A small, desert world of wind-swept green sands, the planet called Oa is at the exact geological center of the universe. Though this placement is not entirely constant, Oa's significance in the grand scheme of reality cannot be overlooked. And living on the world are a race of immortal humanoids who have taken for themselves the auspicious moniker Guardians of the Universe. For reasons know only to the Guardians, they have taken it upon themselves to uphold law and order across the cosmos. But despite their vast powers, the Guardians are lacking in numbers, so they have sought other means to enact their vision of justice.
"Where did you find it?" one of the blue-skinned men prompted.
"Floating in deep space," the center of their attention answered, "It is fortunate that I happened upon it. Another hundred years or so, and it would have fallen into the red star Rao."
The Guardians all studied the robot, with varying degrees of interest. The bottom half of his left leg was missing, having been burned off by energy weapons. The Transformer's right arm was also gone, and the damage to his shoulder indicated some sort of physical impact. The rest of his body was infrequently marked by small dents and scratches, the result of collisions with interstellar debris.
"Given everything we have heard of these machines," the Guardian who had brought the robot continued, "I am certain this one holds most, if not all, of the answers to completing the Manhunter project. Once we have finished disassembling it, and have studied its technology, we will finally be able to construct our own soldiers of order."
"We cannot disassemble him," the youngest of the Guardians protested, and his statement garnered a low rumbling of agreement.
"Why not, Brother Ganthet?" the chosen name of the objecting immortal was treated like an insult.
"Because he is still alive," Ganthet answered firmly.
"Alive?" his opponent scoffed, "It is a machine, it was never alive."
"There are many definitions of life. And no one is more valid than any other. Can you not all feel the light of emotion still in him?"
The Guardians turned their senses to the robot. Many of the diminutive immortals thought their youngest brother's taking of a name and his empathy for other races was a weakness. But none of them could deny that in this respect, his insight was the sharpest of all of them.
"Whether Brother Ganthet is correct or not," a third Guardian interjected, "I believe it is wrong to dissect this entity without its permission or any knowledge of its people's death rituals."
"It is a robot."
"It was a sentient being. And though our knowledge of them is limited, it is clear that the Cybertronians possessed a complex creation myth, and their own religious views on life and death. I will not support an action that is likely tantamount to desecrating this person's body."
The two groups of Guardians did not quite glare at one another, but each faction studied the other intently, as if trying convey their message silently. However those two camps combined only made up about a third of the total assembly, and the undecided humanoids drew back thoughtfully.
"There is no need for this argument," one member of the ambivalent faction finally said, "We have the capacity to scan the Cybertronian's body without further damaging it."
"Our understanding will be reduced without the ability to directly experiment on the robot's components. It could slow our work by years, or even decades."
"We cannot be sure that an energy intrusion would be less of an outrage than physical deconstruction. Unless we can learn more, it is irresponsible to take action."
"Nevertheless," the mediator tried to quell both sides, "It is the best compromise."
Both spokesmen nodded, neither particularly pleased, but ultimately recognizing that their brother was correct. Only Ganthet did not indicate his ascent.
"I will agree," the named Guardian said slowly, "On one condition. After the Manhunter program is completed, the Cybertronian and all the data you gather will be turned over to me, so that I may attempt to repair him."
"I have no objections," the one who found the Transformer agreed, "Once the Manhunters are operational, you can do whatever you want with it."
"Then it is settled," the peacemaker stated.
Ganthet observed the saws and drills in the lab with no small suspicion, but a quick visual examination told him the robot's body had not been damaged further. Though the Guardians were rarely hasty in their actions, it had taken them only nineteen years to complete their primary scans of the Cybertronian. Now they were creating a more thorough map of the denser circuits in the robot's brain, before they went back to re-examine his more complex or confusing systems.
"Welcome, Brother Ganthet," the leader greeted him cautiously, recognizing the younger man's expression, "Have you come to check up on us?"
"Not at all," the other Guardian countered, "I wish to learn as much as I can about this being, so my restoration of him will be as quick and painless as possible."
The other Guardian nodded. Despite his continued belief that the Cybertronian had never been properly alive to begin with, his scans had lead him to the conclusion that Ganthet might be correct about the robot being dormant but still viable.
"In that case, I am surprised you have not been here more often," one of the other scientists prompted.
"I did not wish to interfere," Ganthet answered, "And I have been conducting an investigation of my own. I have studied the stories of the Transformers' interaction with other species, and have even spoken with a handful of beings who met the Cybertronians, before their destruction."
"And what have you learned?" the chief engineer could not suppress his curiosity.
"For starters, the insignia on his shoulder marks him as an Autobot," Ganthet pointed at the robotic face logo on the Transformer's left arm, "At the onset of the Cybertronian civil war, they were the group who wanted to maintain peaceful relations with their organic neighbors. Their counterparts were the Decepticons, who wanted to enslave or kill other aliens, believing organics to be inherently inferior."
"Wonderful bit of history," the second in command researcher sounded uninterested, "But how does that help us here?"
"Perhaps your knowledge might be able to shed some light on certain components we have been having... difficulties... understanding," the Autobot's savior prompted.
"I can take a look," the named immortal agreed.
"This part has been especially troubling. There is some sort of high energy suspension in this dodecahedron. It is connected primarily to his main processing core. We originally speculated that it might be a capacitor. But it is not supplying power to him in any way, and the energy it contains seems to be a single quantum and not divisible. Our secondary theory has been that it is some sort of data storage unit; however the patterns in the energy do not match the core language in the rest of his systems, nor any other encryption we have found."
"I cannot be entirely certain," Ganthet pondered it, "But I believe that is his Spark chamber."
The others frowned at him in confusion.
"The Spark is the Cybertronian's cyber-spiritual soul," he clarified, "It is what makes them thinking, feeling individuals, instead of simply machines. In that respect, it may be considered a data storage unit, but it is also much more."
"That sounds reasonable, " the head researcher typed something into the console, "Good, the Manhunters have no need of anything like that, so we need not waste any more time trying to understand it."
Now it was Ganthet's turn to frown.
"The other problem component is this one," the other Guardian pushed onwards, "Unlike the Spark chamber, our scans cannot penetrate it at all..."
He handed the younger being a tablet containing a rendering of a bronze sphere containing a blue crystal. The orb was surrounded a circle of silvery metal, broken at one, five, seven, and eleven o-clocks. The smaller parts at the top and bottom of the circle were connected to the sphere by vertical bars, while the larger parts on the right and left sides were connected to the central piece by diagonal beams at their ends.
"I don't know," Ganthet studied the image carefully, "I have not heard of any device like this, though the technical knowledge of the Cybertronians I have come across has been somewhat limited. What does it do?"
"Nothing, that we can divine. It is not directly connected to any of the robot's systems. And as far as we can tell, it could be removed entirely without altering the main unit's functionality in the slightest. The general consensus is that it is decorative, some sort of Transformer jewelry. Maybe an indicator of rank, like crowns are to many other races."
"I have not heard of anything like that," Ganthet supplied, "but I cannot deny the possibility."
"Then we will ignore it, as it does not seem that doing so will impact the Manhunters' abilities. Is there anything else we can do for you, Brother Ganthet?"
"Do you have any idea when you will be finished?" the youngest Guardian prompted.
"Our secondary data acquisition should be finished in the next four years, however we will want to keep custody of the robot until the Manhunters are complete. It should take us less than two decades."
Ganthet nodded, surprised again with the speed with which his brethren were moving.
"I will be back when I can, to observe and try to learn more about his construction."
One hundred thirteen of the Guardians gathered around the giant, mechanical sphere.
"Welcome, my brothers, to the inauguration of the Manhunter Control Node. This mechanism will manufacture the Manhunters, act as the communication and memory bank, and allow us to guide their efforts by means of command directives."
As if on cue, five androids where ejected from the machine in a cloud of steam. At four meters tall, each towered above the Guardians, but were less then half the height of their unknowing Cybertronian progenitor. Also like the Autobot, they were colored red on top and blue on the bottom. Most of the Guardian felt it was a tribute to the ancient machine's contribution, but a few of the original detractors wondered if it was instead a bit of mocking superiority.
"The final test will be five hundred units, to gauge their abilities and confirm the interlink. After the final adjustments, a full ten thousand Manhunters will begin their patrols."
"Manhunters," he turned to address the mechanoids, "What are your directives?"
"Directive 1: Protect the innocent," the machines answered in unison, "Directive 2: Uphold the peace. Directive 3: Promote order. Directive 4: Enforce local laws."
"Excellent. Now go."
"No man escapes the Manhunters," the robots acknowledged. Then their arms and legs folded into their bodies, which grew more streamlined, taking on the shape of a single passenger space craft. The five 'bots lifted upward and streaked out of the atmosphere.
Ganthet stared sadly at the screen in his newly constructed lab. The last Guardian could not escape a feeling of foreboding as he watched the ceremony occurring a third of a planet away. Then he switched the screen over to the primary schematic of the Autobot.
"Well, my friend, I guess that is my cue to get to work," he told the unconscious machine, "I thought I would start by replacing your right arm with a mirror version of your left. I'm not sure if that is how you were originally constructed, but the connectors look the same, and your missing limb will prevent me from properly restoring power to your body..."
Ganthet continued to speak to the Cybertronian as he began to use his powers to shape silicon, gold, iron, and titanium.
