Transformers: Deus ex Machina
Prelude: Karma Encodex
V2.0.21
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Author's Note: This is an expansion/re-write of TF: Beginnings.
Legalities: Transformers, Iacon, and Vector Sigma belong to HasKen. Vorns and Orns, Energon, Sparks and the Matrix were thought of by some one else. The rest of the story, and characters are mine. Please don't use the characters without my permission. This story is only to be posted on www.fanfiction.net. Please do not redistribute it whole or in part. This work is done solely for the purpose of entertainment without the intention of profit. Feedback (and especially reviews) is welcomed and highly encouraged :) Enjoy the fruits of my sleepless nights :)
Quick Glossary:
-Molecucorder: A voice recorder that uses digital, molecular encoding. It's highly durable in
normal use because of its lack of moving parts.
-Orn: literally the lunar cycle of the smallest moon. Equal to approximately 8.3 earth days.
-Quantumware: A way of containing, maintaining, and manipulating all types of energy. Both
Energon Cubes and Sparks fall under this classification.
-Vorn: the time it took Cyberia to complete one orbit around its sun. Equal to approximately 8.3
earth years.
"Sections 7-12 through 8-10 are secured..." Tam-Lin pushed 'stop' on her molecucorder, as her other hand brushed once more across the cool metal of the bulwark. She imagined the gun-metal-gray composite as it might be soon - White-hot and near melting point as it worked to dissipate the heat of the killing flash.
She shivered. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the ominous weight of the fore coming end, the darkness of the sunless days to come - that is, if Cyberia survived at all... She switched on the molecucorder once more.
"The reinforcement of Iacon shall be completed one vorn ahead of schedule if the current rate of progress is maintained."
The molecucorder was shut off again. Tam-Lin's grip on it was knuckle-white tight. She wailed, sending it soaring across the metal encased courtyard. "I don't want to die! I don't!"
The molecucorder shattered, its pieces ricocheting every which way. Tam-Lin sank to her knees, her face buried in her hands. There had to be some way to escape death. There was - past tense - a way. Some Cyberians had opted to attempt relocation, a colonization of other planet(s). Due to budget constraints, only a fraction of the population had met the prerequisites to go. She could have gone! The miniscule chance of survival was better than the inevitable death she would meet.
"Why did I stay?"
She knew the answer. Pri-Mon. He had coaxed her and goaded her. Persuaded her, then as the literal deadline closed in she saw him for who he was - and she hated him!
**
"Please! Don't! Please..."
Met-Gon arched an eyebrow and his amber eyes narrowed with contempt. He had seen and heard the pathetic pleadings of countless Cyberians in their final moments before their life was stripped away from the flesh. They couldn't comprehend the incredible ruth Vector Sigma had on them. Or the eternal life or immense power they were granted simply by being 'one' with the Divine.
"Go in peace," Met-Gon paused to review the roster for the name of this most-recent-link-in-the-endless-chain-of-duty. He shrugged, not giving one energon unit. The dreg was one of the luckier ones to join Vector Sigma... And he didn't even show gratitude. "Transfer the blight already." Met-Gon ordered.
"But sir!" Dur-Ge protested. Ignoring the underling's outburst, Met-Gon turned to his second-in-command and nodded. Shok-Wav pushed Dur-Ge aside and activated the process in one fluid motion. The Cyberian screamed in angst. Dur-Ge winced as he watched his fellow Cyberian slum over, lifeless.
"Are you sure the essence transfer is foolproof?" Dur-Ge asked reluctantly. His confidence in it had crumbled away little by little with each scream, cry, and hopeless look he saw of the Cyberians as they died.
"Shut up, Dur-Ge," Met-Gon snapped, "or you will be the next one to find out."
Dur-Ge shied away, holding his tongue.
**
"Pri-Mon," Sta-Scrai addressed the High Priest, as he entered Pri-Mon's private chambers. His tone boded ill news. Pri-Mon faced him, preparing for the worst.
"I'm sorry for interrupting you, your Grace..." Sta-Scrai said apologetically. "I-"
"It's alright," Pri-Mon told him, placing a reassuring hand on Sta-Scrai's shoulder. "Speak, please."
"It is Met-Gon, your Grace. His methods of pacification have become extreme, even brutal. ... An estimated one percent of the resisting population has forever been denied life through Vector Sigma."
Pri-Mon paled. "Surely my brother isn't responsible for all their deaths."
"Granted," Sta-Scrai conceded, "the suicide and homicide rates have grown exponentially as the terror of the mass populous is exacerbated. But! Lord Met-Gon does have Cyberian blood on his hands - The very blood that should have been protected, life that should have been transferred..."
Pri-Mon felt cold and mildly nauseous. Met-Gon was his responsibility, and he had slipped in his duty to watch him. "Thank you Sta," Pri-Mon answered meekly. "You may rest assured that I will deal with Met-Gon's infractions, posthaste."
"My Grace," Sta-Scrai murmured, nodding to excuse himself. He could see his friend needed some privacy to resolve this personal matter. Pri-Mon was grateful to Sta-Scrai for understanding.
"O' Vector Sigma, guide me. I beg you -" Pri-Mon whispered, clutching the Matrix with both hands to his chest. He could understand why Vector Sigma had denied Met-Gon his birthright as Barer of the Matrix. He could understand the personal sacrifices he'd had to make to placate his brother's wrath. Met-Gon was a terrible force to face if provoked. The situation threatening all of Cyberia was approaching critical mass - It couldn't handle the machinations of a tyrannical despot tearing it apart from the inside out.
**
"Good orn, Tam," Met-Gon greeted, his voice uncharacteristically tender and kind. Tam-Lin smiled - It wasn't difficult to exaggerate a genuine feeling she had for her husband. Met-Gon touched her cheek, brushing aside her brown hair so he could fully see her lovely face. Those captivating violet eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in since first they opened. Eyes that he would remember, forever.
"Sectors 9-8 thought 9-10 were cleared in three orn," he told her proudly. "Soon all of sections 9 will be ready for you to shield."
"Thank you, Met," she said softly, kissing his palm.
"You hesitated..." He had perceived her reaction.
"I am afraid - "
Met-Gon felt his gut muscles go taut as she spoke. He schooled his reaction.
"-Of dying."
He relaxed as he realized there was no criticism. "Do not exaggerate the shadows of you mind, my love..." Met-Gon soothed. "When the time comes I will be there, I promise."
Tam-Lin knew that this was Met-Gon's best. And that it wasn't reassuring in the least. Pri-Mon would have made her feel at least heard, if not better. Tam-Lin cringed and her bitterness towards Pri-Mon intensified. That man had sealed her doom, then had pushed her into the arms of his rival and brother.
She sank into Met-Gon's embrace, and wished that Pri-Mon was aware of it - that he suffered because of it. Tam-Lin wanted him to hurt as bitterly as she did. Only...Only she wasn't so sure that he even cared.
**
The Guardian towered like a phantom-god, seeming to hover underneath the flowing mantle of robes as it glided silently ahead. Its baleful red optics cast forth a guiding light of cold-fire red that cut though the sea of underground blackness. Its course though the labyrinth bowels of Cyberia, its destination was the heart and the jewel within it - the Chthonic god, Vector Sigma.
Pri-Mon followed at a respectful distance. The matrix o'er his heart glowed a soft, sapphire blue - bathing the walls and undulating robes of the Guardian with its calming light. The light of the Matrix, and Guardian's matte-gray cloak - the way it flowed... A waterfall. A reservoir of water. ... An axe flared to life. A mace. Pri-Mon gasped, caught up with the residue of a battle. He caught himself against the near wall. The Matrix clutched in one hand. He'd rarely been so overwhelmed by his clairvoyance. Only the time he 'knew' he'd get the Matrix was his vision so overwhelming. He'd been the labyrinth then too. There was something about the labyrinth that seemed to focus the innate gifts of the soul. The same 'something' that warped his sense of time. He realized that the Guardian had halted, and was looking at him expectantly - it's optics, blood-red orbs centered deep in the ocular pits of its skull. Its emaciated, humorless grin seemed to reflect the darker ironies of life.
"I'm -" Pri-Mon swallowed, "I don't know what -" He tried to explain. The Guardian ignored him, turning back to its singular purpose, to lead the High Priest safely though the Labyrinth to the Heart of Cyberia.
*
Pri-Mon gazed at Vector Sigma with a sense of wonder. It was a large sphere of stark white energy, it's light akin to the stars above. ~Speak, my beloved child. Unburden your heart, ~ Vector Sigma's 'voice' was omnipresent - seemingly everywhere, and nowhere, touching gently across Pri-Mon's mind. It's light seemed to pulsate in rhythm of its 'voice'.
Vector Sigma, a testament to a golden age long ago. A wonder unmatched in its beauty or sophistication by even Cyberia's sister race, the Yunarians. Vector Sigma was a library; a repository of all the greatest of Cyberian minds, scientists, artist, politicians, militarists - soon all walks of life, great and small.
Pri-Mon's brows knitted with his concerns. "Met-Gon..." He murmured. The name, the tone of voice to invoke it aloud, these said it all.
~I know the pain in your heart, the bitter tears it sheds. ~ Vector Sigma empathized. ~The burning question of how to stop the madness you see rearing up on the horizon.~ Its pulsations grew hypnotic. Pri-Mon felt dizzy, as if he were expanding to become aware beyond awareness itself.
~I -- ~ Its voice took on an eerie, almost multiplied effect, as if projecting from the 'before', the 'now' and 'after'. ~-- Have seen that which is shall be. Know you what to ask before you seek answer, my son.~
Pri-Mon swooned; sucked back into the realm of dreaming. Metal and chains. That blood-fire axe again swinging. A spray a showering of shattered links. The more Pri-Mon tried to focus on the detail, the faster the vision slipped away, leaving only a sense of futile frustration and a skipped heartbeat.
~There is more than meets the eye, my child. Destiny was long ago laid, let the fates course where they may.~
Pri-Mon came back to a semblance of himself, clutching the Matrix again. Vector Sigma had loosed Met-Gon with a purpose that only the god could understand. Pri-Mon looked up at Vector Sigma, knowing that his god would not support him in any course of action he took to nullify or contain his brother.
**
Pri-Mon caught himself in mid-reach for the amulet. He couldn't afford to touch the Matrix that covered his heart. The gesture could be taken as a sign of weakness. He didn't want to undermine his position from the very beginning.
"My Grace, the lord Met-Gon is here," Sta-Scrai announced formally.
"Bade him enter," Pri-Mon gestured with a practiced aloof eloquence. Met-Gon was only verse in two forms of communication: detached social formality, and cold-blooded brutality. Pri-Mon himself only had some affinity for the former.
Met-Gon strode in, back erect, shoulders squared, head held high. His ear-length hair was styled to accentuate the odd bi-coloring, an inherent marking of his priestly lineage. Black at the roots, his hair naturally bleached out as it grew until it was stark blond at the ends. (Pri-Mon had the same genetic marker, in a less impressive shade of rusty-sand blond.) Met-Gon came to a sudden halt in the chamber's center, and gave a stiff bow from the hip.
"May the inner star light our darkest time," Met-Gon greeted.
"Till all are one." Pri-Mon responded automatically. The ritual referred to the final battle of the Unity War - A war that pre-dated living memory.
"How may I be of service to the Barer of the Matrix?" Met-Gon inquired, thinly veiled politeness in his voice. His amber eyes piercing deeply into Pri-Mon - lynx-like, they caught the light and seemed, just for a moment, to glow like smoldering embers. The fragile veneer of politeness faded like mist in the light of Met-Gon's understanding... "What is your will?" He had seen it in Pri-Mon's body language. He was acting without Vector Sigma's directive. The ghost of a sardonic smile played on Met-Gon's lips as he waited for Pri-Mon to 'hang himself'.
Pri-Mon hesitated, knowing he had been exposed. He had never been good with deceit, especially when his brother was concerned. He felt the heat of his flushing face as he mentally rushed to re-plot his strategy. "I have summoned you on behalf of Cyberia - her people." Pri-Mon decided that he should have stuck with the truth in the first place. He just hoped that he could achieve his goal on his own merits now that he knew he couldn't use Vector Sigma, even implied, as leverage.
Met-Gon waited, amused to let him build to his point.
"Some of our people have been lost forever due to the Processors..." No matter how diplomatically Pri-Mon stated this, Met-Gon was bound to take this accusation as personal criticism. The lightning flash of reaction was already storming across Met-Gon's features.
"What would you have me do, Pri-Mon?" Met-Gon asked with a soft hiss of contempt and barely controlled anger. He had instantly lost his good-humor and the pretense of respect that was accorded to a High Priest. It was a not so subtle reminder that without the Matrix, the younger brother was nothing.
"Only consider that all, like Tam-Lin, deserve a safe path to Vector Sigma..." Pri-Mon said with more confidence than he felt. He was trying to evoke an empathic reaction in Met-Gon, but was making no dent He could sense his brother's hatred, unbridled, as if it were a force that could suffocate him by will alone.
Met-Gon smiled, mildly bemused with his brother's obvious attempt at ruthlessness. Much like he had smiled at his daughter when she tried to feed herself for the first time. The smile faded to black. If the usurper was taking this little lesson to heart then... No, this was not to be had.
"I have heard," Met-Gon announced, his emotions re-masked as quickly as they were revealed. As he touched the pauldron of the High Priest's garb, a ritual acknowledgement of and acquiescence to the High Priest's dictate. "-It's not over, 'dear' brother." He whispered in Pri-Mon's ear as he drew away. Then aloud he said, "I will depart, with your leave of course." Met-Gon gave a humorless smile.
"You have it." Pri-Mon said tightly. He watched Met-Gon leave. Not moving a muscle until he was alone. He sank on to a nearby couch, weary to the heart. Met-Gon was chaffing sore at the bit. The vary station in life that he had been born and bred for was denied him. And his ego could accept nothing lest than his birthright.
Pri-Mon desperately hoped that the peace offering of Tam-Lin. The rank of Warlord and Militant Command. Even just his reverence of Vector Sigma. His pride, like a demon refused to be sated. Please, Pri-Mon prayed to the glowing jewel cupped in his hands, please just a while longer.
**
Tam-Lin could sense the shift; the ambience of the room drew taut as garrote-wire as Met-Gon entered their quarters. She imagined his ill-humor as a beast clawing at her back, only it was being restrained. This was worse; it made Met-Gon's stormy anger unpredictable. Tam-Lin swallowed, trying to clear and relax her throat before she spoke. He had never laid a hand on her, but the fear that his rages invoked was just as real. She wanted to get out as fast as she could. Let him blow over.
"Dinner is ready, Metg," she mentioned, as casually as she could manage, pretending not to know his state. Met-Gon looked at her when he heard her use the intimate contraction of his name. She hadn't realized quite what she had said, her subconsciousness pleading for peace - for a way out. "I've got to go complete the inspection of sections 8."
"Next orn," he commanded softly, as he approached her. She froze, watching the door to freedom clanking shut.
"But the report." She urged, her voice breaking under the tension. His hand firmly clasped her upper arm. She fought her urge to shy away. He had to believe he was in control. Slowly he turned her to face him. Lifted her chin and touched her brown hair, still keeping a hold on her arm.
"Do not fore sake me now, Tam," he whispered as he drew her into an embrace. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scents of the newly prepared meal, the metal with which she worked closely with. The fragrant soap used to clean her hair. The natural musk of her body. "Not when I need you most."
She leaned into him. Her only escape now was through the storm. On the surface it seemed as if a relaxed couple was enjoying a respite. Tam-Lin closed her eyes. She was locked in the eye of the storm. This typhoon of sibling rivalry, it would precipitate to fratricide if allowed to play out. A vision of Pri-Mon lying broken at Met-Gon's feet flashed in her mind's eye, and she shivered with dread.
"Don't worry, Tam," Met-Gon soothed. "I - We shall have everything we deserve." No matter the cost!
**
The holographic projection rotated slowly on its unseen axis. A vaporous nucleus, glowing with inner luminance, danced and throbbed with a nature that seemed energy, gaseous and liquid - its properties shifting and changing as it swirled within its translucent spherical shell. Pri-Mon was reminded of a zygote in its early stages of development as he watch the model spin lazily around and around.
Sta-Scrai leaned over the demo model. Tapping at it gently with his light pen. The model paused, and the section touched, expanded and magnified. "As you can see my Grace," Sta-Scrai was explaining. His voice seemed distant, as the subject became his consuming focus. "This is the interface housing, the spark of life resides within it.
"The nucleus is a matrix that will maintain the integrity of the spark outside of the embrace of Vector Sigma. And the unit, in its entirety, is programmed to return directly to Vector Sigma should the physical container sustain sufficient damage and/or decay to destroy it. Only -"
"Only?" Pri-Mon prompted, not liking the ominous pause.
"Only in order to have enough space for all the safety guards, and their redundancy systems... The actual memories of the individual may be compromised."
"Explain." Pri-Mon was trying not to lose patience with the Priest-Scientist. He tried not to assume the worse. The Guardian was a worse case scenario. The quantumware that maintained the Guardian's essence didn't just 'compromise' the Guardian, it lobotomized him. Pri-Mon shivered.
"We had no time to fine tune this version of the quantumware. Conscious memories, like your name, that you were flesh, casual relationships... This things will most likely be lost." Pri-Mon could feel the blood drain from his face. Sta-Scrai, Vector Sigma bless him, was completely oblivious to anything but his precious model. "Only the vary basic core of the personality, perhaps even deeply personal, emotionally-laden memories are certain to be maintained from incarnation to incarnation."
"Will we be like - like Oma-Sum?" Pri-Mon dared to ask.
"What?" Sta-Scrai looked shocked, as if forced to wake from a sweet dream because someone shouted 'fire'. "What?! - No! No, my Grace. This version of the quantumware fixes the integrity-leak associated with the Guardian's current status. The memory compromise that plagues this version simple means that memories can't be carried from one life to the next life.
"For example... When you are reincarnated to your next life, you won't remember much (if anything) of this life now. Just like you have no memory now of your past life(s). ... Do you understand?"
"Is there anyway to fix this, Sta-Scrai?" Pri-Mon felt relieved, but there was still a problem.
"Yes, given time... Time we don't have..."
**
This vorn had come so quickly to a close; The last vorn of her life. The vast roads of Iacon were empty - desolate and as quiet as a tomb. Tam-Lin bit her lip to stifle a sob that rose in her throat. Met-Gon flanked her, maintaining a quick and easy stride, he looked neither left nor right, remaining focused on the 'straight ahead'. He seemed almost bored. This walking to the Holy Centre of the city, this was only to mollify her need to see once more Cyberia before it was consumed by nova-fire.
Tam-Lin looked up at the sky, as if just seeing it for the first time. The lavender-blue of a cloudless Cyberian day. A sky lacerated by jutting skyscrapers. Monumental masterpieces of Cyberian ingenuity, which (based on calculations made generations ago) would be naught but charred nubs in a matter of orns. Tam-Lin slowed her pace, cramming as many details of the architectural majesty as she could into memory. Taking in their beauty with a sense of awe. A keen awareness of what was about to be lost. Tears came to her eyes.
Cyberia's sun was due to supernova soon. Tam-Lin hesitated. What if Vector Sigma was wrong? She permitted the burning question, the fountainhead of her doubts to bubble into her consciousness. What if? It was too late now. So many things have been changed unalterably. Too many things lost.
"Come, Tam," Met-Gon urged her impatiently. "We have been summoned by Vector Sigma! You mustn't dally."
"I - " She couldn't finish her thought.
"I'm with you Tam. I always have been, and always will be." He told her with conviction. Even now Met-Gon relished the fact that he had won her from his brother. He considered the loss of the Matrix as only a temporary set back. Tam-Lin had her doubts, and he would guide her though them. His faith in Vector Sigma - the computer that would be god - was unshakable. He was fated to serve as High Priest; Barer of the Matrix. He was fated to lead his people into an era of peace and prosperity unknown even in the Unity War.
The denial of the Matrix, that was a test of faith! A trial of his mettle, for a time when he was reborn in times to come, in a body of undeniable power. At that time he would rule in the name of Vector Sigma. A dynasty of enduring Peace, forever. Met-Gon smiled to himself. Peace, that was a good dream.
*
Tam-Lin stared at the Guardian with revulsion and a fascination that magnetized her morbid attention. It (he?) was a towering giant, swathed in a cloud of robes. It was so huge. So ugly. So inhuman. Was this the prototype of Cyberians' reincarnation? She had heard a rumor of some such thing long ago. A distant High Priest had offered himself up for (or had been forced into) experimentation. An experiment gone terribly wrong.
Pri-Mon kept his distance, and studiously kept his gaze on anything but Met-Gon and Tam-Lin, as he waited for the last member of their party. He hoped that Sta-Scrai wasn't much longer in his arrival. The discomfort of the situation was growing incrementally with each moment passing.
The Guardian, as if finally aware of Tam-Lin's unabashed scrutiny. Its dispassionate gaze shifted to zero in on Tam-Lin. The unblinking, burning red optics bore right through Tam-Lin's nerve, and she quickly turned away. She couldn't stomach the pitiless, soul-searching glare. Her wild scan for comfort ended with the awkward meeting with Pri-Mon's gaze. He had made eye contact with her as if he could sense her longing for him even now. She flushed and scowled, looking away as suddenly as she had looked towards him. His eyes held pity for her. How dare he pity her! She fumed privately as she retreated into the shelter of Met-Gon's presence. Met-Gon automatically slid his arm around her shoulder.
The Guardian shifted again, sensing the approach of the last party member. Moments later Sta-Scrai joined them. The Guarding made a sweeping gesture for them to follow it as it spun around and glided down into the maw of the labyrinth. The motion was fluid and silent, with the impression of economy of motion.
Pri-Mon and Sta-Scrai took the lead behind their guide. Met-Gon graciously said nothing. Let the little usurper have his last moments of glory. Besides... Pri-Mon was providing a mild entertainment for the Eldest brother. Met-Gon had quietly observed how hard Pri-Mon worked to put forth the image of indifference towards Tam-Lin. How that facade had cracked and had been shabbily reconstructed. Contrary to public belief, Met-Gon was just as empathic as little Pri-Mon. The tension in Pri-Mon was as a fine wine and Met-Gon savored it. Privately enjoying the suffering Pri-Mon desperately tried to hide.
*
Vector Sigma shone as a star in the deepest night. The light at the end of the long dark tunnel. The simple contrast was profound. Coming face-to-face with the Prime Mover; its beauty instilled a sense of shame in Tam-Lin as she gazed at it.
~Be not ashamed, my daughter,~ Vector Sigma spoke to her alone. ~It is in the asking that the path of wisdom is first trod upon.~
~I have observed the work you have completed in your mother's name. It is a work that shall endure the eons. Its foundations shall be edified and aggrandized many times.~
~Yet it is not your work you question. It is I that you doubt.~
"No!" Tam-Lin's denial was fervent.
~You wonder if you and all of Cyberia have been led blindly to the slaughter.~
Tam-Lin hung her head. She had wondered that. Vector Sigma had seen through her.
~It is your fear of death. The belief the end of the flesh is truly the end of the soul too. You fear the loss of your individuality, afraid that it'll never be recovered.~
"Yes..." Tam-Lin agreed meekly.
~It shall be as a long sleep, my daughter. And when you wake again you shall have again flesh and the sense of self you so cherish now.~
"But when?"
~To you it shall be but a blink of an eye.~
*
Met-Gon could feel the power of Vector Sigma permeate every fiber of his being, and he reveled in it. He welcomed his God with open arms. "O Vector Sigma," Met-Gon breathed reverently. "What would you of me?"
~You have served me well, my son,~ Vector Sigma praised him. ~And you will serve again at my behest. Yet not this orn. This orn you shall rest, knowing only peace in your sleep.~
Met-Gon closed his eyes, his face showing the joyous rapture of joining with his God. Soon his dreams of peace, everlasting peace, and power would be realized for himself.
*
Sta-Scrai gasped as he watched Vector Sigma flare. Its corona engulfing both Tam-Lin and Met-Gon. Only for the span of one heartbeat. When the light withdrew, the bodies slumped over, their lives lifted from their bodies.
"What happened?" Sta-Scrai stammered, dumbfounded.
"I have taken mercy on them. Their sparks reside within me," Pri-Mon spoke, but it sure wasn't his voice that emanated from his mouth. It was too ancient. Too powerful and self-assured to be that of the High Priest.
"Why are you speaking to me in this manor?" Sta-Scrai asked. Without removing his gaze, Pri-Mon lifted the amulet from his chest and approached Sta-Scrai.
"Receive this wisdom Sta-Scrai," Pri-Mon crossed the distance, pressing the amulet into his hand. "You have 2 orn to do what you can to correct the quantumware."
The Priest-Scientist inhaled sharply as the knowing of the ages tidal waved and cascaded through his mind. Invading his consciousness and unfold as a flower before his mind's eye. The missing gaps of information were suddenly filled.
*
Pri-Mon 'woke' to find the bodies of his brother and his beloved prone before Vector Sigma's base. Sta-Scrai and the Guardian were nowhere in sight. Pri-Mon rushed over to Tam-Lin. He could find no vital sign in her. He turned her over gently and laid her head to rest against his lap. As he stroked her mussed brown hair back into place.
'You took them both," he murmured.
~Yes.~
"I-" Pri-Mon choked back his last words, as he carefully brushed her hair behind her ear. The way it had a habit of falling to partially conceal her face; just one of the many funny quarks that he'd miss about her. Her violet eyes were gazing off into some distant world that only she could see, her face relaxed in utter contentment.
Pri-Mon closed her eyes and kissed her good bye, on the cheek. He would love her always, but she was bound in life, and in death to another. He looked at Met-Gon. In this moment's respite from the eternal threat of his brother. Pri-Mon could look at him with the eyes of ruth. Both of them had lost the one thing they wanted most in this world.
"I will the Greater Will." Pri-Mon intoned. His role of counter-point to balance his brother was far from over.
**
Pri-Mon watched the sensor readouts, as he clutched the Matrix to his heart: A self-soothing habit he realized. He felt so utterly alone and uneasy. The sun had recently began its death throws. All of Cyberia slept safely in the shelter of Vector Sigma, except him.
"Tam-Lin was more qualified to perform these last minute checks..."
~Only academically speaking.~ Vector Sigma replied through the Matrix.
Pri-Mon fell silent for the moment as he completed the systems checklist.
"Was I right to do what I did?"
~You did what you felt you had to.~
"Please," Pri-Mon asked exasperated. "I just want a straight answer."
~You are my chosen Prime.~ Vector Sigma's intimate contraction of his name surprised the High Priest. ~You know that there are times when great, even personal sacrifices are required. The path I ask you to follow is not an easy one.~
Pri-Mon's eyes flickered across the readouts again. "This is the End." He breathed.
~It is time, my son.~
Pri-Mon eased himself into the transfer chair. His eyes still locked on the readouts. Cyberia would no longer have a sun. ... This would be the last time he ever saw his world with these eyes. As the once forbidden thought splayed his mind. His heart broke. And his vision blurred.
~Rest well, my son.~ Vector soothed. ~Dawn is coming all too soon.~
Pri-Mon murmured something un-definable, as his breath grew shallow. Vector Sigma monitored the last heartbeat with some resignation. It mourned the temporary loss of Its foremost son. With the violent death of Cyberia's sun, the dawn of their darkest days would be Harold in.
Vector Sigma summoned the Guardian to fetch the Matrix and to put Pri-Mon's body to rest. Both Pri-Mon and the Matrix would rise again, in time. Vector Sigma started putting its systems in stand-by, as it waited. Monitoring the sun, waiting for the flash. For the shock wave that would lash Cyberia out of its orbit and into the grasp of the ensnaring Quintesson tentacles eons from now. Into an era of slavery. This was the first of three days of darkness. Vector Sigma had seen each 'day' and had grieved for his children. It was a terrible burden that It alone was allowed to bare. And alone It waited for it all to pass.
Vector Sigma switched Itself to stand-by as the sun novaed. Dawn was here...
End-
Prelude: Karma Encodex
V2.0.21
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Author's Note: This is an expansion/re-write of TF: Beginnings.
Legalities: Transformers, Iacon, and Vector Sigma belong to HasKen. Vorns and Orns, Energon, Sparks and the Matrix were thought of by some one else. The rest of the story, and characters are mine. Please don't use the characters without my permission. This story is only to be posted on www.fanfiction.net. Please do not redistribute it whole or in part. This work is done solely for the purpose of entertainment without the intention of profit. Feedback (and especially reviews) is welcomed and highly encouraged :) Enjoy the fruits of my sleepless nights :)
Quick Glossary:
-Molecucorder: A voice recorder that uses digital, molecular encoding. It's highly durable in
normal use because of its lack of moving parts.
-Orn: literally the lunar cycle of the smallest moon. Equal to approximately 8.3 earth days.
-Quantumware: A way of containing, maintaining, and manipulating all types of energy. Both
Energon Cubes and Sparks fall under this classification.
-Vorn: the time it took Cyberia to complete one orbit around its sun. Equal to approximately 8.3
earth years.
"Sections 7-12 through 8-10 are secured..." Tam-Lin pushed 'stop' on her molecucorder, as her other hand brushed once more across the cool metal of the bulwark. She imagined the gun-metal-gray composite as it might be soon - White-hot and near melting point as it worked to dissipate the heat of the killing flash.
She shivered. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the ominous weight of the fore coming end, the darkness of the sunless days to come - that is, if Cyberia survived at all... She switched on the molecucorder once more.
"The reinforcement of Iacon shall be completed one vorn ahead of schedule if the current rate of progress is maintained."
The molecucorder was shut off again. Tam-Lin's grip on it was knuckle-white tight. She wailed, sending it soaring across the metal encased courtyard. "I don't want to die! I don't!"
The molecucorder shattered, its pieces ricocheting every which way. Tam-Lin sank to her knees, her face buried in her hands. There had to be some way to escape death. There was - past tense - a way. Some Cyberians had opted to attempt relocation, a colonization of other planet(s). Due to budget constraints, only a fraction of the population had met the prerequisites to go. She could have gone! The miniscule chance of survival was better than the inevitable death she would meet.
"Why did I stay?"
She knew the answer. Pri-Mon. He had coaxed her and goaded her. Persuaded her, then as the literal deadline closed in she saw him for who he was - and she hated him!
**
"Please! Don't! Please..."
Met-Gon arched an eyebrow and his amber eyes narrowed with contempt. He had seen and heard the pathetic pleadings of countless Cyberians in their final moments before their life was stripped away from the flesh. They couldn't comprehend the incredible ruth Vector Sigma had on them. Or the eternal life or immense power they were granted simply by being 'one' with the Divine.
"Go in peace," Met-Gon paused to review the roster for the name of this most-recent-link-in-the-endless-chain-of-duty. He shrugged, not giving one energon unit. The dreg was one of the luckier ones to join Vector Sigma... And he didn't even show gratitude. "Transfer the blight already." Met-Gon ordered.
"But sir!" Dur-Ge protested. Ignoring the underling's outburst, Met-Gon turned to his second-in-command and nodded. Shok-Wav pushed Dur-Ge aside and activated the process in one fluid motion. The Cyberian screamed in angst. Dur-Ge winced as he watched his fellow Cyberian slum over, lifeless.
"Are you sure the essence transfer is foolproof?" Dur-Ge asked reluctantly. His confidence in it had crumbled away little by little with each scream, cry, and hopeless look he saw of the Cyberians as they died.
"Shut up, Dur-Ge," Met-Gon snapped, "or you will be the next one to find out."
Dur-Ge shied away, holding his tongue.
**
"Pri-Mon," Sta-Scrai addressed the High Priest, as he entered Pri-Mon's private chambers. His tone boded ill news. Pri-Mon faced him, preparing for the worst.
"I'm sorry for interrupting you, your Grace..." Sta-Scrai said apologetically. "I-"
"It's alright," Pri-Mon told him, placing a reassuring hand on Sta-Scrai's shoulder. "Speak, please."
"It is Met-Gon, your Grace. His methods of pacification have become extreme, even brutal. ... An estimated one percent of the resisting population has forever been denied life through Vector Sigma."
Pri-Mon paled. "Surely my brother isn't responsible for all their deaths."
"Granted," Sta-Scrai conceded, "the suicide and homicide rates have grown exponentially as the terror of the mass populous is exacerbated. But! Lord Met-Gon does have Cyberian blood on his hands - The very blood that should have been protected, life that should have been transferred..."
Pri-Mon felt cold and mildly nauseous. Met-Gon was his responsibility, and he had slipped in his duty to watch him. "Thank you Sta," Pri-Mon answered meekly. "You may rest assured that I will deal with Met-Gon's infractions, posthaste."
"My Grace," Sta-Scrai murmured, nodding to excuse himself. He could see his friend needed some privacy to resolve this personal matter. Pri-Mon was grateful to Sta-Scrai for understanding.
"O' Vector Sigma, guide me. I beg you -" Pri-Mon whispered, clutching the Matrix with both hands to his chest. He could understand why Vector Sigma had denied Met-Gon his birthright as Barer of the Matrix. He could understand the personal sacrifices he'd had to make to placate his brother's wrath. Met-Gon was a terrible force to face if provoked. The situation threatening all of Cyberia was approaching critical mass - It couldn't handle the machinations of a tyrannical despot tearing it apart from the inside out.
**
"Good orn, Tam," Met-Gon greeted, his voice uncharacteristically tender and kind. Tam-Lin smiled - It wasn't difficult to exaggerate a genuine feeling she had for her husband. Met-Gon touched her cheek, brushing aside her brown hair so he could fully see her lovely face. Those captivating violet eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in since first they opened. Eyes that he would remember, forever.
"Sectors 9-8 thought 9-10 were cleared in three orn," he told her proudly. "Soon all of sections 9 will be ready for you to shield."
"Thank you, Met," she said softly, kissing his palm.
"You hesitated..." He had perceived her reaction.
"I am afraid - "
Met-Gon felt his gut muscles go taut as she spoke. He schooled his reaction.
"-Of dying."
He relaxed as he realized there was no criticism. "Do not exaggerate the shadows of you mind, my love..." Met-Gon soothed. "When the time comes I will be there, I promise."
Tam-Lin knew that this was Met-Gon's best. And that it wasn't reassuring in the least. Pri-Mon would have made her feel at least heard, if not better. Tam-Lin cringed and her bitterness towards Pri-Mon intensified. That man had sealed her doom, then had pushed her into the arms of his rival and brother.
She sank into Met-Gon's embrace, and wished that Pri-Mon was aware of it - that he suffered because of it. Tam-Lin wanted him to hurt as bitterly as she did. Only...Only she wasn't so sure that he even cared.
**
The Guardian towered like a phantom-god, seeming to hover underneath the flowing mantle of robes as it glided silently ahead. Its baleful red optics cast forth a guiding light of cold-fire red that cut though the sea of underground blackness. Its course though the labyrinth bowels of Cyberia, its destination was the heart and the jewel within it - the Chthonic god, Vector Sigma.
Pri-Mon followed at a respectful distance. The matrix o'er his heart glowed a soft, sapphire blue - bathing the walls and undulating robes of the Guardian with its calming light. The light of the Matrix, and Guardian's matte-gray cloak - the way it flowed... A waterfall. A reservoir of water. ... An axe flared to life. A mace. Pri-Mon gasped, caught up with the residue of a battle. He caught himself against the near wall. The Matrix clutched in one hand. He'd rarely been so overwhelmed by his clairvoyance. Only the time he 'knew' he'd get the Matrix was his vision so overwhelming. He'd been the labyrinth then too. There was something about the labyrinth that seemed to focus the innate gifts of the soul. The same 'something' that warped his sense of time. He realized that the Guardian had halted, and was looking at him expectantly - it's optics, blood-red orbs centered deep in the ocular pits of its skull. Its emaciated, humorless grin seemed to reflect the darker ironies of life.
"I'm -" Pri-Mon swallowed, "I don't know what -" He tried to explain. The Guardian ignored him, turning back to its singular purpose, to lead the High Priest safely though the Labyrinth to the Heart of Cyberia.
*
Pri-Mon gazed at Vector Sigma with a sense of wonder. It was a large sphere of stark white energy, it's light akin to the stars above. ~Speak, my beloved child. Unburden your heart, ~ Vector Sigma's 'voice' was omnipresent - seemingly everywhere, and nowhere, touching gently across Pri-Mon's mind. It's light seemed to pulsate in rhythm of its 'voice'.
Vector Sigma, a testament to a golden age long ago. A wonder unmatched in its beauty or sophistication by even Cyberia's sister race, the Yunarians. Vector Sigma was a library; a repository of all the greatest of Cyberian minds, scientists, artist, politicians, militarists - soon all walks of life, great and small.
Pri-Mon's brows knitted with his concerns. "Met-Gon..." He murmured. The name, the tone of voice to invoke it aloud, these said it all.
~I know the pain in your heart, the bitter tears it sheds. ~ Vector Sigma empathized. ~The burning question of how to stop the madness you see rearing up on the horizon.~ Its pulsations grew hypnotic. Pri-Mon felt dizzy, as if he were expanding to become aware beyond awareness itself.
~I -- ~ Its voice took on an eerie, almost multiplied effect, as if projecting from the 'before', the 'now' and 'after'. ~-- Have seen that which is shall be. Know you what to ask before you seek answer, my son.~
Pri-Mon swooned; sucked back into the realm of dreaming. Metal and chains. That blood-fire axe again swinging. A spray a showering of shattered links. The more Pri-Mon tried to focus on the detail, the faster the vision slipped away, leaving only a sense of futile frustration and a skipped heartbeat.
~There is more than meets the eye, my child. Destiny was long ago laid, let the fates course where they may.~
Pri-Mon came back to a semblance of himself, clutching the Matrix again. Vector Sigma had loosed Met-Gon with a purpose that only the god could understand. Pri-Mon looked up at Vector Sigma, knowing that his god would not support him in any course of action he took to nullify or contain his brother.
**
Pri-Mon caught himself in mid-reach for the amulet. He couldn't afford to touch the Matrix that covered his heart. The gesture could be taken as a sign of weakness. He didn't want to undermine his position from the very beginning.
"My Grace, the lord Met-Gon is here," Sta-Scrai announced formally.
"Bade him enter," Pri-Mon gestured with a practiced aloof eloquence. Met-Gon was only verse in two forms of communication: detached social formality, and cold-blooded brutality. Pri-Mon himself only had some affinity for the former.
Met-Gon strode in, back erect, shoulders squared, head held high. His ear-length hair was styled to accentuate the odd bi-coloring, an inherent marking of his priestly lineage. Black at the roots, his hair naturally bleached out as it grew until it was stark blond at the ends. (Pri-Mon had the same genetic marker, in a less impressive shade of rusty-sand blond.) Met-Gon came to a sudden halt in the chamber's center, and gave a stiff bow from the hip.
"May the inner star light our darkest time," Met-Gon greeted.
"Till all are one." Pri-Mon responded automatically. The ritual referred to the final battle of the Unity War - A war that pre-dated living memory.
"How may I be of service to the Barer of the Matrix?" Met-Gon inquired, thinly veiled politeness in his voice. His amber eyes piercing deeply into Pri-Mon - lynx-like, they caught the light and seemed, just for a moment, to glow like smoldering embers. The fragile veneer of politeness faded like mist in the light of Met-Gon's understanding... "What is your will?" He had seen it in Pri-Mon's body language. He was acting without Vector Sigma's directive. The ghost of a sardonic smile played on Met-Gon's lips as he waited for Pri-Mon to 'hang himself'.
Pri-Mon hesitated, knowing he had been exposed. He had never been good with deceit, especially when his brother was concerned. He felt the heat of his flushing face as he mentally rushed to re-plot his strategy. "I have summoned you on behalf of Cyberia - her people." Pri-Mon decided that he should have stuck with the truth in the first place. He just hoped that he could achieve his goal on his own merits now that he knew he couldn't use Vector Sigma, even implied, as leverage.
Met-Gon waited, amused to let him build to his point.
"Some of our people have been lost forever due to the Processors..." No matter how diplomatically Pri-Mon stated this, Met-Gon was bound to take this accusation as personal criticism. The lightning flash of reaction was already storming across Met-Gon's features.
"What would you have me do, Pri-Mon?" Met-Gon asked with a soft hiss of contempt and barely controlled anger. He had instantly lost his good-humor and the pretense of respect that was accorded to a High Priest. It was a not so subtle reminder that without the Matrix, the younger brother was nothing.
"Only consider that all, like Tam-Lin, deserve a safe path to Vector Sigma..." Pri-Mon said with more confidence than he felt. He was trying to evoke an empathic reaction in Met-Gon, but was making no dent He could sense his brother's hatred, unbridled, as if it were a force that could suffocate him by will alone.
Met-Gon smiled, mildly bemused with his brother's obvious attempt at ruthlessness. Much like he had smiled at his daughter when she tried to feed herself for the first time. The smile faded to black. If the usurper was taking this little lesson to heart then... No, this was not to be had.
"I have heard," Met-Gon announced, his emotions re-masked as quickly as they were revealed. As he touched the pauldron of the High Priest's garb, a ritual acknowledgement of and acquiescence to the High Priest's dictate. "-It's not over, 'dear' brother." He whispered in Pri-Mon's ear as he drew away. Then aloud he said, "I will depart, with your leave of course." Met-Gon gave a humorless smile.
"You have it." Pri-Mon said tightly. He watched Met-Gon leave. Not moving a muscle until he was alone. He sank on to a nearby couch, weary to the heart. Met-Gon was chaffing sore at the bit. The vary station in life that he had been born and bred for was denied him. And his ego could accept nothing lest than his birthright.
Pri-Mon desperately hoped that the peace offering of Tam-Lin. The rank of Warlord and Militant Command. Even just his reverence of Vector Sigma. His pride, like a demon refused to be sated. Please, Pri-Mon prayed to the glowing jewel cupped in his hands, please just a while longer.
**
Tam-Lin could sense the shift; the ambience of the room drew taut as garrote-wire as Met-Gon entered their quarters. She imagined his ill-humor as a beast clawing at her back, only it was being restrained. This was worse; it made Met-Gon's stormy anger unpredictable. Tam-Lin swallowed, trying to clear and relax her throat before she spoke. He had never laid a hand on her, but the fear that his rages invoked was just as real. She wanted to get out as fast as she could. Let him blow over.
"Dinner is ready, Metg," she mentioned, as casually as she could manage, pretending not to know his state. Met-Gon looked at her when he heard her use the intimate contraction of his name. She hadn't realized quite what she had said, her subconsciousness pleading for peace - for a way out. "I've got to go complete the inspection of sections 8."
"Next orn," he commanded softly, as he approached her. She froze, watching the door to freedom clanking shut.
"But the report." She urged, her voice breaking under the tension. His hand firmly clasped her upper arm. She fought her urge to shy away. He had to believe he was in control. Slowly he turned her to face him. Lifted her chin and touched her brown hair, still keeping a hold on her arm.
"Do not fore sake me now, Tam," he whispered as he drew her into an embrace. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scents of the newly prepared meal, the metal with which she worked closely with. The fragrant soap used to clean her hair. The natural musk of her body. "Not when I need you most."
She leaned into him. Her only escape now was through the storm. On the surface it seemed as if a relaxed couple was enjoying a respite. Tam-Lin closed her eyes. She was locked in the eye of the storm. This typhoon of sibling rivalry, it would precipitate to fratricide if allowed to play out. A vision of Pri-Mon lying broken at Met-Gon's feet flashed in her mind's eye, and she shivered with dread.
"Don't worry, Tam," Met-Gon soothed. "I - We shall have everything we deserve." No matter the cost!
**
The holographic projection rotated slowly on its unseen axis. A vaporous nucleus, glowing with inner luminance, danced and throbbed with a nature that seemed energy, gaseous and liquid - its properties shifting and changing as it swirled within its translucent spherical shell. Pri-Mon was reminded of a zygote in its early stages of development as he watch the model spin lazily around and around.
Sta-Scrai leaned over the demo model. Tapping at it gently with his light pen. The model paused, and the section touched, expanded and magnified. "As you can see my Grace," Sta-Scrai was explaining. His voice seemed distant, as the subject became his consuming focus. "This is the interface housing, the spark of life resides within it.
"The nucleus is a matrix that will maintain the integrity of the spark outside of the embrace of Vector Sigma. And the unit, in its entirety, is programmed to return directly to Vector Sigma should the physical container sustain sufficient damage and/or decay to destroy it. Only -"
"Only?" Pri-Mon prompted, not liking the ominous pause.
"Only in order to have enough space for all the safety guards, and their redundancy systems... The actual memories of the individual may be compromised."
"Explain." Pri-Mon was trying not to lose patience with the Priest-Scientist. He tried not to assume the worse. The Guardian was a worse case scenario. The quantumware that maintained the Guardian's essence didn't just 'compromise' the Guardian, it lobotomized him. Pri-Mon shivered.
"We had no time to fine tune this version of the quantumware. Conscious memories, like your name, that you were flesh, casual relationships... This things will most likely be lost." Pri-Mon could feel the blood drain from his face. Sta-Scrai, Vector Sigma bless him, was completely oblivious to anything but his precious model. "Only the vary basic core of the personality, perhaps even deeply personal, emotionally-laden memories are certain to be maintained from incarnation to incarnation."
"Will we be like - like Oma-Sum?" Pri-Mon dared to ask.
"What?" Sta-Scrai looked shocked, as if forced to wake from a sweet dream because someone shouted 'fire'. "What?! - No! No, my Grace. This version of the quantumware fixes the integrity-leak associated with the Guardian's current status. The memory compromise that plagues this version simple means that memories can't be carried from one life to the next life.
"For example... When you are reincarnated to your next life, you won't remember much (if anything) of this life now. Just like you have no memory now of your past life(s). ... Do you understand?"
"Is there anyway to fix this, Sta-Scrai?" Pri-Mon felt relieved, but there was still a problem.
"Yes, given time... Time we don't have..."
**
This vorn had come so quickly to a close; The last vorn of her life. The vast roads of Iacon were empty - desolate and as quiet as a tomb. Tam-Lin bit her lip to stifle a sob that rose in her throat. Met-Gon flanked her, maintaining a quick and easy stride, he looked neither left nor right, remaining focused on the 'straight ahead'. He seemed almost bored. This walking to the Holy Centre of the city, this was only to mollify her need to see once more Cyberia before it was consumed by nova-fire.
Tam-Lin looked up at the sky, as if just seeing it for the first time. The lavender-blue of a cloudless Cyberian day. A sky lacerated by jutting skyscrapers. Monumental masterpieces of Cyberian ingenuity, which (based on calculations made generations ago) would be naught but charred nubs in a matter of orns. Tam-Lin slowed her pace, cramming as many details of the architectural majesty as she could into memory. Taking in their beauty with a sense of awe. A keen awareness of what was about to be lost. Tears came to her eyes.
Cyberia's sun was due to supernova soon. Tam-Lin hesitated. What if Vector Sigma was wrong? She permitted the burning question, the fountainhead of her doubts to bubble into her consciousness. What if? It was too late now. So many things have been changed unalterably. Too many things lost.
"Come, Tam," Met-Gon urged her impatiently. "We have been summoned by Vector Sigma! You mustn't dally."
"I - " She couldn't finish her thought.
"I'm with you Tam. I always have been, and always will be." He told her with conviction. Even now Met-Gon relished the fact that he had won her from his brother. He considered the loss of the Matrix as only a temporary set back. Tam-Lin had her doubts, and he would guide her though them. His faith in Vector Sigma - the computer that would be god - was unshakable. He was fated to serve as High Priest; Barer of the Matrix. He was fated to lead his people into an era of peace and prosperity unknown even in the Unity War.
The denial of the Matrix, that was a test of faith! A trial of his mettle, for a time when he was reborn in times to come, in a body of undeniable power. At that time he would rule in the name of Vector Sigma. A dynasty of enduring Peace, forever. Met-Gon smiled to himself. Peace, that was a good dream.
*
Tam-Lin stared at the Guardian with revulsion and a fascination that magnetized her morbid attention. It (he?) was a towering giant, swathed in a cloud of robes. It was so huge. So ugly. So inhuman. Was this the prototype of Cyberians' reincarnation? She had heard a rumor of some such thing long ago. A distant High Priest had offered himself up for (or had been forced into) experimentation. An experiment gone terribly wrong.
Pri-Mon kept his distance, and studiously kept his gaze on anything but Met-Gon and Tam-Lin, as he waited for the last member of their party. He hoped that Sta-Scrai wasn't much longer in his arrival. The discomfort of the situation was growing incrementally with each moment passing.
The Guardian, as if finally aware of Tam-Lin's unabashed scrutiny. Its dispassionate gaze shifted to zero in on Tam-Lin. The unblinking, burning red optics bore right through Tam-Lin's nerve, and she quickly turned away. She couldn't stomach the pitiless, soul-searching glare. Her wild scan for comfort ended with the awkward meeting with Pri-Mon's gaze. He had made eye contact with her as if he could sense her longing for him even now. She flushed and scowled, looking away as suddenly as she had looked towards him. His eyes held pity for her. How dare he pity her! She fumed privately as she retreated into the shelter of Met-Gon's presence. Met-Gon automatically slid his arm around her shoulder.
The Guardian shifted again, sensing the approach of the last party member. Moments later Sta-Scrai joined them. The Guarding made a sweeping gesture for them to follow it as it spun around and glided down into the maw of the labyrinth. The motion was fluid and silent, with the impression of economy of motion.
Pri-Mon and Sta-Scrai took the lead behind their guide. Met-Gon graciously said nothing. Let the little usurper have his last moments of glory. Besides... Pri-Mon was providing a mild entertainment for the Eldest brother. Met-Gon had quietly observed how hard Pri-Mon worked to put forth the image of indifference towards Tam-Lin. How that facade had cracked and had been shabbily reconstructed. Contrary to public belief, Met-Gon was just as empathic as little Pri-Mon. The tension in Pri-Mon was as a fine wine and Met-Gon savored it. Privately enjoying the suffering Pri-Mon desperately tried to hide.
*
Vector Sigma shone as a star in the deepest night. The light at the end of the long dark tunnel. The simple contrast was profound. Coming face-to-face with the Prime Mover; its beauty instilled a sense of shame in Tam-Lin as she gazed at it.
~Be not ashamed, my daughter,~ Vector Sigma spoke to her alone. ~It is in the asking that the path of wisdom is first trod upon.~
~I have observed the work you have completed in your mother's name. It is a work that shall endure the eons. Its foundations shall be edified and aggrandized many times.~
~Yet it is not your work you question. It is I that you doubt.~
"No!" Tam-Lin's denial was fervent.
~You wonder if you and all of Cyberia have been led blindly to the slaughter.~
Tam-Lin hung her head. She had wondered that. Vector Sigma had seen through her.
~It is your fear of death. The belief the end of the flesh is truly the end of the soul too. You fear the loss of your individuality, afraid that it'll never be recovered.~
"Yes..." Tam-Lin agreed meekly.
~It shall be as a long sleep, my daughter. And when you wake again you shall have again flesh and the sense of self you so cherish now.~
"But when?"
~To you it shall be but a blink of an eye.~
*
Met-Gon could feel the power of Vector Sigma permeate every fiber of his being, and he reveled in it. He welcomed his God with open arms. "O Vector Sigma," Met-Gon breathed reverently. "What would you of me?"
~You have served me well, my son,~ Vector Sigma praised him. ~And you will serve again at my behest. Yet not this orn. This orn you shall rest, knowing only peace in your sleep.~
Met-Gon closed his eyes, his face showing the joyous rapture of joining with his God. Soon his dreams of peace, everlasting peace, and power would be realized for himself.
*
Sta-Scrai gasped as he watched Vector Sigma flare. Its corona engulfing both Tam-Lin and Met-Gon. Only for the span of one heartbeat. When the light withdrew, the bodies slumped over, their lives lifted from their bodies.
"What happened?" Sta-Scrai stammered, dumbfounded.
"I have taken mercy on them. Their sparks reside within me," Pri-Mon spoke, but it sure wasn't his voice that emanated from his mouth. It was too ancient. Too powerful and self-assured to be that of the High Priest.
"Why are you speaking to me in this manor?" Sta-Scrai asked. Without removing his gaze, Pri-Mon lifted the amulet from his chest and approached Sta-Scrai.
"Receive this wisdom Sta-Scrai," Pri-Mon crossed the distance, pressing the amulet into his hand. "You have 2 orn to do what you can to correct the quantumware."
The Priest-Scientist inhaled sharply as the knowing of the ages tidal waved and cascaded through his mind. Invading his consciousness and unfold as a flower before his mind's eye. The missing gaps of information were suddenly filled.
*
Pri-Mon 'woke' to find the bodies of his brother and his beloved prone before Vector Sigma's base. Sta-Scrai and the Guardian were nowhere in sight. Pri-Mon rushed over to Tam-Lin. He could find no vital sign in her. He turned her over gently and laid her head to rest against his lap. As he stroked her mussed brown hair back into place.
'You took them both," he murmured.
~Yes.~
"I-" Pri-Mon choked back his last words, as he carefully brushed her hair behind her ear. The way it had a habit of falling to partially conceal her face; just one of the many funny quarks that he'd miss about her. Her violet eyes were gazing off into some distant world that only she could see, her face relaxed in utter contentment.
Pri-Mon closed her eyes and kissed her good bye, on the cheek. He would love her always, but she was bound in life, and in death to another. He looked at Met-Gon. In this moment's respite from the eternal threat of his brother. Pri-Mon could look at him with the eyes of ruth. Both of them had lost the one thing they wanted most in this world.
"I will the Greater Will." Pri-Mon intoned. His role of counter-point to balance his brother was far from over.
**
Pri-Mon watched the sensor readouts, as he clutched the Matrix to his heart: A self-soothing habit he realized. He felt so utterly alone and uneasy. The sun had recently began its death throws. All of Cyberia slept safely in the shelter of Vector Sigma, except him.
"Tam-Lin was more qualified to perform these last minute checks..."
~Only academically speaking.~ Vector Sigma replied through the Matrix.
Pri-Mon fell silent for the moment as he completed the systems checklist.
"Was I right to do what I did?"
~You did what you felt you had to.~
"Please," Pri-Mon asked exasperated. "I just want a straight answer."
~You are my chosen Prime.~ Vector Sigma's intimate contraction of his name surprised the High Priest. ~You know that there are times when great, even personal sacrifices are required. The path I ask you to follow is not an easy one.~
Pri-Mon's eyes flickered across the readouts again. "This is the End." He breathed.
~It is time, my son.~
Pri-Mon eased himself into the transfer chair. His eyes still locked on the readouts. Cyberia would no longer have a sun. ... This would be the last time he ever saw his world with these eyes. As the once forbidden thought splayed his mind. His heart broke. And his vision blurred.
~Rest well, my son.~ Vector soothed. ~Dawn is coming all too soon.~
Pri-Mon murmured something un-definable, as his breath grew shallow. Vector Sigma monitored the last heartbeat with some resignation. It mourned the temporary loss of Its foremost son. With the violent death of Cyberia's sun, the dawn of their darkest days would be Harold in.
Vector Sigma summoned the Guardian to fetch the Matrix and to put Pri-Mon's body to rest. Both Pri-Mon and the Matrix would rise again, in time. Vector Sigma started putting its systems in stand-by, as it waited. Monitoring the sun, waiting for the flash. For the shock wave that would lash Cyberia out of its orbit and into the grasp of the ensnaring Quintesson tentacles eons from now. Into an era of slavery. This was the first of three days of darkness. Vector Sigma had seen each 'day' and had grieved for his children. It was a terrible burden that It alone was allowed to bare. And alone It waited for it all to pass.
Vector Sigma switched Itself to stand-by as the sun novaed. Dawn was here...
End-