Ignition

Ok, so I know I say it every couple of chapters, but not really happy with this chapter :) Nevertheless I post it anyway for your perusal and enjoyment!

Thanks to DeMarcos, AniCoolgirl, Devious Ava, Nkundra… Ummm… that's all I can think of at the moment… Oh – Neku and Lola Hard as well!!!

Sorry, but I can't think who else I might have forgotten :) And of course Dania – who didn't have time to write a review but who took the time to send me an email so I'd know she was alive and well :D

Ok, long chapter people, with a LOT of both character and story progression. I think maybe I over reached in this chapter and that's why I'm not 100 satisfied with it.

But as long as you guys like it that's what matters! shakes fist LIKE IT:)

Chapter 4

Sam couldn't help smiling around at the people that surrounded him on all sides, overflowing from underneath the metal roofed shelter out onto the grass beyond. It was rapidly getting dark outside, the day overcast and grey, the black clouds hanging low and menacing in the sky above, the waves tossed into jagged peaks by the wind. Nevertheless it was hot, the tropical location never really that cool to begin with, the inclement rain adding a sweltering humidity that seemed to leach the sweat from ones pores. His long sleeved shirt was most definitely an oddity in their group, the polo tops and boob tubes that covered those who were either too shy, or not yet hot enough, to pull them off making him stand out like a three piece suit at a rave.

No one commented on it. By now everyone had accepted the story that he'd been scarred in an accident, thankfully no one remembering his initial few days well enough to recollect that he'd worn short sleeved shirts before. It became just another thing that was accepted in the same way as Paul's fetish for sequined belts, or Elizabeth's birth mark that looked like a hickey on the side of her neck. There'd been no recrimination or insults when he'd hesitantly made up the story of a house fire, no requests of 'can we see them?'. It was taking some getting used to, but over the weeks they'd been here it had slowly happened, and somehow Sam had found himself a member of this group of friends. Most of them were regulars of the café he worked at, the cheap food and coffee a Mecca for the town's youth. The majority of the restaurants and bars were aimed too much at the tourists, the prices set accordingly to cater to wealthy foreigners who expected to pay top dollar, and wouldn't settle for anything less.

They were the crowds rapidly evacuating the beach now, as the life guards gathered up the flapping red and yellow flags that marked the area it was safe for people to swim. Until the storm passed there would be very little chance to enjoy the water, though some of the locals were braving the increasing swells to surf or body board. Towels were hurriedly rolled up and stuffed in backpacks and bags as the breeze threatened to take them, along with the umbrellas that had previously been providing shade. Further down the curve of sand, hotel staff could be seen moving back and forth, stacking the deck chairs that lined the beach where the resort touched it, a tractor digging up the sand as it hurriedly towed several catamarans up out of the water, where they were rapidly stripped of their sails and then chained to a concrete wall.

Along the park in each direction, trees and plants shivered at the touch of the wind, the sound and movement almost like eager sighs, waiting to feel the cold, fat drops of liquid that would soon rain down on their foliage, saturating the ground in a way that no sprinkler system could quite duplicate. The water park had been turned off not long after midday when the storm warning had been broadcast, the fountains and slides still wet in the humidity, the pools covered over with thick covers and nets.

There was still activity however, along the beachfront strip, shops, bars and restaurants were struggling to handle the increased capacity, as those displaced from their planned day of sunbaking instead tried to get a first class seat to watch the coming show. Most wouldn't leave until after midnight now, settling in for a night of thunder, booze and laughter. Ben had been almost desperate when Sam's shift had ended, pleading with him along with the other staff to work another one, offering them an extra half again what they would normally have earned for the hours. Two of them had accepted. He'd politely declined. The offer to hang out with his new friends and watch a tropical storm had been something he couldn't pass up, a show that they promised him would be something not to miss.

It was still unusual for him, that with Christmas only weeks away, it was getting hotter rather than colder. The concept of a cold Christmas as alien here as he and Bumblebee were. He hadn't been game to ask his new friends how they all handled it, or whether they'd even seen snow before. He had a feeling most hadn't and he didn't want to risk the conversation turning too much towards his past. There was also the chance someone might want to know why he still hadn't moved on; why a backpacker out to see the country had now been here for weeks, without even a mention or thought as to where he was going or when. He'd just got comfortable with them, not constantly looking over his shoulder or wondering when something horrible was going to be sprung on him. He didn't want to mess that up.

He'd planned to go of course, had meant to only be here a couple of weeks tops, certain that people were looking for them and that they were still too close to where Starscream had left them. B had agreed and suggested time and again that they depart, but Sam had been reluctant, feeling that he'd found a little bit of something that he'd left behind when they fled. So his mate had relented, he'd never made it an order, never implied that he would be unhappy if they'd stayed, merely suggested it when the conversation came up and then left the decision in Sam's hands. It had touched him that B wouldn't force the decision on him and demand that they go. And so they'd stayed, living in the dead end street between the park and storm water runoff drain, Sam keeping his few belongings in a locker near the waterfront.

Luckily, being a beachside community there was no shortage of showers and Laundromats, nor cheap food. He spent his days working or walking, hanging out with new friends or going for a drive, after which he would spend his nights cradled in Bumblebee's soft leather interior, soothed to sleep by a changing mix of songs and perfectly adjusted climate control. Each night was yet another experience in closeness between them, their bond tightening as they spent more and more time in each other's company. Eventually Sam could no longer picture himself not sleeping in Bumblebee's embrace, safe, and protected with a zeal and dedication that would never be surpassed. Memories of his room and bed at home became little more than hazy recollections, the same way he remembered most of his time before B. The thoughts were still there, but they were faded and dull, the faces and places slightly out of focus as though they'd been turned from vibrant colour to black and white in his mind. He still loved his parents, still missed Mikaela, wondered how Miles was doing. He sometimes dreamt of them; brief interludes to dreams of Bumblebee, that left him remembering only that he had dreamed and not what it was about. But shadowing it all was the incredible hum of his bond with the Autobot that surrounded him, as he fell asleep every night, his blood and mind resonating at the sensation.

Even thinking about it sent a deliciously electric pulse through the metal plates that layered his spine, the buzz causing him to shiver in the sticky afternoon heat. It was something he was still getting used to, the combination of metal and organic feelings that sometimes struck him as more and more of his systems were infiltrated by the microscopic machines the allspark had set loose inside of him. They were growing at an enormous rate, according to B's latest scans, moving like a ravenous swarm of ants that spread just as quickly. Thankfully there had been relatively few major external changes since the incident with his back, the silver veins continuing along his left forearm and down his left side, where they now finished just above his pants line and spread thin tendrils across his abdomen. Around his neck a thin chain of plates an inch across had grown from his spine, circling the base of his throat like a choker and covering the healed wound that had allowed the allspark entry to his body. They could be seen above his shirt, but thankfully looked no stranger that any piece of spiky black metallic jewellery someone might wear, and had garnered little more than one off looks. They shone when the light hit them, with the same metallic, yet slightly unearthly look that B did when he was transformed, and his bonded had evidently found them most appealing. Bumblebee's delight in stroking up and down his spine had now extended to gentle touches around his throat, the large fingers carefully yet demandingly tilting his head back so the large digit could caress the plates all the way around.

The memory made him shiver again and someone gently nudged him in the side with an elbow.

"Hey man, you ok?" He blinked to bring himself back to the present before smiling at the girl who'd poked him, brown bushy hair and thin wire frame glasses somehow managing to make her look as though she was both a rebel and a student at the same time.

"Yeah Carla I'm fine." She handed him a bottle of water that practically poured condensation onto the ground, the esky full of ice now reduced to chilled water with drinks floating in it.

"Well watch yourself. It's easy to get dehydrated in this weather. Your body thinks it's going to be cool cos of the clouds, but all they do is make it reeeeally muggy." He tilted his head back and took a long swallow from the bottle, feeling the cool liquid slide down the back of his throat with a slight relaxation of his shoulders. He let out a sigh when he stopped for a breath, the sound abruptly lost amidst the thunderous roar that shattered the peaceful beach, the sound rumbling its way down from the sky until even the air in his chest felt the vibration. He smiled as several car alarms promptly went off up and down the avenue that stretched behind them, meeting Carla's excited blue eyes as the sounds of cheers drowned out the last vestiges of the first thunderclap. Around him, teenagers and adults who he'd come to know over the last few months suddenly reverted to children, as they laughed and hooted at the oncoming clouds. Patrons in the restaurants and bars stood up and saluted the storm with their drinks, giving a hearty cheer that joined those of the groups in the park, as the first raindrops smashed down on them with a ferocity that seemed determined to literally wash the land away.

The iron roof of the barbeque pergola resounded like a gong with every drop that fell, the noise loud and overwhelming, drowning out any conversation and meaningful communication. The wind negated any shelter they got from the building at any rate, the wind gusting the cool drops inside and wetting everything and everyone that hadn't already been drenched in the downpour. He could see Paul standing triumphantly out in the rain, long bleach blonde hair whipped into a frenzy, rain drenching the blue singlet and board shorts he was wearing, face turned upwards almost in supplication to some unknown deity. Several of the girls were squealing, somewhere between panic and delight as their clothes were drenched, the brightly coloured tops sticking to skin as though stuck with glue, towels or jackets hastily thrown over chests with laughing embarrassment. Beside him, Carla rolled her eyes with amusement, the outline of a bikini clearly evident beneath the loose top she wore, the words 'Are you ready for this?' ironically scrawled across the breasts. She noticed his stare and they both laughed, though neither could hear the other over the noise.

Another burst of thunder pounded into their ears from seemingly directly above, the windows of the shops and cafes behind vibrating in their frames. It was still technically an hour or two until sunset, but with the mountain range in the distance and the darkness of the clouds, twilight was already well underway now. He watched as the fairy lights bravely came on up and down the park, the lines leaping and twisting in the wind as though unseen devils were trying to use them as jumping ropes. A man wearing a yellow council raincoat trudged past the shelter towards the beach, arm raised to shield his eyes from the pelting droplets, and Sam watched as he switched off the gas that would normally have lit the tiki torches. He stopped as he was coming back, grabbing Paul's arm and shouting something next to his ear. Sam met his friends eyes, a silent question, barely able to understand the vastly over exaggerated lip movements the blonde was making. Carla had to translate for him, cupping a hand around his ear and shouting over the din.

"They're upgrading the storm. The council is asking everyone to clear the beach. Severe lightning is expected." He nodded to show her he'd understood, tossing his now empty water bottle into a trashcan nearby. Paul came round the outside of the structure, waving them towards the road. Even with the dim glow of the sun and the lights on everywhere, it was difficult to make out more than vague shapes beyond a few feet. The shops across the road were reduced to bright outlines in his vision. Sam stepped out into the storm with a sense of both excitement and fear at the ferocity of the display before him, barely able to make out the tall palm trees bending and tossing against the horizon. Looking back on it, he realised there was an ominous tone to the entire spectacle that probably should have told him something was going to go wrong, but as it was, the safety of a pub seemed a better choice than the minimal shelter offered by the tin roofed pergola. Others were following the same logic, another group of people already across the road, standing in front of the blazing interior of the old stone building, waving at them to follow. It happened so quickly then, the shattering of the calm little life he'd built for himself, not ruined by Decepticons or battles or the Army, but by a simple act of friendship. They'd just been about to step off the footpath to make the final run to the door, then Paul had leapt onto his back.

It was a playful half tackle that had been designed simply so the other boy could ride piggy back in a joking fashion, the kind of thing that wouldn't faze most guys, especially when messing around in the rain. It wasn't until a wet chest pressed against his spine through two equally wet layers of clothes that the true impact of what was happening hit him. Two powerful thoughts assaulted him as he stumbled under the sudden weight; the first was the knowledge that the thin material would provide no barrier to disguise the obvious metallic plates that now armoured his spine. The second was a sense of revulsion and wrongness so powerful that it almost made him vomit. His body rebelled at the foreign touch pressing against it in such an intimate position and he panicked. He could feel the moment the form on his back stiffened at the touch of the interlocking metal, the two arms thrown over his shoulders sliding slightly across the ring the circled his throat. A charge suddenly ran through him, almost like the jolts he'd experienced when he and Bumblebee had sex, but different somehow. In the darkening evening the electric blue flash was immediately obvious, and had it not been for the sudden disappearance of Paul's weight from his back, he might have put it down to a bolt of lightning. Someone cried out, though who he couldn't tell, the wet splatter of the rain against the road joined by the thud and splash of a large body slamming into the grass.

Beside him he could see Carla's eyes open wide, staring at him from between matted and windblown hair with a look of something between surprise and fear. He turned around slowly, taking in the faces of those surrounding him and the slumped form lying still on the grass. From the collar right down to the board shorts, Paul's clothing was seared straight through, the singlet resembling a vest now as it hung open, revealing darkly tanned skin underneath. Overlapping triangular burns pierced the skin as well, like some sort of mechanical centipede had latched on and burnt him before leaving to track down better game. No blood welled up from them, the wounds cauterised by the heat that had created them, the smell of burning meat able to be made out even in the pouring rain. His own shirt slapped wetly against his sides in the wind, dangling loosely from his shoulders in a way that told him his clothes were destroyed in the same manner. A slightly unpleasant crawling sensation inched its way up his spine, strangely making him feel like a dog with its hackles raised at something that has upset it.

For the first time since it had all begun he suddenly wanted the allspark gone from his system, taking in the expressions around him that ranged from shock to horror, and some simply surprised, unsure what had happened. The triangular burns that marked a path from Paul's chin to below his navel were like a line on a map, pointing towards him with an accusing accuracy. One of the girls, Becca he thought, was crouched near the still head, fingers carefully reaching out to press against undamaged flesh near the side of the other boy's throat, trying to feel for a sign of life. Sam prayed desperately that there was one, relieved when the girl's voice announced that there was a pulse and demanding that someone call an ambulance. He wanted to stay and make sure everything was going to be alright, make sure that the friend he had apparently just injured so badly was going to be ok, but he knew he had to leave. His safe little haven wouldn't be safe anymore, not once word of this got out. There'd be questions, interviews, and enough people must have seen his back to know that whatever had happened had been because of him.

"Sam? What…?" It was Carla, taking a very small, very hesitant step towards him, arm raised slightly to point at the ragged shirt that clung to him. He looked down, seeing the faint glow that seemed to come through it and swiftly tore the remaining shreds of fabric off.

The intricate web of silver veins glowed softly with a faint light in the encroaching blackness, making his skin look that much darker by comparison and turning him into a silhouette, highlighted with liquid mercury. They trailed across his stomach and up over his side and chest to his neck. At least they had earlier. They still lazily crossed his stomach and ran up his side, but at his collar bone they were stopped. Glistening black metal ridges had extended from the collar around his neck, layered armour plates following the crest of his collarbone out to his shoulders then back in along the top of his trapezius until the rejoined the circlet at his throat. His hands automatically sought out the skin of his shoulders, feeling another line on each side running down to the curve of his spine, his trapezius muscles surrounded on each side in black metal plates, like the outline of a kite on his back. He saw the fear in Carla's eyes and desperately didn't want her to stare at him as though she expected him to suddenly leap at her and kill her.

"I…" His mouth tried to say it, tried to tell her he was sorry, or thank her for her friendship, something that would show that he was still the same guy. But he could hear a distant siren even through the rain, noticed the increasing number of people that were coming outside across the road, to take in the wet group of kids standing there. He knew he needed to leave, and quickly. He didn't fancy getting arrested, and he didn't want to risk Bumblebee being seen while mounting a rescue. He knew his agony must be showing in his eyes, as he looked from the small group in front of him to the empty blackness he would soon be fleeing into behind.

He thought he saw a flash of sympathy from the blue eyes in front of him, as though the girl had understood that he hadn't meant to do it, would never dream of consciously hurting another human being. She seemed as though she might have said something else, asked him to stay perhaps, or warned him to flee? He didn't know and he couldn't wait around to find out, each second he delayed only bringing police and ambulance closer along with more witnesses nearby. He kept his gaze locked on her as he took his first step back, saw understanding cross her face as she grasped that he had to go, leaving behind the friends he'd made, leaving the beach and the surf, a step away from innocence and back towards responsibility.

He didn't realise they'd been that close to the kerb, and when his foot slipped on the gutter it took him a second to understand exactly what was going on. He hit the hard asphalt of the road with a noise somewhere between a metallic thud and a crunch, the ridges of his spine and shoulders impacting with the ground. He heard the distant sound of Carla screaming his name, even fear of his appearance overridden by concern for a fellow person as he became aware of the car bearing down on him. Two bright points of light filled his eyes, the squeal of breaks coming far too late on the water covered ground. He threw an arm over his head and waited for the blow to fall.

He felt no pain as the sound of a smash echoed strangely around him, the sound of breaking glass and compacting metal causing an eerie vibration that seemed to tremble through the air. Small impacts thudded somewhere to either side of him in a short sharp pattern that sounded like it had started raining debris, and then, seemingly much too fast it was over.

He opened his eyes in almost a comically hesitant manner. As though by refusing to look around and acknowledge the reality of the world you could somehow avoid facing the consequences. Darkness was all that he could see at first, a deep darkness that reminded him of unconsciousness, without even a hint of light to alleviate it. For an instant he thought that he had died, wondered if there was a heaven and hell, or whether he would simply spend eternity floating in the terrible dark. Then he became aware of the dampness of his shorts, and the water under his hand, slowly turning his head to look around him. A dark crescent arched above and to each side of him, enclosing him in a shape that vaguely looked like a bent surfboard, wrapped around him to each side and rising to a curved point above him. He could see Carla standing dead still as she stared at him, the other girl, Becca, crouched over Paul's form with a hand over her mouth. A couple more stood just as still and eerily silent, while the remainder fled into the darkness.

Shock slowly made its way into his system then, his mind replaying the brilliance of the headlights and the screaming of the tyres as though he really had died and this was all just a brief second before death. His hands shook as he lifted them in front of him, noticing that the silver trails had now made it to his left hand, weaving their way down and over each finger and across his palm.

He tightly squeezed it into a fist, holding it pressed against his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to compose himself. The sirens were getting closer however, and so he forced himself to gradually stand up, stepping out from underneath the shape that surrounded him.

More and more people were piling out of the doors that lined the street nearby, the sounds of their chatter even reaching him over the rain that poured down. Their shadowed eyes were unable to be made out, standing in front of the brightly lit interiors, but there was little doubt in his mind that they were all focused on him. He turned to find out what had happened to the car and swallowed hard at the sight.

All that remained was a mangled wreck, the coffin like structure that had sheltered him had collected the car almost dead on centre. The headlights wrapped around the sides of it in an almost organic embrace, as though the car were trying to bend and peer around the edge in order to see what was inside. The engine block had evidently been forced back and up, the hood buckled and bent, the windscreen shattered into a fractured opaque pane that only gave the barest hint of the interior. He could make out the white form of the airbags deployed, but whether the driver was alive or dead he couldn't determine.

He stretched out his hand towards the black metal cocoon that had saved him, taking in the perfectly flat and uniform texture, as though it had been forged and poured on the spot, its surface free of any imperfection or indication of tools. As soon as his hand touched it however, it promptly began to disappear, the whole thing disintegrating as though it was made from tiny grains of black sand, held together by some invisible binding that he had disturbed with his hand. Within seconds the entire thing had dissipated in the wind, gone, like blowing on a handful of flour. It left the car shaped like a misshapen Y from the collision, the grille and hood crushed straight down the middle. The only sign that it had ever existed was a semicircular slice that had neatly pierced the asphalt of the roadway, as though it had somehow anchored itself straight through to the bedrock.

Another squeal of tyres echoed up the rain drenched road, bouncing off the buildings and causing him to spin around in fright, his heart still pounding from only seconds ago. At the next intersection the source was revealed to be Bumblebee, sliding sideways down the slick black tarmac as he fishtailed wildly out of the main street leading into town, righting himself a second later and tearing towards him. There was a tone of panic that filled his bond mate's engine, a frantic and slightly uneven revving that set his teeth on edge and his bond to pulsing.

The yellow and black form of his autobot glistened in downpour, rivulets of water streaming off his sides as he braked and swerved, swinging his tail end out so he ended up stopped practically right next to Sam. It was a sight that set his heart pounding for a different reason, realising that the fear that drove his mate to these exertions was concern over him. A desire he felt equally as strongly in return. The driver's door flew open in the face of his musings, the empty interior only further adding to the perils of their situation.

"Come on Sam. We have to go." It was an obvious statement, something he'd known even before the incident with the other car, yet to hear it coming from B in such an urgent voice seemed to suddenly make it actually real. His eyes flickered from the open door in front of him to the small group of his former friends that were still nearby, noticing the small twitch that went through Paul's body before his brown eyes latched on to Carla's blue. He saw the brief comprehension as he'd seen it moments ago, the understanding that he had to leave and that he was sorry for that. Her expression reflected no doubt the same thing his did. They both knew he would never be back.

"Bye." It seemed like an incredibly inadequate way to say goodbye, a single word that failed to adequately explain his thanks for the respite his time in this town had given him. It seemed all his goodbyes were brief, never able to properly convey what he needed to.

"Now Sam!" This time it was an order, and his body didn't hesitate to obey, taking two leaping steps and diving through the open door into the dimly lit cabin. He'd barely even hit the seat before B was off again, tyres spinning in the water briefly before catching again on the ground, seatbelts flying around him and firmly webbing him in place. His eyes flew up to the rear vision mirror as they left the scene of the accident behind, the little island of people and light looking like an island amidst the storm's ongoing fury. It became harder and harder to make out anything through the rain as they drew further away, but the lightning arrived then, a brilliant flash briefly lighting up the area. It was less than a second of illumination but it was enough, allowing him to make out the two girls, both staring after him as they were lost again to the blackness, blue and red strobes preceding the ambulance out of the side street not far from them. He kept his eyes trained on that spot as long as possible, staring at the indistinct blackness as moisture ran down his front and sides, hair sticking wetly to his neck.

"I'm sorry we have to leave Sam." The sincerity and regret he heard in B's voice were echoed in his own heart, as even the lights from the ambulance and pub were finally lost from sight. His eyes flicked away from the mirror, glancing out the window just in time to watch the last of the brightly lit shopfronts flash past beside them. The lively and crowded strip that had been his entire life for the last few months was swiftly swallowed up by the stormy darkness in their wake, gone with a finality and completeness that almost made him wonder if any of it had even happened at all.

The interior of the car was silent, as the streetlamps of the suburban neighbourhoods were left behind them a few short minutes later, leaving them alone together on the road with only the rain, wind and lightning for companions. Somewhere above and ahead of them the thunder peeled out its vengeful cry, a booming herald that warned all of their passage, a yellow and black steed with rider, sowing chaos and pain wherever they tread. He didn't respond to Bumblebee's apology, barely noticing as the AC heated to try and dry him off. He didn't want to think anymore at that moment, didn't want to feel.

Because when he did it was going to hurt, and all the metal plates in the world weren't going to be able to keep it out.

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Located in the sweet spot at 35,786km above the earth's surface, locked into a geosynchronous orbit, the KLD-327 emissions monitoring satellite was not long from the event that would mark the end of its relatively insignificant life. The fuel reserves in its tanks were down to the last precious ounces, enough for a few final station keeping corrections over the next couple of months before the satellite would be decommissioned, and allowed to surrender itself to gravity and plummet into the atmosphere. It was an end for which KLD-327 had been designed, and the limited onboard processing capacity of its ten year old computers was capable neither of comprehending its impending destruction, nor preventing it if it had. Instead it carried out its duties with the same single minded attentiveness that marked most machines, accumulating data and waiting to transmit that back to earth.

Surrounding it on all sides, its brothers and sisters performed their own duties, some monitoring temperature, some monitoring communications, and others monitoring the monitors.

Approximately two degrees north on the orbital plane, KLD-393, a slightly newer yet equally as outmoded sibling, transmitted a weather warning signal, advising severe thunderstorms for a region of far north Queensland on the continent below them. Huge thunderclouds were already crossing the coastline, causing record seas and more expected to come. 327 redirected its scans towards the cloud banks as per its programming, observing the electrical discharges in the upper atmosphere for further study by scientists on the ground. The data gathered by its ten year old cameras would most likely be relegated to storage, superseded by its newer and more powerful cousins that patrolled the skies above North America and Europe. It was not equipped for carrying out any other sort of study however, and was so close to the end of its working life that it would have been neither worthwhile nor cost effective to send a space mission to upgrade it. So its cameras calmly went about collecting the data that was required, imaging and scanning the area as bright flashes lit up the clouds below.

It came as somewhat of a surprise when an enquiry was directed towards it from somewhere below, its transceiver taking a second to power on from its dormant state in order to request the appropriate codes before proceeding. Security codes were swiftly checked and verified, beginning transmission of the packets of data down to the terminal identified as "IONIDE".

A huge flash lit up the graphs in its databanks, spiking far higher than the storm was capable of producing, though the scans from the cameras showed no visible change. The disturbance was logged, and obligingly sent down to the one who requested it, "IONIDE" receiving the data and disconnecting with a brief thanks that 327 was incapable of understanding.

It was programmed only to receive and send, a task that had always been satisfying enough, simply knowing one had done as it was required to. It was a machine type of accomplishment, that bore no real similarity to the emotion human's would have attached to it. It had done the job since the day it came online, it would do it until the day it ceased to function. That was all it knew.

So when two more transmissions came in only minutes later, requesting the same data it had just transmitted, 327 dutifully checked their codes as it always did, duplicated the information, and then resent it.

Fin