Author's Note: Another quick update. This plot bunny is trying to flood my headspace with ideas, and most of my OCs are running for cover. Some of them are begging me to let some of these ideas out before any of my OCs drown in it.
For those who are just starting this fic, this story is part of an ongoing series. See my profile page for the rest of the fics in this series. Otherwise some things mentioned in this fanfic might be more than a little confusing to those who haven't read the other stories.
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.
Awakening
Chapter 2: The Hidden
Ultra Rodimus Prime stayed near the entrance to the underground facility, watching as mechs scampered in and out, bringing with them the big light fixtures used for demolition or construction sites. Power cables snaked through the door, which had been enlarged to permit the entry and exit of mechs laden with equipment. They glanced at their leader but for the most part stayed out of his way. He was watching with an impassive expression and a neutral gaze, but there was a visibly blue-green glow leaking into the emerald of his optics. More blue-green light could be ever so faintly seen tracing the seams of his chest armor.
"Last light's up!" someone yelled.
"Activating!"
One by one, the big lights came on, lighting up the chamber. Mechs watched the sensor readings to make sure they stablized, then turned to survey the chamber. As they finally got a look they froze in place, staring in shock, finally seeing what their commander had seen.
The chamber was easily the size of Autobase's entrance plaza, the main courtyard of the fortress, with a ceiling high enough to accommodate a small gestalt or a big mech. Spaced at intervals, in precise rows, were upright columns or pods, instrument panels on their sides, with monitors to show energy levels and vital signs. Each pod, each chamber, had a transparent or translucent front hatch. Thick cables ran across the ceilings and floors down into each pod. After a moment, it became possible to identify the pods as ancient-style stasis chambers, meant to hold the occupants in stasis for long periods of time. From the bulky designs, they were one of the most ancient models of stasis chamber, a type that hadn't been used since the reign of Prime Nova.
Bare wires stuck out of smashed monitors. The intrument panels had been torn apart. Deep dents and gaping cuts ripped the sides of the stasis chambers. Most of the hatches had been smashed; some had been torn off. Twisted metal and shattered electronics littered the floor. But no one was really looking at the destroyed chambers.
All eyes were on the bodies.
Some were still in the chambers, slumped against the sides or the backs, vital fluids staining their shredded armor. A few had been pinned to their pods by their own weapons, jammed through their spark chambers. Many had been pulled from their chambers and either stabbed to death, shot point-blank, or simply torn to pieces. The floor was stained by long-dried vital fluids. Quite a few of them had never woken from stasis; they had died almost instantly. Of those who had woken, even partially, expressions ranged from surprise to shock to terror and pain. They had not had time to defend themselves. Energon and lubricants and coolant coated the floors, the walls where the stasis chambers were closest, even the ceiling. It looked like a vast pack of rabid mecha animals had broken in, attacking with fangs and claws and nothing but rabid fury.
It took a long moment for any of the assembled Autobots could throw off their shock and get back to work. Very slowly they started picking their way through the room, doing their very best not to step on any of the bodies. Ultra Rodimus threaded his way between the bodies, looking at each one.
"Search the facility," he finally ordered. "I want to know how many more chambers there might be in this place."
The grey mech's voice left no room for argument. His Autobots didn't even bother trying. The sight that had greeted them when the lights came on had left them in shock, and they too wanted to know. Search teams began probing the walls, looking for other passages or hidden doors. The Prime himself called Kup, who, as one of the oldest living Cybertronians, might have a clue as to who these mechs were.
"We found another chamber!" someone called across the main room. "Same as this, a slaughterhouse. We're looking for any other chambers beyond that."
Ultra Rodimus nodded. "Continue."
Kup arrived not long after. Muttering under his breath about being too old for such nonsense, the old mech walked down the ramp, approaching the much younger silver-haired mech waiting just outside the entrance to the underground facility.
"And just what is it you need my so-called expertise for?" the old mech grumped, frowning up at his commander.
"This facility pre-dates anything we've found so far. From the look of the stasis pods, this facility pre-dates the reign of Prime Nova, which means it dates at least to Prima and the Rebellion. Very little information from that time period survives. We don't know who these mechs were. So I'm hoping you'll have at least the barest clue." Ultra Rodimus indicated the opening into the underground facility.
The old mech picked his way slowly across the room, stopping to closely inspect the bodies. Ultra Rodimus trailed his former mentor, watching his reactions.
Kup grunted. "These mechs were gladiators, fighting in the arenas of the Quintessons when they ruled Cybertron. Dozens of unarmored and unarmed slaves would be thrown in with them, to be slaughtered for entertainment. They were bloodthirsty and merciless." The old mech's lips work as if he were about to adopt a human expression of contempt and spit on one of the corpses.
"Kup."
The old mech froze for an instant. He knew that tone. Slowly, he turned, his blue optics meeting laser-intense green.
"These gladiators, though trained to kill, were still Cybertronians, were they not?" The Prime's optics narrowed.
"Yes, they were," Kup finally agreed, feeling oddly like a human child in the principal's office.
"And Cybertronians at that time were slaves of the Quintessons, yes?"
"Yes," Kup agreed again.
"Then, if gladiators were Cybertronians and Cybertronians were slaves, then the gladiators themselves were slaves. Which would mean that if one refused to obey an order, they faced torture and death. Therefore, even though they killed helpless slaves in the arenas, they were not doing so of their own will. They had no choice. I would bet that they were nowhere near as bloodthirsty as you seem to think they were." The Prime crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the elder mech.
The old mech was silent for a long moment as he digested that. Finally, he had to agree. He looked down, not meeting his leader's eyes or the blue-green glow behind the emerald.
Skyfire picked his way over, easing around a stasis pod and tapping the Prime on the shoulder. Ultra Rodimus turned to face him, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
"We found two other large chambers and several smaller, all full of stasis units," the large scientist reported. "All of them were full of dead mechs."
"Apparently they were gladiators, during the Occupation and through the Rebellion." Ultra Rodimus glanced at Kup. "From his reaction, I would bet that it was the rebelling slaves who did this. Someone was trying to save these mechs... From the way the Matrix is reacting, my bet is on Prima, the first Matrix-bearer. But the rebelling Cybertonians found this place. And they slaughtered every gladiator they could find. What was meant to be a safehouse became a mass grave."
The Valkyrie shifted. "Not all of them."
Ultra Rodimus's head jerked up, his optics wide. "What?"
Skyfire squirmed ever so slightly. "When we found the last chamber, we were looking for any more hidden entrances. One side of the last chamber had collapsed, and from all signs it happened before the killing began. Perceptor detected an empty space behind the blockage, so we moved the debris and found a very small antichamber containing a single stasis unit. The collapse kept the killers from finding that chamber and the pod it contains. The stasis unit is still active. And its occupant is still alive, in hibernation."
Blue-green light glared, briefly drowning out the bright emerald of the young Prime's eyes and sending shivers up Skyfire's spinal support even though he, like most of the Autobots, was more or less used to the Matrix's unusual level of activity. Without a word the Valkyrie turned and began heading back to that small isolated room, Ultra Rodimus right on his heels and Kup trailing behind.
The small chamber was packed with Autobots, all of them standing and just staring. The faint hum of active machinery could be heard from the far side of the room. Skyfire stopped just ouside the room; with the crowd inside, he simply would not fit. Ultra Rodimus moved past him, using his height to get a look over the heads of his warriors before starting to make his way through. it took a moment for the assembled to notice and move out of his way, allowing him to approach the pod.
This stasis unit was bigger than any of the others, braced in the corner of the chamber. There wasn't so much as a scratch on its surface or a dent on the transparent hatch. The monitor on the side was active, keeping careful track of the occupant's vitals. Perceptor was standing next to the pod, poking at the instrument panel. He looked up as the Autobot commander approached.
"According to the data logs, this chamber has been active for nearly eighty-five million Earth years," the microscope reported.
"That means he went into stasis at the end of the Rebellion, after the Quintessons had been driven off or killed." Ultra Rodimus stepped closer, looking into the unit.
The mech inside was tall, taller than the young Prime, easily sixty feet in height. He was more massive than the slim Matrix-bearer, with a deeper chest and broader shoulders. In color, he was silver, blue, and gold, with stylized, sculpted armor. Both arms sported wicked-looking gold spikes, the tips appearing to be as sharp as needles. His torso was mostly blue, with overlapping golden plates curving around to his back and blue markings on golden lower leg plating. A silver band like a low-riding belt supported an array of blue kilt-like plates, adding an extra layer of protection to his thighs and the vulnerable joints of the hip. A red gem was set in the center of that silver band, right above the hidden pelvic plating, a twin to the red stone gleaming on his helm, at the base of two curved golden horn-like crests. The helm and armor style were actually vaguely reminiscent of a Roman centurion from Earth's history. Hands and nech were a deeper grey, standing out against the bright silver, blue, and gold of his body. Astonishingly, the mech had a trait previously thought to be unique to the young Prime. Brilliant scarlet hair flowed over the mech's shoulders and fell nearly to mid-thigh, an odd contrast to the color of his armor. He had a more square jaw and a chiselled profile, ruggedly handsome in his own way.
The gladiator's armor was scarred by marks of past fights, blade scars and the jagged parallel lines of what could only be Transorganic claws. One scar had just missed his right optic, while another ran down almost the length of his neck cables. The shaggy pelt of some beast he'd killed in the forgotten past was draped over his shoulders, the blocky head of the beast on his chest and a paw still armed with at least ten razorlike claws dangling against his hip. From the size of the skin, it had been a formidable opponent.
For a long moment Ultra Rodimus just stood there, looking at the mech trapped inside the pod. A gladiator, alive, last of his kind. His eyes dropped to the brand the big mech carried. Stamped on his chest was a red face insignia, symbol of the domestic slave line, distant ancestors of the Autobots.
"He's an Autobot," the Prime announced, startling those closest to him. For a long moment he contemplated the pod, waiting long enough for the Matrix to pulse in his chest compartment, delivering enough of a kick to make the grey mech stagger, lifting one hand to his chestplate, grimacing. "Okay, okay! Hint taken! Now hold your horses, or I swear I'll kick you from here to the moons and back!"
That got him some very weird looks from the closest Autobots, until they noticed the hand on his chestplate. It wasn't the first time the Matrix had done something that made him respond to it out loud, but it WAS the first time they'd heard him threaten the Matrix if it didn't stop doing whatever it was doing. It got the desired result, though. The painful, staggering pulsing stopped, though the Matrix continued to radiate urgency. Ultra Rodimus closed his optics, cycling air through his systems until he regained his balance, then opened his optics and looked back at the dormant mech. Finally, he turned to face the others.
"Tell Medic Alert to get his kit and get down here, and tell him to bring downloads of modern Cybertronian and standard Earth English," he told the closest mech. "This mech has been asleep since Cybertron won freedom from the Quints, and the Matrix is telling me that it is time for him to wake up."
The still crowd became a frenze of activity, some bolting out to summon the medic and the proper equipment, others moving debris out of the way. The bodies of slaughtered gladiators were very carefully lifted into their pods so no one would step on or trip over them. Ultra Rodimus remained where he was, watching the activity.
The sound of helicopter blades rasping against each other heralded the arrival of the current CMO on Cybertron. Medic Alert was a triple changer, SAR twin-rotor helicopter and ambulance, and normally one of the shyest mechs the Prime had ever met. Under pressure, though, his personality did a complete 180, and he could be as pushy and verbally aggressive as his predecessor, Ratchet. Though much less inclined to throw things. He picked his way through the main chambers to the smaller side chamber, blue optics finding first his commander, then the mech in the stasis chamber.
"You're sure about this?" Medic Alert asked as he began pulling his equipment from subspace.
The silver-haired Prime nodded. "The Matrix is insisting on it. Forcefully enough to make me stagger. It, or someone inside it, wants him taken out of stasis."
Medic Alert gave the other mech's chest a penetrating stare, as if he were trying to stare right though to the shielded compartment that contained the Matrix. Then he flicked his rotors and fished out a patapad, trailing uplink cables. "You want me to give him the language downloads?"
"He's been in there since the reign of Prima, and we already know our language has shifted. I might be able to understand the ancient speech because I'm the Matrix-bearer and can ask my predecessors to translate, but he won't be able to understand modern Cybertronian. Or English, for that matter."
"Point." The medic approached the stasis unit, eyeing the panel before carefully turning down the stasis field and opening the pod. It took a moment of careful prodding to expose the dataport on the gladiator's neck, hidden behind a small armor plate. Medic Alert hooked up the datapad, waiting for it to sync to the gladiator's systems before he starting uploading the language files. As they uploaded, he pulled out a med scanner and began running it over the gladiator's massive frame, getting all he could before the big mech woke up. "His internal structure is as astonishing as yours is, boss... I can't wait to get a closer look at him. If he'll let me, that is."
"You're a medic, and one thing that hasn't changed since his time is the oath of the medic," Ultra Rodimus pointed out.
"True enough." Medic Alert checked the datapad. "Uploads complete. It's now or never."
Ultra Rodimus took up a position right in front of the stasis unit, squaring his shoulders. "All right then. Deactivate the stasis field."
"Deactivating." Medic Alert pressed a switch, and the hum of the stasis unit faded out entirely. The triple changer looked at the unit's built-in monitor, evaluating the readings even though he couldn't read the ancient writing, then looked at the gladiator. "He's deep under, but according to the readings he should be coming to any moment now."
Dark grey digits twitched. Ultra Rodmus watched, then lifted his gaze to the gladiator's face as his optic covers lifted, bright yellow optics flaring to life for the first time in nearly eighty-five million years.
Tbc...
And there's another chapter down! This one took me most of the evening and a good chunk of the night to write.
SilverIcy: It wasn't that the Matrix was reacting megatively. It, and especially Prima inside it, was consumed by shock, horror, and sorrow at what it/he was seeing. Those gladiators had been his friends and his guards when he and they fought to free Cybertron from the Quints. He tried so hard to save them, only for them to be found and slaughtered anyway.
Evil Bunnies Inc: XD;;; I know I'm good at cliffhangers. And yes, Prima was telling him to get his armored butt moving.
Darth Krande: XD You're not the first to curse at me for being evil with a cliffhanger, and you won't be the last
shadow dragon04: Prima did as best he could for them, but he himself was killed, and the hidden gladiators were found. Prima's spark is in the Matrix, so it's Prima himself who's reacting.