Chrysalis
Chapter Nine: Confidence
Optimus Prime had realized even before Spike's unveiling that there would be those among his troops who would have objections to the former-human's presence. He had steeled himself for the moment - the inevitable moment - when one of them would finally vocalize their lack of enthusiasm regarding the latest addition to the Autobot ranks.
Hence the reason he was now listening to his head of security give him an audiofull.
"Sir, with all do respect I must protest Spike's continued inclusion in our forces! I know you've given me assurances straight from the mouths of those who worked on him, but I am not at all convinced that all is as right with him as you claim! For all we know, he could STILL be dangerously unstable…"
I seem to recall similar notions being held about you, Red Alert, Prime said wryly to himself but did not vocalize his thoughts to the paranoid security chief, instead sitting back and taking in everything that Red Alert had to say.
"… a potential security risk! He remains a wild card, Prime. I've seen it in his optics. I've been doing a careful examination of his behavior through the security tapes, and I just KNOW he's going to snap and take us down with him. He's hazardous, Prime, and we should not allow him to put our forces in danger. It's just too reck-"
"Enough," Prime lifted a hand and cut his subordinate off. "Your words have merit, Red Alert. That much I know. However, if I were to follow your current line of reasoning, then I should perhaps bar the Dinobots from combat duties as well." Red Alert gave an indignant sputter.
"That is completely different from what I'm talking about!" Prime merely raised an un-amused eyeridge.
"No, I do not believe is, Red Alert. The Dinobots have their problems, just as Spike has his, Sunstreaker his own, and, I might add, as do you." This last comparison had a particular amount of bite in it, enough to make Red Alert physically recoil as though slapped. "Despite the eccentricities and problems my troops may possess, they are all a part of this army for a reason, and they perform their duties with enough skill to succeed and even excel, despite whatever hang-ups they might posses. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, Red Alert?" Red Alert's optics narrowed and his fist clenched a little, one of the few times the security director had ever had to restrain himself from shrieking his true thoughts and feelings to his commanding officer. He sighed, his formerly agitated - nay hostile - posture slumping in defeat.
"Yes, Prime. I understand perfectly," he said in a hushed voice. However, this moment of humility lasted only for so long. Seconds later his posture resumed a more confident stance, one befitting a concerned head of security who knew he was right. "Let the record show, however, that I still think that entertaining the idea of allowing Spike to join us in battle is folly." And with that, he turned around on heel and exited the main office, allowing Prime himself a heavy sigh and the right to slump down in his chair.
Red Alert had been the first to make his opinions known, but, if anything, his coming out to Prime was only the calm before the monsoon. The Autobot commander was sure of it. Since Spike's inauguration, Prime had had Smokescreen keep a close optic on the Ark's occupants to peg down any potential troublemakers and smooth things over, or, barring that, at least keep Prime informed in case any of them seemed on the verge of doing something foolish. Especially worrisome was Smokescreen's note of Grimlock's unusual amount of silence on the issue - that his aggression towards Spike was being displayed in manners contrary to his normal methods of belligerence. Subtly was NOT in the Dinobot commander's vocabulary, and just what this might mean for Spike made Prime shiver a little.
Curiously enough though, Smokescreen seemed to be having problems getting a good read on Spike's own emotions. When Prime asked the most elusive of Autobots concerning this development, Smokescreen became startlingly withdrawn, even defensive; inadvertently revealing to his commander that quite frankly… he just couldn't figure Spike out. A dozen theories ran through Optimus' mind regarding this development, along with the implications that came with it. Whether or not this was a good thing, Prime had no comfortable answers for. For now he would simply accept it as one of those things that just were.
Another sigh escaped him as he straightened up in his chair before standing up and heading towards the door. The talk with Red Alert had been rather taxing for Prime, the knowledge that one of his higher-ups could potentially have it in for Spike a worrisome prospect. And right now, the best path to the realm of calm seemed to be a nice drink of energon. Idly, he wondered what the subject of the argument was up to at this very moment.
Ironically enough, the controversial subject himself was doing what Prime had been planning on doing.
When Spike had his first taste of energon, his first thoughts about it were… mixed to say the least. There wasn't a flavor, not in the sense that a human mind could define the term. Whereas humans could define the taste of something by comparing it to a past taste and flavor, Energon was… not so easily describable. It was possibly due to the nature of Spike's mouth, but quite frankly he thought now what he had thought during his first time tasting the precious fluid.
Tastes like explosions, he mused to himself. It was a confusing way of classifying it, but that was basically how energon tasted; as a less then tangible feeling that words failed to properly translate into human terms. Did that mean Spike liked energon?
The answer was; kind of.
Spike realized that, if he had been offered a similar kind of drink as a human, he most likely would have regulated it as a "sometimes" beverage, the kind of thing he would have had on a few occasions when his usual palette of drinks threatened to get stale. A bit of zing to satiate his tastebuds need for variety, but otherwise not a staple of his diet. However, with the change of bodies came a change of nutrition, and Spike found himself forcing down a substance he literally wouldn't have drunken twice otherwise. It wasn't so bad, but in all honesty they could have devised it with a bit more flavor. He grinned to himself at the thought.
Flavored energon. Heh, I should try to make some of that, I really should. Grape energon, orange energon, strawberry energon, beef energon- wait, beef energon? That sounds wrong… but then again, I WOULD enjoy the taste of some nice roast beef again. As a matter of fact, I would enjoy actually TASTING stuff period. Its official then; flavored energon has made "the list", in-between beheading Megatron and turning back into a human.
His mind sufficiently distracted from the vibrant blandness of his now vanished energon, he stood up from his table and decided to head out of the lounge. He needed to brush up on cybertronian history, and thankfully this one didn't require the presence of a tutor, teacher, or other assorted education-inducing mech. This was the one part of his "how to be a transformer" training that he was allowed to pursue autonomously, and, as he had little to do at the moment, now seemed like as good a time as ever to catch up on roughly a billion years of cybertronian history or so.
Along the way he passed Prime, smiling and nodding a greeting to the commander as he made his way down the halls and to the data archives of the Ark - what the rest of the 'Bots had dubbed the library. Spike sighed a little; book-learning had never been a specialty of his outside of a few choice subjects. However, with the new body came a personal resolution to know more about his host people… and do what he didn't do as a human, learn about the past. As per usual given this line of thinking, Spike let out a sigh as a pang of regret ate at his mind. Oh, he was improving, that much he knew. He had gotten used to seeing everything as though it had been miniaturized, he had gotten used to seeing a face OTHER then his own every time he saw his reflection, he'd gotten used to not hearing his real voice when he spoke, he'd even gotten used to the practical sensory deprivation and cold, empirical statistics that came up every time his sensor arrays analyzed something. He was USED to all of that. And all it served to do deep down was make him yearn for his humanity even more. At the very least, he could comfort himself knowing that he could wait until a method was developed to send him back to the fold of the human race. Being nigh immortal was handy in that way…
Walking into the shadowy depths of the data archives immediately swept aside Spike's introspection. He put a hand to his chin in thought, "Hmm, where to start, where to start…" he murmured out loud. His central processing unit (brain, as he told himself) was already programmed to translate cybertronnian text into English for his benefit. From the point closest to him, he could see that he was in the "S" section of the archives. Given its convenience and proximity, Spike shrugged and pulled it out, deciding to start in on the "S's" of cybertron. It wasn't like he was a stickler for neatness after all.
Gazing upon the text held into the screen of the "Encyclopedia Cybertronica" yielded to him many details concerning cybertronian culture, some entertaining, some boring, and some inducing him to raise an eyebrow. It seemed as though there were some details concerning his Autobot benefactors that he had never guessed at being reality. It comforted him at some level to know of these things, it made the Autobots seem more… human, for lack of a better word.
And then he read up on Sparks. If what he garnered from the article held true, then a Spark was the cybertronian equivalent of a soul.
So that begged the question… what did Spike have, then?
In a single instant every barrier that had been built up, every anxiety that had been held back, every fear that had been supposedly conquered suddenly came crashing down like a dam shattered under the weight of a tidal wave as he felt his test tighten and a horrified chill dominate his every fiber of being…
Prime had been enjoying his energon, the fluid calming his nerves as it re-energized his weary body. He had nearly drained the cube when an urgent comm reached his audios, disrupting his moment of peace.
"Prime, Bumblebee here. Ah, I've got a bit of a situation here… concerning Spike."
Prime raised a brow at the message and at Bumblebee's voice. He sounded nervous… very, very nervous. And Spike was involved… pressing a hand to his own communicator, the Autobot leader gave his response. "Understood. What is your present location, and what exactly is wrong with Spike?"
"At our quarters… Spike's been lurking around inside, mumbling to himself and I can't... he sounds so disturbed! Sparkplug has been trying to talk with him, but it's not working! You're our last hope…"
"Got it. On my way." Prime cut the communication and was heading down the halls lickety-split, moving at a pace fast enough to get to his destination at a reasonable speed, but with enough measured slowness as not to alert any passersby. When he got to the quarters, the first sight that graced his optics was that of a visibly nervous Bumblebee and a concerned, very severe-looking Sparkplug. Both stood in front of the closed doors to Bumblebee's and Spikes quarters. Behind the closed door, a distinct and disturbing mumbling could be heard. Prime nodded to the two standing guard, "How long has this been going on?"
"I dunno, Prime," Sparkplug sighed. "He's been at it since I got here, and I got here only because Bumblebee here ran over to get my help with this," he jerked a thumb in the direction of the bug, who in turn shrugged. Prime put a hand to his plated chin as he began running the current scenario through his brain.
"I see… have either of you had ANY luck in communicating with him any at all?" Prime inquired, both human and Autobot shaking their heads in response.
"Nope, no luck, none whatsoever. I couldn't get so much as a peep of him," Sparkplug stated with a hint of despondence in his voice. His son had been making such progress, and now it seemed like in an instant it had all come unglued. Sparkplug wasn't sure how much more of this his nerves could take.
"Prime, the last time Spike was like this, he lashed out at anyone trying to help him with lethal force," Bumblebee explained. "I'm not sure if I could withstand his weaponry, and I'm not even going to risk Sparkplug getting killed. Spike would rip himself to pieces if either of us were harmed while he was like this."
"So it falls to me to talk with Spike then," Prime concluded on his own. He did not say this with annoyance, he understood the reasoning perfectly and agreed with it completely. "Very well, then. No matter what you two may hear, I want you to remain outside while I handle this."
"Yes, Prime," Bumblebee saluted his leader, while Sparkplug's face developed an irritated scowl.
"Now wait just a minute, Prime. I'm fine with you going in a trying to talk some sense into my boy, but if I so much as suspect that a fight has broken out, I'm calling in as many bots as necessary, you hear?" His tone was strangely final, a tone that was used countless times when he had to inform his son point blank that certain things would not be tolerated under any circumstances. In other words, something akin to a much quieter and gentler version of a drill sergeant. Prime gave a quick nod of agreement.
"Very well then. If it sounds as though things may get ugly, then it falls on the both of you to call security before anything can happen," he stated professionally, while the Volkswagen and human both gave their own nods, though Sparkplug's held a distinct element of satisfaction in it. With that, Prim turned and faced the door, mentally preparing himself for whatever may come next. He steeled himself for whatever sight would meet his optics as the door slid open and he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. It was dark, but for the optics of a transformer this was little problem. The mumbling that had been present earlier was now louder, and Prime found he had to suppress a cringe at the pitiful sight before him.
Spike was huddled in a corner, as far as his wings would allow him, knees to his chassis and arms around his legs as he shivered and mumbled incoherently. In front of him lay a datapad, the soft glow of its screen providing the only illumination in the otherwise inky depths of the room. "Spike… Spike, what's going on here? What's wrong?" As per usual, Prime's mellow voice emanated with compassion for his fellow organism, and normally that sheer level of kindness was enough to calm most beings. Spike however was in no state of mind to be susceptible to his friend's soothing voice, and simply continued his muttering and rocking back and forth in the fetal position, his mind now having left the building. Optimus adjusted his audios to get a better read on Spike's mutterings. What he heard disturbed him greatly.
"Notrealnotrealnotrealnotrealnot-" It continued on and on like that, a hollow, dead droning noise wrought from a broken mind. Optimus' eyeridges were now so high, his non-fleshly forehead should have wrinkled. He looked down at Spike, then found his optics trailing over to the datapad. Whatever was on that pad must have been what had caused Spike's breakdown. Keeping his optics trained on his currently crazed friend, he cautiously reached for it, taking it in his hands and gazing at the contents. A sole article was displayed - one dealing with Sparks.
Prime raised a ridge. Sparks? How could this possibly affect him so terribly? He raised his head to meet Spike's blank gaze, and slowly moved closer to the catatonic Autobot. "Spike… what's wrong?" again he asked gently, and this time the empathy in his voice was enough to rouse Spike out of his fugue… at least enough to give him a straight answer.
"I don't exist… I'm not real…" he said in that same dead voice. Prime shuttered his optics in confusion and more than a little dread at the nihilistic statement.
"Spike… I fail to see how you don't exist, seeing as how I am talking to you this moment." He spoke diplomatically, hoping that maybe logic would bring Spike further out of this state. Somehow though, he knew it would not be so easy. It never could be easy for him, ever…
"Humans have souls… and transformers have sparks… what do I have, Prime?" Spike's face finally turned to face his commander's, his expression forlorn and… lost. "What do I have? How do I know if I have either of those things… how do I know that I'm not just memories? Just an electrical copy of Spike? I… how can I know..?" He looked like he would burst into tears, but as he no longer possessed that ability, he would simply have to content himself with looking like the utter epitome of misery. Prime stared at Spike for a moment… then started to chuckle heartily. Spike, too numb to be shocked by this, stared back at the suddenly jovial Prime, puzzlement in his optics.
"Oh ho, Spike," Prime began when he finally gained some composure. "Your fears are unwarranted… I know that you have a spark." Spike frowned at this, thinking Prime may have just lost it. The concept of the pot calling the tea kettle black was lost on Spike for the moment.
"Are you insane? How can you know!? A soul is intangible and leaves the body when it dies, so how can I-?"
"Hush, Spike," Prime raised a silencing hand, "and I will explain to you. You are aware of the Matrix of Leadership, correct?" Spike nodded numbly, vaguely recalling an explanation given by Prime on the bauble in his chest. "Well then, allow me to refresh your memory concerning the Matrix. The Matrix of Leadership is rumored to contain a bit of the essence of Primus, the creator god of all transformers. Whether or not this is true, I am not sure… but what I am sure of is this. Since the Matrix was passed down to me, I have been able to detect the presence of Sparks within mechanisms, deciphering whether or not they are truly alive or merely drones." He paused and gave Spike time to take in all this, before continuing, "What most do not realize, is that Sparks are made from the same life energy that empowers all sentient beings, the same energy that separates intelligent life from non-intelligent, making them truly 'alive'. In short Spike, I am able to detect souls."
Spike's optics widened at this revelation. He wasn't entirely sure if he believed what Prime was telling him… but then, much of the past week was unbelievable. Not to mention he somehow knew that Prime wasn't lying. He straightened out his legs and stood up slowly. "And… and do you see that in me?" he asked quietly.
Prime nodded, smiling gently behind the faceplate. "I've seen it in you ever since you transferred bodies. When your mind left your human body, so did the light of your soul. When Autobot-X's body came to house your mind, it took the soul with it. Believe me when I say this, you are indeed alive. And you are most certainly real."
Spike gazed at Prime for a moment… then slowly, allowed himself to smile. He was still not sure if he believed, but he would take the assurances where he could get them. Suddenly, waves of humiliation assaulted his psyche as he bowed his head, placing a hand behind it. "I… I've been acting reeeeally stupid, haven't I?"
Prime chuckled again, putting a hand to Spike's shoulder. "I wouldn't call it stupidity, but I would call it rash. You need to stop doubting yourself like this, it isn't healthy - for you or for those who care about you." Spike raised his head and simply nodded in understanding, letting his hand now hang to the side.
"Dad and Bumblebee are outside right now, aren't they?" Spike sighed, smiling sadly.
"Yes," Prime nodded, while Spike shook his head and started to chuckle himself.
"Oh man… what I must have been putting those two through... what's say I go show them there's nothing wrong with me anymore?" He finally regained his confidant posture and tone, a determined smirk on his face. Prime stood to the side and silently allowed Spike to pass him. A night trademarked 'whish' noise signified the opening of the door, Spike now stood before his father and friend, both of whom where now alert at the sight of the formerly babbling Spike. Bumblebee was the first to speak.
"Spike, what happened? Are you okay?" Sparkplug's voice soon followed.
"Yeah, son, tell us. What's up?" Spike chuckled and kneeled down before the two, bringing them to a more comfortable level as Prime made his way out from the shadows of the room, practically materializing from the darkness.
"Well, long story short, I had a little fit of questioning the nature of existence. But, I'm good now… Prime offered me an explanation, one that I'm not entirely sure that I understand. But, like I said… I'm good now." Sparkplug cocked his head curiously, still eyeing his son warily.
"You're SURE you're alright now, son? No chance of this happening again anytime soon?" he asked carefully, wanting to make sure of his son's mental health. Spike chuckled heartily at his father's question.
"Definitely sure, Dad. No chance of this happening anytime within the week." Bumblebee crossed his arms and assumed a mock scolding expression.
"Well, good thing. You have any idea how worried Sparkplug and I have been?" Spike again chuckled, and this time surprised both man and machine by taking them into a light, carefully-executed hug.
"Oh, I have an idea, and I'm sorry for making you two fret over my acting silly," Spike said with an apologetic smile, while both human and Volkswagen tried to extract themselves from the gargantuan Autobot's arms - albeit halfheartedly.
"Well, so long as you're all right now," Sparkplug smiled, ceasing his frankly pathetic attempts to get away and giving his son a heartfelt hug, or at least as much a hug as he could manage given his son's size. Bumblebee was about to get another word in, when suddenly Teletraan-1's alert system went off, security klaxons blaring loud enough to cause all involved to gaze up. Spike let his friend and father go, standing up with a grim expression on his face as this meant only one thing.
Decepticons.
Wordlessly, the three mechanisms and sole human rushed down to the control room. Prowl was already at Teletraan-1's controls. The computer blared out the situation for those that would hear it, "ALERT, DECEPTICON FORCES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED AT THE SAMSON INC. OIL FIELDS. SUGGEST-" As it continued, more Autobots joined in the room, soon crowding the place while Spike gazed upon the Teletraan-1s reconnaissance pictures in open-mouthed horror. Decepticons were not particularly careful in their raids, but more often then not they were more concerned about getting in, gathering energon, and getting out. This time though…
The screens showed buildings set ablaze or crumbled to ruin while humans scattered in all directions, terrified for their lives. Ramjet and Thrust could be seen cheerfully rampaging across the oil field's executive buildings and having a merry old laugh over it. Spike was so enthralled by the disgusting sight that he almost didn't hear Prime finish up calling upon those bots to join with him in the inevitable rescue effort.
"-and Jazz. Alright Autobots, transform and roll-"
"I'm coming with you." Prime froze in mid wave and gazed down at Spike, who held a deadly serious expression normally not associated with him.
"Spike, I'm not entirely sure that you are ready for this," Prime said diplomatically, only to have his words brushed aside like so much garbage.
"Believe me Prime, I'm ready… I've never BEEN more ready for anything in my life." Spike's hard gaze met Prime's calmer gaze, their optics locked onto each other. The others in the room tensed, as if they half-expected Spike to lose his temper and attack their leader… until Prime let out a relenting sigh.
"Very well, Spike, but you must promise me that you will not allow yourself to get carried away out on the battlefield. I am more then aware of your feelings concerning the Decepticons, but if you wish to aid us in our fights against them you must learn restraint. Am I clear?," he was very serious as he spoke, and Spike's rapid nod spoke volumes of his agreement.
"Yes, sir. I promise, crystal clear to me, sir."
Sparkplug walked up and put a hand to Spike's leg, his very being radiating concern.
"Son, I ain't gonna stop you from going, but please promise me that you'll be careful. I don't wanna lose you…" Spike's head tilted down a fraction and gave his father a reassuring smile.
"I will, Dad. I promise…" It was an infinitely more sincere and heartfelt vow then the rather hastily executed promise the human-cum-Autobot had given Prime, and it was enough for Sparkplug to give a relieved sigh.
"Yo, bots, as much as I enjoy witnessin' such a touching scene, we got 'Cons to clobber!" Jazz's urgent voice brought everyone's attention back to the matter of hand. Prime nodded severely.
"Indeed. Autobots, transform and roll out!" With the tried and true personal battle cry of Optimus Prime, those bots present - Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and now Spike - all assumed their vehicle modes and sped down the halls of the Ark with Optimus himself taking the lead. Once they were outside, Spike transformed into his secondary vehicle mode and took to the skies. Despite what he had said to Optimus, there was only ONE thought on his mind, one mission planned.
You die today, Megatron… I swear that I'll kill you, and any Decepticon that gets in my way! You will not leave this one, Megatron! Never again…
These murderous thoughts kept to himself and himself alone, Spike stayed close to the strike-force, resisting the urge to fly ahead and simply blast at anything that might bear a Decepticon insignia.
And while our intrepid group of Autobots rushed to save the day once again, something was stirring deep within the systems of Ark.
It had been lucky, yes, it had been very lucky to manage download itself inside Ark's computer mainframe when the scientist had tried so very hard to annihilate it. It had laid low during the initial days of its liberation, being required to lurk in the darkest corners of cyberspace lest the ever-alert Teletraan-1's security systems rooted it out. It had to be careful. It had only just gained its freedom, and it would not BLOW its second chance, not when there were so many options before it.
Spike had called it Noise. Others called it Autobot-X. Since at this point it was obviously not an Autobot, it decided to call itself by the simple, overused moniker of "X".
X knew it had done well so far, oh yes it had. It had evaded them so well, no one even suspected that it yet lived. Or that it had developed a most… interesting talent. X found it humorous how Wheeljack and Perceptor would always log away their various creations, schematics and all. So easily accessed, they were. And so very interesting to read… X found itself developing quite a knack for technology and the like. And with so many source materials at its disposal, by X's own estimation it would be just as good - no, better then any of the Ark scientists by the end at the month when it came to machinery. However, interesting as all that was, this was not the interesting talent.
X had discovered that, if it was careful, it could override Teletraan-1's control and take over of some the Ark's components. And the best part was that it was learning how to do this without setting off any alarms! A string of mechanical failures within the Ark had occurred shortly after X had discovered that it could operate on a small-scale with relative impunity. It took a particular level of sadistic joy in knowing how Wheeljack almost blew a gasket trying to figure out why things were going wrong when nothing was technically broken! Oh yes, X had been a very mirthful, malignant personality remnant after that.
Juvenile testing of its abilities aside, X did in fact have a plan in motion. It was weak for now, and despite the progress it had made, it still ran the risk of being discovered by Teletraan-1. But soon, very soon, things would fall into place…
X would get its body back. And it knew precisely how it was going to go about this.
It was a good thing the Autobots never really paid attention to the spare parts locker…
