Title: Sparks 8: System Crash
Pairing BeexSam (with others developing)
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.
Thanks!
I have finally finished this chapter. It so far has taken the longest, but it's done. Not much to say about this one other than Co-Written by Muzai (I owe that girl a cookie all the drama I've put her though)
To all the readers, betas and fans of this fic, I really didn't expect any of this.
Usually the things I write barely make it off the paper much less onto the Internet. I am so proud of this and that people like it. I endeavor to write something people will enjoy and it looks like I've done my job. To be truthful I'm not too sure where this is going, but I do hope you'll stay along for the ride.
Thanks with love,
Yuuzai.
So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!
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Sparks 8
System Crash
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Maggie Madsen was in the worst possible of moods and her current assignment had her stumped. She hadn't eaten since lunch and was not currently speaking to her partner. Behind her, not two feet away, Glen hacked his way through systems that the US Government didn't even have access to. The pair had been working since the end of their shift two hours previous and had yet to come up with some sort of plan. He was all for using satellites to find the boy, while she stood by the S7 method of tracking aliens to locate him. Their disagreement had led to an awkward division of labor and focus, each concentrating on their tactics and their desire to prove each other wrong.
Every so often, one would glance back and scowl before returning their gaze to their respective monitors. It went on this way for nearly an hour after their argument, until their eyes met and all hell broke loose.
"That is it!" Maggie was out of the chair in an instant and the sound of her heels on the concrete echoed across Sector 7 research library. Glen watched her move the can of Mountain Dew still cold in his hand.
"You are such a kid!" she snapped hands balanced on hips, her accent heavy in her raised voice.
Her blonde hair swung with her shoulders as she gave the heavyset man a piece of her mind.
"You are supposed to be the best hacker in the US of A and here you are acting like a-"she broke off stomping her foot before tearing the black headset from her head.
"I cannot believe you! This is just because I stood you up isn't it?"
The sugar dependent technician sputtered dumbly at his superior before loosening his tie. Though not necessary the action granted him a temporary reprieve from the conversation. She had to be kidding. The whole world didn't revolve around her. In fact he didn't even feel he should dignify her accusation with a response.
Used to his attitude, she could tell she'd actually have to invade his area of "Zen and Peace" to get any sort of response at all.
"God! You are so petty." she hissed waving her arms. Advancing toward him Maggie was fairly surprised when he finally stood to face her.
"This ain't because you stood me up. This ain't got nothing to with that!"
"Then what is your problem?"
Just outside of the library Ironhide was drawn from a much needed recharge by the sounds of arguing humans. Optics focusing in an instant he pushed the doors wide howling as he rose "What in the name of Primus is going on?"
The pair fell silent at the newly awakened robot, the obsidian of his alternate form glinted between the silver joints and cabling of his body, which they knew from experience, possessed excessive firepower and the instability to use it. Captain Will Lennox, a close friend of the mechanical behemoth had briefly referred to him as a "walking gun turret" an expression they could easily believe. Taking in the massive frame and the situation at hand, it seemed best to handle things diplomatically.
"Nothing at all." the woman replied, shooting a glare at her companion.
Sipping silently from his Mountain Dew, Glen ignored her turning back to his flickering monitor. They could argue later but at the moment there were more important things at hand. Adjusting his reading glasses the dorky technician made an unusual discovery.
"Uh Mags? I think I got something."
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"First lieutenant, Chromia reporting."
Snapping a salute to the Supreme Commander, the femme intended to give a full report.
At least she tried, the Autobot soon found herself under the scrutiny of the Chief Medical Officer. Turning her gaze from Optimus Prime, the bright sapphire Hummer batted the mech's wandering hands.
"With all due respect Ratchet, do ya mind?"
Ignoring her interjection and resuming his scans the bulkier vehicle scowled.
"Your secondary systems are down. Weaponry is offline and I can't believe you're still standing; let alone functional. Surprising enough, your alt mode is in better shape than the rest of you. If you weren't a femme, I'd stasis lock you here; throw you over my shoulder plate and cart your aft off to the medbay until I was sure you were running properly. "
Shifting her weight from one hip to the bot regarded the taller mech coyly. Extending her arm she poked him firmly in the chassis over the nearly hidden seam.
"I'd like to see you try."
As Ratchet took a step forward to make good on his threat, Optimus cleared his vents noisily.
"Chromia, it good to see you functioning, but we've a situation on our hands and your cooperation would be most welcome."
"I'll help anyway I can sir."
"Not if I can't get those systems back online you won't." the medic interjected flicking her none too gently in the chest plate. She scowled back, but relented. He was right in this case.
"Fine."
Saluting to Optimus once more, the Hummer resigned herself to not so tender mercies of the medic. Ratchet and his processional opinion, they were just two more things Optimus Prime was grateful for. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face her report or what it could entail. The fact the femme was alone and in such an ill state of repair did not bode well. She was a superior officer of Elita's squad. It was almost inconceivable that she'd be away from her unit, unless.
The old mech shut off his optics, losing himself fully in his memories. It was the only way to experience the home he'd left to protect. Optimus didn't even know if it still existed. As his thoughts drifted the planet, they drifted to its people. So many had died in the first attacks, the bombings; so many sparks gone to the Matrix before their time. Not even the younglings were spared. A surge of guilt flickered through his frame nestling in his spark.
If only…. No!
Such thoughts did not befit the bearer of the title Prime. Remorse and regret were better off forgotten. It was dangerous thinking; dwelling on what could have been rather than what was. For the good or ill of they had a new home and they had to protect it. Even at the cost of their lives. They had learned that lesson all too well. There had been no decisive victory, but their survival had come at a cost.
Sight gradually returned as Optimus rebooted his optics. He did not have time for this. They did not have time for this. Samuel was in danger again and this time not even the All Spark could save him. The admission was bitter, but as a leader Optimus Prime had to prepare for the worst and fight to prevent it. Above all else, his duty was to protect.
Out of the corner, of his optics the Autobot watched the smaller bots inhabiting the base scrambling along the floor. The Mini-bots, as they had come to be called; were hardly more than tiny armed sparklings, born through the power of the All Spark. They, however, were earth born and almost nothing like the youngling mechs of Cybertron. Much like any born on the third plant, the Mini-bots were quick, noisy and wildly unpredictable. Fortunately for the Cybertronians, they were exceedingly bright.
Amongst the earth-born one bot had already set itself up as both leader and caretaker. Dewbot as it had been aptly named, possessed a fierce determination that rivaled any creature twice its size. Having witnessed it standing vigil over the Hoover Dam base and its adopted brood Optimus Prime was again reminded of his long distant home. Just as the large green mech guarded others, he would as well. It was a mantel he'd taken up centuries before landing on the blue-green planet. It was a duty he could never abandon, could never forget. This time however, he would not only guard his own kind scattered amongst the stars or those born by the will of the All Spark on earth. He would safeguard all sentient life as long as his spark pulsed within his chassis or until the day all were one.
All at once, unexpected pain shot along Optimus' frame, rocking the mech on his feet. The sensation rolled along his appendages and up his torso before lancing through his spark. The agony went far deeper than just a physical wound. It rippled along cables and joints frying his systems as it went. The old mech gave an inarticulate cry, sinking to his knees. The resulting tremor shook the hanger and cracked the concrete beneath him.
The pain was incredible, akin to sharpened talons tearing his very spark from his body. As his systems shutdown, he was half-sure it was being torn from him. Clutching the concrete beneath his fingers, the Autobot destroyed the floor even further as he writhed. Head bowed against the cracked concrete, Optimus Prime curled in on himself. Despite the pain he suffered, he did is best to preserve the humans crowding toward him.
The large mech was barely aware of the screams pervading the secret facility; his processors had turned inward attempting to repair the apparent problem. As incoherent as he was, the Autobot knew it would find nothing. That pain was terrifying and had nothing to do with system abnormality. Raising his head Prime caught sight of Mikaela reaching toward him. Whether it was because she was worried or because she was scared the action warmed his rapidly pulsing spark. Shifting his weight the mech managed to lay one scuffed hand upon his overheating chassis. Another shock ran through him jerked violently.
"Stay back."
Pushing away the pain, Optimus tried to focus. He was not going shirk his duty not at a moment like this. It was like dying planet and an imploding sun all at once, light filled his optics and his remaining processors crashed. Within that light he could see tendrils of black ink shifting and raising towards the something? Was it the Matrix? Briefly confused by its intrusion, he soon discovered its agenda. As the writhing tide of shadows crested filling his vision, it wormed its way into the light seizing tiny orbs of golden blue. Tortured, the mech struggled reaching to stop it, but he was too weak and the fledgling sparks were torn from the Matrix itself.
Howling in agony at the loss Optimus Prime could only stare in horror as he realized what had allowed the darkness access to the center of being. There nestled within the pulsating mass he saw a flicker of power and its bearer. It was a familiar power, one with the ability to create worlds and fill them with life. A power they'd searched for thorough every star and every world, the power that caused the war, the power that could rebuild their world. The touch of the All Spark faded leaving no trace save the burning ache in his spark. Unable to even mourn the cruel deviation from the true cycle, the old mech simply collapsed.
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Leaning back in his chair Trent DeMarco folded his arms and glared. His companion across the table didn't bother to respond. Not that Trent cared; he just wanted to get his car, his cell phone and to go home. After all, American Idol was going to be on in an hour. The man interrogating him, known by this point as Mr. Jonathan Powers, had other ideas.
Trent was more than fed up with the turn of events. After he'd been chauffeured to the Hoover Dam in Chromia, his apparently alien Hummer; several men in suits had mobbed him. He'd been hustled in to the facility and dragged down a non-descript corridor to an empty room to wait. The featureless walls with a big blank mirror and a spindly table with a pair of chairs made him suspicious. If anything he figured it was an interrogation room. When the door opened admitting two men in suits his assumption was confirmed.
For the better part of an hour they had asked him questions and refused to release him. Like usual his anger got the better of him and fought the urge to hit somebody.
"I told you! I have no clue what's going on!" he snapped for the third time, rocking on the back legs of the chair.
Mr. Powers it seemed however wasn't the kind of man to give up easily.
"Then tell me what you do know, if you don't mind."
The jock shifted in his seat, all four legs coming to rest on the floor with a thump. He was really getting tired of being talked down to. Sparing a glance to the second man in the room his expression soured even more. He really hated it when he couldn't punch or posture his way out of a situation.
"I was giving that jerk, Lancaster a ride down here cause my ex asked me, I'm such a nice guy."
The bold lie slipped through his clenched teeth and his fake saccharine sweet smile. The one when he used when pretending to play nice. Powers gave him an incredulous look before, pushing his ridiculous sunglasses further down his face.
"Miss Banes was quite capable of delivering Mr. Lancaster on her own and for the record; he wasn't even riding in your vehicle."
Trent gave the man another dirty look, but that too was ignored.
"Would you care to give us the truth this time?"
Checking his watch, the young man refused to give him the satisfaction. "Nope."
The suited agent tapped his foot irritably and waited. Propping his sneakers on the table, DeMarco went back to rocking his chair. And in that manner time passed.
When Jonathan's patience finally wore out he signaled to the agent within the room and the ones no doubt watching from behind the glass.
"Have local law enforcement escort him home and inform his parents what he's been up to."
Sliding his legs off the table, DeMarco had the gall to look smug. "Thank you!"
His minor victory was short lived as the second agent pushed him towards now open door.
"Wait! What about my car?"
So pleased that he was had almost made it out, Trent had almost forgotten about his vehicle.
It was suddenly his antagonist's turn to smirk.
"It's impounded, of course. You may or may not get it back depending on the circumstances."
Hands curling into fists the blond scowled. He was not going to take the threat lying down.
Despite his age and supposed maturity Powers stepped into the teen's face.
"You want to try me tough guy?"
"You are so not worth it."
Before things could get any worse an irritated senior officer of Sector Seven interrupted the pair
"Hold it." Raising a hand Simmons stopped the procession of agents from the room. "Change of plans."
"Sir?" Powers stammered confusedly.
"He's been granted clearance."
With that statement the Trent found himself ushered into the gray hall, only to collide with Miles Lancaster and the incredibly stupid look on his face.
"Finally!" the teen growled, smoothing out wrinkles in his shirt. 'Kaela was wondering where they took you. C'mon."
Turning on his heels the geek strode down the hall. DeMarco considered taking out his irritation on the idiot. Practicality however won out and he followed the goofy teen through the corridor. The hall was awash with men in suits and strange uniforms hurrying off for parts unknown pushing through the endless crowd, Trent could see just the top of Lancaster's head. The idiot was getting too far ahead. Relying on the skill that made him the star of the football team, Trent bowled through the rabble taking care not to actually hurt anyone.
After what felt like forever, he finally grabbed the teen before him, stopping them just before the elevators. Spinning him around, he met the tired blue eyes with frustrated glare.
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded angrily.
The shorter blond smirked and pressed the down button, his eyes hardly reflected his weak smile.
"Alien conspiracy," came the simple reply. "Welcome to the cover up."
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Skidding to a stop on the empty highway, Prowl was gladder than he cared to admit at see the sun. A quick scan of the featureless landscape confirmed his suspicions, he was no longer being followed. The drone Scorponok, while incredibly vicious simply did not have the speed required to catch him. Never before had the Autobot been glad that Barricade had good taste. Their shared alternate mode was really a piece of work. It was fast, sturdy, but the Decepticon logos however had to go.
It had been a major miscalculation on his part the moment he'd scanned the parked vehicle, with its sirens and lights it was no doubt local law enforcement. It had been one of the first to arrive after he'd made landfall. He felt so stupid now, how could he not have realized he'd just scanned a Decepticon?
Just before he could adopt his new mode Frenzy, one of Soundwave's cassettes had struck. Clambering up his torso hacking his internal systems, the cassette had left him helpless in the red terran soil. Barricade had taken extreme pleasure then, tearing parts from his wrecked and battered chassis. The pain and torment had lasted until his remaining systems put him into stasis lock. He'd had no clue how long he'd been prisoner, but that was no longer his concern.
He had to find the Autobots. He wasn't sure how long the human unconscious in his interior was going to survive without medical attention. He had to find help and soon. With no long range scans and no access to his communications systems, he was a target. And that was something that was not allowed in his job description.
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Stalking out of a crowded hallway, Reggie Simmons swore viciously and made his way to the elevators. He could not believe she'd made such a rookie mistake. That was something he'd expected out of civilians, not Mikeala. It figured, no wonder she'd sent him the report rather turning it in by hand. It was gutsy, but then again so was she, part of the reason he hired her. The other was the undeniable fact that former criminals were hot or something about equal rights whichever was the most appropriate at the time. He slipped inside the elevator before the doors close and it descended further into the depths of the facility.
Three levels down and the head officer of Sector 7's field division stepped out into the hall leading to N.B.E-1's former containment hanger; known affectionately as the 9th level of hell. The hall was eerie silent without the hum of machinery and the voices of technicians. It had effectively been shut down since Megatron's escape and left abandoned. Its future use, along with the numerous testing labs, was uncertain.
None of the senior members knew the sort of etiquette to broach the subject to the Autobots and they for their part remained silent. So until further notice, the Iceman project was on hold, not to mention the fact their subject had been released on the unsuspecting populace. Shards of familial guilt lodged in his chest, he knew who was responsible and he knew who'd have to atone for those mistakes.
Reggie's internal monologue was cut short as a one of his subordinates came rushing from another doorway. Stepping sharply up to meet him, Simmons accepted the rushed salute and waved him to continue.
"Sir, we have a problem!"
Simmons fell instep with the young man as they passed the Proving Lab moving towards the Cube hanger. Focusing on the words he allowed the self-depreciating thoughts to sink into the background. Now was not the time.
"It's N.B.E Prime. -" The man began frantic in his movements and speech, "-he's suffered some sort of syncope, due to unidentified causes. He's been moved into the cube chamber as per N.B.E Ratchet's request."
"Any ideas what felled him?"
"Nothing yet sir."
"Well let's go see the patient shall we?"
Crossing through the darkened tunnel, the pair stepped into the hanger, not surprised to see the massive form of the newest Autobot arrival standing guard over a trio of human teens and the kid's melancholy Camaro not far behind. Clearing his throat the officer addressed his newest subordinate.
"Don't you have work to be doing?"
Mikaela jumped to her feet surprising her companions. Stumbling from his chair, Miles managed to not only splatter himself but the other teen with Mountain Dew. As they turned on each other angrily as Banes gave a small salute.
"No Sir, I'm off duty."
Looking her over once, he accepted the statement.
"Very well, you may continue. We'll talk about that report later."
She scowled but nodded at his words. Tormenting rookies, it was one of the more malicious aspects of the job. Turning again, Simmons made for the other side of the room, ordering the trailing agent to do something about the arguing teens. He hated having civilians along, things always tended to get messy.
Passing beneath N.B.E Ironhide, Simmons crossed in to the corner of the hanger absconded for use as an alien med-bay. It wasn't their base of course, but Hoover Dam was cleared for occasional Autobot occupancy, when away from Tyger Pax. Pale blue light issued forth from the temporarily erected perimeter, reflecting off the drab gray walls. Picking his way past unused equipment, Simmons made his way toward the unearthly light.
Seated before the still body of N.B.E Optimus Prime was N.B.E Ratchet. The chartreuse Hummer spared a glance at the intruder and snorted.
"I'm busy."
Simmons moved closer to the Autobot watching, as the large hands moved along the open body of his leader. Pouring from the open torso of the N.B.E, the emanation was like a miniature sun. warm and beautiful. It rose from the vibrant frame as nameless circuitry sparked occasionally flickering shadows along the walls. Standing within the glowing splendor the human felt something almost magical. He committed it to memory, that sense of power and life.
"Will he live?"
"Of course" growled the medic hands slowing as he finished.
Did humans believe all opened frames meant death? Scowling the older mech closed Optimus' chest plates shutting off the brilliant glow. Once again they were left to the hazy monotony of fluorescent lights. The brief respite, however was not to last. A sudden shout from Ironhide and both man and mech were on their feet moving for the door.
Ratchet being faster, seized the lagging operative and simply carried him across the threshold like a toy. Simmons with all his composure did not scream like a little girl, merely held tight to the dark fingers.. Within the main chamber the figure of Ironhide attempted to support the sagging frame of Chromia. Beside him Bumblebee attempted to keep the teens from interfering. More accurately he was attempting to restrain a frantic Trent from damaging Ironhide.
"What the Hell did you do to my Car?"
Once on his feet the Simmons moved to intercept the situation, but he never got the chance.
Just as Ratchet reached the invalid mech, excited shouts pervaded the air. All heads turned toward the library as the former Rand analysts burst through its doors. Maggie moving faster despite her eccentric heels reached them first and began her explanation. Unfamiliar with her level of techno-babble the humans stared..
"This is exactly why I should have stayed in Washington."
Fortunately for her sake she had a rather capable translator even if he did have a preoccupation with sugary foods. As he reached them Glen simply handed over the printed results of their search summing Maggie's words in an instant.
"We found him."
"Sam?" Mikaela questioned trying to look at the photo.
Bumblebee rumbled angrily answering her question.
"Barricade."
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Speeding across the sweltering landscape a familiar police cruiser found itself intercepted by several vehicles. Pulling to a stop on the darkened highway it kicked up dust and gravel before the line of back SUV's. Debating whether to attempt activating his holo-form for camouflage, the mech was briefly aware of a yellow car speeding towards him. The bright Camaro suddenly slammed on its brakes and turned, drifting across the paved road. Moments before it would have crashed into Prowl the car transformed, rising to its full height of sixteen feet.
The squad car rumbled, but fell silent as the Autobot scout pressed a cannon to his hood, vocal processors crackling as it spoke.
"Give him back."
Relived to the point of cutting his engines the tactician acknowledged his old friend with a rumble.
"Bumblebee, how you've grown."