Prism 4
A Transformers Prime Fanfiction
"I don't know how I missed it before," Ratchet was muttering as he stood beside the towering form of Megatron in the base control room.
It had been near empty for the night shift and a single word from the Supreme Commander had sent the night watch scurrying for a less terrifying place to be. Now he and Ratchet were intently watching the flickering green screen of the main display. In the center it showed a common enough looking hospital room with a single young man strapped down to the medical bed. His features were relaxed as if in sleep. Megatron felt a pang at how innocent and how very young his charge looked. Servos rose almost unconsciously to touch the newest scars on his chassis.
"Megatron are you listening to me?" Ratchet's voice cut through his reverie.
The Warlord simply sent him a fierce glare and Ratchet huffed in annoyance.
"You were explaining that the oddities in Jack's physical body go beyond a simple loss of mass," Megatron replied flatly, his blood red optics returning to the screen.
The larger mech gave a snarl as the image of the raven haired youth flickered out, to be replaced by a glowing green representation of the human body. To a human the diagram would have simply appeared to be an overlapping mass of fine lines, to Cybertronian optics each set of lines that made up the body glowed a slightly different hue, creating a detailed map of the human's health.
"This is the routine physical of Jack that I took four days ago in preparation for the test," the medic was explaining. "This," another diagram popped up next to the first, "is what the sensors are showing now."
Megatron narrowed his optics in confusion. There were differences; the mass of the two forms the most obvious.
"But it is still Jackson," the black mech insisted on hand rising to touch over his spark chamber.
"Yes, that is the issue. This is no clone, no imposter, but he is distinctly different form the Jack we know. Here," the white and red mech isolated one glowing layer from each diagram and enlarged it.
"What am I looking at medic?" the Warlord growled.
"The boy's immune system markers. Each time the human body successfully defeats a pathogen it leaves an indelible mark on their genetic structure. See this," he indicated a particular tangle of information, "is where Jack fought off a common cold virus at the age of two. As you can see it is the same on both scans. Here," another cluster was highlighted, "is where he survived the First Pandemic."
The medic paused as Megatron flinched. It astounded Ratchet still how great an impact that had had on his fellow mech. Watching the small child Jack was at the time suffer and nearly waste away while so many other humans had fallen to the super-virus had very nearly broken the Warlord; a mech who had been considered nearly sparkless by even his closest friends. Shaking away the old memories Ratchet continued.
"Now however the scan can find no trace of his body's reaction to the pathogen."
Megatron stiffened and shot a sharp glance at the medic.
"So if they were to release another biological attack?"
"Jack would be defenseless."
A low growl escaped the scared faceplates.
"Moving on," the medic continued. "The oddities do not confine themselves to his immune system. Here is a tibia that was broken some years ago but which I have no memory of. There, he is lacking in all of the various scars and abrasions that he has collected in his time among us and has a set on his right hand that look for all the world like energon prod damage to me. His hair is longer than it should be. His fingernails are shorter. As I said I do not know why I did not see this sooner."
"Do not blame yourself old friend," Megatron let out a tired exvent and placed a hand on the smaller mech's shoulder strut. "I should have known from the first time I touched him. I told myself that it was the energies of the accident interfering with our spark-bond but even then I knew that to be absurd."
"What in the name of the All-spark is wrong with your sparks?" Ratchet spun on the mech snatching out his scanner and pointing it at his chestplates.
"I am not certain Ratchet. My spark still recognized the boy as Jackson, but it is as if the bond stretches through him, not to him."
A frustrated noise came from the medic and he shook his helm.
"The scan says your spark-bond is at full strength, but I am getting an odd resonance off of Jack."
The medic fell silent realizing he had lost the mech's attention and turned his head back to the screen. It now displayed the hospital room again. The youth on the bed was beginning to stir. General Fowler sat up in his chair and leaned forward. His white uniform shirt was rumpled, his tie was askew, and there was more than a day's growth of beard on his face. His sharp brown eyes took in the scene as Jack blinked and tried to raise his hands.
"Agent Fowler?" he asked warily.
"Jack," the man responded cautiously. "How are you feeling son?"
"Like a bus ran over my head after I fell off the cliff," the youth responded a bit wryly, then, "why am I tied down?"
"You did some crazy stuff kid. We just wanted to make sure you are back to yourself." The agent replied as he moved to undo the straps at Jack's wrists and ankles. "You are feeling better now?"
"Megatron," Jack's face scrunched in thought as he stretched and sat up on the bed. "I remember something…"
"What's your full name kid?" Fowler quickly asked pulling out a recorder.
"What?" Jack frowned at him.
"Just a quick mental health exam kid. Same kind I have to take every year."
"Oh, Jackson Darby."
The youth noted through the blurred thoughts crawling through his mind that Fowler seemed surprised at the answer.
"What is today's date?"
With a sigh, Jack tried to make himself more comfortable and answered the predictable questions as best he could. Strands of a very disturbing dream ran through his mind. His hands clenched, remembering the feel of the strange weapon's recoil. His eyes drifted over the uniform Fowler was wearing and he hesitated in mid sentence, since when did the agent wear a uniform?
Fowler repeated the question and Jack responded. The older man nodded evenly and looked his straight in the eye.
"Do you know where you are son?"
"I'm not sure. I've never seen this room before," Jack answered evenly.
"He's holding something back," Megatron muttered watching the interplay alertly.
"Megatron," Ratchet interjected softly. "Be that as it may there is the larger problem."
"Which is?"
"He answered the majority of Fowlers questions wrong."
"What?" the Warlord demanded harshly, while it was true he knew little of human civics he had been repeatedly assured by the female Fowler that Jack was an exceptional student and far ahead of his age in the grasp of such things.
"The date and simple math questions he answered correctly. However he listed the presidents and vice presidents wrong. He referred to Washington DC as the current capital of this country. I could go on, but surely even you noted that he got his own name wrong."
Ratchet looked searchingly into his leader's blood red optics as he said the last part and noted the pained flicker with a silent curse. For so long the human had been the ebony mech's emotional core. To be rejected like that must have hurt far worse than the bullet wounds.
"Have you come to a conclusion yet on what this all means?" the larger mech snapped.
"I have a few working theories," Ratchet admitted. "But I want to run them by Perceptor before I draw any conclusions. For now, both my scans and your spark say that this is Jack. We can move forward with that. He is not an enemy plant, or a fraud of any shape."
Megatron nodded and returned his attention to the two humans. Fowler had come to the end of the questions on the clipboard and had leaned forward.
"What was the last thing you remember before waking up in this hospital bed?"
Jack frowned and thought.
"I was about to drive home from the store. Mom needed me to pick up a big load of supplies for a hospital function so I had to take her car," Fowler's eyes suddenly glinted but his face remained impassive as the youth continued. "I was getting in to drive home and then." Jacks frown deepened and he looked sharply up at the man across from him. "I woke up here." He stated flatly.
"Jack how long have we known each other?" Fowler sighed rubbing his face.
"Some time now," Jack stated evenly.
"So tell me kid, why the bull answers?"
A look of confusion flashed across Jack's face and Fowler raised the clipboard.
"I know you have all the presidents memorized perfectly, and you know better than anyone what happened twelve years ago at DC. So why the bull answers?"
"I seriously have no idea what you are talking about," Jack stated with a frown.
"Okay, change of topic," the older man said after a moment of intensely studying the younger. "Tell me everything you know about Cybertronians."
"I don't think I will," Jack said slowly.
"And why not?"
"Something is very wrong here," the raven haired youth stated evenly. "Before I answer and more questions I want to see Optimus."
"Who?" Fowler asked in confusion.
Jacks blue-grey eyes narrowed but his face remained calm.
"Optimus Prime," he stated evenly, "big red and blue bot; carries the Matrix of Leadership."
Fowler sensed that something had changed in the interview and he was being the one tested now. He touched a button on his wrist controls and inclined his head as an orderly brought in a tray of food.
"I'll see what I can arrange. Until then get dressed and have a bite to eat," the general slipped out of the room intensely aware of the eyes boring holes into the back of his head.
In the command room Ratchet was gaping at the screen with dilated optics. He tore his gaze away from the display and looked over at his leader. Megatron was gripping the consol so hard he had nearly torn the weak human metals from the concrete. His optics had faded to a dull orange glow.
"When did you tell him about Orion?" Ratchet demanded harshly.
"Never," the larger mech replied in a strangely flat voice, "I never told him."