Chapter 2: Sparked

Tracer and Kaetor trekked through the wasteland on their way back to the city. Kaetor said they had enough sparks to satisfy the Quintessons—if they included the one now inside Tracer, who found himself whimsically scanning the horizon. Every rusted dune captivated him more than he could explain. They weren't different based on mass, altitude or elemental composition; there was a certain uniqueness he couldn't ignore. The way the moonlight painted them with a clean glow. The way their crests looked like waves on a frozen ocean, that waited to churn and swallow them up at any moment. Though he couldn't see it, he somehow could feel the whole planet around him was alive.

'They're just hills!' Tracer thought to himself. 'What's happening to me?' His inner drone programming was beginning to surface. He recalled his directives, a list of mere suggestions now. But Tracer knew he had to be true to his function. After all, he was part of something great: in service to the immortal Quintessons—whatever they were. The changes in his perception were only side-effects from the spark inside him. 'Only temporary' he reminded himself. He suppressed his desires to dwell on distractions and looked ahead to the city beyond the metallic desert.

Smoke rose from one corner of the city. Kaetor and Tracer were close now to see into the main gates of city. Tracer saw enforcers chasing down protoforms in the streets. He remembers the lifeless bodies he had seen earlier and the devastated female who collapsed at his feet. These memories, the more he thought of them the more he saw what he missed. He somehow could sense what she felt... Grief. Despair. Pain. Sadness. He looked ahead to see a protoform struggling to be free as an enforcer dragged him off. Tracer saw the unmistakable look of terror in his eyes and quickly looked away, trying to put it out of his mind.

They made it back in the shop of the assembler drone. This place calmed Tracer. He was lying on the bench while the assembler rummaged through his shelves for the tools he needed. The quirky mechanic couldn't help but sway to and fro atop his newly fashioned legs. Every step was outrageously exaggerated. He walked back to begin his repairs on Tracer—stopping halfway to go back and modify his footwork. Tracer chuckled in amusement, only to be amused again at the sensation of chuckling. 'Emotions are funny,' he thought.

Kaetor was typing something into a keypad on a wall. It wasn't related to the repairs.

The assembler listed off the work as he examined Tracer "A few plate patches, some higher strength wiring, and how about some new paint? I've been experimenting with some complimentary palates—at least I've been thinking about experimenting... anyway, the blue on your chest doesn't match the green on your forearms. Were you built out of scrap parts?"

"Yes…" Tracer began, "You built me only about a few cycles ago. Remember? The blue can stay, but maybe some tan and white trim to cover the green."

"Good choice." The quirky bot agreed as he waved one of his tools about. "I actually don't remember. A drone's data tracks have very limited capacity. I've had to repurpose my internal memory to be better at conversation. It allows me to diagnose patients better. I can tell where internal damage is based on what parts of their behaviour are faulty. With the enforcers it's sometimes impossible to tell if they have defective circuitry or if they are supposed to have the intellect of a landmine."

Tracer stared at the cracks in the ceiling "Oh..." Tracer thought about his spark. He could still keep his memories, but now he could articulate better but nothing mechanical has actually been added. 'These sparks are like a second mind...' he mused.

A large screen on a wall facing Tracer lit up. "Insubordinate Drone!" crackled a sinister voice. Tracer tried to lean up but the repairs weren't finished. He could barely see the large form with sets of red glowing eyes. "You dare to keep us waiting?"

"I apologize, masters." Kaetor bowed to the screen. "But I assure you I was only following your explicit instructions to 'use any means to return with ten by the quantum cycle's end'. It was necessary to transport the spark within the damaged drone. My intentions were not to undermine your procedures for the sparks, but in this most dire of circumstances I could not return without doing my best." Kaetor walked to the bench and stood over Tracer opposite the assembler. "Now that they have both been safely returned, it will be reclaimed immediately." Kaetor grabbed one of the empty spark containers, and reached to open Tracer's chest.

Tracer flailed on the bench. Grabbing Kaetor's wrist and trying to hold him at bay. "A moment, Kaetor." came the voice from the monitor—more calm than before. The face on the figure slid up and away, while a new one came up into its place. A calm face with a long chin and a headdress with amber jewels stared into the room. "Release the protoform, we will... examine him."

Tracer sat up. He looked at the figure on the screen. Periodically other faces crept into view, but the speaker was not interrupted. "I am Inquiry. We often find it necessary to consider your small-minded perspectives so that we may better anticipate your inevitable failings. I see curiosity in you, yet it has not kept you from performing your function... yet. I wonder… Are you even aware of the great risk you have taken today?"

"After I fell in the wasteland, containing the spark was the only way I could have made it back." Tracer rambled. Another face crept in close and a tentacle brushed across Inquiry. Wrapping around his chin and gently tugging him off the centre slot. A face of glaring superiority took control.

"NO, imbecile! The spark itself is a tremendous risk to you. Even we do not fully understand them. They may expire at any time. At most you will sustain it for a few mega-cycles but they all have an inescapable, finite longevity!" he sounded so certain. Tracer felt as though his chest would collapse that very moment.

Inquiry returned "There may yet be a way to preserve them…"

"… But we must have your unquestionable loyalty!" appeared a red-eyed skull. "By our, generosity you may keep this... spark; you must, however, remain true to us, that you may prove you've earned such an honour. Does that sound... fair?" The face flashed a toothless grin as he spoke. As he waited, Tracer could hear the clicking of the other faces as they swept past to catch a glimpse.

"Yes…" Tracer felt he could control his feelings. He wanted to prove himself. After all: nothing outside him has changed, it's all just an interference pattern from the spark: a force of nature to be harnessed. Refined. "… I will comply." In his mind he heard his own voice mockingly respond 'Yes, drone will aaalways comply.'

Slowly a new face clad in many colours with a wide, satisfied grin took to the centre slot. Already Tracer felt he was earning their favour. "Our operations are being jeopardized by a few bands of savage, rogue protoforms." professed the thrilled face. "Truly, there is no plan or method whatsoever to their rampage. Yet we must ensure that our power generators—essential to sustain protoform and drone alike—are not lost. We will send you with two of our trusted enforcers. If you encounter any of the rogue protoforms—"

The skull concluded "—you must ensure they do not escape. Destroy them, if necessary."

Tracer paused "Yes... masters."

The screen went blank.

Before leaving the assembler's shop, Kaetor had downloaded files on all protoforms that posed a major threat. Beside each one was the reward for their termination. He read out their profiles as Tracer memorized their faces. Polishtron, Cablebot-Delta, Couplercon, Alpha Trion... even Armaetrus was on the list.

Tracer paused a moment, "But isn't he—"

"Terminated? Yes."

"But that means they might think I'm him again."

"Precisely," answered Kaetor, "the Quintessons are making it look like he escaped. It may lure some protoforms out of hiding, where they can be brought to justice.

"But the enforcers will know I'm not him, right?"

"Enforcers aren't always quick to learn," said the Assembler. "Sometimes it's impossible to tell if they have defective circuitry or if they are supposed to have the intellect of a landmine."

"I know, you just said that a while ago." said Tracer.

"Did I? Hmm, I must've forgot. Anyway, the repairs are all finished."

Tracer had met up with the enforcer pair at the entrance to the Assembler's shop. At first they both appeared typical for enforcers, but Tracer soon learned there must be different programming at work inside their heads. Razor had more intelligence and composure, while Predator had more brute strength. There wasn't much time for introductions, Predator immediately began shoving Tracer to get their mission underway. Predator had a helmet with a visor that concealed his face, and both enforcers carried a sharp tomahawk sheathed on their backs. Predator would periodically freeze and frantically look all around. He seemed to be fixated on a sound no one else can hear. Tracer allowed himself to be herded through the streets, trying to stay clear of the invisible bubble around the beastly enforcer.

Razor seemed less aggravated. He wasn't concerned with Tracer's comfort, he watched Predator snarl and thrash without opinion. They were on the same side after all, different tools for the same job. After they started sprinting to their destination he focused only on the path ahead. Not pausing to look at anything. Crews of drones were cleaning up protoforms lying in the gutters. Distant squads of enforcers howled their victory chants as they added to the debris piles. One enforcer lifted the severed head of a protoform high, shouting "The mighty Couplercon!" before laughing. Voices shouted from the buildings around them. Predator barked and resisted charging away, but Razor remained focused on the path to their destination.

The three reached the generator. The facility was colossal on the outside, but once they entered Tracer saw it was hollow. Few of the internal structure actually touched the outer walls and ceiling. There were grids of storage silos, pipes, cables, catwalks and ramps all crisscrossing through several levels of the open structure. Drones were busy with their duties and paid no attention to the three as they entered. Razor locked the main entrance behind them.

"How many entrances are there?" asked Tracer. He saw Predator look down and mutter to himself as he counted on his fingers.

"Five… eight… er… LOTS!" he blurted out. Predator's voice was a deep growl forced into words at several times their needed volume. He shoved Tracer down one corridor before shouting "Go that way. Hruughl!" The three split up in different directions. Tracer's path took him up a flight of stairs to one of the middle levels. 'This place is huge' he thought to himself. Looking off the catwalk down onto the busy working floor. All the drones walked the same way. Stiff. Focused. Organized. 'A Protoform should be easy to spot.' he thought to himself.

Tracer tried to find any possible entry points. He started wondering what he would do if he were trying to infiltrate this place. He checked the main doors. He checked access points on the roof. He wondered how much of the structure was below the surface, but as he descended stairs he found there were shafts that went so far down he couldn't see a bottom.

"This is Tracer," he said over his communicator. "Does this building connect... I mean, how far down does this, uh... I mean, what are all these underground pipes for?"

"Pipes bring up fuel, generator turns fuel into energy." Tracer figured the voice that answered was Razor, since it wasn't shouting. Predator's voice was savage, this voice was bitter. Putting his thoughts into concise words was clearly his least appreciated talent.

"Could they try to come up through those pipes?"

"Unlikely, they wouldn't survive."

"Why?" Tracer asked.

"Don't ask why, don't ask anything. Look for real entrances. Rogue protoforms enter through conduits carrying power out of the facility. They always come from other structures, never from underground."

Returning to the catwalk, Tracer came to a maintenance chamber. There was a window looking out into the structure and a large panel with dials, schematics, gauges, and blinking lights. Behind him was a set of large pipes that he saw fed out into the tops of the central refinery. Tracer looked at the panel. The schematics and dials showed activity in the entire facility. If anything happened he could find out exactly where he needed to go.

'Someone's coming!' Tracer could hear running footsteps along the catwalk outside. 'It's coming from around the corner just out of sight.' As he turned to intercept it, Tracer turned fast as another form emerged from behind the pipes, dashed across the chamber and pinned him against the panel.

Tracer's neck was in the robots grasp. He couldn't turn his head, but he could see the clean, white gleam of the older-model protoform's face. He was one of the wanted protoforms: Alpha Trion. The robot placed his other hand over Tracer's mouth. "I know what you are, and I know what you are not..." he whispered delicately. "You're not my friend, but you are also not a mindless drone. If you signal your friends, we will have to kill you. I don't want to kill you, but I will. Do you understand?"

Tracer felt the spark in his chest pulsing hard with fear. It took him a moment to calm himself and give a grim nod.

The distant footsteps arrived: it was the female from before. She approached while Tracer felt Alpha Trion's grip tighten. She shuddered at the sight of him and abruptly turned away. "What is he doing here?"

"No doubt they sent him to lure us out and capture us."

"He's just a drone," she said "Throw him over the rails already!"

"You can't, he said you wouldn't kill me!"

"What does it matter to a—" She looked closely at Tracer, trying hard to see past the face she knew so well. She examined his face, and saw fear in his eyes. "But... I thought you were a drone. I saw your—"

Tracer interjected "I was a drone... But I had to hold this new spark to bring it back safely…"

Alpha Trion paused, confused. "Bring it back... from where?"

"Far outside the city, they just appear out of nowhere. That's all I know."

Tracer's words shocked the female. "You mean... the Quintessons don't make sparks?"

"No, they're just trying to use them."

"Why?" asked Alpha Trion.

"I—I don`t know."

Alpha Trion thought for a moment, then turned to his comrade. "Are the charges set?"

"They're set. We need to leave."

Alpha Trion turned back to Tracer "It's not safe to leave you here. You're coming with us." he released Tracer. "We're taking you as a hostage, if you try to escape, or get in our way we won't hesitate to kill you. We'll let you go once we're safely out." The female lead them out onto the catwalks, Alpha Trion followed closely behind Tracer.

"The Quintessons say rogue protoforms have all gone savage."

"Savage?" the female scoffed. "They're slaughtering innocent protoforms and piling bodies in the streets and they call us savage?"

"You shouldn't believe everything you're told," said Alpha Trion, "Don't listen to either side. See for yourself and reflect."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The female rolled her optics, "He's too young. Maybe... a day old? You're wisdom is inspiring Trion, but we really don't have the time. We need to find a way—"

Before she could finish, Tracer felt a jolt as the platform jerked upward, the blast was surging through the entire structure. All three of them dropped or clung to the rails to keep from falling. Everything was lit up by the flames that were spreading through the facility.

"Dammit!" the female cursed, "They must've tried to disarm it. Idiots."

Tracer could hear a voice over his communicator. "Tracer come in. What is your status?"

Tracer Tried to climb to his feet and slip past. "The rogues are on level three, they're moving to the north sector!" but before he could, the female grabbed him by the wrist.

"So much for that plan." the female started shoving him over the rails before the other protoform saw what she was doing.

"Escia, leave him!"

"Trion, you said—"

"Leave him, let's go." The female groaned shoved Tracer to his knees again and the two started running.

Tracer heard Predator roar over the com-link. "Don't let them escape. Nwuuarl!"

Tracer got up and pursued them. Turning the corner he could see them two levels below running into a corridor. He clumsily clambered down railings and support beams to stay on their trail. As he ran, thoughts began to clash. He thought he was chasing them because he swore to carry out the orders of the Quintessons, but he felt inside his obedience wasn't as strong as his curiosity. He wanted to know more about the other protoforms, and what they're fighting for. 'They didn't kill me like they said they would.'

Tracer reached the end of the corridor and the next sector to the generator complex. A drone was casually strolling by. A bar code on his chest read "Delta-M6" Tracer urgently asked "Two protoforms came through here. Which way did they go?" The drone slowly turned and pointed to a set of stairs leading down to a storage hangar. Tracer dashed as fast as he could. 'Strange' he thought. 'Aren't drones programmed to ignore protoforms? Why did he comply?'

Tracer leaped down the stairs. Stumbling to regain his balance he looked up to see the two protoforms. They had reached the end of another platform. To the left, a solid wall; to the right, an open shaft leading down into a cave below the city. There was no escape.

Heavy footsteps were heard one floor above.

"You're coming with me." Tracer demanded. Watching his quarry look for the diminishing alternative to combat "I need answers. Come back as my prisoners and I'll guarantee your safety." The boldness in their faces faltered into alarm as a sleek, metallic tomahawk flew past Tracer and stuck into Trion's collar. Trion exclaimed as electric sparks gushed forth. The female braced her companion. Locking eyes with Tracer. A look that pierced deep into his very core.

"Well, well…" Razor pushed past Tracer, "Alpha Trion: the last of the instigators… I'll claim your head for a trophy!"

The platform rocked as another explosion shot through the complex above them. Everyone stumbled to one side as the entire structure sank into the cave, wrenching to a halt. Tracer slipped between the railings and grabbed hold to keep from falling. He saw Razor clamber back to his feet as the female hoisted up her injured cohort and dove off the platform. Tracer watched the act of total desperation and he felt a solid grip on his wrist. Razor lifted up the lanky protoform with an outstretched arm, looked down beneath the raging inferno and barked "After them!" before dropping Tracer into the pit. Laughing.