Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just the story.
Chapter 7: Not-Such-Good Friends
"Jazz is reporting for duty, sir!"
Optimus Prime turned around from where he was watching Ironhide in recharge mode (Ratchet was near by, glaring at Optimus to make sure he didn't do anything to stop Ironhide's recharge), and found the visor-wearing Autobot standing behind him, saluting. The usually smiling face was now grim and serious.
"Jazz?" Optimus asked. "I heard that you were in town for a movie. How are you?"
"Josh called me about what happened on his way out. I'm here reporting for duty. The movie can wait."
"Do your producers understand?"
"They're humans; I'm a large sentient transforming alien robot with enough weaponry lying dormant in him to level their entire set. I'm sure they understand," Jazz said, cracking a smile.
"There's the Jazz we all know and love," Optimus said, smiling him self beneath his face mask.
"Dad! Dad! Dad!" Benjamin yelled, running into the Infarmery with the other Efforts on his heels. Jack Turbine and Max were carrying a still-unconscious MJ between them and Anne and Jess followed behind them. Becky followed at a calmer pace, holding a slab of cold meat to her right eye. All were bruised or cut somewhere on their person. Jazz, Optimus, and Ratchet all jerked noticeably in surprise at their condition.
"Kids! What happened to you?" Ratchet exclaimed, kneeling. "Anne, my little surgeon, my scanners see cracked ribs on you!"
"We were attacked on the penthouse roof," Benjamin reported as Optimus picked him up and set him on an empty Transformer bed.
The kids told the Autobots about their ambush as their wounds were cleaned up and tended to. The worst injuries were Benjamin's head cut and MJ's concussion.
"Well, depending on your lack of serious wounds," Ratchet commented, helping MJ sit up once he had been revived. "They were not meaning serious harm just yet, which we can be grateful for."
"But they're with the Decepticons," Jazz pointed out. "And they got powers! This can not end well."
"I think," Optimus said, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders. "That it's time we become a little sterner with our guest, Dr. Moriguchi, and draw out his secrets before anyone is seriously hurt."
"If anyone's going to be seriously hurt," Ironhide growled, announcing that he had been awake for the whole conversation. "It's going to be the Blue Man freak for kneeing my daughter in the back of the head."
"Oh, this can not end well at all," Josh muttered in agreement with Jazz.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Mr. Moriguchi," Prowl was telling the human as he sat by the human's bed, "I understand your story perfectly; tribe wars banning you from your home, Decepticon wannabes attacking, yes, yes, yes."
"Then what's the problem?" Moriguchi whined.
"Sir, with all do respect, and using a human phrase, that's totally bull shit. Ironhide clearly saw Starscream and his Seekers shoot his escaping craft down just out side of Transport City radar range, and trust me, Ironhide would never mistake otherside. Sir, please, if you want us to help you, you must tell us the truth!"
"I have been!" Moriguchi exclaimed.
"If you have, then why did you fail to mention the other children?" Optimus Prime asked, entering the med-bay.
"What?" Prowl asked, his optics flashing in surprise as he partially stood up.
"Tonight," Optimus recounted, "a band of human youth with unusual powers and fighting abilities attacked the Autobots' children while delivering a message that the Decepticons are coming. One of then said something in question of your honor. Dr. Moriguchi; please start telling the whole, entire, unmarred truth before I begin to loose my patients. It's one thing to have one of my mechs harmed by your idiocy, but having our children harmed is an entire thing all together. So please, Mr. Moriguchi," Optimus Prime knelt in front of the bed and leaned over it, blue optics blazing in warning as his shadow was cast over the tiny human. "Tell us the truth."
Moriguchi stared up at Optimus Prime for a long time before speaking slowly with his eyes still level and steady as they looked into Optimus' optics.
"You can't handle it."
You have to hand it to them, Optimus thought in the back of his mind. Humans do not know their borders.
"Moriguchi," Prowl said, gritting his teeth. "Our patients is running thin. What was Breaker Labs really doing out there in the Sahara Desert?"
"You're a bunch of idiots, you know that?" Moriguchi went on coldly. "You think that we really got the perfect formula for Transformer-human off spring after forty years of careful planning and then we stick the plans in a machine and out pops a kid? No, it took dozens, perhaps hundreds of formulas, combinations, time sequences, and methods to make those kids you call your own Sparklings. And even once we started getting the embryo going, things would happen to complicate and kill it; dying in any of the pre-birth stages, dying when incubator removal was attempted, dying sometime, even years after removal. Many, many, many little lives died trying to get you those kids, and all those little lives were practiced on that shipment of P.O.W's that you were so generous to give."
"What?" Optimus whispered, drawing back slightly in surprise.
"The Decepticons elites, you dolt!" Moriguchi snapped. "Megatron, the Seekers, the 'Waves; We practiced making your Efforts by first making Efforts for them! Why? Because they couldn't object and we could do further tests on them to see what the effect of having an Effort was on them without complaint! Once we were able to make Efforts able to last five years of age, we made you your Efforts, but kept the Decepticon Efforts alive for further study. Most came out at different ages, and some are aging differently, but all are alive. So alive, in fact, that they decided that the lab life was over and released their fathers.
"So yes, Mr. Optimus Prime and Mr. Prowl, there are other Efforts; they attacked your Efforts tonight, they're Decepticon Efforts created in preparation to make yours, and who have released their fathers to break out from Breaker Labs. If you don't believe me, access the Breaker Labs data base by going to their web site and entering 'Project Abominations X' into the password box of log in screen—no user name—and look at the data hidden on the other side of the click. In your own inane quest for fleshling children, you never slowed to read the fine print and now your worst nightmares have been born from your dream come true. Welcome to Hell, Autobots."
- - - - - - - - - - -
"And then they just disappeared in black puffs of smoke?" Mrs. Witwicky asked.
"Yeah, mom," Josh replied, holding an ice pack to a lump on his right cheek. "Jack was lucky not to get beaten to a pulp by Anne's tools when the blue-haired dude somehow took control of them."
"It may had been telepathy…" Mr. Witwicky muttered.
He looked up at Prowl, Optimus, and Jazz; the three Autobots who shared the small room they were talking to him in along with Josh and the Witwicky parents as they explained why their son had had the snot beaten out of him.
"You guys said he was an Effort?" Mrs. Witwicky asked.
"Apparently," Prowl said, lowering his optics grimly. "The Breaker Laboratories are not as good as friends as we thought they were."
"What—what does that mean?" Mr. Witwicky asked.
"We'll explain in further detail when we know more," Optimus promised. "But for now—"
"No!" Mr. Witwicky snapped, standing straighter and pushing his fear aside. "Some whack job juveniles hurt my son and his friends tonight, and I want to know what is going on now!"
Prowl and Jazz looked at Optimus Prime. He sighed sadly and nodded grimly to Prowl. Prowl turned back to the family that he was kneeling in front of.
"We have reason to believe, due to a confession straight from Breaker Labs scientist Dr. Moriguchi himself, that there are Efforts of Decepticon origin out there. Moriguchi has refused to explain when or how things got out of hand, but from what we know, these Decepticon Efforts have somehow freed the original Decepticon elite soldiers that were in Breaker Labs' custody and over threw the Breaker Labs sector stationed in North Africa. If we are looking at this correctly, Josh and his friends were attacked by Decepticon Efforts tonight."
"Oh my god," Mrs. Witwicky whispered, covering her mouth with a hand.
"Wait, wait ,wait, I thought that Breaker Labs were supposed to destroy the elite Decepticons once all neccesary studies were completed," Mr. Witwicky pointed out.
"They disobeyed that part of the arranged agrement," Prowl stated sadly.
"Ah, it figures," Mr. Witwicky growled, waving his hands in acceptance. "Humans corrupt and screw things up, as always. We can never do anything right."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Jazz said. "You made Josh, right? He's a good kid!"
"Thanks, Jazz," Josh said with a nervous smile.
"Jazz and the Lamborghini Twins will escort your safely home and guard you around the clock," Prowl went on, "lest this gang turns up again. I, mean while, will be carrying out an investigation here with Optimus Prime and some of the best detectives we have to figure out exactly what is going on and what actions we can take with maximal safety. Is there anything else you'd like to attend before we take you home?"
"Yeah, I do," Josh said, lifting his head. "What does this mean for the Efforts—our Efforts?"
"They have nothing to be guilty of," Optimus stated. "And hence, they will remain safe, but always with in a close distance of their fathers, lest our new opponents seek to use them in a damaging way towards us."
Josh nodded, gratitude for the safety of his friends rushing through him, before he and his parents left. Optimus and Jazz looked at each other one last time. Jazz nodded to Optimus Prime then exited the room. Outside, the Lamborghini Twins had already been called and were waiting.
"Come on, you two," Jazz told them as he transformed into his Porsche alt-mode and opened his doors to admit the humans. "We're on guard duties until further notice for these guys."
"What, guard duties!?" Sideswipe exclaimed.
"Aw man," Sunstreaker growled, smacking a hand to his face. "We're back to guarding stupid flesh bags—"
"Hey!" Jazz suddenly barked out with uncharacteristic anger. "Did I stutter?"
"No, sir," the surprised brothers said as they transformed into their sleek red and yellow alt-forms.
"Then shut up and follow me; it's dawn, and we gotta beat morning traffic," Jazz growled, speeding off down the GAHQ's wide halls.
- - - - - - - - - - -
"A hacker job?" Jack Turbine asked, turning to Prowl and Optimus Prime when they were in the Jacks' lab later. The laboratory had, thanks to super fast repair mechs, had been healed of its wounds earned that morning. "What makes you think I can do a hacker job?"
"We already know about how you ever so uniquely hacked E-Bay on more than one occasion to get chemicals and supplies off the internet for free back before you came here," Prowl said, crossing his arms and rolling his optics. "And you're lucky that I listened to Wheeljack and decided not to press charges. Besides, we're just telling you that if the files Dr. Moriguchi said would be on the site are not there, you can hack into it and see what is going on. You're the closest and best thing we have for a hacker at the moment, excluding Ratchet when he wants to remove limbs.
K-shh! "I heard that!" Ratchet called over the intercom.
"Shut up and go back to your chamber of doom, Ratchet!" Wheeljack called to the medic through the intercom system.
"Alright, alright," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Let's see if you need me."
"Okay, accessing the Breaker Labs web site now," Wheeljack muttered as he tapped at one of the laboratory's computers.
Breaker Labs, in spite of its rank as quite possibly the most powerful non-governmental science exploration league in the human universe, had a web site to display it non-confidential information and put up a friendly front. It was like National Geographic, only with more interesting experiment results in stead of stories in third world countries.
A white background came up first. In the center of the screen was a small black icon resembling a tad pole chasing its tail as a loading icon. Suddenly, the black tadpole icon disappeared and a navy blue menu appeared on the top and down the right side of the screen, displaying choices such as Current Events, History, About Us, Children's Section, Educational Programs, and fields like Genealogy, Biology, and other such scientific fields. There were two rectangles in the upper right corner for users to long into, if they were types to visit the site often.
"Project Abominations X, no user name," Wheeljack muttered, typing in the password.
Then he pressed enter.
Instantly, the entire screen became dark navy blue with a grid work of bright green lines over it. A red X appeared on screen, spinning as the data loaded, then a large white box appeared on screen with numerous folder icons, some with sub-icons, like a video camera for video clips and stacks of papers for written data.
"Let's see what they see," Wheeljack, pressing a particular key on the keyboard as he looked up at the screen.
The folders opened up spontaneously. Sheets upon sheets of charts, graphs, lists, and data flipped onto the screen. But what fought for space on the screen was what made the Autobots gasp in horror. Wheeljack spun around, catching a shocked Jack Turbine up in his hands and hold him close to his chest to cover the human boy's eyes as his own blue optics paled as they stared in horror at the screen.
"Don't look, Jack!" Wheeljack yelped.
What were sharing the screen were pictures of the failed Efforts. Some were mere cellular pictures. Most were barely recognizable, dark, bloody lumps leaking blood in a puddle around them. Sometimes, they were leaking energon. As the pictures progressed into more and more successful attempts, these bloody limps seemingly so impersonally set on the examination table began to take more and more recognizable forms as crude, misshapen fetuses that became more and more developed. Most were hideously transmogrified; this one had metal claws growing from its hand piercing into its chest. That had a huge head covered in broken metal plates whose edges bit into the soft skull. That had a grossly over sized abdomen.
The pictures progressed into small children, none over five years old. Many were still hideously twisted, very pale or peculiarly colored. But the worse were the ones who were not twisted and mutated. A picture of a tiny girl with short blond hair and a pug nose appeared with no exterior flaws or cause for death. Now a blurry picture taken in action of a little boy, turned away from the camera and surrounded by helpless guards, crumbling to the floor in the hall as long, sharp thorns sprouted out of his back in fountains of blood. Such pictures of young, innocent, sentient children dying in the quest to make a compatible life form between Transformers and humans was almost too much for Optimus Prime, and it showed how his breathing was increasing as his shocked cooling systems grasped for calming air. In his mind's eye, he was connecting these innocent lives to his own Benjamin—had Benjamin come from the blood offering of these helpless innocents? True, the Witwicky motto was "No sacrifice, no victory," but was this worth it?
"Stop it!" Prowl suddenly yelled.
He leaped forward and smacked a hand on one of the larger buttons of the large Transformer-sized keyboard and the images froze, then all closed out, leaving the original menu window hovering on the screen. It seemed like if that menu was sentient, it would raise an eye brow and ask, "What's the matter? I'm just doing my job."
They all stood for several minutes staring at the screen and sucking cooling air into their systems like they were panting. Slowly, Wheeljack let Jack away from his chest and glanced at him, as if to make sure that he was okay. Primus shivered, repulsed that he was about to order someone to venture through these journal entries of the Devil, but knowing that it had to be done.
"Turbine…" Optimus began quietly.
"I understand, Mr. Prime," the young boy answered, adgusting his lab coat. "I can get through it. I'll look through the files while you check on Moriguchi. And if you will, please demand what the hell and Pit his fellow scientists when they so recklessly practiced such…" Jack's face twisted in a grimace. "Atrocities."
"Thank you," Optimus said, nodding gratefully. "Come, Prowl. I would like to question Dr. Moriguchi one more time…"
