Protoforms

by Immortal Spark

Eons before Autobot and Decepticon, the mysterious Quintessons harvest a new energy discovered on a most unusual planet. To them, this is just another world to rule, and they created the protoforms to do their bidding. Cybertron will see many heroes and villains rise and fall in the millennia to follow, all will owe their lives to the first Cybertronians who set their world free.

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Light of Day

The tunnels weren't so bad anymore. Tracer tried to think of returning to the surface; being surrounded by other protoforms and having some purpose to live for. It made him feel empty. Tracer wanted to be alone now. His emotions were weighing him down and something about that weight felt more real to his spark than anything he's felt up until now. His footsteps seemed to echo off into infinity, yet no distant sounds came to answer. The thought of being lost forever down here was sounding better by the hour.

"Maybe I'll go crazy just like rubbish." he chuckled to himself. "Wouldn't that be interesting?"

"What's interesting?" asked Lodex.

"Just imagine it. I'll start welding scrap metal all over my frame. I'll start my own collection of garbage and judge contests over how much rust can actually improve a component aesthetically."

"That sounds highly counterproductive." said Lodex plainly.

"Ah, but here is the best part, dear Lodex: I will speak only in rhyme!" said Tracer, trying to sound enthused.

"Rhyme? Why?"

"I don't know." Tracer admitted, "I actually can't rhyme."

"We should focus on the task at hand and return to the surface."

Tracer shouted through the tunnels. "I don't want to return to the surface!" His voice trembled saying it out loud, but once it had been said he laughed in relief.

Lodex paused a moment as he interpreted Tracer's meaning. "Oh, I see. You don't want to return until your mission to acquire the rogue protoform has been completed."

"Nope." Tracer laughed louder.

"Then... what is your objective?" Lodex stammered, perplexed. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I don't know." Tracer answered calmly.

"That's impossible."

"Well it's true, so get used to it."

"This is unacceptable." Lodex stated, irritated. "If I am serving a construct that, itself, claims to have no purpose, my existence—by association—also has no purpose." he concluded. "I must request that you disconnect me."

"Request denied!" laughed Tracer. He wasn't sure at this point if he really thought Lodex was good company, useful, or if he really just delighted in causing misery to someone else for a change.

Lodex was almost in a panic. "This is anarchy! Desertion! Mutiny! My programming compels me to serve my creators, of this I must remain true. If you will not disconnect me I will not aid you anymore. If you have any logic left in your heretical circuits, it will become apparent that I am merely a burden to you and you will be wise to leave me behind."

"You'd rather be left here, alone?"

"In service to the creators, I will never be alone." Lodex professed with about the same level of passion as one might count to five. Some responses must be prescripted, it was clear none of those words carried any meaning.

"I guess I should expect as much from a drone." he muttered. "You don't realize you are alone! You've been dismantled once already! You've lived out your usefulness, no... I bet you were broken up because you failed these creators you worship so much. Is that why they had you tossed away like garbage?"

Lodex hesitated. He glared at Tracer. "I am left to assume, based on my memory of the event, that I had... overstepped my authority."

"'Assume' in other words: you don't know." Tracer said smirking.

"No, I don't know for certain." Lodex admitted. "Yet I cannot see how I would be to blame in the matter. It is impossible for a drone to be programmed for the adequate response to an unforseen event. Therefore, any missteps that were taken in a given situation are not made through incompetence or ineptitude, but rather flaws in my programming beyond my control." Tracer felt cheated this drone cannot be to blame for it's own mistakes, but must also speak down to other constructs like himself. No matter what, it seem they are far from being equals in any regard. Still one question would not leave Tracer's thoughts.

"So, if I may ask another way: what situation lead to you being broken up?"

"I was operating the deep space communications array. Since arriving on this planet we've been ordered to maintain strict radio-silence, but it's still important to be aware of any signals still being transmitted far beyond this system. Most signals are inconsequential—primitive messages of commerce, politics, celebrity gossip, war, and—for reasons beyond my understanding... music. Gratuitous amounts of music. Anyways... on what was to be my last day, my last shift, and indeed my last cycle before deactivation, I recorded a message that originated from a system that was well beyond the borders of the Quintesson empire. It was a faint signal, I had to run amplifiers as well as background reducers—and that was before even running the whole thing through our language translator. Once I had, the message itself was an interview with a long-retired pirate who had been granted asylum on this remote planet far from all the enemies had made in his career...

"Anyways, this pirate gave a rather graphic account of his successful raid on the Van'Quaij, a civilization I knew once had a treaty with the Quintessons. Despite this battle being hundreds of years in the past he went into great detail about the exact number of ships he had under his command and the names of each of their captains. He even commented on the weather they experienced once they breached the atmosphere. This pirate was either one with a highly detail-oriented memory, or this transmission was recorded centuries earlier and had never surfaced until that very moment. But I digress... after describing the massacre of the Van'Quaij, he listed off all the plunder he and his fleet made off with at the end of the raid. It consisted of all of the most valuable artifacts, weapons, and Van'Quaij slaves. At this point the interviewer asked the pirate if any of his men had found something called a neuroid. And his answer was so intriguing that I permanently flagged it in my memory tracks...

"May I live a hundred years more, but that ain't worth nothing knowing I was this close the greatest treasure none had e'er seen. I've made enough fortune for four lifetimes. I've stolen from kings, lords, and hierarchic across twenty systems. I've escaped prison thirteen times, and survived six mutinies. I live the pirate's life, I drink the pirate's wine and I smoke the pirate's hash. When ye be at the top 'o yer game, lassie, ye don't settle for anything less than the greatest prize of all. Greed will drive a man to do horrible things. I seen it true. But greed is only a want for more, and ye can't have more what nobody's e'er had. What nobody's e'er seen. That be what drives me. There be no crime higher than stealing a neuroid. Immortal fame for he who steals from these 'gods'—har, har... But no neuroid were e'er found, were they? That's 'cause there ne'er was a neuroid! Their highest crime, their highest penalty, all a hoax! I learned to ne'er have dealin's with these Quintessons, and ye'd be smart to learn it too."

Tracer waited when Lodex finished. He wanted to know he heard everything Lodex had to say before he asked "What's a neuroid?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because asking that very question is that last thing I remember before they executed me."

Tracer felt a tremor in his spark. To these Quintessons, asking the wrong question is enough to get you killed. It wasn't just going rogue or destroying facilities, knowledge alone is treated as dangerous. "What's it like?"

"What is what like?"

"Dying..."

"I don't understand the question."

"Nevermind. It's just something I've thought about. What happened to you is what might happen to me if I go back."

"And you're... afraid." Lodex surmised.

"After you just told me they tore you apart for asking one question? Damn straight I am."

"And yet, you're also afraid of Rubbish." Lodex continued.

"Well yeah..."

"And if you go through with this desertion you'll be branded a rogue protoform yourself."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"At which point the Quintessons will no longer allow you to return. If I may, you are in a situation where you have the choice to return. Although the outcomes have many uncertainties the only favourable outcomes would be to beg forgiveness from the Quintessons for failing in your mission or successfully evading or destroying Rubbish. There's also the matter of your power supply."

"What about my power supply?"

"I've been observing you. You're stride and pace had dropped marginally since when we first began to journey together."

"That's nothing, I've got a brand new spark. It should be able to keep me powered for days."

"You're power levels are no doubt stabilized by the spark, but I can see you protoforms still have standard energy cells to power most of your systems. Relying on the spark alone will certainly diminish its lifespan. If you want to continue to exist you'll need to put aside all this angst and take your chances with the Quintessons. I doubt you'll find a functioning recharge station down here."

Tracer realized what he'd been in denial about all this time, he can't survive on his own. If he wanted to live, he only had once choice. "You make a very convincing argument, Lodex. I don't want to say I hate you; I just hate that you had to be right about pretty much everything."

Lodex almost looked flattered. His silence told Tracer that he was playing that last sentence over and over in his mind. Being praised for being right would have been adequate, being hated by a lesser construct would also be acceptable. But receiving both at the same sentence created an unexpected feedback loop inside his processors that gave far more satisfaction than he had ever expected.

After trying several tunnels that lead to dead ends. Tracer came to a cliff in an enormous chamber. Below the cliff he could not see a bottom, but across the chasm was a flat landing where the remains of a fallen structure had come to rest. The structure was racked and twisted but it's highest point was propped against the lowest level of the intact generator complex. Tracer couldn't' believe the sight. He trembled with anxiety to be out of these dark tunnels for good.

"We found it!" He shouted. But as he looked around the chasm he couldn't see any way to reach the structure on the far side. Lodex was looking for the same thing but neither could see a safe path.

"We'll have to go back and find the tunnel that leads to the other side." said Lodex. Tracer was once again frustrated he had to be right, he was starting to wish he could prove him wrong once. He'd enjoy that very much. But for now, he'll try another tunnel. They wandered for what felt like hours, with every new passage seeming to lead farther and farther away from the chasm chamber they sought. Tracer's excitement was waning, and he was indeed feeling much weaker now. His feet felt heavy and he wanted somewhere to lie down. His strength to walk might fail, but he might conserve his energy for longer until someone finds him. But he knew nobody was looking for him. It took effort to focus on walking. He wasn't listening to the footsteps coming from the tunnel ahead. It almost sounded like a small crowd stumbling through the dark.

'Run away…' some distance voice whispered inside his head.

The footsteps were neither stealthy nor graceful. A mess of dragging and clicking continued creeping just around the next corner.

"Tracer…" Lodex blinked as he rolled his one working optic up to his keeper. The patterns were clear to his logic matrix. The sound... the undeniable source of that sound, and the consequence of encountering the source of the sound… there was only one action to ensure a favourable outcome "...RUN!"

Reality hit Tracer hard. Not only did he realize Rubbish was around the corner, he realized he should have started running and it might be too late now. He spun around and frantically scrambled on all fours until he regained his balance. Every step carried the fear that he'll trip, or that he's not fast enough to escape Rubbish.

Tracer needed to see where he was going. The glow from the minerals wasn't enough. In desperation he opened the panel over his spark. He could see further ahead of him.

Rubbish roared as he turned the corner and began charging behind them. "You 'won escape me this time, legs!"

"Any insight would be great…" Tracer pleaded.

Lodex was jostling to and fro until he twisted around and was held steady to see directly behind Tracer. "In seven seconds get against the wall."

"What? Why?" Tracer hesitated because he knew he'd lose precious momentum.

"No time to explain, four seconds…"

"Which wall? Left or right?"

"LEFT!"

Tracer panicked and stepped one pace to the right before making a clumsy dash to the left. He decked his shoulder against the wall and braced his arm out. He looked back to see a bolt of light. It may have been a fraction of daylight but in the dark caves it was blinding. As the bright light flashed through the cave, Tracer could make out a narrow gap in the opposite wall. He would have never known it was there. Tracer heard a loud screech as the bolt shot past and drilled into a bend in the tunnel.

Tracer was dumbstruck. "Eruuwaahh—What was THAT?"

"A prototype ray blaster from the creator's ship." Lodex cited. "I estimate Rubbish may not have enough of a charge to fire it again."

Tracer could hear the monstrous robot sprinting toward him. He dashed toward the narrow gap. It would be too small for Rubbish to fit through. Tracer squirmed as his torso scraped through. Rubbish was closing in. Tracer felt more than paint chip of him as he forced the rest of him through.

"Come back!" threatened Rubbish. His gaze peered through the gap for a moment before he grunted in frustration and ran down the tunnel.

"He may know another way around." postulated Lodex. "I suggest we keep moving if we want to escape."

Tracer picked his pace up to a light jog. "Which way from here?"

"I don't know. We haven't been through these tunnels yet. But based on calculations for distances covered over my estimated cardinal—"

"LODEX!"

"Try a right up here." Lodex suggested. "How can you make important decisions if you don't take the time to understand all the relevant data?"

Tracer took the suggested right turn. "Because…" he hoped Lodex might answer his own question if he gave him the opportunity. "Stopping to think too long might get you killed. I know it doesn't matter to you but I'd rather not die if I can help it."

"So you're saying a timely decision is sometimes preferable to correctness?"

Tracer was hysterical "In this case, yes! Think I would've picked you up if I thought about how it affected everything else? I'd probably be there still wondering whether I should. Lucky for you I took a chance, and now we have to take a chance if we want to make it back to the surface."

Tracer paused as he came to a chamber with many more piles of sorted parts. Familiar, but only for the gruesome thought of the chamber where Rubbish almost mangled them both. Tracer dashed across the chamber to find an exit. The far left side narrowed off, only to end in a solid wall.

Tracer groaned in frustration before heading back down the cavern.

Lodex perked up. "Interesting, given my calculation's that wall back there is directly adjacent—"

"I'm NOT interested Lodex! We have to get moving before Rubbish—" Tracer clenched his jaw and stalled in his tracks when the unmistakable sound of Rubbish's chattering shamble echoed from chamber's only exit. His haste turned into panic as he ran back to the dead-end.

Rubbish grumbled "Ah don't want to get close to ye 'gain, legs." and he raised the barrel of his refurbished cannon. "Jus' 'old still an' ah'll make everything right!" The cannon hummed as it built up its charge.

Lodex raised his voice "Seven seconds. Far wall. Trust me." Tracer ran over and pressed his back against the wall. "Three seconds…" Tracer was trying to feel the timing. Rubbish was much closer now. He'd need to jump at the very last nanoclick to evade the shot this time. Lodex didn't say which way to move, probably because if he did Rubbish would hear it and—.

Time ran out. Rubbish fired his cannon. In the blinding light Tracer couldn't see enough to know where his best chances lie. He made a flailing dash to the left. He heard Lodex shout "TRACER!" in a tone that suggested more concern than a drone might be thought to have.

The next instant brought Tracer two new sensations: the first was his entire right hand vanishing, the second was the wall he was against tumbling backward and Tracer following it into an open cavern on the other side. He rolled over the pile of debris and found himself on the edge of a cliff overhanging the deep chasm. His immediate reflex was to reach out and grab something to keep from falling over. It became undeniably clear that his right hand was destroyed, his wrist ending in a melted stub. Of course he drummed it onto a rock a few times before it fully clicked in his mind what had happened. He quickly grabbed something with his left hand to stay steady.

"I'm not falling down this same hole twice!" he cursed. "Why didn't you tell me this was going to be on the other side."

"I wanted, but it seemed you wanted to make another rushed and poorly planned escape." a sassy Lodex retorted.

"'Another poorly'—Hey, you said he didn't have enough charge to fire that cannon a second time!"

"I said estimate. I don't have access to Rubbish's vital internal readouts. I'm trying hard enough to make sense of what's going on in your head!"

"Well wonder no more." Tracer looked across the cavern wall. He could see a the landing where the collapsed structure rested. They were much closer, but still not quite there. The gap between the two cliffs were punctuated with a narrow ledge with little to hold on to. Tracer watched as grains of dust trickled off the precarious ledge. The sight of it was enough to make jumping the gap sound sane.

"Come back!" Tracer heard Rubbish bellow on the other side of the collapsed wall. Tracer could hear Rubbish pacing in frustration. He realized both of them were debating whether to go straight through or take the long way—the only difference was Tracer's second option was a long way down. He tried to put it all out of his mind, and stepped out onto the ledge. He tried to go slow, holding onto whatever crevice or stone was within reach. His feet were constantly slipping, and parts of the ledge felt loose under his weight. When he touched the other side, he felt years older. But he couldn't celebrate yet, Rubbish must certainly know how to find them, so he ran up and started climbing the collapsed structure.

"Hey, there's someone down there…" Tracer could barely hear the distant voices high up in the hanging substructure. With his one good hand he swung and hurled his body around every obstacle to reach the next one. He gave every leap and reach everything as though Rubbish were two paces behind him.

"Woah! What'n the pits is THAT!" Tracer knew from their surprise it could only be one thing. He heard legs chatter on the rusty earth just before the structure lurched and quaked. The top of the collapsed structure ripped away from the lowest level of the intact structure.

"Help me!" Tracer pleaded as he saw a gap above he couldn't cross. Bodies jumped down and grappled to lower one of their own down. Hands dropped down ready to pull up the terrified fleeing form.

Tracer kept heaving his body upward. Not wanting to look down, even a glance might bring his fears to reality. The support he was on cranked back. He could hear the abomination closing the distance. He looked at the faces above him. He had only one chance. He rolled on top of the support, tucked his legs beneath him and pressed his feet against the metal.

[CREEEEAAAAAANK]

The structure beneath him gave way as he leaped up to grab a firm hold. 'Thank the stars!' He looked down to see Rubbish clinging to the collapsing structure. It tumbled off the landing and down into the dark chasm. Tracer could only hear Rubbish howling and the metal beams shattering as they plummeted out of existence. "Pull him up!" Tracer heard as he was lifted up onto a sturdy platform.

"Thanks" Tracer hummed a sigh of relief as he looked up to see the sparse rays of full daylight he'd dearly missed. The protoform who grabbed his hand was looking over this strange newcomer. Tracer forgot he looked like a mismatch of enforcer calves and forearms and a protoform core. His exposed spark seemed especially odd. The worker was even puzzled at the extra head lashed to his waist. Lodex was also eyeing over his rescuers.

"Yeah." Replied the first protofom. He acknowledged Tracer's gratitude with disappointment. "We thought you were an enforcer."

"You mean like our psychotic friend down there?" Tracer nodded to the chasm over the rails. "Trust me, if you offered him your hand you're lucky if that's all he takes from you." Tracer held up his lacerated wrist—laughing hysterically with relief to be out of the pits.

One of the protoforms howled out in laughter. Tracer glanced over to see what's so funny. "Hey, whyins he's got two heads?"

Another one laughed from behind "Yeah, two heads: So he can see if yur be sneakin' up behind em!"

Tracer's relaxing moment had passed, he closed the panel on his chest and stood up. The first protoform across from him mirrored this choice. Tracer smiled at him and in lieu of a right hand—a programmed gesture of trust—he extended his left. "I'm Tracer."

"Spander..." the other replied, keeping his hand at his side. Apparently disappointed for having saved him at all. "Just stay out of my way. I got important things to do." He turned and climbed up the stairs to the surface. Tracer stepped behind him, only to be pushed back by a buff, silent member of this troop. He looked at Tracer with disgust.

The second goon got in close "Yeah bot, you lucky he 'aint offended. He'll put your lights out. Really. This other proto was off'n him last cycle and Spander 'done had enough. He hit him so hard, scrambled his circuits and shut him down fer a click. So dis e'forcer come finds him, I tell him he jus' been acting lazy all day, en you kno wat? He actually bleev me! So 'e kicks 'em till e' wakes up then unsparked that proto right where 'e lay. Now that's sum'n you done want happen to ya. So now ge'out our demo site or maybe we'll toss your rusty shell right back down there!"

The goons climbed up and resumed their tasks. Tracer took his time climbing up. A strange thought crept into his mind: 'those could be the sparks I found.'

Tracer reached the surface. He stepped out into the bright sunlight. Tracer had an air-cooling system built into his head. The air that comes in has to be cooler than his internal components. Being in the hot pits for so long the cooling system was shut down. Now it reactivated. Tracer could feel the cool clean air pass through him and ease the stress on his hardware.

It was almost as soothing as the thought of seeing Escia again.

Tracer heard a drone march up "You there! Identify yourself."

"Eh? oh, Tracer."

The drone tapped on a tablet "Unit Tracer: Protoform: Destroyed in generator explosion…" He looked up again at Tracer, turned to an enforcer standing nearby. He chirped a tone to get his attention then nodded toward Tracer. The enforcer marched over until his toes scrapped the paint off Tracer's. The recorder crossed his arms looking at the pair, "This protoform defies the official records. Take him to be questioned by the Quintessons. Immediately."