Part Twenty-Eight
Disclaimers in Part One
-Sidhe Chronicles-
As Mearing and Annika discussed life, and Li acquired new combinations of swear words, Stefania and Jorge brought all of their children save Pedrito to a small room in the Admin building, accessible only through medbay.
Raf came into the room, having extruded his favorite shirt and cargo shorts. The girls screamed and rushed to him; he picked them up, one in each arm, and twirled around with them. Then Juan punched him in the arm, and was sorry for it, but didn't let that stop him from a reach-around-your-sisters hug.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
All afternoon, crews had been assigned to move furniture and configure the commons for an assembly. Closest to Admin, rows of folding chairs had been set up for the humans and the Pretenders, with room for the bots to line up behind them.
The only area that hadn't been disturbed was the daycare section, and Mo Epps and Sarah Lennox, who had been briefed previously, were caring for the smallest children there, one of them Pedrito Figueroa. Bobby Epps had thrown a tent over one of the tables, creating a place for D'andre to retreat if he felt overwhelmed by all of the people, and some of the other kids had joined him. A pile of small children therein, and D'andre in his own corner, would likely sleep through the briefing.
Bots with truck forms had given rides to Borealis and some of the older bots who had trouble getting around. There was a bit of noise as bot-sized seating was moved around so that these bots didn't have to stand through the assembly. Brains, Wheelie, and a few other microbots got a lift from bots in the front row so that they could see what was going on.
Optimus Prime took his place in front of the catwalk, while Mearing, Lennox and Parker climbed the steps to stand at the railing.
Will Lennox nodded to the twins at the back of the assembly, and Sides and Sunstreaker closed the doors.
He said, "Consider this a top security briefing. All civilians present are covered by your non-disclosure agreements. Please turn off all your cell phones, pagers and other communications devices. Parents, please make sure your children comply."
There was a rustle of activity. After it died down, Prowl and Jazz scanned the commons to make sure nothing was broadcasting, then activated privacy screens over the entire assembly.
When that was finished, Lennox said, "I am sure by now that all of you have heard about the incident involving Rafael Esquivel. As a military unit, NEST is no stranger to loss. I don't think there's anyone here who hasn't been touched by the loss of a squadmate or close friend or family member. We accept that as the price we pay—freedom isn't free. But when our company loses a child, that's worse by orders of magnitude. Our children, our sparklings, are supposed to bury us, not the other way around. The past few days have been one of the most difficult challenges NEST has ever had to face, and you've met that challenge.
"After everything that we've seen in the past five years, I don't think anything should surprise us anymore. However, last night, we received quite a surprise. But. That surprise we have to keep to ourselves, because in the wrong hands this information could endanger all of us." He looked out for a moment, over a sea of vulnerable faces. "Last night, a group of people discovered the gravity of Raf's situation. They conducted an operation which resulted in Raf's transition to a Pretender frame."
Lennox was not expecting military decorum to hold through that. He allowed a few moments for the questions, confusion, and shouts and screams and tears of joy from the teenagers to settle down, then he gestured for Fig, Stefania and their family to bring Raf out.
The resulting racket threatened to blow the roof off the building, because the Transformers added their share.
Lennox settled them down again when it was possible to do so. "I think it's clear that we all rejoice with the Figueroas tonight. But this puts a great responsibility on every single one of us, NEST and civilians alike. Nobody can know this happened. Nobody can know we have another Pretender on the base whose presence we cannot explain.
"It also gives each one of us humans a decision to make. I hope it will be a long time before this ever becomes an issue for any of us. But I want all of you to think about what you would want to do if you were near death and could transition to a Pretender frame. Medbay will be distributing forms for every human on base. The decision is yours, but feel free to consult with the members of S14 and the medical staff, or to discuss your decision with anyone here on base before making that decision. Just like anything else in your living will, you can change it at any time by requesting another form from medbay and updating your file.
"No one outside the organization can know of Raf's transition, nor of your decision. I understand how difficult that is, and I know precisely what I'm asking of you. I have family and loved ones out there too. But you all know how many frames we have, and how many humans are on this planet. If word of this gets out, the result would be a disaster, and every single person now in a frame and not a body, whether human spark or Cybertronian, would be at risk."
He gave them time to grumble, but they didn't. "One day, that situation will change. One day, we will be able to provide a frame for anyone who wants to transition. Right now we do not have that capability. This technology, this knowledge, has fallen into our keeping against that day. Each and every one of you needs to step up and accept that responsibility."
For the third time, Lennox allowed the reaction to settle down.
"It's only natural that all of you have a lot of questions for Raf and his family, especially in light of the decisions that we all have to make for our own families. I'd like you to keep in mind that there's nothing they can tell you that S14 can't also tell you. Please respect the Figueroas' privacy and ask someone else.
"Also, a little reminder for the civilians: remember when you are out of doors on the west side of the base, people with binoculars might be able to read your lips, or even, if they have a parabolic mic, hear what you're saying. Now, we've always known that was a possibility but there are secrets and then there are secrets, and this one is not just a secret, but a secret whose compromise could cost you your life, and your family theirs. The simple rule of thumb is, don't discuss it outdoors. You'll see Raf outside with the other Pretenders in root mode. Don't attract attention to him. When he settles on a new name and call sign, use them. And use your common sense.
"As far as anyone outside this base can know, we are still in mourning. When you kids go to school, you're going to have to act like nothing's changed. That isn't going to be easy. You can't tell your best friends, not even if you make them promise not to tell anyone else. There are people out there who would hurt Raf if they found this out, so you have to protect him by not telling anyone at all. That's hard, and I know it: we all have comrades we want to share with. For Raf's sake, for your family's sake, for your sake, don't. You'll be protecting everyone on base."
Some of the troublemakers stirred and muttered. Lennox' eyes hardened. "Need some encouragement? Take a good long look around you. Look at the people that this could hurt directly, and look at everyone else who could be hurt or killed protecting them, or taken hostage in an attempt to trade for them. Remember what happened last Christmas Eve over energon, and think about that. Worse could happen over this. And if you do open your mouths, and someone does get hurt as a result, start running and don't even bother looking over your shoulder. Because I will be right behind you, and God Almighty help you when I get my hands on you!"
There was another mutter, but it was very small and shy and short-lived. Lennox smiled with his mouth only, and added, "And when I get done, if there's anything left, the government will try you for treason. You'll spend the greatest part of your adult life in prison, and be old and wrinkly when you get out."
Silence followed that announcement. Lennox was only a clear and present, if terrifying, danger. Old and wrinkly was the true threat, at least to the human teenagers.
Ironhide reinforced that idea with a low, menacing engine rumble, and a stream of his patented Glyphs of Terror. If any of the bots had the idea that Raf's situation could be prank bait, that file got deleted, and the trash folder emptied right now.
The humans present had already performed the wetware equivalent.
Mearing's contribution was a glare at all and sundry—her trademark "or else," which no one from any planet wished to have defined.
And whatever the content of the short string of glyphs Prime sent, any remaining resistance among the bots evaporated.
Lennox said, "Thank you for your time, and for your patience. If any of you need to discuss this with me, I am at your service, though it may take me some time to schedule a meeting with you. I ask for your continued patience in that matter, as I wish all of us to be comfortable with the road we must make. Are there any questions?"
As was usual in such assemblies, everyone looked around, but no one could form a question quite yet. That would take time and thought. Both Lennox and Parker expected to be quite busy answering them once they appeared; Lennox asked Dr. Boggs to be prepared as well.
Fortunately, they, and all those under his command, would have time to think it through—no one else was in such dire straits that a decision was immediately necessary.
Lennox dismissed the assembly, and there was the usual vox humana...and vox Cybertronia...as the crowd got to their feet and began to move toward the large bay door, which creaked ponderously as the Big Twins opened it. That was soon followed by revving engines, and the squeak and clatter of dozens of folding chairs being taken up and put away. The cafeteria became a center of activity, as those who were not going back to their quarters to eat lined up to get their evening meal there.
Once the assembly ended, the humans filed down the catwalk stairs to the floor of the commons.
Raf was immediately surrounded by his friends. Miko grabbed him and held him tight, crying and speaking Japanese, with the word "baka" figuring prominently. Raf had watched enough anime to know what that meant, and was disinclined to argue with her.
Bulkhead transformed into his large APC mode. "Anyone who's going up to Excellion, hop in."
That included all of the Figueroas, and the teenagers crowded in as well. He would ferry them past anyone who might be watching the base, and let them out within Excellion's flight deck. The younglings fell into line behind him.
The humans left the hangar in families and other small groups—mostly silent, because they couldn't talk about what they wanted to say until they got home.
The bots and S14 took over the duties of guarding the base. For one thing, as Annika had told Mearing, they already knew that Raf was all right. For another, while the idea of transitioning from human to bot struck most of the Cybertronians as a little strange, the idea of a reformat to avoid deactivation was nothing new. Their reaction was relief on behalf of the newest Pretender, not shock, confusion, or revulsion.
The command group gathered in Admin, on the other side of the catwalk. Diarwen joined Optimus. Once the last of the little kids had been claimed by their parents, Sarah came over to Lennox with their girls.
Mearing exclaimed over how big they had grown since the last time she had seen them.
Annabelle was just finishing pre-school, and would start kindergarten next fall. Amaranth's grade level varied by subject; technically she too would be a kindergartener but she was being allowed to proceed at her own academic pace. She was at high school level in mathematics, and could read on an eighth grade level but was not emotionally ready for eighth grade subject matter. On the other hand, it was not wise to stand between her and a science book, either.
Charlotte watched the two girls playing together, chasing each other around the OD's desk, and had to ask herself why saving this child—the product of recombinant DNA, including the splicing of animal genes into the human genome—was different from saving Raf. If Amaranth's circumstances got out, the hue and cry would be just as loud.
Of course, there were differences. Sam and NEST had discovered Amaranth as she was, not created her. Nor was the experimentation that had resulted in her birth anything that NEST intended to repeat.
Likewise, the President had given asylum to Jason Brierly, the Sidhe boy who had ended up on base, and classified everything about him to hide him from those who would exploit him. The difference in that case was that there had always been Sidhe in what became the United States, though most were undocumented, and in fact came from a time when documents were unneeded. While, with the exception of Lady Diarwen, the Seelie Court had returned to their homeland, the Unseelie had left any number of descendants among the Irish diaspora, and continued to leave their changelings to the present day, with no harm done to the country. (Though that cruel practice was something that would be stopped as a form of human trafficking for the harm it did the children involved, if Mearing had anything to say about it. Most of the returned human changelings had been confined in either jails or mental institutions, believed to be unsalvageably psychotic. If they hadn't been to start with, Mearing thought bleakly, either experience would make them so.)
Transition, on the other hand, changed the nature of humanity on an on-going basis, in ways those who were pioneers in the process could only begin to imagine. At some future date, there would be formerly human Pretenders everywhere. How would that help or harm human civilization, and how would those who chose, or were forced, to remain in human bodies adapt? No one could answer those questions. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Intentionally or not, NEST was going to provide a laboratory for human/Pretender interaction.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
As Silverbolt did not share the other bots' discomfort at having humans eat in his passenger areas—with all his laboratory and medical mods, he expected messes and had self-cleaning modifications to deal with them; as well, he habitually kept supplies of human food in his subspace—Mearing decided to head back as soon as the Aerialbots were ready to make the trip.
Once they were aboard, Simmons asked Silverbolt to convert his seat to lounge mode and stretched out.
"Do you want me to loosen your brace?" Mearing said.
"Might as well go ahead and take it off. I'm not going to be moving around any more than I can help."
She knelt to the task. "No one told you to follow Jazz all over the Cliff House."
"I wanted to see it.—Ouch."
"He turns into a car. You could have had him drive you around and show it to you."
"I know. Just hate to let it win."
And if that was not vintage Seymour Simmons, Charlotte thought, she did not know what might be. She managed the complicated brace as easily as she broke down her sidearm: which is to say, she could do it in her sleep.
Although without the brace Seymour could put very little weight on the leg without severe pain, while he was just resting on the lounge it was a great relief to be out of the straps.
After almost a year, his shattered hip and leg were still not completely healed, and might never be. The ortho guy was making noises about another reconstructive surgery. Simmons was thinking about it. He would like to be less dependent on the brace, but any surgery always carried the risk of losing instead of gaining ground. He didn't want to end up back in a wheelchair, though he wasn't inclined to bitch about that where Chip Chase might hear him. "Thanks."
Mearing took the seat next to him. "Silverbolt, could you dim my light, please?"
Silverbolt did so, and as Li stood in the galley perusing the list of food available, he asked her if the galley configuration was suitable.
She decided that she was too tired to do anything with a full galley anyway. "It's fine. Silverbolt, do you have any prepared meals subspaced?"
"Yes, a small selection."
"One of those each will be fine for Director Mearing and myself, as well as a packet of coffee. Do you have kosher meals?"
"Yes, chicken."
"Agent Simmons likes chicken. One of those for him, please. Thank you."
She started the coffee, then watched as the Aerialbot superheated the kitchen's small oven, and carefully vacuumed out any ash that might possibly remain of any previously prepared non-kosher food. Once the oven cooled to the proper temperature, the big jet unsubspaced the meal into the oven, all the while maintaining air speed, course heading, altitude, about half a conversation with his brothers, and contact with various control towers.
By the time the meals were ready, Li had prepared coffee. She served Simmons his meal, returned to get Mearing's, then her own. She liked cream in her coffee, so she stepped outside the galley to add the cream to her cup. That completely separated her dairy product from the area in which meat dishes were prepared; that separation was the gears and levers of keeping a kosher kitchen.
But aboard Silverbolt, everything would be recycled. There was no need to worry about which plates and silverware were reserved for meat, and which for dairy.
Dinner accomplished, the humans dug in happily. It had been a while since lunch.
Simmons acknowledged the elephant in the room. "Have you two thought about whether you want to transition when the time comes?"
Li said immediately, "I would. I'm in no hurry to join my ancestors, and I like life."
Mearing said, "I...don't know yet. I need to think about it. Annika says she's content with having transitioned. What do you think, Seymour?"
"I don't know either. I wish I could talk to the rabbi about it."
Li observed, "The answer you got would probably depend on which rabbi you talked to."
"This is true. Oy! I'm too tired to decide anything tonight. When do we have to have these papers back?"
"There's no set date, but I wouldn't want anyone to have to decide for us. It's worse than deciding whether to pull the plug, in some ways."
"A little closer to playing God, I guess. If you pull the plug and it isn't someone's time, maybe they can live without the machines after all, hmm? But this, if you decide wrong and being a Pretender isn't what they wanted, then you both gotta live with it."
"Exactly."
"We'll figure it out this weekend when we have time to sit down and think," he said.
Mearing sighed. "Yes, we will."
-Sidhe Chronicles-
The next morning, Raf came out of recharge in a pile near one corner of Excellion's flight deck. The pile's other components were Jack, who was just waking up, and Shad, Miko, and Junior Epps, who were still sound asleep.
The fiesta had gone on far into the night, and Raf suspected that more than one bottle of tequila had made the rounds among the adults, because none of them were around. When he and his human cohort quit for the night, Excellion had erected privacy screens around them, and extruded soft mats for them to sleep on.
On the other side of the flight deck, the Aerialbots sat in a circle in root mode, their attention fastened on a television set. Raf could barely hear it, so he knew the volume was set too low to disturb sleeping humans.
Excellion's exterior door opened, and Raf's Uncle Jorge entered. Raf got up, considered reconfiguring his armor for a "change" of clothes, dismissed the notion, and met Fig at the door.
Tio Jorge looked a little the worse for wear, but the tranquilizer he'd been given yesterday morning had made it very unwise for him to indulge too much last night. Therefore, he had made it out of bed hours before his fellow revellers were likely to do so.
Fig said, "How you doin', hijo?" and hugged Raf.
"I'm okay. That was some party."
Fig chuckled. "I'd say so. Even Lennox unbent a little."
Raf's browplates crinkled. "How could you tell?"
"When he came back from dancing the limbo with his little girls, he grabbed his wife, and planted one on her that just about combusted."
"I didn't see that," Raf said.
"Good. Then I don't have to explain it to you. Excellion," Fig added, raising his voice slightly, "where could we sit and have a cup of coffee?"
The cityformer helpfully lit up a row of markers to lead them through the corridors, and said, "If you wish to see it, a clip of Colonel and Mrs. Lennox was recorded last night."
Fig laughed and clutched his head. "That's all right, but thank you."
The lights led uncle and nephew to a sitting area overlooking Excellion's main hatch, as well as the entrance to the Cliff House. Presently, a blue and gold minibot came in with a coffee cup and a thermal carafe. "See if it tastes good. I followed the directions, but I don't know what coffee is supposed to taste like to a human."
Fig sipped, and nodded. "Gracias. Muy bien." He usually made his own brew stronger than small deities, but after the last couple of days, any hot coffee was good coffee.
The minibot smiled. She sent her ID string to Raf, and showed him how to send his in return, though he really wouldn't have one until he talked to Jazz again. She sent a reassuring "it's OK" glyph, and excused herself.
Fig asked, "How are you doing this morning?"
"OK. Still—I'm not sure how to describe it. I'm, I'm..." the boy, mechling, Jorge corrected himself, fell silent, and stared at nothing for a moment. "I guess what my science teacher used to say is true. I'm not sure which way is up yet."
Fig smiled. If that was all! "Jolt said that happens after a reformat, and it can last as long as two weeks."
"It feels weird."
"You'll settle in, the more you learn how everything works." Fig heaved a sigh. "Raf—I'm sorry you saw me lose it yesterday morning. Sorry I lost it, if it comes to that. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have ended up in the stockade at Nellis at best. At worst, in the pen for the rest of my life."
Raf's face sobered, and he grasped both his uncle's forearms, then saw him wince, and hastily adjusted his grip in the direction of "a lot lighter." "Nobody blames you, Tio Jorge. Nobody, and me least of all. But promise me you won't do anything to Sally that puts you in jail. She isn't worth it. And I'm not sure I could hold you back twice."
Fig gave a lopsided grin, and nudged the tip of Raf's tail with his boot. "That tail's cheating."
"There were rules?"
Both of them laughed and Fig threw his arm around the mechling's shoulders, careful of the sharp pointy bits.
For the first time, Raf started to get the feeling that it really was going to be all right. That days would keep passing; that somehow, out of all of this, there would come a new normal. It would not be the old normal, but that might be okay after all.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
"Who the hell is that?" said Jorge Figueroa.
He sat in the office of the Director of Security for Mission City hospital, the Director and a Clark County detective named Shannon Martin beside him, and hospital counsel lurking nearby. All four were watching the security-cam films taken of the corridor that lead to the room from which Raf had jumped.
A very young blonde woman, girl, had just flickered into that hallway. The pictures were taken at two-second intervals; the last one in which she appeared showed her turning toward Raf's door. The subsequent frames did not show her continuing along the hall.
The Director scowled and tapped some keys; another monitor on his desk changed screens to display a spreadsheet. "I don't see anyone logged into that room as a visitor, although someone apparently asked for information about Mr. Esquivel at main entrance reception a few minutes before she arrived. The two rooms beyond Mr. Esquivel's were in 'No Visitor' status at the time, so she can't have slipped into one of them. They had to be opened with hospital ID."
Raf's "death" would normally have received only a cursory investigation; it occurred while he was under a doctor's care as suicidal, while he was hospitalized. He was known to be alone when he jumped, as no one had accompanied him through the door that led to the roof. NCIS had determined that his first wounds were in fact self-inflicted, and the matter had rested there.
But Fig, knowing what he knew about Sally Vanderpool, had chosen to kick up a stink about who had been in Raf's room the night he jumped. The hospital had dealt with many grieving parents, and found nothing unusual in this request.
They might also have been dodging a lawsuit bullet, hence the presence of counsel. That issue was presently the elephant in the room, at least from the hospital employees' POV; they had no idea filing a wrongful death suit was the farthest thing from Fig's "to-do" list it was possible to be and still stay on Earth, and he wasn't enlightening them.
The Director tapped some more keys. "The woman who was running the main front desk at that time is a volunteer, and she's here right now. Let's print off a copy of the best shot of this one, and see if she recognizes the blonde girl."
Detective Martin said, "That'll sit better with the DA if I do it, and probably if I do it at the station. Can you cull some likely impostors from other security cams? That way, if she identifies one out of a group..."
"Sure," said the Director. He picked up the receiver with one hand, poked at the phone with the other, and issued orders to a subordinate.
"Also," Detective Martin said, "you said that her desk accessed information about Mr. Esquivel. What information, precisely?"
The Director caused his screen to change multiple times. "Seems as if she looked up his name, but that's all. The screen locked down after that, which means it was idle for two minutes." He frowned. "That's contradictory to hospital policy. She should have logged the inquiry, and there should be a record of the visitor's ID."
"So," Fig said, "your agent is responsible for an unauthorized person's access to my nephew?"
"Not proven, but highly likely," said hospital counsel. "She'll be dismissed for breaching policy."
"Will you prosecute her?" said Fig, turning his eyes toward the detective.
Shannon Martin said, "If a lot of things hang together just right, she's an accessory before the fact. I'll have to look into her, see what kind of person she's been before this. I'll report her contribution to the DA, but I can't be sure he'll find anything in it to prosecute. He will certainly call her as a witness, however, and by the time he gets done with her, she'll know she did something wrong."
"Oh, she'll know that today," said the Director.
Detective Martin said, "I fully understand that you may want her off your staff, but would you please just suspend her until I can get her to ID that photo, if she can?"
"That won't be a problem, Detective Martin. Sergeant, I am very glad you brought this matter to our attention."
The detective smiled the way a shark might at the smell of blood in the water. "Did you find the boy's phone?"
"Yes. It was recovered when he fell, and logged in as patient property at that time."
"All right. I'll need it. We can place her at the scene, and if we're lucky, Sergeant, your nephew recorded anything she had to say."
Suddenly, Fig felt better than he had since he found Raf lying in his own blood in the bathtub. "Thank you, Detective," he said, and rose. "I'm bowing out now. It's enough that you're looking into this. I'll wish you well with it." He shook her hand, and turned to the Director. "Thank you. This wouldn't have been possible without your help."
Counsel said only, "Thank you, Sergeant, for helping us to get rid of an incompetent volunteer."
Fig nodded to him, and left. With any luck he would never have to come near this place and its bad memories again.
End Part Twenty-Eight
