Slipstream: Resurrection

Chapter Two

Ghost in the Machine

Slipstream. He had heard that name before...

Rodimus Prime regarded the broken shell in front of him, and shuddered inwardly. Ice crystals sparkled on the frame as they reflected the overhead lighting in the lab, and thin wisps of cryo-gas vapour still clung to its extremities. Something about what he was seeing was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it... then, with a sudden shock of realisation, it all fell into place. Instantly, his mind rebelled against the idea, and Prime found himself stepping backward involuntarily, shaking his head in disbelief. It had all just been a fairy tale, a scary story to frighten the new recruits... hadn't it? He hoped so, with every fibre of his being.

Turning to face his two colleagues, Prime found two very different responses to his own. Blurr, who had been even newer to Optimus Prime's forces than Rodimus had been, was simply staring at the body with an expression of mild bemusement written on his face-plate. There was no recognition there though, and it was apparent that, simple story or not, not everyone had heard the tragic tale. Prime found the thought oddly comforting, as though the warrior's ignorance was somehow a defence against the possible truth...

Kup's expression, though, proved the lie in Prime's hopes. There wasn't just recognition in the old mech's optics, there was a genuine fear there. In the years that he had known the security chief, both as Hot Rod and Rodimus Prime, the commander had never known anything to bother his friend this much. The green veteran met Prime's gaze for a moment, and his optics spoke volumes of the horror that went behind the story that Hot Rod had been told. They were standing in a room with a true nightmare, one that was possibly even worse than anything the Decepticons could throw at them.

Looking back at the headless form in the containment pod, Prime shuddered once more. He had only been on the Ark for a few weeks when he had heard the story; he couldn't even remember who had told it, even. There had been a battle against Megatron's forces that day, and the Autobots had won with little damage to their own warriors. That evening, the Autobots had celebrated their victory, and some of the older 'bots had taken to swapping war stories. One of the stories told had been that of Slipstream.

Hot Rod, being young and naïve, had shrugged the story off as nothing more than a ghost story. The idea of an accident transforming an Autobot, who had not been much older than Hot Rod, into a monster that had preyed on the warriors at the Ark, had seemed far-fetched. As the story had gone on, and details of Slipstream having enhanced speed and strength, the ability to heal lethal wounds, combined with the curse of needing to feed on the energon running through the systems of his fellow mechs, Hot Rod had become even more convinced that it was nothing more than an urban legend. Now, that legend's remains were staring sightlessly at him from just a short distance away.

"Rodimus Prime?" A soft voice broke through Prime's chain of thought, and it took him a moment to figure out the source. To his surprise, it turned out to be Mainframe... the previously bombastic mech was staring at Rodimus, concern plain on his features. "Sir... is everything all right?"

"I wish I knew," was Prime's initial reply, almost too quiet to hear. "It's just... I can't quite believe what I'm seeing."

"I know what you mean," Kup added in a low tone, the disquiet in his voice echoing Prime's own. "It looks like Perceptor has got some explaining to do."

O o O o O

With a gasp, Slipstream forced himself into consciousness. A wave of shock, then anger, rose inside him, his spark throbbing with its potential as he stamped down on Fullbarrel's mind. Furious with himself, Slipstream quickly assessed his surroundings; he was pleased to see that his host's body hadn't made it very far at all...

It had just been a routine recharge cycle. The last thing Slipstream remembered was powering Fullbarrel's body down, and waiting for it to restore its main power network. The next thing he knew, he had woken up with the Primus-damned Autobot staggering for the door to his room; by the time Slipstream could exert any control, they were in the corridor outside. If his host had attracted the wrong kind of attention, then the very last of Slipstream's life, such as it was, could well have been over.

Slipstream was glad that he had found this place, deep within the underbelly of Iacon City. The Darkstar was the worst kind of bar; the kind that even the Enforcers avoided unless they were in full riot gear and large numbers. It was filled with criminals, low-lives, expatriated Decepticons, and even a few aliens who were just down on their luck. You could buy almost anything, if you knew who to ask, and you could get yourself killed with the wrong kind of question... which was why nobody asked anyone anything if they could help it. Perfect.

Slipstream had managed to rent one of the rooms above the bar for a modest rate; it wasn't much, just a small storage space, a sonic shower, and a recharge berth that had seen better days, all packed into a room that was in dire need of some maintenance. But it made the perfect place to hide, somewhere he could blend in and not get himself noticed. That had been two days ago. Since then, he had spent as much time as possible on his own, deciding what he should do now that he was back on Cybertron... that was what he had been musing on while Fullbarrel slept.

A noise down the corridor caught the vampire's attention, and he turned his head slowly, fixing the mech at the end of the hall with a penetrating glare. The victim of his gaze quickly ducked back into his own room, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. Slipstream watched him go, before allowing himself a brief smirk; Fullbarrel's size came in handy, sometimes. After a moment's pause, he turned, and went back to his own quarters, still angry with himself for his lapse in control.

He remembered dreaming, after a fashion... on further thought, he realised that it had been more of a memory. The spaces where Fullbarrel recharged were boring to the point of distraction, as Slipstream dared not leave his host for any length of time, and Slipstream had let his mind wander. He had recalled his last moments in his old body... the pain, the frustration, as he was betrayed by everyone around him. He could see Optimus Prime's optics in his mind, clear blue and full of almost mocking remorse, as he pulled the trigger of his blaster and ended Slipstream's life...

The former Autobot sighed, and sat down on the recharge bed, resting his head in his hands. Before he had lost track of his thoughts and started daydreaming of horrors past, Slipstream had been settling on a plan to finally get his revenge, to pay Prime for his murder. With his own body destroyed, no doubt, he knew he would have to find a way to build something new. He would have to make something that could at least match his former strength and speed, maybe even have some new abilities that could help him achieve his goal. Without those enhancements, he would be too weak to take on Prime and win.

With another deep sigh, allowing cool air to soothe his agitated systems along with his temper, Slipstream threw himself backward onto the bed. He closed down his optics, and ran one hand over his face plate. This was going to be much harder than he had ever thought.

O o O o O

Mainframe led Rodimus Prime and his companions into a small, well lit chamber, one of a few observation rooms attached to the Institute's testing areas. It was well appointed, with several seats and a large couch, all facing the wall furthest from the door. The three Autobots sat down, equal parts eager and anxious to watch the display they had been promised. After their initial shock at seeing Slipstream's body in stasis, Mainframe had appeased them somewhat with the promise of seeing some of the experimental armour the scientists had been working on in action.

There was a collective sense of unease about the whole affair from all three Autobots. True, any advancement that could help them win the war with the Decepticons was welcome; it would save the lives of hundreds of thousands in the long run. The aeons-old conflict could be over in a matter of months, if what Mainframe had told them was true. Peace could finally replace strife, and Cybertron would finally be a safe home for its people once more.

Even so, the whole idea did not sit well with Prime. It felt, for want of a better term, a little too much like grave robbing. The idea that an Autobot's body, even one as altered and warped as Slipstream's, was being used for experimentation just didn't sit well. He was hiding the fact, but he was also furious with Perceptor; he had always gone out of his way to treat the high-strung scientist with respect, even trying to form a friendship with him... now, he found that his 'friend' was part of what was sounding increasingly like a conspiracy, a conspiracy to do something that even most of the Decepticons would find abhorrent.

As the Autobots got seated, their guide was busy talking into a private comm-link, conferring with some colleagues about the impending display. Rodimus could admire the mech's dedication to his work, but at the same time he wasn't sure he liked the scientist's modus operandi. He was too eager to find advancements in his field, apparently regardless of the means he had to use to get there. As Prime thought this, the Head of Sciences stopped speaking, and turned to regard his guests. After a brief pause, Mainframe offered his guests some refreshments with a gracious smile, which Prime and Kup declined, and Blurr readily accepted.

"You should enjoy this, gentlemen," Mainframe blustered happily, handing Blurr a freshly poured container of energon, before taking a seat with his own drink. "We're going to perform a comparison test between a piece of the original Artefact, and some of our new armour. It doesn't work quite the same way, you understand; while the chassis of your, er, former comrade is molecularly adaptive, able to reshape itself at a cellular level with enough energy feeding it, the new armour is impregnated with a very advanced form of nanite."

"Nanowhatnowyousaid?" was the gabbled response from Blurr, before the others could speak.

"Nanites," Mainframe clarified. "A new breed of nano-mech. Highly adaptive, and able to replicate material far faster than your normal internal repair systems. We can't re-create the original conditions that caused Slipstream's unique condition. But his make-up inspired us to try some new applications of older tech. This is the result."

The scientist brought a control wand out of subspace, and waved it at the wall with an almost dismissive flick of his wrist. Immediately, the wall became transparent, revealing a stark white lab beyond it. Two display rigs had been set up within the lab, each holding a section of metal, both pieces as plain and featureless as the other. As the Autobots watched, an automated weapons drone hovered into view; the dish-shaped device had been fitted with a high-calibre pulse rifle, a larger weapon than it would normally have carried, giving it an oddly ungainly appearance to all watching.

"The armour section on the left," Mainframe quickly explained, "belongs to Slipstream; a part of one of his wings, in fact. The other is simple cybertronium plate, measured to the same dimensions as the other test piece. The only thing that makes it remarkable is that it has been coated in a dormant version of the new nanites. Now, if everyone is ready, we'll begin."

With another brief wave of the control device, Mainframe began the demonstration. The gun-drone floated over to a point between the two sections of metal, and then fired a single shot into each. The shots were equally placed, each one sounding out with a muffled shriek, and leaving a pair of identical, gently smoking holes in the test samples. The drone hovered back out of sight, its work done, and Mainframe turned to his guests once more.

"Now for the fun part," he said, practically rubbing his hands together in excitement. "First, we're going to activate the left test subject. We found that, even after his death, Slipstream's armour is still keyed to regenerate. All we had to do was apply a direct energon feed to it... it really is amazing. Watch this."

A moment later, and a bank of indicators lit up on the rig holding the first test sample. The Autobots could just make out the low hum of an energon feed activating in the lab. An instant later, and all three of them were sitting forward in their seats, craning to get a better view... inside the lab, the impossible was happening. Thin traces of energon were running over the surface of the panel that belonged to Slipstream, and as Prime, Kup and Blurr watched, enthralled, the metal began to move. It seemed to become soft, running like heated wax, before quickly closing the damage that had been inflicted upon it.

The silence in the observation lounge was palpable. After a few moments, allowing his guests to absorb what they had just seen, Mainframe announced the activation of the second test sample. This time, there was no hum of activating power, and no light show. At first, there wasn't even any sign that the nanites had been activated. Then, slowly, it could be made out that the hole in the metal plate was indeed closing. A few minutes passed, and eventually the damaged section had been sealed over, the only sign that it had even suffered any damage being a circular patch in its centre that was a slightly paler colour.

"As you can see, good sirs," Mainframe announced, whilst rising from his seat, and walking to stand in front of the window, "our method of armour regeneration is, at best, rudimentary. Nothing at all like the sheer beauty of the original subject. However, as we have demonstrated here today, this kind of armour has viable application in the field.

"Imagine, if you will, a newer, better breed of Autobot. With warriors that are capable of taking far more damage than they can currently, and can effect battlefield repairs without the need for a medic or CR chamber, the war against the Decepticons could be over very quickly indeed. Our new weapons, in turn, can help ensure that your forces are far better equipped than the enemy. If you are willing to proceed, gentlemen, we have several more displays set up to show you some of the other advancements that we have been working on."

O o O o O

Rodimus Prime watched the world slip by, as it flew past the view port of the shuttle they were taking back to headquarters. He sat, deep in thought, not really taking in the scenery. He was torn, undecided, and in all truth feeling a little sick. It was late in the evening, and below him the approaching lights of Iacon shone in warm greeting, telling him that he was home once more. But Prime only felt more uneasy. With home came confrontation; Perceptor was going to have to answer for his actions, giving Slipstream's body to the sciences Institute instead of allowing it to be disposed of in a respectful matter, regardless of any orders to do so. At the same time, Prime had many questions to ask himself, too.

The question foremost on his mind was this: was it right, moral even, to use these technologies to advance the war, knowing where they came from? Would victory, and the resulting peace for Cybertron, and the safety of her citizens, justify the means? And when the end came, and Rodimus stood before Primus as his spark returned to the Source, would he be forgiven for having said 'yes' in the face of temptation, even if it was to the lesser of two evils?

Prime didn't know any more, and nothing seemed to make sense. He wanted so badly to do what was right, to do what his forebear and mentor, Optimus, would be doing in his stead. He wanted to protect his friends, and Cybertron as a whole, no matter the cost, to be a leader worthy of his title and its legacy. Now, he knew part of that cost, and he was faced with this dilemma. On top of it all, the thought that Optimus Prime had actually ordered Slipstream's body to be studied sat festering at the back of his processor. Was his hero the mech he had always believed him to be?

Prime sat back in his chair a bit further, letting out a small sigh and wishing, not for the first time, that things could be simpler than this...


Author's Notes: Another 'talky' chapter again, I'm afraid, and not much action. Sorry about that. The chapter just seemed to grow of its own free will, and several more exciting segments got left to chapter three, which should be along in the next week or two. In short, hope this isn't too boring so far.

Thanks for reading!