Prism 2
The Unified Alliance Defense base was humming with activity as the Warlord strode into the planetary headquarters. A human voice called out his designation and their translation of his rank and for a moment every eye and optic turned to him as they saluted the Supreme Commander of the Alliance. Ruby red optics surveyed the scene with satisfaction as, for the most part, the humans and mechs immediately returned to their tasks. He enjoyed this lack of pomp and fanfare that the human military displayed. Skyfire had theorized it was related to their short lifespan, but whatever the reason the former gladiator was grateful.
There were however more than enough annoying traits in the population to make up for that one superior cultural aspect. The warlord gave a near noiseless growl as a flock of humans in stiff black suits swarmed towards him. He heard a small chuckle from the figure perched on his shoulder and felt a wave of calm reassurance wash through him, spreading out from where a hand stroked his mandible line. The Cybertronian reached up and returned the caress with a single servo.
"Megatron!" a voice cut stridently through the noise of the silo.
The Supreme Commander of the Alliance Defense Force winced and gave a long exvent as the flock of suits stalled and looked nervously in the direction the voice had come from. The head of the human portion of the defense force was perhaps a faction of a hundredth of his weight, carried no weapons in the base, and had already peaked physically. Somehow the dark meshed mortal had never figured out how dangerous it was to challenge him. Then again, mused the warrior in amusement, as the crowd of bureaucrats scattered before the man, perhaps he did.
"General Fowler," Megatron rumbled in greeting.
"Generally Louder," Jackson whispered and his guardian could hear the grin in his words.
The Cybertronian sent a wave of electricity along his mesh causing the youth to jump and mutter an apology. Though the mech could not quite find it within his spark to send a full force punishment. The assessment was correct. The General appeared to have two settings; full bore ahead and incapacitated.
"What is the meaning of this Megatron?" the human on the catwalk demanded waving an open field data pad at the mech.
"It would appear to be my flight patterns upon reentry," the warrior replied with only a slight note of annoyance to his credit.
"And where in this mess of rabbit trail vectors is your decontamination point?"
The human's point struck the ex-gladiator and he did feel a slight twinge of annoyance with himself. He had been so set on getting home to Jackson that he had near completely suppressed his cleansing protocols. Well did the mech know the dangers of introducing a foreign element into a planets ecosystem balance; granted that he decided to demonstrate restraint in his reply. With a snarl Megatron snatched the man up and brought him to optic level, as always silently amused at the way Fowler concealed his fear responses.
"The finest decontamination site is at this location," he rumbled low and dangerously; it would not do to let these organics forget who he was, what he was. "I completed more than the required decon burn in the upper atmosphere. Now I will proceed with a decon bath. That will be sufficient Lieutenant General?"
Though his voice rose at the end there was no doubt in the minds of anyone present that it was not a question.
"Quite," the human replied with a grunt as the mech dropped him.
"In that case, since you are so very concerned for my well being, you may assist with the process."
Megatron spun on his peds and strode back to the wash racks the humans had put together for them. The flock of bureaucrats had completely scattered. He mused that in his current mood that was good for them. It took only moments to arrive at the private wash bay that had been modified specifically for his use. Fowler jogged a bit behind. The Warlord noted with some amusement that the older human was not panting for breath nearly as much as he had previously and appeared to have shifted mass centers.
*I take it the good general has been training with you?* he sent to Jackson on their private comm.
The youth glanced at Fowler with a wide grin as he leapt off of the mech's shoulder guard and onto a handy catwalk.
*You got it,* he replied. *I think he can't stand the thought of losing to "Little Jackie".*
*You have already repeatedly bested him in numerous feats of mental skill. One would think he would be used to it.*
The young human blushed at the praise and turned quickly to strip out of the flight suit leaving only his undergarments on. Megatron shook his helm in exasperation. As much as he tried to instill a healthy sense of pride in the boy he still displayed more humility than most humans with half his skills and accomplishments. Even his physical form was excellent for a human. The Cybertronian had taken the time to learn what constituted a healthy human body for the sole purpose of maintaining the health of his charge. Despite the myriad of scars that covered the human's skin he was a perfect specimen of his race; tall and well muscled for his age. The mechs memory programs pulled up an appropriate comparison and this time he allowed the bittersweet rush of emotion that accompanied it.
Every day the human seemed to grow more like Orion. A being the organic had never met, and yet the Warlord could not deny the similarities. Jackson was even skilled at paperwork, taking over much of his godfather's workload long before it would have normally been allowed. He certainly shared the archivist's love of order, Megatron noted with amusement as the youth paused to rearrange a set of brushes that had fallen into disarray. He turned and stepped into the stall as Fowler finally caught up to Jackson and triggered the spray.
The hot water and hash chemicals washed over his frame in powerful waves. The mech loosened his plating and allowed it to seep into the crevices that would have been clamped down protectively during his reentry sequence. The experience was not unpleasant but it was only something that he patiently endured. What came next he actually enjoyed. It was only perhaps a very few years ago as this planet measured time that he would have been repulsed by the mere thought of organics touching his mesh, much less granting them access to his sensitive joints, but when he stepped out of the shower stall and Jackson leapt onto his shoulder guard once more it was all the Warlord could do to keep from growling in pleasure.
Many of his warriors had since discovered the benefits of having a human assist in the decontamination process. Their little hands with their sensitive tactile sensors were extremely well suited for cleansing the small tight joints on Cybertronian armor. However no other could claim to have as skilled and attentive a human as he did. Jackson Darby ran the brushes over and through the clogged joints, clicking reprovingly at accumulated matter, and muttering out scolding remarks about how Megatron needed to take care of himself better. The warrior let the human go on, enjoying the sound of his voice if ignoring the content. Even the less pleasant attentions of Fowler produced a clean that was quickly silencing the mesh sensors that had been pinging alerts to his central processor for some time now. When the two humans met at his knee joints they clasped hands in some ritual of congratulation and retreated back up the catwalks. The warrior stepped back into the stall and let the final rinse roll over him.
*Lord Protector Megatron?*
The mech arched an optic ridge and let his faceplates twitch in amusement. The comm. link didn't allow for emotional intonation but Jackson only used his proper title in private when he was going to ask for something he was afraid might be refused and considering the mortal had waited until he was in a good mood it was most likely something big. Megatron hesitated just long enough that the human's heart began to accelerate.
*Yes Jackson Darby?*
*Ah, remember how you said I should expand my grasp of science?*
*Indeed I did, and I trust you were not idle in my year's absence.*
"No, not at all," the human hastened to assure him, switching to speaking when the big mech strode back into range. "I have been helping Preceptor with his research and Shockwave with his weapons development."
"Good."
"And I'm supposed to test out the new PMT system for them today, so it'd be great if you could come and watch."
The mech slowly turned and ran an appraising optic over the human. The last string of words had come out in a rush and there was a pleading look in the blue-grey eyes. The human did not expect to gain his guardian's approval for this venture. Megatron bent so he was eye to optic with his charge.
"And what, pray tell, is a PMT system?" he growled low. "I do not recall authorizing the development of any such device."
"It was the next stage in ground bridge tech," Fowler supplied in a neutral tone, the mech sensed he was no more pleased than the Cybertronian would be. "The Personnel Mass Transporter. In effect it creates a localized groundbridge around one being and pulls them back to a central location from wherever they are. It would serve as an emergency life saving device. So far it has passed all the live animal trials."
"That technology was tested on Cybertron and found untenable I believe," Megatron stated to the General but kept his gaze locked on the younger human, he had an idea where this was going now and did not appreciate it.
"Yea, 'ol Cyclops mentioned that but said that was because of the spark resonance or something and didn't apply to humans."
Megatron locked his optics on his charge and let out a low growl.
"There is danger involved."
It wasn't a question and the human knew it but blue-grey eyes flashed and he stood a little straighter.
"I am a warrior Megatron," the youth declared boldly. "There will always be danger in my life."
A small pull of pain seized the Warlord's spark at the truth of the statement but he didn't let it show on his faceplates as the human continued.
"This tech could very well give us a huge advantage when the second wave finally reaches Earth," the human was standing tall now, illustrating his points with hand gestures and again Megatron was powerfully reminded of another. "The sooner it is developed the better. It could save countless lives, it could save my life one day!"
Megatron leaned forward silencing the youth.
"And it falls to you to test this possible dangerous device?"
"Who was it who taught me that I should never use my social position to get special treatment?" he shot back earning anther snarl. "Please Megatron. I want to do this."
And there was the secret that the Warlord had strived so hard to keep these past twelve Sol years. All the logic and debating skill Jackson displayed were in the end of little point. There was nothing he could deny the human when he looked into those softly questing eyes.
The warrior straightened shaking his helm in resignation.
"Very well. When do they need you for the tests?"
"About two hours ago," Fowler supplied with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"That's why I was in the modified flight suit when you found me," Jackson explained.
"And yet you demanded I come in here knowing that Jackson would follow me," Megatron mused arching an optic ridge at the older human.
"And I bet all those suits have got out of the way of the ticked off Warlord and won't come out until you've cooled down," Fowler replied with a grin. "Which probably won't be until after the tests are over according to the rumors."
"What rumors?" the younger human asked in confusion.
"The ones Fowler no doubt started," Megatron said with a dry chuckle, "He apparently decided that I needed some time with you before I faced this planet's representatives." The human could be properly devious he mused, and it was pleasant to have at least one ally who didn't fear him. "Well are you going to assist my scientist or stand here gaping all day?"
With a start the young human collected himself and leapt into Megatron's waiting hand. The Warlord carried him straight to where Preceptor was waiting, the red and white mech glanced over at them. The scientist was chattering away to someone and barely nodded a greeting to the Supreme Commander before snatching up the human and depositing him in a pod like device that was heavily wired to the bank of computers behind it. The Warlord had to suppress a snarl of fury. The contraption did not look at all safe and the scientist had been about to test it on Jackson without his permission?
He downloaded the data associated with the device and reviewed it carefully. The science did appear sound he grudgingly admitted, and every safety precaution was being taken. Still his spark began to pulse faster as the machine hummed to life. Green lights began to flicker around Jackson and the youth threw him a thumbs up. A small smile twitched at the corners of Megatron's faceplates despite the situation. The human may have been lacking in a certain type of pride but there was no questioning his courage.
The machine surged to a climax and held for a moment pulsing. Then a cascade of red lights began to flicker over the computer and the smell of burning insulation filled the chamber. Icy fear gripped the mech's spark and he spun on the scientist who was frantically working the controls. Finally the red and white mech turned to his commander and opened his mouth to speak, but the Warlord was already ahead of him.
Megatron sprang forward and ripped the pod open, snatching the human out of the device. He quickly ran scans over the nonresponsive body.
"How is he?" Fowler demanded.
"Alive and I can find no obvious damage," the black mech growled.
"But?" the general demanded, not liking the tone in his voice.
"He has lost mass Preceptor!" Megatron snarled, feeling the decreased weight in his servos. "What did you do to my son?"