TITLE:
Whispers
Sequel to Home Improvement
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people
with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can do. Any
mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Sam had finished his dissertation and it had been such a feeling of sudden
freedom, it had taken his breath away – especially after the latest events. Without
the books and edits and nights slaving over the paper, he felt a sudden hole in
his life.
So he had turned to helping Ratchet.
The medic had started to go over each and every body shell in his extensive
storage, deep-scanning them, looking for clues as to why something dead had
revived. Jazz had joked that he had been dead, too, and had come back, but it
hadn’t sat well. From the way Barricade had kept glowering at him for the next
days, Sam was sure it had gone over really, really wrong.
Not that he hadn’t felt the spike of anger inside the former
Decepticon. He had almost been able to ‘hear’ that pulse and ‘feel’
Barricade’s snarl. Jazz would have to tread carefully and soothe ruffled
feathers. Barricade took reminders of Jazz’s death quite personally and very
hard. Not that Jazz was all that careless about the experience either, but on
the surface he handled it with a lot less seriousness and a lot more ease.
Still, it was only on the surface. Underneath Sam had seen and felt the
turbulences. In both mechs.
The mystery remained for the shells, though. There was no Allspark
to trigger a shell once more, and Will’s changed body wasn’t giving off energy
bursts like the Allspark. His cells had absorbed what
had remained of the mystical cube and he couldn’t give life. As he liked to
repeat: he wasn’t the Allspark.
So the question remained: what had happened and how?
Two months after the incident, Sam sat in the lab, eyes closed, mind poking
around a dead shell. It was one of many in the Sector Seven collection and he
had picked it because of several reasons. One was he was tired of looking at
twisted wrecks from around the time the Allspark had
first been used as an experimental Frankenstein machine. All those wrecks and
shells looked… scary. Inside and out. The other was
that maybe, because of the recent death of this particular one, they might have
a better chance determining what had happened.
There was a rather huge stack of M&Ms, chocolate bars and soft drinks to
help him over the energy deficiency he experienced throughout these sessions. Concentrated
work on a shell took a lot out of him and he usually felt like keeling over if
he overdid it. Sam didn’t know if
“Don’t overdo it,” was his usual remark.
Coffee was another tool to get Sam away from work, for at least fifteen
minutes, and small talk about base operations, family, friends, the like. Sam was glad for the distractions, happy about
talking to another human being, and he got to know more about
Their friendship had grown and Sam was amazed what changes DeMarco
had undergone from high school bully to… well… a really good friend. Trent knew
about his abilities, he had been confronted with Will in his protoform, and he had battled the revived shell as it had
tried everything to get out and flee, attacking them in turn.
Their attacker was dead. There was not even a blip left, but something was
drawing the technopath’s attention as Sam swam
through another dead shell’s mind. It was simple and not at all like the
complicated pathways of a Cybertronian mind. But even simplicity was dangerous
and he tended to get lost if he stayed too long. It was one reason why
Bumblebee was always there. The other was his friend’s blatant worry and fear
that Sam might get hurt.
::Sam?:: The worried mind-voice touched him from afar.
::There’s something…:: he murmured.
Bumblebee couldn’t piggy-back on Sam’s explorations. It was what worried him
even more than anything else.
::Like a faint echo::
::Sam, please be careful::
::I am.::
And he went deeper, past locked down paths, past crumbled and charred remains of
circuitry, past programs that had been blown apart. Sector Seven had created
life with the Allspark and torn it apart with
concentrated bursts of electricity. They had charred the body shells and fried
the minds.
There.
Like a weak pulse.
Sam pushed past so many ruins and so much destruction, pushed deeper into the
tiny mind, felt regret and remorse and nausea at what he touched and felt.
And then he saw it. Tiny, almost invisible, hiding underneath the remains of a
mind that had been short-lived and filled with fear,
lay a tiny spark. Not like a Cybertronian’s, but a
hybrid of alien and human technology.
Sam gaped, stunned. He reached out and brushed over the tiny fragment, felt it
shiver, afraid… terrified, actually. It wasn’t conscious, but it remembered its
death, the attack on its existence. It clung to what it was, holding on with a
fierce determination, and it was…
::Stasis:: Sam whispered. ::Good
god! It’s in stasis!::
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Optimus Prime had received many bad and worse news in his long life. He had
heard many impossible things, had witnessed miracles and wonders, greatness and
strength. Hearing about the survival of the tiny mech
the humans had given life to had fallen in that
category. Like Jazz’s return after his death it was a miracle, but he had mixed
emotions about it.
The Nokia had had a brief life. A violent birth, an even more
violent death. How much of the mind had survived that ordeal? How
damaged was the tiny processor?
It had no spark, was no Cybertronian life form, but it was a life form. It was
a hybrid, like all of its siblings. Like the one that had nearly killed Will,
Sam and Trent.
Ratchet was agitated. At least as agitated as he would show, which
was not a lot, which in turn meant he was very agitated.
“The Nokia is not like Jazz,” the medic repeated. “It never had a spark, never
had Cybertronian tech keeping it together. It was an artificial intelligence,
trapped in a human-built device that was never intended to house such a mind. It
was killed by a concentrated energy blast that wouldn’t have scratched our
sparks at all. For it to survive this, it was a very strong life form.”
“One that might not survive coming back,” Optimus said thoughtfully.
“Maybe. But we can’t stand by and leave it to perish
in stasis!” The medic’s optics flared in indignation. He would attempt to save
any kind of life, even that of a tiny mechanoid created by an alien race by
misusing the Allspark.
“I never said so. But it might kill it.”
“Yes. But it will most definitely die if we leave it like that, Prime. All the
others did already.”
He nodded slowly. “What are the chances it will end up severely scrambled?”
“Fifty percent.”
Which weren’t really good odds. Not at all.
“But Sam said he wants to coax it back step by step, handle it slowly and not
just reactivate the central processors. I agree that this might be the key to
have it survive the ordeal.”
And be sane? Optimus thought to himself. All the others had overreacted and
perished – or been killed.
“Are you sure you and Sam want to try this?”
Ratchet nodded firmly.
“All right. Try.”
Because all life had a right to live. Optimus stood by
that.
Ratchet left and the office was plunged in silence. The Autobot leader gazed at
his desk, noted the email sign blinking in the corner of his screen, and
suppressed a sigh. Sometimes bureaucracy was as bad as any battle he had ever
fought.
He turned to his computer and accessed his inbox.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
The news about the Nokia’s survival had stirred memories in Jazz. Less than
happy memories he still remembered almost completely. They hadn’t fallen prey
to the darkness in his torn mind, the part that had been erased in his revival.
While Jazz had dealt with recurring nightmares already and Barricade had set
his head on straight several times, the reminder was… chilling. Jazz couldn’t
say why, but he felt unwell in the base. He needed to stay away from the labs
and the tiny creature. He needed to think about what this meant.
No one could claim that Jazz was the most introspective of mechs,
at least those who only new him superficially. Those who had come to know the
private part of him, the part he protected fiercely, knew that things did touch
him. He had mourned his friends and comrades in his own way. He had dealt with
grief and joy the way he saw fit. And when he needed to talk, he did it with a
chosen few.
Throughout the war he had found a common mind in Optimus Prime. His
spark-bonded hadn’t been an option for various reasons, the most prominent
being that Barricade wasn’t around much. Their meetings were too brief to
burden his partner with small grievings. Now it was
different. Now they were together on a daily basis and not just their
communication had changed; the whole spark bond felt different. Jazz hadn’t
given it too much thought yet, but he knew he would want to know more about the
changes.
Right now Jazz’s own spark ached in sympathy at what the Nokia had gone
through. His own death had been just as violent, but not the same. It wasn’t a
mirror of the Nokia, but their miraculous survival was, in a way. Just hearing
about the experiments, the violent death and the stubbornness the little mech showed in clinging to life had Jazz shiver.
So he had left, driving around aimlessly until he had reached the mountains. The
Figure that, he thought darkly. Didn’t even notice where I was going.
Well, damn.
Jazz chose a remote location to finally transform and sat down on a boulder,
watching a near-by river. It was a cold day and quite early. He had driven
through the night, which he hadn’t really been aware of either. Of course
Optimus knew that his First Lieutenant had left the base to have some time
alone, but he hadn’t asked Jazz to call in every step of the way.
Why am I still thinking about this? he thought
angrily. Why can’t I just forget about it all and go on? I’m an Autobot
warrior! It’s not the first time I was confronted with death!
Well, it had been the first time he had died himself. Normally mechs didn’t come back from the dead, but his own spark had
been just as stubborn as the Nokia’s. There had been something left, something
so strong the Allspark shard had been able to revive
it. Part of him had been lost, like memories. He knew there were sometimes deep
holes inside, and it weighed on him. Jazz wasn’t the mech
to let that bother him most of the time.
But sometimes, when something came too close to home, it jarred loose those
emotions.
Slagit!
The sun rose, warmed the boulders, and Jazz watched the animal life around him.
Earth was like a rehab center for him. He could relax
in nature, or tune into a music program and forget the world, or watch TV all
day and collect new memories. It was all relaxing for him. He didn’t need total
stillness. He just needed… life. Still, in quiet moments, he remembered the
fragments.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
He watched his spark-bonded from the edge of the canyon. Barricade had followed
Jazz as the silver Solstice had headed aimlessly along the highways, until he
had taken an exit and ended up here. He knew what was going through his
partner’s mind. He had faced it before. Right now Barricade stayed where he
was; silent, just watching, and waiting.
It was close to darkness before Jazz moved, walking slowly along the river bank
until he had reached the place where the former Decepticon sat silently.
“Hey,” was the soft greeting.
Red optics studied the rather subdued mech. Jazz knew what his partner was
thinking – without being telepathic. Barricade had made his point clear several
times, but Jazz couldn’t help those bouts of dark feelings. They all had them,
because of different causes and events. His own had been recent. His death had
managed what the millennia of war hadn’t – to dampen his spirit.
“Idiot,” Barricade now said softly.
Jazz smiled a little, shrugging. “Yeah. At least for the next millennium or so.”
Barricade snorted. “Nothing can cure Autobot idiocy,” he remarked. “Not even
time.”
“Probably.”
There was a sliver of spark energy touching his own and he drew Barricade
closer. While physical closeness wasn’t necessary, it helped. The receptors in
his skin were fine-tuned and sensitive, more than any other Autobot’s he knew. It
was what gave him an appreciation for what humans experienced in a hug or a
caress. While Barricade and Jazz had never exchanged more than subtle gestures,
they had started to change that. At least Jazz had. They were growing closer
than they had been in all the time they had been bonded, thanks to spending so
much uninterrupted and very open time together.
It helped.
A lot.
Barricade took the invitation and ran careful claws over the microreceptor skin.
“Idiot,” came the barely audible whisper.
Jazz wrapped his arms around Barricade’s middle, held him tightly, and just
enjoyed the ministrations as their sparks slid closer together, pulsing in
harmony.
He would work through this one day. Somehow. With
reminders, though, it was harder. At least he had an unwavering, unquestioning
support. Barricade was there, no matter what. Whatever others saw in him, Jazz
knew no one could ever know the truth. Only a spark-bonded could understand
what the Autobot experienced, how the trust he placed in Barricade was so
absolute, so complete, and so true.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
They left the next morning, both quiet, not needing
any words. The spark bond was still open, their sparks very close, and neither
made an effort to change that.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Will looked
at the small creature on the table, tiny for a mech
like Ratchet, small for a human. It was charred, blackened, circuitry
destroyed. It had been killed in its transformed state. It looked like a
char-broiled cockroach, but inside this little husk lay
a mind in stasis, resilient and brave and so much attached to life that not
even a burst of electricity strong enough to fell larger versions of it had
managed to erase everything.
“You think it has a chance to survive?” he asked.
Ratchet looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. We saw what happened when the last
one came back to life. They are so damaged… they are even more violent than
their first incarnations.”
“The first time they woke up caged. The second time… it had just escaped death,
Ratchet. It woke in an unfamiliar place, remembered a violent death…” Will met the blue optics. “We all know how Jazz felt. And he
wasn’t fried alive.”
The medic nodded. “I know. It’s one of the first we have found, maybe the only
one among the debris that was left. Sector Seven took many of the first ones
apart and probably killed whatever had survived of them. Those last ones were
brought to life by a brief burst and they ran out of energy before they could
fully develop. This one…”
“Try?”
“What if it is too damaged to survive? To be sane?”
Would they kill it? Lock it away? Stasis maybe?
A sad smile touched the hybrid’s lips. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get
there, Ratchet. We can’t leave it like that. It might claw its own way back to
consciousness and look what happened when it occurred the first time.”
Another nod. “I’ll try. Sam offered to help,
communicate with it should it be sentient enough to understand.”
It was a start. The rest was only hope.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
The consciousness dreamed.
Nightmares.
Memories that were of a time when its life had been
profoundly changed.
It also dreamed of happier times, times when it had been of use, when a human
had been happy to have it, when it had been a device of communication, of
connecting people. It remembered the joy and the freedom; but then the darkness
had come. A lot of what had happened was like a totally different nightmare
that culminated in deactivation.
It had been given a consciousness. Awareness. It was
no longer a device with computer chips, but it was… someone. A
personality. Like its last human. It felt and thought and could express
itself.
Then there had been the very violent deactivation, filled with heat and pain
and circuits burning.
More nightmares followed. Nightmares of tight spaces, of people staring at it,
of confusion and fear and terror and and and…
Nightmares of being alone crashed down on the consciousness without a name,
feeding the terror which in turn fed the nightmares. It was a vicious circle.
The nightmares were a darkness that held it in a cold stranglehold through
which no warmth could permeate.
It curled up inside itself, building walls, shivering in fear of being
exterminated completely. It didn’t want to rise back to the surface.
But then the presence came. Soft and warm and so alien, but
still caring.
Sound touched its core for the first time since it had been conscious.
It recoiled, trembling. There was music, a voice, the sound of someone working.
It shivered. Someone was around it. The music was in the background, it
realized after a while, actually rather nice, and the voice could only be heard
now and then. Listening for a long time it got used to the voice and the music.
Sometimes it thought the voice was talking to it, but why should it?
Was it safe? Was it a trap?
The fear still held it tightly. And so it remained deep inside the last corner
of its mind, too afraid, too scared, and too damaged.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Sam had started to spend a lot of time with the Nokiabot.
At least he called it that. It had never had a name and no one had bothered to
give it one either. For Sector Seven it hadn’t even been a file number due to
the fact that it had died just before shit had hit the fan big time.
Lost and alone, he thought. No one had cared about it any more after its
deactivation. It had been boxed and shipped to the base, forgotten in a corner,
only taken out for brief examinations. Sam wondered how many of the failed and
killed experiments had been in such a deep stasis, their bodies charred, and
slowly faded away into nothingness over the weeks or months after their
presumed death.
He felt sick at the thought. Sick and nauseous and so very angry…
::Not your fault:: Bumblebee tried to soothe him.
::They were like children:: Sam whispered back.
::Children of the Allspark::
::And they could have been like you::
Bumblebee embraced him gently. ::Don’t mourn the past
as long as there is a future::
Sam chuckled weakly. ::Yeah::
Repairs on the cell phone had progressed and he had restored all important
circuitry. It was safe for the little bot to come
back into its shell, but it hadn’t reacted to any contact. Sam had then started
to rearrange the lab a little, as much as his small size allowed, and had only
asked Ratchet for help when there was no other way.
The Autobot medic was monitoring Sam’s work and he had been surprised by the
suggestion to give the Nokia constant outside input to get it used to the world
outside its self-induced stasis. Sam was convinced the little guy could hear
them on a subconscious level.
Sensors kept an eye on every little blip the Nokia made and Sam checked the
read-outs constantly. It liked music, he had found out. All kinds of music,
except the heavy stuff and some classical pieces.
“We’ll get you back,” he told the unresponsive cell. “And you’ll be safe.”
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
I’d be terrified, too, he thought. I wouldn’t trust a soul, whatever
they promised. I’d stay in my safe little world.
It was what the Nokia did.
He sat down cross-legged next to the examination pad. Sensors kept an eye on
the Nokia’s progress, or lack thereof.
These were the times Will wished he had the power of the Allspark,
could reanimate the dead shell.
“You didn’t deserve this. None of them did.”
“No progress,” a voice rumbled, not even forming it as a question.
Will shook his head. Ironhide stepped closer. He let a finger trail over the
human’s back.
“This is one time I wish I were the Allspark,”
“But you aren’t and I’m actually glad.”
It got Ironhide a wry laugh. “If you ever start worshipping me, I’ll kick your
exhaust through your air intakes.”
Ironhide laughed. “Just try,
“Hey, I can take you.”
“In your dreams.”
The runes flared on his arms, like separate entities that had just taken offense, and Ironhide gave a rumble of amusement.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Time passed by.
It knew that whatever was outside was still there, that it waited for it to
react, but it couldn't. Could it? It sometimes felt the stranger outside access
its systems and it was helpless while watching him work. Parts of its body were
carefully split and then removed, but no one ever touched its consciousness.
Whoever was out there knew what he could do and stopped whenever it might
endanger the core.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Sam still worked on the shell, He had removed damaged circuitry and replaced
it, arguing that if the Nokia felt that its body was being restored it might be
encouraged to come out of stasis. Will thought it was a sound argument and he
frequently checked in on the lab, watching the progress.
It was throughout one such visit, when Sam was almost done with the finer
details of the insides of the tiny robot, that the
younger man suddenly stiffened. Sam stared at the cell phone, then his eyes
widened and his mouth opened to say something. He was interrupted by small red
optics flaring to life.
Will gave an exclamation of surprise as the spidery little thing moved and Sam
almost dropped it in shock. Red optics met brown eyes, then the Nokia squealed
and tried to scramble off Sam’s hand, the legs uncoordinated and threatening to
collapse under the body. When Sam curled his hands around it, the small
creature gave a terrified shriek and attacked the hands keeping it prisoner.
“Ow!” Sam exclaimed and dropped the phone, which
scuttled across the wide expanse of the table.
It was stopped by the sheer drop to the ground, nervously running back and
forth along the edge. Tiny chitters emerged from its
voice processor.
“Sam?”
Will cursed Ratchet’s entrance as it spooked the Nokia again and it started
hissing, tiny gattling gun swivelling around and
around. It wasn’t armed, but it was good at posing,
“It’s alive?” Ratchet exclaimed and peered at the human-created robot.
The Nokia spit expletives. At least Will thought they were. He didn’t
understand the language, but the tone of voice was clear.
“Ratchet, you’re scaring it!” Sam called. “It’s terrified.”
Ratchet moved back a little, still scanning the revived cell phone transformer,
and the Nokia cowered down, hissing slightly. It wasn’t more than an ant
compared to Ratchet’s size, but it wasn’t scared enough to simply give up. Its
wing-like structures flared now and then, accompanied by what seemed to be
threats. Not that it had any chance against even a human, for all its tiny
size, but it had courage. A lot of courage.
“Can you touch its mind?” Will wanted to know, glancing briefly at Sam.
“Yeah. Now that it’s out of stasis it’s easy. It’s afraid and confused. I think
it remembers Sector Seven, but not by much. I get images of pain…” He shivered.
“Poor little thing.”
Will approached and the Nokia hissed a warning, like a rattler trying to scare
off a potentially dangerous predator.
Wings flared.
Pin-point legs jittered nervously.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re not trying to hurt you.”
Red optics brightened briefly.
Suddenly it tilted its head and chirruped. It took tentative steps forward and
tilted its head. Another chirrup. This time it sounded
quizzical.
There was chittering, then a chirrup, and the Nokia
came even closer. Like a frightened animal, sniffing at a hand held out in
peace, it inched closer and closer. The red optics scanned
“The runes,” Will whispered. “Its
looking at the runes.”
He held out a hand. Aside from Ironhide’s name around his wrist, there was a
lazily moving string of glyphs running over the back of his hand and down his
ring finger.
The Nokia made small hiccupping noises, then inched
closer. Barely a breath apart now from
A strange purr emerged from its voice processor.
“Wow,” Will heard Sam whisper, awed. “I… it feels so calm now. It doesn’t
understand the runes, but it feels safe.”
Red optics met brown eyes, wide with curiosity and without a single flicker of
aggression.
Will chuckled and rose to stand. “Don’t worry. They’re still there.”
A whirring noise turning into another chirrup, then it clicked softly.
“Looks like you’ve been adopted,” Sam remarked and approached carefully.
The Nokia moved uneasily and its wing-like back structures flared briefly, but
it didn’t try to flee or attack.
“It recognizes me,” Sam told the older man. “It knows I’m the one who can touch
its mind.”
“How stable is it?” Will wanted to know.
“I can’t feel any drain or imbalance in its core programming.”
“So it’s not just a brief revival?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. It’s strong, Will. It wouldn’t have survived
otherwise.”
Strong and brave,
Will thought.
He remembered the feeling he had had inside the Hoover Dam complex, the
sensation of death and loss and so much suffering. It had been suffocating and
chilling and terrifying. The little cell had survived all that. And it hadn’t
come back as a raving lunatic.
Ratchet came almost noiselessly closer, but the Nokia reacted anyway. It
chattered nervously and clung to Will’s shirt-sleeves.
“Hey, it’s okay, little one,”
The grip tightened and the red optics flared with fear.
“This will take time,” Sam murmured, shooting apologetic looks at Ratchet.
“You are as much qualified to examine it as I am,” Ratchet only said calmly. “I
already did a first scan and it looks good. There are still parts that need
repairs, but you can handle it, Sam. For now we should leave it to acclimatize
at its own rate. It will need time to process the changes.”
“It chose you as a friend,” Ratchet remarked.
Will smiled a little. “Seems like it. Sam?”
“Calming down.”
“Good.”
“I’m keeping an eye on its state-of-mind. I think we should give it time to
realize nothing bad is going to happen, then I want to
take a closer look at the circuits,” Sam decided.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Ironhide regarded the reborn little cell phone with
wary optics. For all its tiny size it was something created by the Allspark and it had been aggressive for the few minutes it
had been alive. Still, it wasn’t a Decepticon and it wasn’t attacking anyone now.
There was nothing inherently evil about it.
Surprisingly enough, the Nokia didn’t seem very much afraid of the black robot.
Maybe because
It kept close to Will wherever he went, either transformed into its cell phone
mode and tucked away in a pocket, or sitting on his shoulder and watching
everything with interest. Now and then it excitedly chattered away when it saw
a particular string of runes.
“I feel like a newspaper to the little guy,” Will joked.
“Do you think he can read it?” Ironhide asked.
A shrug. “No idea.”
Because communication was rather difficult. The Nokia
didn’t speak and no one understood the chittering
language. While Sam picked up the general meaning of a burst of strange sounds
because he could ‘sense’ the meaning, Will had no such luck. It was a hit and
miss kind of communication.
Closing his eyes, Will enjoyed the last rays of sunshine of the day, feeling
himself relax due to the combined warmth and the closeness of his partner. Ironhide’s
metal armor soaked up the sun as well, though didn’t
convert it as easily into energon as Bumblebee’s, who was more specialized, and
it radiated heat into the human hybrid as he lay on top of the Topkick’s hood. It was something they did quite often,
Ironhide in car mode, Will propped up against the windscreen, long legs
stretched out, just relaxing.
On some days Ironhide would activate the hardlight
hologram, on others, as if he sensed Will wasn’t in the mood, he left it off. The
Nokia had folded its tiny legs under its body, optics dimmed, resting on the
roof of the cab.
“It’s the last one,” Will said into the silence. “All
the others… Sam tried to find something, but they’re truly gone. Even when
knowing what to look for, they… expired.”
“As sad as it is,” Ironhide rumbled, “it’s for the better. Trauma like that is
hard to work through.”
“Experience?” Will asked
quietly.
“Not personally. You saw what its older brother did to you, Sam and the lab. This
little guy is relatively innocent. Other shells were far larger, more
aggressive and were killed with the same method.”
“Yeah.” Will brushed his palm over the smooth, black
finish in an absent-minded manner. “It was lucky and stayed more or less sane.
Ratchet thinks it might one day learn to communicate in our language. Or find
another means of making itself understood.”
“Life is a learning process,” was the philosophical answer.
Will chuckled. “Yeah. That I know.”
His fingers still trailed over the black hood and he finally sat up,
cross-legged, gazing out over the desert. It was getting darker and they should
be going back, but he didn’t feel like it at all. The Nokia twittered a
question and he smiled at it.
“Afraid of the dark?” he teased.
It sprung up, chattering indignantly, and Will laughed. With a little huff, it
poked hard at the hand held out to take it back. He smiled apologetically.
“Joking,”
Another twitter, then it transformed and he put it into a pocket. He slid down
the hood and got into the cab. Ironhide turned back to the base, headlights
piercing the falling night.
* * *
Jazz felt happy for the little cell phone. It had survived an incredible ordeal
and had come out sane.
Just like him.
Only different.
He had actually died. The last remaining life force that had so stubbornly
remained in his spark had only brought him back because of the Allspark. The Nokia had no spark and its consciousness had
put itself into stasis, cocooned in a steadily dying place. It had been rescued
in time.
Jazz sighed softly. They were survivors of a kind, but not alike.
Studying the reports Prime had forwarded to him he found he had been looking at
the same mail for over ten minutes and still didn’t know what it said. With an
annoyed rumble he switched off the computer and left his office. Nothing
pressing was going on, so he would keep himself busy with some hands-on stuff,
not mind-numbing leader stuff.
Ironhide was his first thought and the weapons specialist was only too happy to
show him his latest weapons plans. Jazz found them quite interesting and
thought that some of these modifications would probably suit him, too. When
Ironhide proposed some tests, he was only too happy to say yes.
It took his mind off matters. Off himself.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Lack of communication was a problem. It had tried, but its processors seemed to
scramble all it wanted to say and turn it into gibberish.
It was annoying. It was a bother. It was an obstacle in understanding and being
understood.
The human called Will Lennox, the one with the most fascinating skin it had
ever seen, was patient and tried to bridge the gap. The other human, Sam
Witwicky, had the advantage of being able to at least read part of its
responses because of his abilities.
Still, the Nokia felt deaf and dumb.
The Autobots had received it with mixed responses. Their leader was cautious,
but friendly. The big black one tolerated the Nokia because of
Things changed when
And then it met Captain Mike Bowman.
For some reason the little bot was immediately
interested in the human.
It started to hang our around the captain.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Mike Bowman had been fascinated by the mechanical life forms the moment he had
been briefed on their existence, and being liaison to the Autobot base had been
like a dream come true. Working with Will Lennox, who was the Autobots’
counter-part to his job, proved to be unlike anything he had ever done before. The
man himself was unlike anyone he knew, right down to bearing apparently alive
runes on his skin, but he was a nice guy.
The day
“So communication is a problem, huh?”
The Nokia gazed up at him, apparently a bit miffed, as well as embarrassed. It
chattered something.
“Ever tried text messages?”
It gave an irritated squeal.
“We tried,”
“You keep saying ‘it’. Ironhide is a ‘he’…”
“Or a name,” Bowman pointed out.
“Or that.”
The captain regarded the Nokia as it watched them curiously, making little
chirruping noises.
“Text messages don’t work and the processor is scrambled. What a mess,” he
remarked.
It got him a warbling chirp in return.
“What about image communication?”
Bowman shrugged. “Sure. On the base?”
“As long as you two stay under cover.”
A grin answered that. “Hey, it’s not a friggin’ huge
truck.”
The Nokia shrilled in agreement and transformed, showing it understood
perfectly.
Bowman studied the insect-like mech. “So… you want to hang around?”
It scurried around the table, twittering loudly.
“I take that as a yes.” Bowman held out a hand. “May I offer a lift?”
It stepped almost gracefully onto the offered palm and chirruped. The captain
looked at
Will smiled. “Have fun, Captain.”
“Oh, I think we will as long as the little guy understands the rules.”
*twip!*
“Which I think he does. But I’ll give him the Airforce handbook anyway,”
Bowman laughed.
*twiptwip!*
Bowman nodded. “I think we will.”
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
A month later the Nokia more or less made clear that
it wanted to stay with Bowman. It came as no big surprise, at least to Will and
Sam, who had kept track of the little guy and his Airforce captain. While
communication was haphazard still and image communication worked only to a
certain point, there was a connection between those two. Bowman loved the
little mech and he had undertaken efforts to help the
Nokia make itself understood. The small bot had even
replaced his old phone, now doubling as a communication device – and it worked
perfectly. Incoming and outgoing calls and text messages were crystal clear;
only its own were a garbled mess.
Ratchet had made sure that all filters and security features were in place. The
Nokia had been both amused and slightly annoyed that the Autobots didn’t trust
him to work securely. Still, he had let the medic do his job.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Optimus Prime knelt on the ground, looking at their human ally and the revived
creation of the Allspark.
“We appreciate your care,” he addressed Bowman, “and your cooperation,” he
transferred his gaze to the Nokia on Bowman’s shoulder. “But I must stress the
danger of discovery.”
The Nokia warbled a little, red optics flashing while the wings flared.
Bowman smiled grimly. “We know that, Prime. Unless there’s an emergency, Wi-Fi stays in cell phone mode. He can explore all he wants
while it’s only me, but all other access is done by wireless connection.” The
captain shrugged. “Sam helped me install a port so the little guy can keep up
to date and sate his thirst for knowledge.”
Prime nodded. “I understand. It still is a risk, but I respect your wish. Wi-Fi is, after all, a sentient individual. And he is in
your care, Captain Bowman.”
“Thank you, Optimus Prime.”
The tall Autobot leader rose. “Seeing what had to perish in the past, Wi-Fi’s survival is a miracle. His sanity
even more so.”
Bowman could only agree. The small mech was damaged,
yes. In more ways than one. But he was sentient. Wi-Fi had not only chosen to be a ‘he’ when he had finally
understood gender issues and the matter of the neutral ‘it’, he had also
insisted on a name. Since a brand was never a name, more like his sub-group, he
had finally decided on Wi-Fi, which was fine with
everyone. Bowman took to calling him ‘Spidey’ to
tease him, which had already resulted in annoyed mutters and a pellet to his
leg. Those gattling gun pellets could hurt. It didn’t
stop the teasing, though.
“It is,” Bowman said softly, smiling at the quiet warble from the Nokia.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
They left two hours later, accompanied by
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Lennox’s duties as liaison to Nellis brought him to
the Airbase a lot. With the construction of the Ghost-2, the selection of a
crew, technicians and engineers, choosing people they could trust, and running
them through the recruitment mill, his life was never boring. The same factors
applied to those people that had applied to prior choices for Epps’ second unit
as well.
Throughout his visits and stays, Will never failed to spend time with Wi-Fi and ‘his’ human. While the little Nokia was unable to
voice what he felt and thought correctly, the way he stuck with Bowman and
chattered quietly now and then, or just clung to the captain in an almost
possessive way, said it all.
“Adopted,” Ironhide had remarked the second time they had paid a visit.
And he was right. Where Bowman went, Wi-Fi was never
missing. Since the captain wasn’t married and in no relationship at the moment,
there was no danger of an outsider stumbling over the Nokiabot.
He lived on the base and the Air Force was his life, he had once told
Will understood. Career military. He still wanted to
sway Bowman into transferring to the Autobot base one day. They needed people
like him and the chance that the Autobots’ presence leaked to the world in
general was rising with each passing month. One day
the President would have to announce the alien contact; hopefully not just
after an armada of Decepticons had attacked the planet.
Until then, life remained as top secret as every day.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooooooooooooooooooooLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Barricade would never confess to worrying about anything or anyone. He might
give certain situations another thought, but worry was a weakness, and
Decepticons never showed weakness.
Then again, no other Decepticon had ever had a spark-bond, as far as he knew. It
made a difference. It made all the difference in the world. To be partnered with
Jazz was even more outstanding because despite all the outside differences,
they were so incredibly alike.
That his partner was torn inside because of the events around the revived Nokiabot didn’t really surprise Barricade. He had his own
demons surrounding the death and rebirth of the silver Autobot. He rarely let
them out or even close to the surface, but right now he did because he shared
them with Jazz.
The Solstice trembled a little and Barricade felt every shiver through his
sensors. While he didn’t have the delicate and highly receptive sensor net Jazz
possessed, he wasn’t blind. Sharing full body contact in their car forms, he
let the silver one push ever closer, seeking and receiving a comfort Jazz would
actually never openly confess to out loud. These were private moments. Their moments.
It was getting better and soon Jazz would push everything aside once more, be
his usual self.
Barricade opened his side of the bond and sent a silent request for Jazz to do
the same. The offer was gratefully taken.
Barricade didn’t mind this sliding toward sharing. Not at
all. Sometimes the energy rush was what was needed to erase darker
thoughts. It had worked throughout the all-out civil war on Cybertron, and
matters had been a lot worse there. Now it worked its own magic, calming his
partner and calming himself. Knowing Jazz was there,
alive, did wonders to his own mental condition.
A hum reverberated through him, followed by a satisfied smile that was neither
an image nor a word, really. It was just… there. None of the scientists
throughout known history had ever been able to explain the bond, to pin it down
in formulas, equations or a satisfying explanation. It was just there, it
filled a void.
Jazz’s smile widened. ::Sucker::
Barricade uncharacteristically laughed and pulled him in tight. ::Autobot:: he only replied.