The ruins were dank and dusty. Little light shown in through the armor-plated windows, put in to defend the great library from Decepticon siege. Blaster marks riddled the walls and pillars. The air was still. Very still. It was like the Iacon hall had been frozen in time. Smokescreen could barely recognize it as the place where he spent his days with Alpha Trion.
"I still can't believe the Decepticons did so much damage, even when seeing the remains myself." Bumblebee stopped, eyeing the many fallen-over shelves.
"Are we getting close to his chamber?"
"Yeah." Smokescreen replied, his stance becoming more taut.
The two walked onwards. They soon approached a large door, covered in scorch marks, and riddled with holes.
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Bumblebee asked the recruit. "I can do this alone-"
"No, I'm. . . I'm fine. No problem." He answered, but his servos shook.
Bumblebee slid the door to the side. They peered inwards.
Datapads, working and active, were piled onto small shelves that lined the walls, filling the room with a soft blue glow. The chamber was quite orderly. A chair was propped in the corner, along with a makeshift table, made from a shelf that could not be repaired. Any excess wreckage had been cleared, and holes had been mended. The only thing that didn't seem to be functioning properly was Alpha Trion's old computer.
"But. . . the 'Cons pillaged this place! They destroyed everything. . . I-I saw it!" Smokescreen's optics clouded.
Bumblebee put a reassuring servo on his shoulder. "Hey, let's see what's going on before we freak out, alright?"
"Right. Right." Smokescreen took a deep breath.
They entered the chamber and inspected the nearly-full shelves. Almost every shelf had a label. Events of the war, Before the war, and After the war were the labels that had the most shelves. Others were based on Cybertronian culture, arts, and people of note.
"The Hall didn't have records of events during the war, let alone after it. This is recent work." Bumblebee noted, picking up a datapad from a lower shelf. He looked through the pages. "The siege of Iacon. . part 2. Interesting."
"Hey, is this a book on. . . the Combaticons? Like, the combiner group?" Smokescreen snorted. "Weird."
A datapad hit the floor, making him flinch. He turned around. There was a datapad in the center of the room. It hadn't been there when they came in.
Smokescreen eyed his partner nervously. "Bee? Did you drop that?"
"No."
He walked over and picked it up.
"What does it say?" Bumblebee approached as well.
"Hang on, my Cybertronian's a bit rusty. . ."
I see you've finally found me.
The two stood in silence for a moment, before Smokescreen set the otherwise empty Data pad down.
"What- or who - do you think that was?" He asked.
Before Bumblebee could answer, the datapad disappeared.
"What?" He took a step back.
"Did you just see that? Because I did." Smokescreen replied. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
Just then, it reappeared.
"Holy slag. . ." Smokescreen said.
Bumblebee picked up the datapad
Forgotten me already?
I don't blame you.
"Who are you?" Bumblebee asked. He pushed the datapad slightly forward, as a notion for the being on the other end of the datapad to answer to answer. It disappeared again, and came back, reading:
A ghost- But why would it matter to you?
Smokescreen was in awe. "By the Allspark, we're getting a response from a fragging ghost. This is so cool."
"Did you write all of these?" Bumblebee ignored Smokescreen's comment and gestured to the shelves surrounding them.
Yes. This is what I've been doing all these years. Feel free to browse.
The datapad then disappeared for the last time as Bumblebee set it down.
"A ghost. That doesn't make any sense!" Smokescreen whispered.
"Let's read through what they've written." Bumblebee suggested. "We might find some hints in data."
They picked up several datapads and started reading. The writing was in an omniscient perspective; whoever wrote them did not want to associate himself with either side. But Bumblebee was starting to notice a slight pattern.
"Hey Smokescreen, take a look at this." He motioned the recruit over.
It took Smokescreen a little to put his datapad down. "What is it?"
"Look at this." Bumblebee pointed to a line of text. "This is the battle of Crystal City. You see how the author completely glosses over the invention of the Autobot war cry? The famous 'Till all are One'?"
"Yeah. But what does that mean?"
"Whoever wrote this didn't know about that."
"A Decepticon?"
"Exactly."
"We should really tell-" Smokescreen was cut off by a comm. link call. He stepped back and answered
"Yes?"
"Smokescreen!" He flinched at the sound of Ultra Magnus's voice blaring through his comm. "You were supposed to report back to the Nemesis twenty-five minutes ago. Where are you?"
"You need to see it to believe it, Ultra. Someone's restoring the Iacon archives!" He replied.
"What?" Ultra Magnus was confused.
"Yeah! Bumblebee and I were walking through the main corridor, and like- you know what? I think you have to see it for yourself. Come on over and we'll show you what we found."
"Is it that important?" Ultra Magnus asked. "I've got a ship- no, and entire planet to run."
Smokescreen glanced over at Bumblebee. He nodded.
"Bumblebee says it's pretty important." Smokescreen smirked.
There was a pause. "Alright then. I'm coming."
A Groundbridge opened outside of the chamber. Smokescreen and Bumblebee walked over to meet their commander.
"Well, show me already. I have other things to do." Ultra Magnus said.
"In here." Bumblebee motioned.
Soon, Ultra Magnus was making the same face Smokescreen had when he saw the shelves full of Data pads.
"Who wrote all this?"
"We managed to establish contact with the writer, over a. . . datapad. And the information we got was very cryptic." Bumblebee answered. "He acted like he knew us, and called himself a ghost."
"Have you learned anything else about this 'ghost'?"
"We think he was a Decepticon." Smokescreen said.
Ultra Magnus took a final look around. "Come back to the Nemesis and we'll discuss your findings further."
Soundwave watched as they left his chamber, shocked that they had forgotten him in only five year's time. . .