From deception comes invention

[Dr.Steel]

Dr. Steel stares hard at Dr. Foetsch.
Slowly rotating his gaze past his Nurses, and resting it finally on Death Runner, he licks his lips and speaks.
Quietly but firmly.

"Mechanical Engineering is not my area of study, too formal, too precise.
No wiggle room."

He picks up a wristcuff actuator, dangling it as if it were a dead rat, and it drops to the table with a clunk.

"No, I'm afraid I'll need the good Doctor Foetsch if I am to proceed.
I can work the organic end of things, easily in fact. But this..." He indicates the tables and suits "This is his department."

He eyeballs the slave for a moment before continuing.

"And while I don't bear the compunctions against 'cruelty' or 'internment' that my fine friend here does, I must ask why you would hamstring us with such clearly poor specimens.
Can you build a viable spaceship from rusted and fatigued metals?
I hardly think so."

He strides over to the slave, and picks at pale skin on the slave's shoulder.
"I mean, really - Liberty's leftovers?
Please."
Tugging on his beard, he pauses, smiles, then speaks again.
"I do, however, I believe have a solution."

Walking away from the slave, he approaches Death Runner at a respectful distance.

"Do what you will with this half-human narcotic soup.
We need strong, as-yet unaddicted bodies for our work.
And I think that neither of us Doctors would have a problem working with a certain strain of human specimen.
I'm thinking, of course, about captured Gallic pilots.
Dr. Foetsch and I have both seen our people's lives worsened by their antics, and I would wager that his protestations would evaporate, should we be presented with proper Gallic specimens, and not this weak, drug-addled, half-dead creature before us."

Dr. Steel clasps his hands behind his back, cricks his neck, and delivers his coup-de-gras sentences.

"No, keep your slaves for the fields - or whatever.
I'm afraid we will require military grade troops for our work.
Unless you are willing to submit some of your own battle-ready Maltese marines and pilots, I suggest you set to capturing some unwashed and stinking Gauls for us.
Otherwise this research ends here - today - due to compromised working specimens."

He looks at Dr. Foetsch with a shrug.

"Doctor?"

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Building a Utopian Playground - One Smile at a Time