I met my first warborn femme a week later.
Thundercracker, Sunstreaker, and I were sitting in the fueling nook, sipping our morning energon, when the knock sounded at our door. I thought it was some kind of explosion, which tells you a lot about the frequency of visitors we got at the apartment. (The small sign over our door that read, "If you've come just to see our femmes, slag off!" probably had something to do with that.) But Sunstreaker rose and went to the door like he expected someone.
I heard unfamiliar voices, and several pairs of feet clumped into our small home. I looked over at Thundercracker, thinking about the visit Prowl had made to them before I was ignited. But he looked no more worried than he had before the knock.
Sunstreaker welcomed a red mech and a blue femme into our kitchen, unfolded extra seats from under the table, and plunked two cubes of energon in front of them. The strangers took the offered places, and Sunstreaker returned to his seat as if this were all completely normal. He waved a hand in my direction. "Rainbowsparkles, meet Ironhide and Chromia."
"Nice to meet ya," said the red one.
"Likewise?" I faltered.
The red mech (was he Ironhide, or Chromia?) turned back to Sunstreaker. "How's the family?"
Sunstreaker smiled. "They're all fine. Did you two see the exhibition last week? We all went down to Vos together. Windchaser was in it. She did very well, I think."
The blue femme didn't smile. "Do you know where they all are now?" she asked. "I mean, right at this moment?"
Thundercracker put down his energon. "Ironhide, what's going on? Has another femme gone missing?"
Everyone at the table cut their eyes sideways at me. "Maybe we'd better discuss that later," the red one who (thanks, Dad!) was definitely Ironhide said. "For now, we've come to tell ya about the new registration program. Optimus wants to make sure all femme newlings are known and accounted for."
"What? Why?" demanded Thundercracker. "I thought we were worried about newlings going missing, not more newlings showing up. They don't need some official forge-certificate in order to exist. Nobody knows who Spangle's makers are, and she's done fine for herself." He leaned an elbow on the table, his red optics narrowed. "If this is Command trying to take over raising our daughters, Rainbow won't be taking part. No thank you."
The two strangers drew back a bit. I noticed they both had the red-face badge – not the purple one on Thundercracker's wings. I still wasn't sure exactly why that mattered, but I saw how much it did.
The blue femme – Chromia, I think – wasn't cowed, though. She spoke up with steely calm. "This isn't about how they're forged or raised, Thundercracker. This is about saving them. Part of the registration process is installing trackers."
Thundercracker slapped his hands on the table. "Finally! How long have I been sending comms suggesting that?"
Sunstreaker raised his chin proudly. "Rainbow's already got a tracker in her."
I decided to remind them I was there. "What's going on?"
"Oh." Ironhide turned toward me. "Sorry, little lady. Didn't mean to scare ya."
"Should I be scared?"
"Naw, o' course not!"
The warborn femme spoke up again. (I'd known she was warborn from the moment she'd entered. She was as unlike me and my sisters as we were from our makers.) "We're creating an archive for the newling femmes, Rainbowsparkles." (She shot a disbelieving glance at both my makers just then, and I knew without looking into her spark what she was thinking.) "You'll need to come with us to the Registry Building. But all you'll have to do there is say your name and put your hand on a scanner. It's nothing painful. But it will give us a permanent record of your spark-signature and energy-field, as well as your basic medical info. It's a precaution. That's all. So you can always be found and identified, no matter where you are or what might-" Ironhide put a hand on her arm, and she broke off there.
"It sounds..." I didn't like it, but I couldn't figure out how to say why I didn't like it. I turned to Thundercracker for support. "Remember how you said you didn't want to be anyone's jailer?" (He looked up at me sharply, and I remembered too late that I wasn't supposed to have heard that conversation.) I plowed ahead anyway "Being tracked. Not just by you, but by- by everyone..." I shrugged uncomfortably. "I'll feel... hunted."
My makers exchanged glances. I was sure they'd tell Ironhide and Chromia no.
"You wouldn't be under surveillance, or anythin'. The tracker's are only activated if ya-" Ironhide stopped and recalibrated, "-if yer in danger, and yer makers don't know where ya are."
I stared at the four sober-eyed bots around my family's kitchen table. "But if they don't know where I am, how will they know if I'm in danger?"
That should have stumped them. But my makers gave in anyway. "We'll go together, sweetheart," Thundercracker said. "You can decide then, if you want to do it."
Something was happening I didn't understand. I could have looked into their sparks to find out more, but I was too scared of what I might find in there. I tried to read their expressions instead. In the end, it was the mute appeal in Thundercracker's optics that made the decision for me.
"All right," I said. "Let's go right now."
Everyone visibly relaxed.
"We'll get them to take out the tracker once this nasty thing blows over," Sunstreaker reassured me. I didn't know if I should be relieved.
We rolled out in what I've come to think of as the family formation: Sunstreaker in front, me driving close behind him, Thundercracker flying above. Ironhide and Chromia followed us, side-by-side. I revved my engine, though it didn't make nearly as much satisfying racket as Sunstreaker's did, and hoped the wind would blow away my general uneasiness.
Look sharp. We're coming into traffic now.
I snarled my gears. Dad, I've been driving for a while now. I can handle traffic.
There was silence from Sunstreaker. Then he muttered, "Could've sworn I was on Thunder's channel..." and my quiet engine let me catch the words. I replayed the entire conversation. And suddenly Thundercracker's watchful presence in the sky above me took on a darker significance. I wasn't sure if I was mad or scared, but I clung closer to Sunstreaker's bumper from then on.
We waited at an intersection for a space between speeding transformers. When our turn came, we joined the crowd of 'day-trippers and accountants' (Sunstreaker's words, not mine) turning onto the broad span of one of the city's massive spokeways: arteries from the outer circles to the city's tall, bright center.
I followed Sunstreaker's taillights over the multi-mile elevated bridge that was the radial highway. Along the way, I looked down onto wide, concentric boulevards; neon-lit craft districts; and tiny residential neighborhoods like ours. We'd almost reached the shining central towers, when Sunstreaker took an exit. I was disappointed, but followed him through a mind-numbing series of lefts, rights, tunnels and ramps. Are you sure you know where you're going? I radioed.
He snorted. I helped to design this city. I could find my way around here blindfolded. He paused. Besides, Ironhide gave me directions.
Just when I'd started to feel dizzy, we stopped at the doorway of a short, polished black lump of a tower. It was in the perpetual shadow of huge skyscrapers on all four sides. But somehow it still managed to look self-important. Brand-new, too – its surface had that oily sheen of recently-welded metalwork. When I transformed, leftover rivet-heads crunched under my feet. (Sunstreaker grumbled about waste and slipshod recycling crews.)
"This is it," Ironhide said unnecessarily. "I'll turn you over to the guard."
"Guard? Why? What guard?" Thundercracker asked him suspiciously. But Ironhide just grinned.
Behind the tower's heavy gate, we heard the long creak of a lock-bar being lifted. The door swung open ponderously. Out of it strode a red and black mech, looking like he'd just won best-in-show. "Hey Sunny!" he called out. "Long time no see."
Sunstreaker bristled. "I told you not to call me that!"
Thundercracker and Ironhide shared a look. Chromia winked at me. "Enjoy the fireworks," she whispered. "Ol' Red and I've got other femmes to tag. But we'll see you again sometime. You've got a lot of years ahead." They transformed, and drove off together. At the time, I was disappointed that I never found Chromia's 'fireworks.' Now though, I wonder if those two ever forgave themselves for what came out of all their work. I'm still not sure if I have.
"So, Brother-mine! What's the mobile count on your bedroom ceiling up to now? Or are you spending all your time now making people on much longer strings?" The guard clapped Sunstreaker on the shoulder. Sunstreaker stomped on his instep.
The new mech winced. "Ouch! That's no way to treat your only sibling!" He hopped over to accost Thundercracker instead. "Still hanging around with him, then?" he asked, with the forced casualness of someone tinkering with unexploded ordnance.
"Yes," Thundercracker replied coldly.
This new mech was extremely rude. But he'd said one of my hot-button words. I tugged on Thundercracker's arm. "How come Sunstreaker gets to have a brother?"
"Branched spark, little lady," the red-and-black mech replied, before my maker could answer. He threw an arm around Sunstreaker's shoulder. "Mutants, from inception!"
"You're a mutant, anyway," Sunstreaker grumbled, shrugging off the guard's arm like it might infect him.
The guard ignored him. "So, this is the latest model." He looked me over, head to toe. "Very nice. What gimmicks did you give this one, Sunny?"
Thundercracker stepped between them before there was any bloodshed. "Why do you need to know?" he demanded. "Do the Command Trine only let you out of here if you can trade them information?"
The guard looked at him blankly. "Let me out?" He snorted. "Oh, you wish. I only drove here a few minutes ago so I could meet up with you. This place's locked up tighter than Omega Supreme's-" he glanced at me. "I mean, it's very secure. But I happen to be one of the bots entrusted with a key." He whirled past Thundercracker's wingtip to where he could reach my hand, grabbed it, and shook it heartily. "Sideswipe, miss. Pleased to meet you. I'm your uncle, or something." He transferred my hand gallantly to his elbow. "Allow me to escort you into my top-secret sanctum..."
"Primus, Sides, you're such a-!" Sunstreaker swallowed down whatever he'd wanted to say, and shoved his Actual Real-Life Brother aside so he could take my arm in his. "You're gonna make her think our family's retrograde."
"I'm sure you do that just fine on your own, Bro."
I was still unsure how I felt about my "uncle." But he was the first person I had met who didn't treat the world like some kind of ongoing tragic opera. Or if he did, he was laughing at the absurd dramatics. I wished Sunstreaker had let me walk with Sideswipe, instead of snatching me back.
We moved into the slick black building. Behind, the door clanged shut, locking us all in claustrophobic semi-darkness. I suppose the whole thing ought to have been creepy. But what with everything being so topsy-turvy (and probably under the influence of Sideswipe's antics), I was having a great time. I felt like my too-sheltered life had for once gone off-script.
Sideswipe clicked something somewhere, and night-eye red running lights lit up along the little foyer's walls and floors. We followed where they led, and just ahead, this narrow hall opened into a larger chamber. Someone pushed me forward, and Sideswipe's voice proclaimed, "Welcome to the Registry, missie! And your name is?"
I glanced in panic back at my creators (they both shrugged). I sighed. "Rainbowsparkles. Pleased to meet you, Sideswipe."
My 'uncle''s laughter bounded and rebounded off the red-lit walls, until I thought my head would burst. "Rainbowsparkles? Really?" He bent over, hands on knees, wheezing. "Primus beneath us, that is priceless!"
Thundercracker came to my rescue. "Sideswipe, can we skip the commentary, and do what we came here for?"
But Sideswipe was still chortling to himself. "Rainbow… huh-huh... Sparkles…!"
"What have they got in here that's so solemn and important?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "The place is locked-up and forbidding, but all I see is a room with very little light, a mess of hasty wiring along the walls, and a computer console in the middle of it all. So what's it for?"
Sideswipe visibly swelled with pride, and for the first time, I could see how he and Sunstreaker might be related. "The Newling Registry! Just opened yesterday. This place, and others like it we installed in every major city, will make sure no newling goes undocumented. Think of it as the Great Archives, but for newlings."
All this meant very little to me. "OK," I said. "But what's it do? How does it work? Ironhide and Chromia acted like it was this big, life-changing thing, but we've got a computer back at home."
Thundercracker gave a short laugh. And that made me happy, because he rarely laughed at all. "Archives are pretty boring on the inside, little one - just a lot of data-slates and storage servers. That's why I never spent much time in one..." He maneuvered around Sideswipe with elaborate caution (a symptom of the Non-Matching Badge Problem again) and drew me up to the console's screen, on which a few lines of pink glyphs flashed. He smiled at me and pointed to it. "Are you ready, 'Bow?"
I gave him an uncertain nod. "I guess?"
Sunstreaker shocked a month off my lifespan by throwing his arms around me in a sudden hug. Then he grabbed Thundercracker and Sideswipe's hands, forming a circle around me. "Please, Primus, let it keep her safe!" he whispered. "Let this keep them all safe!"
"Amen," intoned the other two, without a trace of irony.
I was totally thrown by all of this. I shunted my vocalizer. "Um. OK. I'll do the thing now..."
I stepped up to the central console, and squinted at the largest line of Neocybex, trying to recall the modern phonics and grammar I'd only recently uploaded. (Finding out that the languages we spoke at home were different from the post-war glyphs had made all of my difficulties finding current info on the datanet make sudden sense; but right now it just made me look illiterate.) "Newling… Reg...istry," I read.
"Good!" Sunstreaker encouraged me. "What does the one beneath that say?"
"Search… Database."
"Right. OK. But you don't want to look up an already-constructed newling. You want to enter your own record. Try the last one."
(Actually, I did want to look up a Certain Bot. But he'd made it pretty clear he wouldn't be found on this index, despite all my hopes to the contrary. I sighed, and let it go.) Self-conscious and proud and nervous, I read the last entry aloud: "New… Record."
"That's the one." Thundercracker was now hopping lightly on his toes. "Touch it, 'Bow. Go on."
I pressed the screen. It changed. Something heavy went ker-thunk overhead. And from the ceiling an arm-mounted ball came down with a soft whirring.
Please Stand By For Scanning, the screen blinked at me.
I shot a panicked backward glance at my creators. But they only nodded in encouragement. I held myself stock-still as a fine grid of bright-red lasers fanned out from the ball-thing. The arm scrolled it slowly up and down my body from the front and back and sides. As it did so, my internal schematics appeared on the screen. This was creepy, but fascinating. It took about five minutes for the ball and laser-grid to capture everything. Then a tiny bell chinged.
Scan Complete, read the pink letters on the screen. I touched them. And they changed again.
Expose Spark And Face Screen. I blinked.
"Expose... What? What is this?" I turned accusingly to Sideswipe, as if this were all his fault.
"It's to make sure you'll always be identifiable as you, no matter how much your outside changes," he explained. But to my ears, he sounded just a little sheepish. "We'll turn our backs, if you want."
"Yes. Please do."
I watched my makers and my uncle turn, to become eyeless silhouettes, their edges limned with glints of reddish light. I sighed, and cracked my chestplates open. Something whirred within the console. A light shone on me – a whitish light that seemed improbably familiar, till I recognized it as the same color my optics turned when I was reading sparks.
The little bell dinged. Spark Record Archived, the screen told me. I closed up my chest. "All right," I said, "You can turn back around now."
Behind me, there were sounds of shuffling. I was busy reading, though, and did not bother to look back.
Place Hand Flat On Recorder. I looked all around the room, and then back at the unhelpful screen. "Where's- What's the 'Recorder'?" I asked.
Sideswipe pulled out a drawer-tray from beneath the console-screen. In it was set a flat square of odd black material, which reflected no light whatsoever. It looked like a hole into some empty corner of the universe. It also looked alive, somehow. 'Place Hand Flat' on this thing? I drew back. "Um, what's it gonna do?" I asked. And yes, I will admit my voice did squeak.
Sideswipe tried to assure me. "I guess it does look scary in the dark. We can't have anything brighter than running lights in here, or it throws off the scanning lasers."
Thundercracker approached, but did not touch me. "It's just going to take a reading of your personal energy signature. A light lick from an electromagnet, that's all."
"Won't that sting?"
"Nah." Sideswipe spoke up again, grinning. "It didn't bite Perceptor's femme when she tried it this morning."
So at least one other newling had done this before me. Curses. Now if I wimped out, I'd be a coward. Flinching a bit, I flattened my palm onto the rubbery, not-quite-motionless rectangle, and waited to be zapped, or melted, or possibly eaten.
Something went fizz. It tingled, but was not unpleasant. Stand By For Tracker Insertion, flashed onto the screen. Before I had time to realize (and panic about) what that meant, something sharp and warm and wet happened inside the hand on the recorder-thing. I smelled hot solder, and felt a new tenderness between the metal plates of my palm. A bright ding! sounded from the console. Wondering, I took my hand away and wiggled my fingers. Everything seemed normal enough. I looked down at the weird black square that had done this to me. It looked like plain black rubber now – nothing remarkable at all.
New Record Entered flashed up on the screen. Sunstreaker cheered, then caught himself being too 'boorishly excited.' Sideswipe and Thundercracker laughed at him, then whooped with unrestrained applause.
Enter Name To Complete Registry, the screen commanded. A keyboard slid out from the console. A cursor blinked at me. Suddenly I wanted to take back everything I'd just done, flee from this room, and live alone somewhere in the rust-mountains.
"It wants my name," I whispered.
"Well, yeah," said Sideswipe.
"My name, though."
"Not gonna lie – It's a doozy. But you'll survive."
Under my breath, I said the word I'd heard Sunstreaker use when he was angry. "Can I please change it?" I asked desperately.
"Sorry, Rainbowsparkles," said Sideswipe. "No dice. Once you choose a name at birth, you're stuck with it. You can try going by a nickname if you want, but..." He shrugged, and elbowed Sunstreaker. "Hey. Remember that 'Con who tried to go by 'Sparkeater'?" The two brothers shook their heads and shared a chuckle.
"Go on, sweetheart," said Thundercracker kindly.
I sighed, and bent to the keyboard.
R, A, I, N... I pounded out the letters, thinking 'Sparkeater' had sounded kind of cool. I, on the other hand, was adding myself to this Permanent Archive as "Rainbowsparkles," the very opposite of cool. ...K, L, E, S, I finished, and I considered adding, ...IS A SILLY BLOCK-HEAD, but thought better of it. I was already saddled with the most ridiculous name on the entire planet. I'd better not make it worse.
Confirm, flashed on the screen. I sighed. Then pressed a finger on the pinkly-glowing glyph. A trill of musical notes chimed from the console. I turned to the three mechs behind me, all of whom were grinning. I gave them with a mock curtsey. "Ta-dah! I officially exist."
Everyone clapped. "Congratulations," they all said. "We're glad you do."
Thundercracker hugged me. Sunstreaker, who'd used up this year's supply of hug, shook my hand heartily. Sideswipe punched my shoulder playfully, which just about made Sunstreaker explode. "Her finish!" he yelped. "Sides, are you insane?" But nothing could dim the glow of this moment. Sure, this 'registration' exercise seemed strange and unnecessary. But there in that dark, red-lit room, we were happy. Until Sideswipe pulled Sunstreaker into a corner, and spoke in a quick, humorless whisper. "Can I come by your place when my shift's over? It'll be late."
Sunstreaker looked startled. Then he nodded. "You have news?"
Sideswipe grimaced. "I'll tell you all the latest rumors when I get there. Make sure this little one's in bed though. It'd upset her."
So of course I resolved to stay up all night if I had to, with my audials pressed up against the wall.
