Rod-”
Rodimus burst into flames. “Enough! That’s the end of it! Thunderclash dies, the Lost Light is gone, and you can have Megatron’s helm!” He roared, turning to Tesarus. “Bring him to my hab.” He snarled, still in flames and stomping off.
Thunderclash groaned, he stared at the floor, counting the steps, the markings, anything from minor dents to scuffs, anything to keep his processor off the pain. He was carried to a hab, a large one, huge compared to anything the Lost Light had. His frame was hooked up to a couple of dangling wires, Tesarus checked his work and left.
Thunderclash hissed, there was an upside to energon loss, the numbing, he would’ve been in unimaginable pain, but now, as his frame leaked, there was just the steady feeling of cold creeping up. 
Rodimus stormed in, prying off the rifle on his back and tossing it aside. “Fragging Tarn, he’s obsessed over Megatron, so-” He stopped and turned to Thunderclash. “So driven to get revenge.” Rodimus’ shoulder eased and he fell on his berth, helm in his servos. “I’m just as bad as him aren’t I?”
There he was, that’s his captain, there’s the Rodimus Thunderclash knew! “No, you’re not.”
“Ugh, shut up.” Rodimus flopped back. 
“Rodimus-”
“It’s Lord Rodimus.”
“You know how stupid that sounds right?”
“Why won’t you shut up?”
“Because, you told me to keep that crew alive, and that’s what I’m doing.” He smiled. “Rodimus I wanted to tell you something, or well a few things.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Swerve's, that’s where we met, twice a month we’d meet there, the crew, try to plan out a way to track you down. Megatron, Ratchet, Drift, Whirl, Cyclonus, Tailgate, Riptide, Velocity, First Aid-”
“Shut up!”
“I can keep listing if you want. They all came, they all realized their mistake, and wanted to find you.”
Rodimus jumped up, grabbing a blaster and started to take it apart, cleaning it bit by bit.
“Drift became mute, you know? He hardly spoke to anyone, even Ratchet.”
Rodimus started to whistle.
“It’s my fault, I should’ve gone after you, talked to you when you needed it.”
“What are you trying to do?”
He vented. “I wanted you to know that they missed you, and that well you’re the better captain.”
“Whatever this act is, this aft kissing is? It needs to stop.” he rubbed the back of his neck, flinching.
“You would’ve gone after me if I left, you learned that when Drift left.”
Rodimus flared, rushing over, his servo wrapped around the base of Thunderclash’s neck “Shut! Up!”
His optics watered, there was so much pain in Rodimus, so much hurt, and loneliness. What did Tarn do to him? Thunderclash smirked, he had to keep playing along, he had to. “You’ll have to kill me then.”
Rodimus shoved the cool barrel of his blaster against Thunderclash’s chassis, his optics narrowed and his fangs flashed. 
“You can’t do it can you?”
“Why won’t you shut up?”
“You can’t kill me, I know you can’t, because you’re not Rodimus.” His helm spun as Rodimus slammed the butt of his blaster down on Thunderclash’s helm, denting his helm brim. “Rodimus wouldn’t have let me die slowly, if anything it would’ve been quick. Just like Nyon.” He pulled his helm up and stared at his once great captain.
Rodimus was crumbling apart, his optics watered, his frame shivered. “Why won’t you just shut up?” He spun around, once more flashing the 5 tiny welds on the base of his neck and he fell onto his berth, curling up and sobbing. 
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planesawesome · 5 years ago
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💥What is the superiority inbuilt in an F-16 fighter?
The chief designer of the F-16, Harry Hillaker, considered F-16 superior to F-15. As per Hillaker, F-15 wasn't a technological advance. In his words : "There have been debates through the years about just how much technology should be incorporated in any design. The real issue isn't technology versus no technology. It's how to apply technology. For example, the F-15 represents a brute-force approach to technology. If you want higher speeds, add bigger engines. If you want longer range, make the airplane bigger to increase the fuel capacity. The result is a big airplane. The F-15 was viewed as highly sophisticated because it is so big and expensive. In my mind, the F-15 wasn't as technically advanced as the F-4." By comparison the Hillaker team on the F-16 went the other way : "The F-16 is much more of an application of high technology than the F-15. We used the technology available to drive the given end, that is, or was, to keep things as simple and small as we could. Our design was a finesse approach. If we wanted to fly faster, we made the drag lower by reducing size and adjusting the configuration itself. If we wanted greater range, we made the plane more efficient, more compact." The F-16 had its origin in the decline in the loss-exchange ratio from ten-to-one in the Korean War to 1.5-to-one in the early stages of the Vietnam War. The U.S.Air Force response was to launch a program called the Advanced Day Fighter, which set out to develop a 25,000 pound fighter with a thrust-to-weight ratio high enough and a wing loading low enough to maintain a 25 percent superiority over the Mig-21. This was the time that Colonel John Boyd developed his theory of Energy Maneuvrability which demonstrated the need for agility in fighter aircraft. Specifically, the theory stated that fighter aircraft should maintain their energy as much as possible in changing direction. This, in turn, allowed a pilot to get inside his adversary's decision-making cycle, which Boyd termed the Observation-Orientation-Decision-Action loop, or OODA loop. These are John Boyd's observations on winning in Aerial Combat and F-16 answered most of them : 1. Surprise the opponent without being surprised - better situational awareness - ability to super-cruise 2. Outnumber the enemy in the air. - lower purchase cost, without losing qualitative edge - lower operating cost per hour of flight - low maintenance requirement for a higher sortie rate. 3. Out-maneuver the enemy to gain firing position. - low wing loading for a high turn rate - ability to decelerate and accelerate 4. Outlast the enemy while Out-manoeuvering him. - have a high fuel fraction of the fighter's loaded weight 5. Achieve reliable skills - carry enough missiles and rounds for the gun. Boyd's work showed the need for fighter aircraft to be capable of 'fast transients' which are quick changes in direction, speed and altitude. A fighter aircraft that is able to turn harder without losing energy will out-turn it's opponent. A 2 degree per second advantage in sustained rate of turn will enable a fighter aircraft to dominate an engagement. Fighter aircraft also survive by being unpredictable. The ability for fast transients allows a fighter aircraft to change direction suddenly without losing energy, and energy is life in a dog-fight. In such an encounter a fighter aircraft shouldn't be doing the same turn for more than seven seconds because that gives enough time for an enemy aircraft outside the dog-fight to determine where the fighter is going to be and possibly attack it. So this was the vision that was sought to be realised by means of F-16. The Advanced Day Fighter program was shelved without producing an aircraft but was followed by the Lightweight Fighter program. This latter program issued a Request for Proposals in January 1972 which called for a 20,000 pound class fighter aircraft with high maneuverability, acceleration and range, and optimised to fight between 30,000 feet and 40,000 feet at speeds in the range of 0.6 to 1.6 Mach. This was the flight regime that the U.S. Air Force expected most future air combat to occur in, based on analysis of the wars of the 1960s in Vietnam and the Middle East. The fruits of the Lightweight Fighter program were the single-engine YF-16 from General Dynamics and the twin-engine YF-17 from Northrop that were produced as flying prototypes. The YF-16 won the competition and became the F-16 in service with the U. S. Air Force because it had lower operating costs and greater range. It was also more manouverable; since single-engine fighters have lower roll inertia than the twin-engined fighters. One less engine means that maintenance costs are inherently 20 percent lower. Now let us see some of the salient features of world-beating F-16 : 1. The F-16's first flight was in 1974. Richard Nixon was President in the same year. But in its new avatar as F-21, it is still one of the most capable fighters 45 years later. 2. Most military pilots refer to the F-16 as the "Viper", because of its similarities to the head of the snake. 3. Over 4500 F-16s have been built. 4. The F-16 was the first fighter jet to use a side-mounted control stick. The stick lets pilots rest their arm while flying, giving them better control of the jet in high-G maneuvers. 5. The F-16 also was the first fighter jet to have a frameless bubble canopy, giving pilots a 40 degree look-down angle over the sides, and a 15-degree look-down angle over the nose. 6. The F-16 was the first fighter built to pull 9-Gs, and it was aerodynamically designed to reduce energy loss during high-G maneuvers. 7. The fly-by-wire flight control system was the first of its kind. Since the jet was designed with relaxed static stability, the fly-by-wire system keeps the jet highly manouverable, while at the same time keeping it pointed in the direction pilot wants to go. 8. The F-16 is relatively easy to service as well. 80% of the access panels can be opened without using a ladder or stand. 9. The F-16 was one of the first aircraft to utilise vortex lift at high-angles-of-attack. The fuselage flares out ahead of the wing root, creating a small lift surface. 10. The wing has a variable camber that is automatically controlled by the fly-by-wire system, significantly increasing manouverability in highly-variable flight conditions. 11. F-16 are still being built for foreign militaries. 12. With its high thrust-to-weight ration, extreme manouverability, and pilot ergonomics and visibility, the F-16 has been one of the most respected - and feared - fighter aircraft of the past 40 years. 13. F-16 is planform in construction and is coated with RAM paint. So it gives a clean RCS of just 1.5m2 making it excellent in its category at beyond visual range combat. Remember it is armed with AMRAAM-120 D. 14. General Dynamics was using the conventional tailed layout with blended body and LERX strakes and Fly-By-Wire - since it was new and risky tech - ensured they had good Plan Bs in case the FBW did not work. They also used less than 3% composites (since machining composite skins can be tedious and time-consuming) and indeed their structure was decidedly conservative-machined rather than chemically milled skins for the wings and traditional sheet and strip for the rest of the structure. Result was a near perfect aerodynamic design. Since the design has been cast now percentage of composites can be increased if say a country like India demands for lesser radar visibility. 45 years later, the newest version of the Lockheed Martin F-16, officially dubbed the F-21, is still a thoroughly modern beast thanks to advanced avionics, the APG-83 active electronically scanned array radar, above-wing fuel tanks for increased range, and an automatic ground collision avoidance system. It also has a structural service life of 12,000 hours, compared to 4,000 to 8,000 hours for earlier versions of the F-16. The F-21 also has some tricks that even the Block 70 doesn’t have. The fighter has a remarkable ten missiles—eight medium range, radar-guided AMRAAM missiles plus two AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles. The F-21 will carry a Sniper electro-optical targeting pod, also produced by Lockheed Martin. In service with the U.S. Air Force, the Sniper pod provides HD forward-looking infrared (also known as thermal imaging), a dual mode laser, video data link, and digital data recorder. The F-21 also features an aerial refueling probe for refueling using the drogue system and a huge flat panel cockpit display.
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scifigeneration · 5 years ago
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First optical measurements of Milky Way's Fermi Bubbles probe their origin
Using the Wisconsin H-Alpha Mapper telescope, astronomers have for the first time measured the Fermi Bubbles in the visible light spectrum. The Fermi Bubbles are two enormous outflows of high-energy gas that emanate from the Milky Way and the finding refines our understanding of the properties of these mysterious blobs.
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The research team from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, UW-Whitewater and Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University measured the emission of light from hydrogen and nitrogen in the Fermi Bubbles at the same position as recent ultraviolet absorption measurements made by the Hubble Telescope.
"We combined those two measurements of emission and absorption to estimate the density, pressure and temperature of the ionized gas, and that lets us better understand where this gas is coming from," says Dhanesh Krishnarao, lead author of the new study and an astronomy graduate student at UW-Madison.
The researchers announced their findings June 3 at the 236th meeting of the American Astronomical Society, which was held virtually for the first time since 1899, in response to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Extending 25,000 light years both above and below the center of the Milky Way, the Fermi Bubbles were discovered in 2010 by the Fermi Gamma Ray Telescope. These faint but highly energetic outflows of gas are racing away from the center of the Milky Way at millions of miles per hour. But while the origin of the phenomenon has been inferred to date back several million years ago, the events that produced the bubbles remain a mystery.
Now, with new measurements of the density and pressure of the ionized gas, researchers can test models of the Fermi Bubbles against observations.
"The other significant thing is that we now have the possibility of measuring the density and pressure and the velocity structure in many locations," with the all-sky WHAM telescope, says Bob Benjamin, a professor of astronomy at UW-Whitewater and co-author of the study. "We can do an extensive mapping effort across the Fermi Bubbles above and below the plane of the galaxy to see if the models that people have developed are holding up. Because, unlike the ultraviolet data, we're not limited to just specific lines of sight."
Matt Haffner, professor of physics and astronomy at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University and a co-author of the report, says the work demonstrates the usefulness of the WHAM telescope, developed at UW-Madison, to tell us more about the workings of the Milky Way. The central region of our home galaxy has long been difficult to study because of gas blocking out view, but WHAM has provided new opportunities to gather the kind of information we have for distant galaxies.
"There are regions of the galaxy we can target with very sensitive instruments like WHAM to get this kind of new information toward the center that previously we are only able to do in the infrared and radio," says Haffner. "We can make comparisons to other galaxies by making the same kind of measurements towards the center of the Milky Way."
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the-telescope-times · 5 years ago
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Using the Wisconsin H-Alpha Mapper telescope, astronomers have for the first time measured the Fermi Bubbles in the visible light spectrum. The Fermi Bubbles are two enormous outflows of high-energy gas that emanate from the Milky Way and the finding refines our understanding of the properties of these mysterious blobs.
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tfrangers · 5 years ago
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A Glitch of Kings
Optimus has a slight problem, one he would like taken care of discreetly. Trepan understands, of course, he specializes in taking care of problems discreetly! At least, he can try.
Guess what everyone I also occasionally write pointless babble. Special thanks to @mnemoiisms​ whose love of Trepan is so infectious that every time I have a conversation with them I think up a million Trepan plots for any number of AUs or fics.
Contains: Optimus, Trepan, mnemosurgery, some mental health stuff, medical stuff, Trepan considering the opportunity to play with this poor lil thing, weirdness, and nightmares
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"I have a glitch."
Optimus stated it the way a mechlet with a hand in a sweets jar admitted guilt. It was almost endearing, Trepan had to admit- for one so willing to offer help at a moment's notice, Optimus treated seeking help like a shame, speaking to a vulnerability Trepan felt certain few were privy to. Or maybe it was just adorable, to watch him squirm in discomfort.
The entertainment value certainly couldn't be denied.
"I see." Trepan's voice was carefully modulated to put a potential patient at ease, and he hid a smug grin under a comforting, concerned smile as he pulled out the glasses and began to pour the bubbly, carbon-infused energon Optimus had bought. Bribery had it's benefits. "Is this a new development, or-?"
"Reoccurring." Optimus stated a bit too fast. "It's been a while, and I can typically…" trailing off, faceplates hot.
"... You've managed it on your own before, I surmise. So why come to me, then?" Trepan handed him the glass and watched as the ranger fiddled with it instead of drinking. "What has changed?"
Optimus stared at the energon's purplish hue. "...I can't recharge. It was never this bad, before."
"Mm, I rather thought you looked exhausted."
"When I try, it's just...false memory purges, nightmares, coming out of recharge v-violently." There was a catch to his voice, not a lie, but Trepan was keen on knowing when an omission was made. "They have me waking up every few minutes, it feels like. Or worse, I try to wake and I- I can't. When I was an apprentice, my caretaker would help, and it faded, but…” Optimus gestured vaguely, and the tail draped like a scarf around his shoulders coiled tighter by a hair. “...I’m tired. I’m tired, and I’m snapping at my team and losing track of my duties. I can’t afford this glitch, not now.”
Trepan schooled his expression. Polite smile. Graceful touch to the shoulder. Reassuring gaze and grip. "Well...I’m hardly capable of extensive work on my own -" a bold faced lie, but a useful one. "-but nightmares can be easily dismissed with even a surface connection. If you just desire some rest, I can temporarily disable your memory purges- your processor would begin them again within’ a decacycle or so.” He flexed a hand delicately at the wrist, and when the needles emerged with a soft hiss of metal Optimus flinched and his auditory fins swept down like a distressed animal’s ears. Aw. Adorable.
“And then?”
“You can come back, and I can repeat the process. If you’re willing to take that risk.” He spotted the confusion in the ranger’s eyes, and sipped his drink, letting the carbon-infused liquid rest on his glossa, feeling the bubbles in it pop, pleasantly tingly. Letting Optimus wait. “Without memory purges, the processor begins to degrade. It may take a while to notice, but extensive denial of purges could have certain effects. Mood swings, memory loss or corruption, it would be no better than denying rest as a whole.”
Optimus stared down at his still-untouched drink, looking despairing for all the world. It struck Trepan that the expression was ill-suited on his youthful face.
“Of course,” Trepan continued, “there are more extensive treatments I can attempt. Therapy. Memory training. Positive reinforcement codes to at least allow you to recharge naturally, regardless of dreams and purges. Most glitches have an underlying source that can be identified and localized, even corrected completely, given some effort.” Now that got the ranger’s attention.
“....Could you? No, would you?”
“This is not a service that would have come cheap, Optimus. You would have to allow me into your mind, repeatedly.” He tapped the long needles on the table, drumming against the metal surface with a distinctive ring. Delicate as they looked, they were stronger than nearly any other portion of his body, and when he dragged them along the surface it screeched, pitched and sharp. The vibrations merely made his hand tingle. Optimus cringed like he was pained. “I could promise client confidentiality to a point, but there is always a risk with these things. It almost certainly would be unpleasant, revealing...have you even had any softwork done before, beyond updates?”
“No.” Optimus admitted.
Trepan looked at the bottle. One of several the ranger had bought to him- sometimes in exchange for information, or simply out of politeness. He had it on good authority that the mecha bought a gift to everyone he visited, Trepan simply knew he had more specific tastes than most. “I will treat you, whichever way you desire.” Trepan sighed. “You will simply have to owe me.”
“I have shanix-”
“There’s a war going on, and we are all trapped on a planet with no communications, no shipments going in or out, and no use for shanix. I’ll just find some task for you. Maybe you can round up your team and repair my home the next time a storm crashes through, or some ‘con decides he doesn’t like me living so close to their territory.” Waving a hand as if to dismiss the worry of payment. “It would only be fair, since any sort of operation not only jeopardizes you...but myself, as well. Especially with no trained team to assist.” He put a hand on Optimus’ shoulder again- this time, the one with the needles, and watched as Optimus went so still he held his breath. “Nightmares can be contagious in my line of work, you understand.”
Optimus nodded very slowly, very carefully, all too aware of thin needles against his thick fur. He didn’t exhale until Trepan released his shoulder and moved away, turning to hide his smug grin.
“Think about it. Mnemosurgery is not something you should go into lightly.”
“I...I will.” Optimus couldn’t say polite goodbyes and gather himself up to leave fast enough, after that. Nervousness practically bled off of him, like he’d been doused in it. Good, Trepan figured. Nervous people made silly choices, and silly choices made people desperate for relief. It wasn’t that he wanted to risk his own security by compromising the ranger, but...he was a curious one.
And Trepan was growing rapidly bored of probing the brains of criminals and warriors. Someone curious would do.
----------
Optimus, as it was, could not stand more than one more sleepless night. So it was that Trepan cleaned up the operating room he’d set aside, and found Optimus leaning back on the slab. Stiff and still and clearly already raw nerves even with none exposed, yet. “You’re allowed to breath, Optimus. All procedures have their risks, but I assure you, I’ve done this many times before. You will be safe.”
“Mm.” Optimus barely nodded, staring up at where sunlight filtered in through the mirrored window directly above.
“And if anything does go wrong, I have your medic’s frequency.”
It made Optimus flinch, which was a little funny. He really did look exhausted, optics dim and unfocused and the glossiness of his plating and fur dulled some. He would perk right back with some proper, uninterrupted recharge of course. He would thank Trepan properly, then.
“Now, I’m going to begin.” Trepan took his place at the head of the slab, looking down at Optimus upside-down from each other’s viewpoint, offering his sweetest smile, antennae flicking out wide behind him. “You will be conscious and aware for the duration of the operation, though you may experience the memory purges firsthand. I will be paralyzing your greater motor functions, to ensure you don’t hurt yourself, or hurt me, by trying to move while I am injecting.” He’d gone over this three times already, but given how numbly Optimus had followed his instructions it never truly hurt to repeat one’s self. “Once I inject, it will be several minutes before I can maintain a connection, but I will inform you before I begin. If you want me to stop at any point, just say so. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Optimus tried not to look at Trepan, instead focusing back on the light. Perfectly natural to be nervous. Mnemosurgery got such a terrible reputation, these days- Trepan remembered when bots were happy, eager to come to his slab, have their perceptions tweaked or have bad days obliterated entirely, have addictions cleared up in an hour or fears washed away without a trace. He rather missed that.
“You will feel the initial injection- it will hurt, but only for a nanoklik.” Trepan reassured, smoothing down the fur of Optimus’ shoulder with one hand as the other drifted, needles out, to the side of his helm. “I am going to inject directly behind your audial. Take in a deep vent-” Optimus obeyed. And his eyes went wide as it escaped him in the start of a yell that barely wound up a gasp. It had hurt. Like a hot knife jabbed into his helm, searing and driving and then before he could really process it or react...it was just gone. Like he hadn’t even felt any pain, not even a ghost of it remaining.
Instead, just the deeply disorienting sensation of feeling something inside his helm.
“There we are...do you feel any pain or discomfort?” Trepan asked, and it took Optimus a second to find his voice again, feeling quiet.
“No.” He swallowed hard. “That was fast.”
“Mm, yes, it’s a handy tool to use. I wouldn’t wish my patients to suffer needlessly.” Trepan sounded distracted, and Optimus though absently that the instant evaporation of pain was different from when the medics treated him, different from when Red Alert connected for pain relief coding, or from the slow build of numbness from an injection or patch. Trepan answered the question he didn’t ask, and Optimus was suddenly aware of the presence not just in his skull, but in his mind. “You are still feeling pain, actually. A medic’s pain management eliminates the sensation, or helps to deaden the sensors themselves- I’m simply ensuring your processor registers it as nonthreatening.”
“Oh.” Optimus’ mouth felt dry.
“So, useful in a different way. My capacity to manipulate the sensation would not, say, prevent your frame from going into shock from an overload of pain, as true numbing would. But it has it’s own benefits...for one, you can still feel me.” Something about the single needle in his helm adjusted and Optimus felt the room spin with a sudden rush of dizziness before it passed. “I know, it’s very disorienting. But it lets me know if I’ve hit anything vital, or run into unexpected physical barriers. After all, the sensations are still there, they are just being...interpreted differently.”
Optimus wondered for a moment on what interpreted differently really meant, and Trepan chuckled. “Your sensory network registers everything as frequencies, as data and energy. To someone who knows how to read those frequencies, there is very little difference between pain-” A brief, dull ache bloomed in the back of his head, before vanishing. A false-feeling. “-and everything else.” Everything else was warmth, pleasure, a bloom of heat that seeped down Optimus’ spinal column and coiled in his chest, then vanished. Optimus was rapidly realizing exactly why mnemosurgery was rare. And feared.
“Don’t forget expensive. Very few mechanisms have the capacity to become mnemosurgeons.” Trepan expanded. Something about his presence in Optimus’ mind reassured him that he was honestly not offended in the slightest. Amused, yes, but not offended. “Our processors have a natural mutation, not unlike those found in empaths. The capacity to understand another mechanism’s processor, to process that information faster than they can. I was very fortunate- I tested positive for such a beneficial mutation only weeks before I would have been assigned to a mining colony.”
Optimus could scarcely imagine Trepan as anything other than what he was, now. The concept of him mining out some other dirtworld like this one here, or pulling apart asteroids in a distant field of stars…
“Hardly suiting, isn’t it? I would not have lasted.” Trepan laughed. “You are doing very well...your firewalls have accepted my presence. I am ready to begin.” Optimus’ eyes flicked up to him, before going back to the light. He hadn’t bothered to turn off his capacity for vocalization, yet still he was just...too nervous to speak aloud. Understandable, given that five inches of metal had been jammed into the joint of his helm, behind his audial, and was currently resting neatly against his processor. Good thing Optimus could simply think, and it was. “You’re going to be dizzy, or even nauseous, but I won’t let you purge your tanks. It’d be a pain to clean up.”
Even scared and vulnerable, Optimus smiled weakly and amusement crept through him. He rather liked this mental image Optimus had of him- pretty and delicate and refined but oh-so-dangerous, risky. Constantly fluctuating between trust and wariness. Something deeper, a memory, a lesson learned. Something to investigate later, Trepan filed that away in his own memory banks.
True enough, Optimus’ optics fluttered shut, and his world twisted and turned and he could hear Trepan’s voice still, and knew that his body was limp and motionless, but he also felt himself stirring, moving, turning over- he was in Trepan’s suite, no, he was in his own berthroom, on the soft too-large mattress and in the cool, dark air of night, and he was trying to fall asleep.
Oh. This was the memory of several nights ago.
“It is.” Trepan’s voice was heard and not-heard. It was a little unsettling. “Yes, well, this is why those seeking more intensive treatments may prefer to be unconscious.”
It was a little nauseating. Like being spun in circles or a grounder’s first time in microgravity.
“Now, lets see these pesky nightmares, shall we?” Things adjusted. It grew darker. Optimus tried to retreat in his own motionless mind. “Optimus…there is no shame in having a glitch. Particularly one so benign as false memory purges, or terrors. And even if there were, I am not here to judge, only to assist you.” Trepan’s voice was like a warm, syrupy sensation more than sound anymore. Like hot oil applications. “This is just a memory of a dream. I will be right here if you need things to stop.” Reassuring.
A touch of tenderness and Optimus opened his mind willingly. It was downright delightful. Trepan could have been deep within’ his soul in a moment if he’d wanted, could have broken through and busted down every barrier in the way with but a thought, but why do that when it was so much more pleasant to have someone open the door and hold it for you? Optimus was so wary but wanted to trust so badly...it would have broken Trepan’s spark if he were a sentimental mechanism.
Which he wasn’t. So instead it amused him.
Memory Purges and Dreams were always difficult to sort through, even if you knew what you were doing, even with ages of skills and talents behind him. They were disorganized, messy, scraps of data that needed to be cleaned up or that spawned their own self-perpetuating loops. Glitches were common, even if they often were self-repaired in a matter of a day or two- so the ones that lasted were always at the very least interesting, and often times particularly nasty or invasive.
But Trepan had peered inside of so many minds, inside of rebels and anarchists, picked through the thoughts of common murderers and high-class lords with ‘eclectic’ tastes alike and found little different and little shocking between them. He eased into the files of dreams, ready for corrupted memories or old traumas turned into dataloops, fantasies or fears.
Instead.
Things stopped making sense for a few frantic seconds, and it was a few seconds too long. Trepan was, terrifyingly to himself, just about out of control of the situation when the memories flooded Optimus’ senses, and spilled over into him like so much energon from an opened cube.
So many voices they were crying out cheering laughing sounds of victory singing singing singing singing reverent voices ringing out in discordant joy marching and dancing and hands thrown into the air clutching crushed crystal petals of cybertronian flowers that were released and tossed into sparkling rainbow clouds of glass crunching underfoot
Singing singing singing and cheering and mechanisms faceless and infinite in a sea of color reaching out to touch to feel to stroke over armor reverently and warmly the song muffled and too loud all at once the lyrics unrecognizable but somehow still known and verse after verse after verse repeating-
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Song chant droning and matching his sparkbeat filling his head as he moves through the crowd NO as the crowd pushes him along NO as he is pulled along by the spark PLEASE NO and the singing is only getting louder echoing from buildings and cliffs and off panes of crystal towering overhead the likes of which have long since been mined to nothing on Cybertron I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN
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Trepan was withdrawing before he could even think about it. Frantically untangling himself from the thoughts that were too loud to be from Optimus’ tempered, pleasant mind.
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Urging him forwards forwards forwards footsteps heavy and slow and reluctant and on the throne before him the figure is slumped and limp and pierced through with thirteen blades of light NO NO NO and were it not for the piercing fear-white glow of their eyes they could be dead for all the energon I DON’T WANT TO SEE and they are not huge or grand or glorious and their golden armor is stained with sickly purple-pink and their biolights glow white-hot where they’re not bubbling energon and NO and someone else is here. Not Optimus, whose mind is eerily quiet. Not Trepan, who can’t help but see even when it only takes microseconds to break the connection. Someone is begging and fearful and Trepan knows foreign, invasive code when he feels it.
And this is not some invasive virus, this isn’t some malicious code, or someone else’s mnemosurgical softwork come round on it’s host.
He breaks the connection cold and pulls his hand from Optimus’ helm fast and violently, and they both scream. Trepan sharp and short, Optimus wailing like a wounded animal for a terrible moment. Trepan has had connections broken violently before- it’s always unpleasant. Like a shock of superchilled saltwater across the body and mind. He can’t even be angry when Optimus flails for a moment, only to half-roll and purge his tanks off the side of the slab. He’d retch up too, if he didn’t force his lips shut and to forcibly swallow anything threatening to rise to his mouth.
“You.” He turns on Optimus after a moment to vent heavily, and the ranger looks at him with the startled confusion of a mechanisms freshly woken from recharge. “IDIOT.” Thankfully, the nearest thing is a thin, light datapad, so it doesn’t do much damage when he throws it at Optimus with all the force his slender frame can muster. Optimus barely managed to shield his face with his arm, regardless.
"I-!"
Trepan doesn't give him a moment to try to argue or apologize or say anything, really. "You send me in blind, unknowing, unprepared-" He throws a box of sanitizing wipes, this time, and Optimus rolls off the far side of the slab to take cover. Trepan feels raw. Like his armor has been stripped off. He'll be reeling for days and he knows it. "-you knew! You've no, no glitch, no errors, you idiot!"
"I'm sorry!" Optimus peers from his hiding place, wary, and only just ducks in time to avoid another box of supplies. "I thought it wouldn't matter!"
"That you're a frelling prophet?! That you're Primus-touched?!" Trepan will be embarrassed about how undignified he's being later. Once the hysterics fade. "What kind of prime goes off to do a ranger's duty-?!"
"I'm not a prime!" Optimus yells, and there's a particular note of desperation in it that makes Trepan go quiet, save for the too-loud-too-fast wheezing of his vents. His hand is numb, he realizes, needles retracted and a tingling that has crept up his arm nearly to his shoulder.
It echoes a ghost of a sensation in his processor. He shudders to think of if he'd stayed connected without proper guards in place. He heard stories, colleagues who were burned out of others' minds.
"I'm not a prime." Optimus says again, softer. Wary as he peers out again, clutching the edge of the slab. "I'm not. I won't be."
"You don't get to choose that sort of thing, you fool." Trepan spits the words.
"The Autobots don't engage in functionism like that. Cybertron has changed." A weak argument.
"Not that much, it hasn't." Trepan stalks towards the slab, mindful of the puddle of soured energon and organic foodstuffs, glaring down at Optimus who crouches still. It's almost funny, in a vastly different way than Optimus' tentative nerves had been at first.
A Primus-touched priest, crouching fearfully before a lowly criminal. Hilarious.
"No-one in their sane mind would have allowed this." Trepan bares his teeth in a grimace, but now that he can think again, the drowning music fading from his mind quick, he is starting to plan, as is his nature. To tease new thoughts. "You said you apprenticed at the archives."
"I was not lying." Optimus sounds guilty and isn't that just pathetic? Someone who should have spent their life in unfairly blissful comfort and praise looking down at the floor like a scolded student. "I served my apprenticeship under Alpha Trion."
The pieces were coming together. "Trion Prime. A little priest in training, then? Too good or too valuable to be trained at the temples?"
"...It wasn't like that. There's no more primes."
"That's molten slag and you know it. I don't care if they abdicated their power and cracked the matrices. High Lords and Alphas are nothing but primes under a fresh coat of paint and you should be one of them! You should be sitting on a throne, having your pedes kissed." It feels good to be mean, now. To hiss the words that make Optimus only cringe and hunker down further. "What happened? Trion decide you weren't up to task? Did the priests decide you couldn't cut it?"
"I said it wasn't like that. No-one knew."
"...no one knew. No one knew a blessed one was wandering amongst them."
"Trion helped me to hide."
Trepan's processor was spinning with possibilities and uncertainties. So he straightened up, took a deep vent in...and turned, stalking from the room. "Clean up the mess you've made. Then we are going to sit, and finish the bottle of energon, and you will explain to me everything that has happened."
He didn't bother to look back to see if Optimus was complying, knowing he would.
Change of plans, then.
What in all the facets of the pit did you do with a secret like that in your hands?
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lazysighs · 6 years ago
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A snippet from combo dratchet wedding/ roddy is megop baby raised by ratchet au. Mostly Roddy and Bee being emo with Ratchet
"Might as well be blood-related to Prime anyway considering these two left feet, heh" Bumblebee smiled meekly, following Ratchet's lead, both their fields tingling with amusement. Thankfully the medic had shortened the strides that composed the old-fashioned formal dance to help compensate for Bee's shorter stature and lack of coordination. It wasn't that Bee was lacking grace or fluidity - the scout was well aware of his frame and its abilities - but a dancefloor was no SpecOps mission, and he really, literally, hadn't danced this dance before. He had the suspicion that a few steps were also being skipped over, and with so many optics on them (albeit ones of friends and those he considered family), he was grateful for Ratchet's foresight. 
Lack of familiarity with the choreography wasn't the only reason behind churning tanks and a jittery field. He'd never been particularly good at starting spark-to-spark conversations, but Primus below, he had to spit out at least some of what had been tumbling around his processor the past week. 
"Ratchet, I know I'm not gonna be able to fully put into words how grateful I am for, just, everything, but I'm gonna try" Bee sucked in a deep vent and averted his gaze (bad dance etiquette for sure, but he knew Ratchet didn't have any qualms; only peace and happiness radiated in his field)  "After you and Optimus found me and started taking care of me, I really felt, I dunno, seen? Heard? I felt like a person; like more than just my designation. Like someone worth caring about. You gave me so much and I know I've been a huge pain in your aft more times than I can count but I'm so … grateful to have been raised by you. I couldn't have had a better carer," risking a quick look up at Ratchet's face, he was met with ever so slightly moistened optics and a proud smile. It was one thing for both of them to know that's how they saw each other, and another thing to break the millions-year unspoken vow to never call Ratchet his dad, to borrow the Earth term. His own field was quickly enveloped in love and care normally simmering quietly below other emotions in Ratchet's field, now full and warm. Matching the warmth with his own, Bee pressed on, "You deserve to be cared for too, Ratch. I'm so glad you and Drift have each other. And I'm glad to have you both as family." He gave a small smile and squeezed the hand he was being led by. 
At the moment Ratchet finally got out a very hushed but earnest "thank you," a certain speedster came up behind Bumblebee, poking with both field and finger. 
"Alright short stack, quit hoggin the man of the hour. You're not the only one that gets in on this traditional mumbo jumbo," Rodimus cut in from Bee's left, allowing him just a moment more to give Ratchet's hand one last squeeze before returning to the watching crowd of guests. 
Rodimus quickly fell into Bee's former position, following Ratchet's lead as steps were added back in and they circled the floor. 
"For someone that's never seemed too into Earth customs, you seem to be enjoying yourself," Rodimus started with a grin, knowing full well that Ratchet had deliberately included this portion of parent/child dance (even if it was a little backwards, since normally the parent wasn't the one getting married) for the opportunity to be close to his, well, "sons". Rodimus had always known the gruff, grouchy exterior was just there to keep the soft old man from hurting too bad. It was definitely nice to see him this happy again, and to feel his field wrap around him like when he was just a sparkling. 
"That certainly seems to be happening more and more, lately." Ratchet said with a crooked smile. Rodimus had to agree; the medic had been a lot less gruff and short with the crew (unless absolutely necessary), and goo-goo eyes honeymoon phase of being in love aside (not that either Ratchet or Drift were really outwardly mushy but Roddy did love to tease them), Ratchet had really been making an effort to loosen up. 
"Yeah that heart-eyes dopey glow is a good look on you, Ratch. I'm … glad you went after him." Rodimus looked down, knowing full well the only reason Drift had left the Lost Light was at his order. Guilt and regret bubbled up in his field but he clamped down on it, smoothing it back over with ease, and leveled his gaze at Ratchet. That earned him a squint and a probing feeling that definitely screamed we need to talk about that eventually but Rodimus avoided it with a shrug and signature carefree (for when you're full of cares, actually, but need to keep going) smile, "Hey now this is a party, right? Or at least it's gonna be once we bust out the drinks, huh?" He gestured loosely with the hand that was being held to guide him through the steps.
"For the record, Rodimus, I am glad things turned out the way they did, even if how we all got here was. Less than ideal."
"Yeah, well. Story of our lives am I right?" Rodimus' browplates pushed together, his expression becoming pensive. "Listen, Ratchet, I know you probably just suffered through a bunch of mush with Bee, so I'll try and keep this short for your sake," an easy lie they both allowed, continuing through the motions they'd practiced, "I have a knucklehead for a sire and an idiot for a carrier. Even if they would've stayed together or been on the same side or whatever, I don't think they would've done as good a job with me as you did. I really appreciate everything you've done for all of us. After suffering through all that mess I'm just. Really glad you finally get your star-crossed lovers ending. You more than deserve to be happy and I'm. So glad that you chose to keep me in your life." He gave a sigh, pausing to search for words, "I can't even begin to imagine being in your position. I get ride or die, bros for life, but the whole. Raising a kid you have no obligation to from a millenia-long unrequited love situation, aside from the fact that that kid is the product of unrequited lover and bastard you hate. I just. I was so difficult. And you loved me anyway. I grew up being frustrated at the fact that Optimus never showed that he loved me and not getting why that was so upsetting, but I knew I always had you. Screw them, you've always been my actual dad."
Ah, frag the formalities. With a sharp intake that was definitely not cover for the fact that he might cry, he took his hand from Ratchet's and wrapped his arms around the medic, resting his helm in the crook of Ratchet's neck. "I really love you, ya grouchy old man. Congrats and all that" 
Stunned arms wrapped themselves around the speedster along with his warm, loving field. It wasn't like any of this was news, but he hadn't expected Rodimus to explicitly address it. Already between him and Bumblebee, Ratchet had experienced quite the gambit of emotions - and he hadn't even gotten to dance with his newly bonded yet. 
"I love you too, you pain in my aft. Always have, always will." He squeezed Rodimus tightly, then held him away at arm's length. "I'm more than happy to have you as family, and proud to call you my son." 
At that, Rodimus couldn't do more than give a watery smile and something of a sigh-laugh.
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jcmarchi · 1 year ago
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Team Improves Performance of Quantum Computers - Technology Org
New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/team-improves-performance-of-quantum-computers-technology-org/
Team Improves Performance of Quantum Computers - Technology Org
By looking to create quieter environments, a team that includes Nebraska Engineering researcher Abdelghani Laraoui hopes to take a bit of the “noise” out of quantum computing and help make the emerging technology more efficient, accessible and feasible.
Ben Hammons, a freshman in electrical engineering, and Abdelghani Laraoui, assistant professor in mechanical and materials engineering, work on laser equipment. Image credit: UNL
The goal is to find materials that show potential for improving the performance of quantum computers and that can be utilized to control the disruptions — also known as decoherence (or noise) — that keep these superfast computers from performing at their best.
“Quantum computers can do calculations in two minutes that would take 10,000 years if you used a classical system, but right now, they are difficult to scale up (for wider use) because they have to exist in very low-temperature environments, and that is very expensive to create,” said Laraoui, assistant professor of mechanical and materials engineering.
Laraoui is collaborating with Wichita State University researchers — physicist Kapildep Ambal and chemist Jian Wang — on a three-year, $800,000 Track 1 award from the National Science Foundation’s Expand Capacity in Quantum Information Science and Engineering (ExpandQISE) program.
This track pairs researchers, such as Laraoui, who have extensive QISE experience with individual researchers, such as Ambal and Wang, from institutions that have less expertise in advanced nanofabrication of quantum materials and cryogenic quantum sensing.
Unlike classic computing systems, quantum computers have no memory or processors, but instead use superconductive subatomic qubits, which store and process information and are ideal for higher-level tasks — such as running simulations and analyzing data — with superfast speed and precision.
But, Laraoui said, quantum computers often need an extremely cold environment around 10 mK (equivalent to -459 Fahrenheit) to perform well with lower error rates.
“The technology for cooling is difficult to find and is very expensive,” Laraoui said. “There’s only a few places that can do it.”
To overcome the need for a super cold environment, Laraoui said the research team is looking for new quantum materials where the quantum coherence is preserved even at higher temperatures (above 2 degrees Kelvin, roughly -456 Fahrenheit).
The Nebraska Center for Materials and Nanoscience, with funding help from another NSF grant on which Laraoui was a co-investigator, will soon receive a cryogenic scanning probe microscope with quantum sensing capabilities that can operate at temperature down to 1.8 K (roughly -456.4 Fahrenheit).
In Laraoui’s Quantum Sensing and Defect Discovery and Spectroscopy Lab, mechanical engineering graduate student Rupak Timalsina and first-year electrical engineering student Ben Hammons built another cryogenic optical microscope through which researchers can witness how the qubits in diamond substrates perform under the presence of other materials in contact.
Funding for this, in part, included support from NSF Emergent Quantum Materials and Technologies Center the university has received, where Laraoui serves as a thrust 2 leader on quantum technologies.
Adding qubits would increase the capacity of a quantum computer, Laraoui said, much like how classic computers can perform more complex tasks when more bits added.
However, Laraoui said, the challenge in creating a larger network of qubits is that quantum systems are fragile and “the slightest amount of decoherence can keep them from performing well.” It’s similar to how a soap bubble pops when it touches another object, loses its unique characteristics and returns to a drop of liquid.
Laraoui’s team is seeking more robust materials such as ultrathin magnetic films and two-dimensional magnetic materials and will try to use them to control spin qubits in diamond at longer distances that can work at higher temperatures.
“The idea is that we can use them to make a hybrid system that contains these spin qubits with elements of a classical system,” Laraoui said. “With hybrid architectures, like a diamond substrate, you couple them with spin waves (magnons) that have certain excitations specific to certain materials.
“The longer coherence time will lead to operating quantum computers in less challenging environments, and that could be a breakthrough that can make them less expensive and more available for wider uses.”
Source: University of Nebraska-Lincoln
You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.
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thedistantstorm · 5 years ago
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Day 31: “Scared, me?”
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Fandom: Destiny 
Pairings: None [Zavala, Sloane, Amanda]
Warnings: Blood, Shock, Trauma (the Red War)
-/
Plip, plip.
Sloane looks to Amanda. The Shipwright is dirty and bruised, exhausted from the last forty-eight hours of non-stop flying. Even so, she doesn’t stray far from the helm, preferring to have eyes and ears on things. She doesn’t pay sloane any mind. They haven’t been on Titan for long. Patrol groups have been sent out, a message has been sent to - even if it’s depressing, people will know they’re here. Sloane refuses to give up hope.
Plip, plip.
“Do you hear that?” Sloane asks.
Zavala grumbles something, but it isn’t a word.
“I don’t,” Amanda says, eyes still on the radar display. From where she’s standing, resting against the hatch, it’s likely impossible to hear any of the ambient noise Sloane does.
From the corner of her eye she sees his hand sag, limp, to the armrest. It draws her eyes down, down to the slow trickle of blood from someplace hidden by the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, to the deckplate below.
Plip, plip.
Cautiously, she calls, “Commander?”
Zavala doesn’t respond. That gets Amanda's attention, fast. Both women share a frantic glance.
“Sloane-” Panic lances through the younger woman’s voice for just a moment, pushing her to act. She shakes her head and drops to her knees, yanking out an orange box from the center console, working on autopilot. Holliday served once. She understands, even if she doesn’t want to, smashing a button on a nearby panel to close the two doors that grant entry to their impromptu war-room.
The Deputy Commander crouches in front of him on one knee. “Commander,” She tries first. Nothing. “Zavala!” She barks. Muted blue eyes open half-way and fall. She smacks his cheeks, trying to keep him conscious. “Where’s your Ghost?” Sloane urges him, voice sharp. “Where is she?”
His hand gestures to his chest and flops aimlessly as he mutters something unintelligible, and Sloane bites back a colorful curse around the same time Amanda whimpers, finally spotting the dark pool of blood on the ground. Dark brown eyes look over her shoulder to Amanda, then down to the metal table they have reports scattered on.
Holliday bars an arm over it in a flash and sends everything flying.
“I’m sorry for this,” Sloane tells him apologetically, hearing him begin to voice some confused question as she hefts him up by the belt, draping him against her and then flipping him onto the table. It's more urgent than gentle. Amanda manages to catch his head and pushes the top half of her flight suit under it like a pillow. “Help me get his breastplate off,” Sloane instructs, but Amanda’s already pulling off buckles and shucking off the wide plates that shield his shoulder so that he doesn't clip her with it in his disoriented state. 
Quick work reveals a messy wound in his side, oozing and bloody. "You were shot. You idiot," His Deputy adds, half affectionate, half furious. "Why the hell did you keep this to yourself?"
Zavala’s eyes open, impossibly blue and far too hazy, finding Sloane. "Amanda." Even slurring, he’s articulate. “Don't let her see me like-”
Amanda steps back, silent, head shaking in a negative. Her eyes are full of tears and Sloane can almost hear the sob that she’s holding back in her mind but she composes herself. “Don’t worry. I sent her to check in with the teams.”
“You were the right choice,” He tells her and Amanda doesn’t stop the whimper before it escapes. Sloane doesn’t notice it for how loud her heartbeat is in her ears, and Zavala is too far gone to pay it any mind. He’d been holding on well past his limits, but without the Light, he’d pay the price. “I stand by that.”
“Don’t you make confessions to me now, Commander. Tell your Ghost to heal you.” She bites back a muffled, “Fuck.”
Neither of the Titans notice Amanda rummaging around on the ground with the med kit. The Shipwright rips open a package, pulls out a cylindrical object that has little prongs on the end of it and taps him in the side of the neck with it. The initial prick of pain makes his head loll towards her and she puts a hand on his forehead.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Amanda tells him and she knows when he realizes exactly what’s going on, the way panic bubbles up in his eyes in a moment of clarity, even as the medication she’s pushed into him drags his eyelids down. He's not afraid for himself. He never, ever wanted to let her see him as anything other than immovable. He's always been her rock. He knows how much she's lost, and that she can't take much more. “I know," She does her best to smile. "Just rest,” She tells him, voice even with conviction. “We gotcha.”
It doesn’t make him struggle less, trying to rally against a thick tongue and heavy lips to say something. It doesn’t work. She’s hit him with a narcotic and an antibiotic conveniently packaged into one rapid-fire package. As someone who’s been hit with one herself, Holliday knows it’s like being smacked into next week. He’ll be furious with her later, and that’s just fine by her, so long as he lives long enough to do so.
Sloane looks lost. Amanda swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hands, angry. “Breastplate,” She reminds Sloane, jostling her from her thoughts. “We ain’t losin’ him, Deputy Commander. Get it together.””
“Yes ma’am,” Sloane answers, more on auto-pilot than the pilot staring her down. Amanda waits for her to make eye contact. “If they,” She seethes. “I will rip those motherfucking bastards apart with my bare hands and-”
“I know,” Amanda agrees.
Together they manage to finish undoing the Commander’s breastplate, lifting the half that covers his chest to uncover scorch marks around the edges where there are gaps between armor plates and one very battered ghost. The fins of her shell are all-but embedded in his chest, puncturing his sweater from the pressure of being closed into his breastplate. Sloane hesitates. No idle twitching, the Ghost is entirely still. It’s an unspoken rule, Guardians don’t handle others’ Ghosts- 
-But Amanda is no Guardian, and she’s never agreed to play by their rules. Deft fingers very carefully pry the Ghost from Zavala’s chest, the twist of her lips the only indication that there’s any resistance. She’s got flecked, dry blood on her fingertips when she finally gets Zavala’s partner free. 
“The bullet wound’s on my side,” Sloane informs her.
Amanda rounds the table, looking at the ugly damage from the slug, the way it bleeds, angry and oozing. “C’mon girl,” She whispers to the tiny droid, holding her close to her face, inspecting her core for damage and thankfully finding none. “He needs ya.” There’s a titch of movement, hardly anything, but the wilted cones of the Ghost in her palms shudder.
“Atta girl,” She says, when the optic lights, dim, and a singular beam of Light passes over the wound, probing. “Don’t push it. I'll wrap him up, you just stop that bleedin’.” Sloane swallows hard.
“Deputy Commander, bring me that kit, yeah?”
Sloane nods, and hops to it as Amanda holds the Ghost close to the Titan’s wounded side, balancing her in one hand to rip off flayed leather armor to better allow them to see it. “That should be enough,” The Ghost says, after a minute of flickering, wavering beams. Her voice is addled by weakness and exhaustion. “I couldn’t get it all, but...”
“Y’did great,” Amanda coos, when it’s clear the Ghost can’t continue. “Thank you.”
“Would you-”
“A’course.” She very carefully lowers the Ghost back to her Guardian’s chest, lifting Zavala’s hand to press it over her gently. “We got the rest. You two take 'er easy.” Without looking to Sloane, she begs, “Gimme the antiseptic, will ya?”
She hands it over and stands back, crossing her arms as Amanda dumps most of the bottle over the area of the wound. Between the Ghost’s interference and the antibiotic she’d forced on him, it should be enough. Silently, Amanda works on cleaning the blood off him, the Deputy Commander switching out pads of gauze as she dirties them in the process. They work in silence.
“It’s gonna be alright, Sloane,” Amanda says after it’s done, despite the slight tremor in her fingers, or the way her eyes threaten to leak against her will.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Scared, me?” Amanda sniffles. Laughs a little, but doesn’t shy away from the Titan’s concerned gaze. “I’m terrified.”
Sloane looks at Amanda, really looks, then, and the dark, serious look in her green eyes is out of place until she realizes for the first time, she’s not seeing a child - the wild hellion half raised by her Commander who ascended the ranks and became Tower Shipwright.
Before Sloane or Zavala or the Last City knew her, Amanda Holliday was a refugee. A survivor.
“But that ain’t gonna stop me, and we can’t let it stop him, either. You know how he is.”
“I do.”
“We’re gonna make it through this,” Amanda tells them then, all of them, pressing a kiss to Zavala’s hand over his Ghost, grabbing on Sloane’s arm with a startlingly firm squeeze. “We got to.”
“What do I tell the troops?” She gestures to the doors. “He’ll be out of it for a while because of that-” Her eyes fall on the discarded syringe. “Our teams will be-”
“Tell them that I… had a meltdown. He’s consolin’ me. You’re relayin’ anything of note.”
“But-”
“I could go for a good cry,” Amanda says, with a curl of her lip. “They can’t ever find out about this. It’d be devastatin’.”
Sloane pats the top of Amanda’s head, taking to the door that leads to the bridge. “Agreed. You let me know if you need anything. Either of you.”
Amanda nods, dropping into the chair beside the table, pulling her good leg to her chest, resting her chin on it. She could go for a good cry, sure, but not yet. Not until she’s seen her words proven true.
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