Bronze

Maestro stayed up the rest of the night, right through till the following morning, trying to write out a program for his robot. He remembered the young robot Bolt. He may have survived that day if he'd had sufficient training for the war that was to come. The reason they lost that day was because none of them had any previous experience in fighting a war, that Maestro had now.

He had remained a defender till the robots eventually won, but he could fight just as well as any of the offensive. Or at least he used to be able to. So yes, he had the experience, which was what was nagging at his thoughts.

When Bronze entered the house with most of the materials Maestro would need to build his robot, he found the old mech seated in the front room, bent over a datapad, looking very tired.

"Maestro, haven't you had any rest at all?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," he replied. "I learnt something last night that has me a little disturbed. I don't know if I want to go through with this Bronze."

"What! But you've come this far! You've done all this work. You cant give up now!"

"I don't want to create a life only to have it all taken from me in a couple of years." Maestro told him about the First Great Wars and about how he had lost both Chord and Bolt. "And war is coming again Bronze."

"What about your promise to Bolt? You said you would try. If you give up now, you haven't tried. You'd break your promise and music will die."

"My robot will die when a war breaks out."

"Not if you build him and program him to survive."

"I am not creating him as a soldier where all he will know is to fight, and all he will be is cannon fodder."

Bronze took the datapad away and sat down directly in front of the old robot.

"Create him for your original purpose – to keep music alive, but give him an edge. Make him adaptable. Adaptability was what made the musicians of the old days different from all the other consumer goods wasn't it? You had to keep adapting to create music as it changed over the years. You were the only ones programmed to adapt weren't you? That's why you were made to be physically weaker than the other consumer goods."

"Well, you've done good research, I'll give you that."

"Don't give up on this Maestro. Don't give up on him." Bronze pointed to all the sheets of metal and internal parts he had brought with him. "At least give him a chance."

"A fighting chance is that it?" Maestro asked, as suddenly it all began to come together. "I know how to create this robot. And he's going to be one of the greatest robots to have ever existed on Cybertron. Come, help me bring all this into the lab and I will show you what I am going to do. And I will need your help."

Bronze followed the rejuvenated old mech into the lab, a mixture of nervousness and excitement, wondering what on Cybertron he was going to build.

Over the next few weeks Bronze spent his time lying on the floor, most of his exo-structure carefully removed, so that Maestro could have a good knowledge of the internal workings of a Transformer, which he would adapt for his own robot.

"He shall have all the physical abilities of a Transformer," Maestro said. "Strength, speed, stealth, all in equal parts so that neither one will be greater than the other." He welded together another set of wires and circuits that formed the robot's fingers. "You see, too much strength compromises his speed – if he's too big, he cannot move as fast. Too much speed compromises his stealth – he cannot move extremely fast and extremely quietly at the same time. And too much stealth will compromise his strength – stealth requires one to be small and light, so as not to make much sound."

Bronze nodded in understanding as the robot began to take on some physical shape in terms of hands and feet. Rather cute feet, as Bronze pointed out.

Maestro nodded. "Like Bolt's. Everyone used to tell him how cute his feet were."

"His hands and fingers look rather delicate don't they?"

"Don't let appearances fool you. Chord's hands were like that. He could pick up a turbo-moth unharmed on his finger, but those same hands could punch through a wall or turn a simple tool into a deadly airborne weapon."

As weeks progressed into months, Bronze watched as the new robot began to take on a shape and form of its own. The feet extended into legs, the hands into arms, and each limb then became attached to a body and the body extended into a neck. Maestro had still not constructed the head however, because he had yet to install the fully programmed brain and central processing unit. For days he sat at his computer encoding the specific program he wanted to give the young mech.

"The skills of a warrior among other things," Maestro told Bronze when the younger bot had asked what type of program he wanted. "But hopefully there will never come a time when he has to rely on those skills to fight a war. In addition he needs quick wits and a high level of intelligence, but not too high that it will dampen his emotions. Like all musicians he needs sharp audios and good optics. And like you said, one of the most important traits: adaptability."