Chapter 6: Initiation

The electric hum of the air was warm and pleasant; the sunlight draped across the glinting towers of Iacon, spilling prismatic reflections on the reborn city. The metallic structures reached into the sky like pillars to uphold the vast and open blue that pierced through the thin spots of clouds. The city streets were thriving with activity; workers and volunteers were off to their job sites to help raise and repair structures, or oversee the clerical work of registering and aiding new arrivals and refugees.

Autobot and Decepticon alike, they were working together. Everyone was desperate to move on. Remnants of both factions were on the patrols and integration committees, working at all hours to aid as many as they could. In the past few weeks, a sense of newfound determination seemed to have blossomed within the re-integrated citizens.

They wanted to make change, to remake and better what was left of their world.

In the beginning, many had been hesitant to work together. However, the Prime had no disillusions about their struggle.

Both sides had been responsible for atrocities in the war; if they judged too harshly now, they risked rekindling conflict. Quarrels were common, but thankfully none had escalated too far.

Therefore it was tentatively peaceful.

Yet from where he stood in the large window of his personal office, Optimus Prime was plagued with worry.

Today was the day Arcee and Ratchet were coming home, and Jack was leaving his. The young charge would surely be terrified; integrating the youth into Cybertronian culture would have been difficult even before the war, let alone alongside the rebuilding effort. He had no reference point of their world or way of life, and the ravages of war and time had laid waste to most of what had remained on their planet. He'd be experiencing everything while it was still volatile and tense, and the Prime loathed that notion.

He wished it wasn't so, that they'd made more progress, that there was just a bit more time.

But humans were mercurial by nature in the best of circumstances, and the luxury of time was not something the boy had.

And now, upon learning that his own people had wanted to use him as a weapon-

The Prime felt his servos clench tightly into fists. He had to vent a deep breath in order to dismiss the anger.

No, he should not dwell on that, the boy was coming here to avoid that fate. He should not be greeted with pity, but with acceptance. It would be challenging, but the boy was a child of Cybertron now, and would be made to feel welcome in his new home.

Optimus shuttered his optics and focused, intuitively opening the channel between he and the Matrix. He stood silently, bathed in the brilliant daylight, as a calm warmth spread through his chassis. He fell into the familiar, deep trance.

There was nothing.

Then susurrus voices would whisper lightly; traces of thoughts lost in time and held together by the Matrix. The deeper he fell in, the more clearly he could tell the words and their owners apart.

Then came their auras.

Some were soft, entreating and kind. Others stoic and stern. A few were domineering and thunderous. All of them were intense, nearly corporeal in their presence alone. A few reached out to give welcome, waves of joy mixing into his own field and entangling into his being as he ventured further.

Yet he passed all of that, seeking something else, only to come to the boundary of the vast plane.

Echoes of a distant Spark's steady beat reached across the space between the tenuous connections, and the Prime smiled.

He opened his optics, awakening to the real world once more and graced with the sight of Iacon in its new glory.

Indeed, this too would have challenges, but he knew they would overcome them.

A soft knock came from the door to his office. "Sir?" Ultra Magnus's voice called from the other side, "they're about to come through."

Optimus slowly shifted on his pedes, taking a long, lingering look at the shining city before turning away to join the others in wait. He stepped over to the threshold, opening it to see his second in command standing patiently, though an eager light glimmered in the depths of his hardened optics.

"Then let us not keep the others waiting," the red mech nodded towards the other, who responded in kind and led the way back down the silver halls of the base.

"I'm not sure if it's my place to ask," the blue mech began as they wound through the corridors. "But what will we do with the mechling?"

"That we will decide after letting him adjust."

"No, I meant 'what do we tell people who ask about him?'" He halted, looking upwards at the Prime's face. "There haven't been Sparklings since the Well went dark, and new life hasn't started emerging yet. He'll attract attention, and he's unskilled. I fear he may accidentally become a target."

Optimus paused, surprised by the other's statement. It was unlike Magnus to show worry of any kind, his demeanor usually steely and determined even under immense pressure. Then again he'd softened in his recent time with the Team, their mannerisms slowly weaving into his own.

"I'd like to train him," the officer announced. "He should at least know how to defend himself."

"While I agree with your reasoning and appreciate your concern, the answer on that matter ultimately should come from Jack."

"But-"

"Magnus, it is not up to us to choose for him," the Prime chided softly. "You may offer him the opportunity, but please respect his right to refuse."

"I understand, sir, but that still only answers half of my question."

"I feel everyone should discuss that, for both consistency and transparency."

"Very well," the blue mech relented and resumed his stride.

The Prime hummed thoughtfully, knowing that his old friend was not entirely convinced. However he could not afford to dwell on that any longer, as the time of arrival was drawing closer, and he did not want to be late to see his companions returning home.

A light, excited energy permeated the air as the pair rounded the final corner to join the members of the Team that had already gathered in the large, silver room. The Spacebrige hummed pleasantly as its swirling maw of colors threw cool light onto the walls and control consoles.

Smokescreen paced a bit, his EM field practically simmering with anticipation while he waited beside Bumblebee, whose wings kept twitching subtly every few seconds. The Wreckers stood off to the other side of the room, close together and quietly chatting. Bulkhead offered a small grin towards the officers while Wheeljack simply acknowledged them with a nod.

The younger members snapped out of their more jovial exchange and stood straighter, relaxing when they got a slight signal from the larger mechs.

The Prime couldn't help but smile. Everyone was here, at ease, and for once the tension in the air between them was positive. It was a pleasant change from the strenuous positions they normally endured in their daily efforts to reconnect and rebuild their barren world. Though they were tired, this homecoming had a tangible happiness about it.

His EM field spread out to fill the space like a warm undercurrent. Bulkhead and Bumblebee immediately mellowed: the scout's wings ceased their flickering and settled into an eased position, whereas the Wrecker's posture softened. Ultra Magnus was resolute and unchanged, though he did allow his shoulders to drop ever so slightly. Smokescreen halted his pacing, instead slightly shifting on his pedes in anticipation. Wheeljack smirked and leaned closer into his friend at his side.

It was then they arrived.

The green and violet spiral buzzed as Arcee emerged first, her slender build walking out of the vortex at a comfortable gait. She gave a kind grin and small wave before turning back towards the bridge. Ratchet exited next, followed by the final figure.

"By the Forge of Solus Prime," Bumblebee muttered low as a blue and silver mech followed closely behind the medic.

His stride was undeniably Jack's: the way he moved smoothly, how he held his shoulders slightly bowed, but otherwise stood straight. Even his bright cyan optics had the same reserved, guarded quality that the boy possessed.

Yet it was still hard to reconcile that the figure was once human.

The light from the vortex caught the edges of his armor and frame, belying the thick plating and shapely nature of it all. For one so young, he was massive.

::Well, what do you know? Looks like Magnus was right after all.:: Wheeljack's comment rang out on the shared internal comm lines. ::That's a close-combat build if I've ever seen one. The kid might actually be a knight.::

Optimus hummed, agreeing with the assessment. There was no denying that the mechling in front of them had been forged into such a frame. Being familiar with his personality, the Prime thought it was fitting.

"Arcee, Ratchet, I am glad you are both safe," the red mech offered a sincere greeting as he took a few steps towards them. "And Jackson, welcome to our home."

"Glad to be back," the femme replied as the portal shut. The noise made the mechling behind her flinch before he met the larger mech's gaze.

"Thank you," he gave a grateful grin, though his optics betrayed him.

He was scared.

A twinge of hurt flickered through the older mech's Spark, though he empathized with the youth's anxiety. He tried to tangle his field into the boy's own, only to find it absent.

That was a bit worrisome.

Ratchet cleared his throat, "if I may be excused, I have some data I need to process. I'll be done shortly." The urgency in his tone was evident, and Optimus knew better than to argue with him in this state. He gestured his approval, and the white and red bot strode off.

"Aww, come on! You just got back, Doc." Wheeljack called after him.

"Work is never done!" Came the gruff reply.

"I should get back to the grind too," Arcee sighed from where she stood next to her charge.

"I'll debrief with you in the conference room," Ultra Magnus said before turning on his heel.

The femme chuckled, patted Jack's leg, then walked after her commanding officer.

The mechling stood a bit awkwardly; it was always slightly humorous seeing a larger frame trying to fold on themself in an effort to go unnoticed.

"Jackson," the Prime started. "Would you come with me?"

He straightened up a bit, still nervous from all of the optics trained on him. "Sure," he responded quietly.

Optimus led him out of the chamber, having to glance behind to see if he was following along in the corridors. The mechling was right at his side, though he made no noise as he moved. Combined with his lack of an EM field, he was nearly undetectable.

Curious.

The poignant silence between them became a bit strained, so the older Autobot decided to break it.

"Have you been well?"

"Honestly, I don't think anything has really hit me yet," the youth murmured. "So much has changed. The air hums, or it's charged. I can still feel my fingertips even though they're entirely different but it's still so familiar. Everything in me still feels the same but it's not. I don't get it." He vented a shallow breath as they came to the door of the Prime's office. "I don't know how I'll get used to it."

A sharp pain nipped at the Prime's Spark. "Time may remedy that, though I'm sure it will still be a struggle."

"I know, I just, I don't know where to start. It feels like it's everything all at once."

The threshold opened, and the pair quietly stepped inside the calm room. Jack audibly gasped when he saw the view from the window, cyan eyes locked on the city showered in light.

"I never thought this place could be so beautiful," Jack gaped in reverence.

"This is Iacon," Optimus rumbled as he studied the city in the distance. "It was my home before the war, and one of the last cities to fall before all of Cybertron was lost. I must agree, it is beautiful; although different from its past, it has been born anew and will thrive in time. It, along with the rest of our world, is healing."

"Looks like we've got that in common."

The larger of the pair smiled at the humor. "Indeed, and you're not the only one. All of us are adjusting to this new way of life."

"Has it at least been easier for you now that the war is over?"

"I'd hesitate to say 'easy' though 'quiet' may be more appropriate," the red mech stepped closer to the grand window. "Many have found it strenuous adapting to a life without war. It is something even I am not used to after such a long time."

"Oh," the younger mech mumbled as he came to stand beside him.

Another silence fell, though this one was much more content. The Prime allowed his field to dominate the space, and the youth beside him flinched as if he'd been struck. He folded his arms over his chest, a few plates along his frame pulling in slightly, his body unconsciously treating the gentle nudge like a physical blow and readying itself for an attack. Bit by bit, the mechling slowly relaxed, ultimately regaining composure and allowing the serene sub-frequencies to work their way into his systems.

"Is that you?"

"Yes."

"It feels different than Arcee. Or Ratchet."

"Part of it is the presence of the Matrix."

"About that." Something in Jack's tone made the Prime turn to regard him. The smaller figure was staring down at his pedes, and looked like he was struggling to string a sentence together.

"Did you know about," the mechling brought a servo to his chest. "This," he tapped a finger lightly, indicating the Spark beneath the thick plating. "Did...did you know that this would happen?" There was fear in his bright optics as he looked up, and Optimus felt a heavy weight settle into his shoulders.

"I knew of your Spark from the moment its embers were lit within you, as I was there."

The new mech went quiet and still, questions playing out on his face although he made no attempt to voice them.

"I could not stop it," the Prime vented. Raising a servo to his own chassis, the plates moved aside and allowed him to reach in and remove the Key to Vector Sigma. It glowed with an intensity that filled the room, reflecting the light of his own Spark before settling back to its dormant state as his plating folded closed once more. "The Matrix resonated with you."

He held the Key out towards the younger mech as he spoke, where it flashed a vibrant blue and started glowing in time with his now thriving Spark. It pulsed with his heartbeat, which was quickened with anxiety.

"Why?" His voice cracked with hurt as he stared at the relic.

"At the time, I thought it was out of necessity," Optimus admitted. "With Unicron beginning to stir and threaten your world, I knew what had to be done. The Key needed to be with one who would neither fall prey to the temptation of its power, nor to one who would be unable to withstand it."

The mechling raised his optics.

"I do not know for certain why it chose you, Jack. Yet I am grateful that it did."

"You were Orion Pax when I was getting the Matrix."

"The Matrix holds the memories and minds of all the Primes," Optimus asserted. "I was as much present in Vector Sigma as the others; I saw what happened," he paused as guilt built up in his mouth. "In a way, I too played a role in doing this to you. For all the pain I have-"

"It's not your fault," the boy cut in. "You didn't know. I didn't know. We're just…"

The pair elapsed into silence, Optimus replacing the Key in his chassis as Jack went back to looking out the window. He theorized the youth did not want to see the relic after learning of its full impact, though he still felt an echo of the other's Spark once it was slipped back among his own plates.

"I don't blame you," the mechling finally whispered. "I don't blame anyone, I just want to know why."

"Then we will find out together," the Prime placed a servo on the younger mech's shoulder. He was surprised that Jack leaned into the contact, he'd expected him to pull away after a few seconds. Yet he remained still, eyes locked on the horizon as if seeking answers in the vast distance.

A rapid, percussive knocking on the door jolted both of the pair from their introspection.

"Ratchet says he's done with the data," Smokescreen's voice came from the other side of the metallic gate. "And he wants us all there, not sure why though."

Jack vented deeply, folding his arms across his chest.

The Prime could sympathize with his discomfort.

"Why isn't this private?" The youth muttered low as he walked towards the door.

"We've yet to discuss a cover for you, most of which is reliant on information we simply do not have yet."

The boy shuddered, but made no other protest.

The pair left the office, and again Optimus was perplexed by the lack of sound he made as they tread down the halls towards Ratchet's lab. Not even Arcee or Bumblebee were completely mute as they traversed the halls, it truly was a novel thing he'd yet to encounter.

The lab was mostly filled once they arrived, the Prime having to duck down slightly in order to enter through the doorway. A pleasant humming from all the operational machines provided a backdrop to the space. Arcee was already waiting, stationed over by the corner with Ultra Magnus, nearest one of the cleaned examination tables. The young guardsman was also present, and he came right over to the blue and silver mechling and pulled him into a brief half-hug, before choosing to remain at his side.

The rest of the Team trickled in as the medic made his way to a large console with a screen that took up an entire wall. Ratchet typed something on the keyboard, and three different wavelength displays were revealed to the on-lookers. Each one had Cybertronian glyphs labeling it, along with the peaks and valleys. The white and red mech then briskly walked over to a table, producing a strange device to sit on top of it.

"I'm sure this is somewhat uncomfortable for us all, so I'll try to be as straightforward and non-invasive as possible," he began with a huff. He pointed to the first display, "Jack's Spark is either Vitreous-Positive or Ferrum-Negative; the frequencies it gives off are too intense to isolate and detangle right now, but what I can tell is that he's a load-bearer." He pointed to each diagram in turn, "I won't be able to discern much from the wavelengths at this point in time, but his pattern is fairly consistent with other load-bearing Sparks I have encountered in the past."

"What does that mean?" The query came from the blue and yellow mech, who looked just as confused as the former human beside him.

"Simply put, they're strong Sparks capable of supporting large frames and withstanding high-stress."

"Both Optimus and I are load-bearers," Ultra Magnus shared.

"It's likely why you don't make too much noise," the medic turned to the youngest in the room. "Your dampeners are supposed to be supporting much more weight than you currently have." Ratchet smirked, "expect growing pains," he stated bluntly to the youth.

Jack looked down at his pedes with a small groan. A few snickers and laughs resounded sporadically in the room at the reaction.

"Continuing on, he's not armed in a typical fashion," the large screen flickered to reveal a few different schematics. A clawed canister or gauntlet with Energon lines coursing through it, and a projected circle enclosing a limited space.

"Those are shield generators," Wheeljack stared at the screen and then glanced at the mechling. "But if he has shields, then-"

The screen flickered again, showing the thick plating along the boy's back. "Those are scabbards," the medic pointed to a hidden seam. "He has Energon Edges stowed away in his inner frame." A new image came up, one depicting a handle channeling a high-frequency blade made entirely of light.

"Weren't those outlawed?" Bumblebee called from where he stood alongside Bulkhead.

"But don't you guys have swords?" Jack's plating pulled in defensively, "they're not that bad, are they?"

"Those aren't just swords," the white Wrecker removed one of his own blades. "This is metal: this can be broken or blocked. That-" he pointed to the screen "-is a blade made of a concentrated, super-heated, light projection. Think 'laser scalpel' but capable of cutting off entire limbs. Your entire weapons array is entirely based on light and frequency disruption or projection. That stuff pierces armor without much effort."

"Alright, so they're illegal. What do I do them?"

"It means weapons training is going to be fun."

Ultra Magnus cleared his throat with a disapproving glare.

The warrior shrugged off the admonishment, sheathing his own sword and nodding for the medic to carry on.

"This last one is a bit more troubling," Ratchet turned back to the console and shut off the screen. "I think it's best explained with a demonstration." He gestured towards the device on the table in front of him. "This is a frequency replicator, it's most often used as a method of calming Sparklings during exams, as you can copy EM fields with them."

"So why have it out right now?" Bulkhead rumbled, staring at the machine with an unimpressed frown.

"Because, Bulkhead, I'm sure you've all noticed Jack's lack of an EM field. Well, I-I shut it off."

The room nearly froze at that statement.

He went on before the accusatory questions started. "I'm sure you all know who this field belongs to," with a quick press of a digit, the machine whirred to life.

A soft, heavy presence emanated from the machine, settling into the atmosphere of the lab. A warmth worked its way into the atmosphere and seemed to remove the tension, replacing it with a thick calm. But the power that seemed to simmer at the bottom was the most identifiable part.

A majority of those present subconsciously relaxed, whereas Optimus shifted on his pedes with an arched optic ridge. "Ratchet, what is the meaning of this?"

"I needed to provide some context." He switched the machine off, and the feeling subsided as he plugged in a few tweaks. "That was yours, Optimus, and this is Jack's."

A swirling, gentle sensation ebbed and flowed into the air, just a second before a comforting gravity settled underneath it.

But then came the same, powerful intensity from a few moments before.

Everyone now understood why the boy's field had been suppressed.

Ratchet drummed his digits against the table as he clicked the machine off. "Now, we know that his Spark came from Vector Sigma, but anyone else will wonder why a child has the presence of a Prime." He took a shuddering breath, "this would certainly cause trouble, so I've switched it off."

Optimus put his hand on the back of Jack's helm lightly. "Would you please turn that frequency on again?" He stared at the replicator with narrowed optics. A quality of the field was too familiar to just be from the boy; no, there was something else within the frequencies that masked or emulated another as well.

"Certainly."

A button was pressed, and the machine hummed as it clicked back on.

The Prime closed his optics, opening the connection to the Matrix. He delved through their auras, a realization dawning over him as one stood out amongst the rest. "While it may feel similar to my own, a more apt comparison would be from another Prime."

"And who would that be?" Wariness was thick within the physician's voice.

"The First," his thumb lightly grazed the back of the youth's head.

The room went deathly still.

"Prima."