Prism 7
A Transformers Prime Fanfiction
Direction
Megatron's voice grew quiet as the memory file played over in his processor.
The smoke that billowed around him laced with traces of hydrocarbon gasses that might combust at any click. The bright yellow sun burning hotly down through the haze, casting everything in a sickly orange glow. Row upon row of dwelling places; crudely constructed out of the native minerals and organic matter; all in some state of damage. The red rectangular solids that made up the housing unit he was interested in. The wailing of sirens, the cries of agony as body after offline body was discovered.
Primus, the mech wondered idly, how were there creatures so similar to them in their grief?
For the most part the humans ignored him and went about their rescue attempts. A few waved weapons at him and shouted angrily, but the tall silver mech had sectioned off a small percentage of his processor to answer them soothingly. No, he was not the one who had attacked the city. The enemy had been defeated for now. He was searching for a survivor. Finally one human offered to help and that was when he located the building. Or rather what was left of it.
One life sign. His weary spark gave the smallest twinge of hope as he carefully examined the rubble. He was about to begin digging through the mass of debris when the roar of a high powered engine filled the air. Above him was the form of a strange Seeker. Megatron frowned and considered the flier; not one of his, not of the enemy. A native then? In the microseconds as it approached he noted that mass and form were compatible with his frame and scanned it.
The vessel jerked as the blue light played over it and a native curse came over the radio waves. Not a life form itself the Warlord realize, but merely armor for a native warrior of this planet. The jet began to jerk and spin out of control and then ejected a pod containing a human. The craft shot into the air before stabilizing and the pod crashed to the ground. Megatron watched in bemusement as a dark form leapt out and assumed a fighting stance. It was larger than the femme, a mech perhaps, and its white denta flashed in the sun as it snarled out a challenge at the Cybertronian. Another human ran up and explained the situation to the little warrior and the weapon in his servos had cautiously lowered.
"I search for the life that is supposed to be in this dwelling," the mech had explained.
"What in the name of Old Glory for?" the human demanded harshly.
"To repay a debt."
The man had considered this for a time and then put the weapon away.
"I'm Colonel Fowler with the US Air Force. You need to be careful sifting through brick like that. It crumbles."
They had worked together to clear away the rubble and found a sight that had stirred something in the battle hardened mech's spark. He who had witnessed a thousand-thousand confrontations and thought his core long since numb to all but battle rage suddenly found himself wishing to cry out in pain. There was indeed the life he sought. An explosion of the hydrocarbon gas had swept through the chamber the small organic was in. All that could be seen was a burnt ball of flesh. The heated air alone had seared delicate inner tissues and baked the outer to a black carbon crust.
With a harsh snarl the human had declared the man dead and turned to go, but stopped when Megaton stepped forward and delicately plucked up the sooty form. The human nearly retched as the long servos carefully tore the deceased human apart but the reproach died on the man's lips as he saw what was revealed. Wrapped in a thick wool blanket that turned to ash and drifted away was a small boy. Long spindly limbs unfolded as the little human gasped for air. He collapsed in the wide palm of the now black mech as Megatron knelt in the debris to show his find to the other rescuers. The Warlord was well aware of how finding even a single survivor could buoy the mood of the moment. These humans proved once again their eerie similarity with a rough cheer.
"What does this little one require Colonel?" Megatron queried, unable to take his blood red optics off the small organic.
The noise roused the boy and his small optics blinked open as he raised himself up on tiny hands. A strange but not unpleasant sensation surged through the mech's systems at the touch of skin on mesh. The Warlord drew in a quick vent of the sooty air as his systems revved in recognition then forcefully repressed painful and useless memories. But one thought escaped; save for the energon glow the blue optics were the same shade as Orion's. They stared up at him and the mech had the strangest sensation that the small organic was peering into his spark.
"Why are you so sad?"
Megatron stiffened at the question as his processor raced in confusion. Colonel Fowler interrupted his thoughts by leaping into his outstretched servo and gently crouching beside the boy producing a bottle of water.
"Hey kiddo, thirsty?"
The boy looked suspiciously at the man in the flight suit and inched closer to the mech's chestplates.
"Mommy says not to take things from strangers," he muttered but the sentence was interrupted by a dry cough.
Suddenly remembering his duty the mech leaned forward and spoke.
"Are you the human Jackson Darby?"
The boy nodded.
"I am afraid it is my duty to inform you June Darby is currently offline. She has entrusted you to my care."
The boy blinked up at him dumbly but the mech felt the faint double beat of some internal pump quicken.
"Land o' Goshen man, break it to the kid a little easier," Fowler hissed from his perch.
"Mommy hurt?" the boy asked in confusion.
"Yeah kid we need to get you to a shelter," the airman stated taking a firm grip on the boy's shoulder.
"No!" with surprising strength and swiftness the smaller organic broke the lager's hold and pressed up against the Warlord's armor. "What's the password?"
"Oh, fudge buckets," the man muttered rubbing his eyes tiredly, "password…"
Megatron leaned in and whispered the code the human femme had given and suddenly the boy smiled and pressed his face and hands into the mech's frame just over his spark chamber. Another surge of energy pulsed through the mech; this one stronger causing his optics to flare and a shudder to run through his frame, whether of fear or pleasure he would never be able to say.
"I go with the wobot!" the boy declared. "He knows password." Something seemed to occur to the boy and he glanced around in confusion. "Where Daddy?"
The human glanced quickly down at the charred remains and Megatron shifted his hand so the grisly sight was out of the sparklings line of sight.
"Your 'Daddy' is unavailable," the mech guessed out loud and the boy nodded uncertainly, pressing closer to the Cybertronian.
"Okay kid. Megatron wasn't it?" Fowler asked as he rolled the water bottle to the boy who popped the top eagerly and began to drink. "Look, I can take you to a good hospital and we can leave the boy with the doctors there. Then we'll go meet with my superiors at what's left of the Pentagon."
The Warlord meant to agree. His processor sent out the commands that would cause him to rise and carry out the human's suggestion, but that's not what happened. It would be hard to say which sentient was more surprised when the Warlord lightly shook Fowler from his perch and closed his servos protectively around the immature human.
"June Darby placed the care of her offspring in my servos," the mech found himself saying. "I assume there are medical personal at this facility of which you speak? Good, they will tend to the boy until I decide what to do with him."
Fowler looked like he might disagree but appeared to decide that arguing with a three story tall alien robot would not be a productive use of his time and nodded in resignation.
"Let me call in a ride and we'll get going."
"Unnecessary," the mech rumbled.
The human jerked back in shock as the humanoid mech suddenly transformed into the jet. The organic seemed to ponder the situation for a moment then leapt into the open cockpit to join the excited boy.
"Pentagon's that-a-way."