~~~A Memory~~~
I was on my favorite hiking trail. Above me, the sky was dense with clouds, but the cracks of blue winding around the fluffy masses promised that the weather would remain fair. Pine trees surrounded the narrow trail, and earthy smells of sap and wood hung in the humidity. My dad and I pushed up the path, breathing heavily in the heat. My shirt already felt soaked through, and my long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
"Why'd you stop?" I asked after nearly colliding with him.
"We have quite the plight on our hands," Dad said. A small trail branched off into the woods. It was narrow and clearly made by a few adventurous souls before us.
"I thought we were going for the peak?"
He started down the new trail, "An adventure, Kathrine. It shouldn't take long."
I reluctantly followed after, "You're going to get too tired to reach the peak."
"You're suggesting I'm out of shape?" He asked.
"You haven't hiked in like a year, so yes."
He reached out and pulled me into a side hug, "I'm glad we got to do this."
His shirt was just as sweaty as mine but I made a show of pushing him away with an exaggerated grimace, "You're gross."
"You can not rob me of my hugs," he complained, "I only have so many left."
I still had two whole years before I'd graduate, and even then it wasn't like I was dropping off the face of the earth.
"You act like I won't visit."
"As if you're not already sick of me." Dad looked around, before taking a seat on a fallen and rotting log. The woods were empty around us, this far from the path we could hear no one. The silence was serene.
Dad's hair had been ruffled into a crazy mess from the hike, with bits and pieces pointing in all directions. In the silence, he looked jumpy.
He gestured for me to sit next to him. "I have news," He looked around us again, as if looking for any secret listeners. He leaned in, "In a few months we're going to be testing it."
I sprung to my feet, "You're serious?"
"I am," he nodded, pulling me back down to sit.
I wrung my hands now. He had promised to do his best to let me see the prototype tested. "So, what did they say?"
He gave me a heavy and sad sigh, "Kathrine, I'm sorry."
My heart plummeted.
"...That you'll have to miss school to see it."
I hopped up again, "For real?"
He nodded.
I gave him a shove, "Don't do that!"
"Sit down, sit down," He laughed.
"So I get a full day off of school? When?"
He was sheepish now, "Ah. I may have exaggerated a bit. We're probably not going to do it that early in the day. You won't miss school." He swatted at his leg, signaling that it was getting time to reapply our bug spray.
"That's just double mean," I said, "Teasing me and then lying. Maybe I deserve a day off after all the abuse," I pressed my hands together near my mouth in a silent plea. When he didn't look convinced I tried again, "Think about it, we finally got to go on a hike again and you had good news: three times a charm, we might as well knock off a school day."
He winced, "I know I've been busy lately, but once the project gets done..."
"You'll have more time once it's finished, I know," I said, "We could funnel that personal guilt into, let's say, a day off from school?"
"Kathrine, please. I have rules to follow."
I bit the inside of my cheek, "Sorry, I know."
"I don't know when It's going to be yet. I won't be able to tell you either. You'll find out the day of, probably within the hour. I of course have to remind you, just how hard it was to get you in. You'll need to follow every direction, every command, perfectly. They'll have to search your belongings, and they might have to blindfold you at certain points. They could still change their minds, so best behavior, ok?" He shook my shoulder a bit teasingly; I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood. "We can't talk about this anywhere else," he continued, "Not at home or the car, this is it."
His wince had returned, "That's why they let me take the afternoon off. I needed to tell you about this somewhere secluded. I'm sorry, I know we haven't hung out properly in too long."
"Don't be," I took his hand off my shoulder and held it, "Please, don't. I like being able to do this with you, it doesn't matter if it's work-related or what." I wanted to tell him he needed to stop feeling so guilty all the time, that he was doing everything he could as a single dad; that David and I were fine. He was literally the best person I knew, and that was coming from my angsty 16 year old-self. But I didn't. I didn't know how.
"You deserve a proper day off with me, once this is over. A lot of them," He squeezed my hand.
I lowered my voice to a whisper, "What's it going to look like?"
Now he grinned, "You won't see much, you might even be a little disappointed," he looked around again before whispering even quieter than I had, "Think of it like a magic trick. Pulling something apart, and putting it back together somewhere else, instantly."
"So like-"
He shushed me gently, "quiet, quiet."
I ducked my head, lowering my voice again, "So like teleportation?"
"I can't disclose that," his voice briefly dipped into that of a professional again, as if the phrase was one he had to say often. He gave me a wink, "But, as you know, your old man is in the transportation industry. A lot of big stuff is coming."
"For real?"
"Like nothing we've ever seen." His eyes were alight now, "Ever since we started our research, the advancements have been…" He gestured as if lost for words, "They've been phenomenal. Groundbreaking simply doesn't do it justice."
"What sort of research?" I asked.
He seemed to catch himself, his mouth opened then closed.
"Top secret?" I asked him, "Like always?"
His smile was a small line, "Me and my big mouth."
"But…" I eyed him, hands pressed together again, "If your mouth were to be just a teensy bit bigger, just for a single second. What might you say?"
"What am I going to do with you?" He laughed, "You are just as pushy and stubborn as—" his words died in his throat.
I knew what he was going to say 'as pushy and stubborn as your mother.' It hurt him to bring her up, I could see it. I had not known her for long, but part of me always reveled in our supposed similarity. Even if she was a stranger to me, I wanted to carry a piece of her on.
"I know, Dad," I said.
He was silent. Suddenly he bent forward and picked up a stick, tracing a square into the loose dirt. "A cube," he looked at me carefully, "A perfect piece of technology. That's all my big mouth can say."
I studied the slightly crooked square traced in the tan powdery earth. That literally only gave me more questions than answers.
He dropped the stick and scuffed out the square with his foot, and I knew the conversation on this particular topic had reached its end.
"Ok," I said, "So obey all the rules no matter what, and don't carry nail clippers or more than 3 ounces of liquid with me for the next few months."
"Don't forget nail files and scissors. Very serious," he bumped me with his shoulder, "You don't have to worry about anything, just continue doing what you do, like normal."
"Are you serious about the scissors?" I slapped a mosquito on my arm.
He sat up, rolling his shoulders in a stretch, "Am I really that bad at sarcasm?"
"A little."
"They say that at the office too."
"And it's going to be safe?" I took a moment to dig in my knapsack for our spray.
"Absolutely. For us to be in any danger," he waved the gnats away from his face, "Well, let's just say there'd need to be some kind of divine intervention."
~~~The Present~~~
"It's been six cycles, are you done yet?" Misdirect's voice piped in above me.
I squinted my eyes open. His face loomed over me.
"What?" I asked.
The cot Ratchet had given me to rest on wasn't the comfiest, but it sure was better than the floor. The squarish white cushion was a few inches thick with just enough spring to its surface to barely make the definition of a 'bed.' I had bundled up my hoodie to make an impromptu pillow.
My stomach felt hollow. Ratchet insisted that I eat something, but the granola bar from my bag hadn't been very filling.
"What's this for anyway, this sleep stuff?" Misdirect continued to loom.
"I dunno." I sat up with a long stretch. I felt stiff from sleeping on the tough 'bed' but at least my brain felt far less like static.
He scoffed.
"I'm serious," I said, "It's a mystery." I swung my legs off the edge of the bed
Ratchet was busy messing with the central computer. Brainstorm and Perceptor were huddled around their makeshift machine in the corner. Six hours and nothing had changed.
I picked at my bandages. They felt rough and stiff on my skin.
"They have Ravage locked up in the brig," Misdirect said.
"Are they here yet?" A heavy sense of dread had settled in my stomach. It felt like a bomb was set to go off any second now.
"No," he said, "We have a few more hours before they get his message. Optimus is already moving us somewhere we can hide. Don't worry Kathrine, we'll be fine."
I could almost believe him.
"What's going to happen?" I asked.
Misdirect crouched, looking me in the eye, "Fella, there's nothing to worry about. Mainframe's steering the ship, Optimus will have a plan by now, Prowl will be coming up with more potential war crimes, and there are two hundred other bots putting in their part. We're more than covered."
"It's my fault though."
He stood with a long groan, "Ratchet, she's doing it again."
Ratchet looked up.
I sat up straight, "Me doing what?"
"She won't stop blaming herself for everything," Misdirect said.
The medic walked over.
"Are all organics this guilty?" Misdirect asked, "I don't think I've met anyone this stressed out. Besides Red Alert."
Blue light briefly blinded me as Ratchet scanned, "I'm sure she could be taking Red Alert's place."
The cheeky bastards were pretending I wasn't there.
"Be honest doc, is there any hope? Sedation perhaps?"
"Either that or intoxication," Ratchet gave the back of Misdirect's head a sharp smack as he walked off.
"Primus!" Misdirect bowed over in pain, "I had only one drink, I didn't even finish!"
Ratchet resumed typing.
"It was going to just be a quick visit," Misdirect said.
"As a medical professional, I honestly have no clue how you've managed this long without a brain module."
"Aw, seriously Ratch? It's not my fault Swerve was being so cheap on security. And it was educational: cultural exposure for Kathrine."
Ratchet picked up a long scary-looking tool and pointed it, "I am more than willing to remove your mouth." He then pointed it at me, "And don't think you're safe: I'll find a way."
"What did I do?" I said.
"A perfect match, both of you," Ratchet grumbled.
I gawked at Misdirect, speechless.
He dropped to his knees, propping his elbows on my table, "I guess we're still in trouble," He whispered, rubbing the back of his head.
"Why am I in trouble? What did I do?" I asked.
A smile broke across his face, "That's the spirit, no more guilt."
"Do you want me to hit you too?" I asked.
With a single finger, he gave my chest a sharp push. I fell flat back onto the cot.
"Whoops," he said.
The firm cushion shook as I poorly restrained my laughter. "I'm going back to bed," I rolled over.
"Slow down fella, Ratchet did actually want you up. Brainsy apparently has news."
I rolled back, "What sort of news?"
"Brilliant news!" Brainstorm said from across the room. Perceptor still looked engrossed with Brainstorm's haphazard machine; along with the nest of wires it had accumulated, a few monitors had now joined the mix. Brainstorm was not by his machine however, instead had his hand on something that resembled an oversized 3d printer. "If everyone's done mingling, the first batch is ready: freshly synthesized fuel for the squishy."
The scientist paraded over with his hands cupped and deposited a pile of objects at my feet. They were white lumpy bricks about the size of my hand. It looked like I could build myself a proper fort. I picked one up and to my chagrin it even kinda felt like a brick.
"This is food?"
"The first successful synthesis, go on, give it a try," Brainstorm said.
I looked over at Ratchet who stood with his arms crossed. He gave me a nod.
More than reluctant I gnawed on a corner, it was dense and hard, and I barely managed to crack off a small piece with my teeth. The taste was…bad. It was unbelievably starchy and chewing only broke it into finer sand-like pieces. The flavors were all off: chemically, salty, and faintly bitter. I stopped chewing.
"It might be unpleasant," Ratchet said, apparently reading my disgust, "But it should keep you alive."
Reluctantly I nodded and swallowed. It didn't settle in my stomach well.
"Yeah," I said, "That wasn't great." My mouth felt dry like I had…well, like I had eaten a mouthful of sand.
"How do you feel?" Ratchet asked.
"Like I don't want to eat any more."
"Let it settle first."
"Fantastic," Brainstorm said, "Far more interesting, we have an important discovery to announce." He paused as if for dramatic effect, then gestured dramatically across the room to Perceptor.
Perceptor, not bothering to look up, responded in monotone, "The signature from Earth is Cybertronian."
"Applause is not necessary, but heavily encouraged," Brainstorm said. "No one? Really?"
The churning feeling in my stomach had grown suddenly unbearable. I held up a hand
"Sorry, I-" I dry heaved. I leaned over and threw up. Before I could collect myself I threw up again. My cheeks burned.
"Not the reaction I expected," Brainstorm said.
Ratchet was there at once, he didn't allow me to apologize, "This table has seen far worse," he reassured me as he cleaned it up.
He then addressed Brainstorm, "The fuel needs work."
"What was wrong with it?" It was as if Brainstorm thought I had personally insulted him. "Perfect synthesis of the major protein groups, carbohydrates, fats, and minerals, what makes you think you're the expert here?"
I searched for my water bottle, not bothering to respond.
"You're discovery?" Ratchet prompted, "A Cybertronian signal from Earth? Explain."
"Yeah whatever," Brainstorm said, "The machine the squishies built, the 'prototype,' is in fact a very, very, very bad Cybertronian quantum generator. And, if I haven't said this enough, an expressly bad, poorly built, and literal piece of junk, Cybertronian quantum generator."
I nearly choked on my water, "You guys have been to Earth?"
"No," Misdirect said. He looked around, "Right?"
"It's not in our records," Ratchet said.
"What about all the 'pulling something apart, putting it back together' stuff? I thought generators didn't work that way," I asked.
"Nonsense," Brainstorm said, "They wouldn't have gotten their piece of junk working if that's how they thought it worked. Maybe your organic memory is failing?"
My stomach twisted up into knots. Dad had lied to me.
"We're sure about this?" Misdirect asked.
"More than certain." Brainstorm said.
"How is that possible?"" Misdirect asked.
"Don't ask me, ask Kathrine. Her species built the thing." Brainstorm had his hands on his hips. This was the first time I noticed that a large golden briefcase thing was handcuffed to his left wrist. Was that there this whole time?
"It was classified," I protested. The news was slowly sinking in and the absurdity was practically making me dizzy. How could this group of highly advanced alien robots have anything to do with a planet they had never even heard of?
"Did a ship crash land maybe?" I asked.
"We don't think it was a generator that your species found," Perceptor was suddenly a part of our group, "The signature would have been different from our own generators' and their signals would have never combined. What we can only assume is that whatever specific schematics were used to construct our own quantum generator have now been used to construct the human's generator. Somehow, a relic from our past made its way to your planet, Kathrine."
Brainstorm practically lit up when Perceptor had spoken. I could only wonder if something was going on between the two of them.
"The big question then, is what exactly did the squishies find?"
Everyone looked my way and the attention made me freeze.
"No," Ratchet said, "The 'big question' is: does this information help Kathrine return home?"
"Boring stuff first, got it," Brainstorm said. He pivoted to face his machine on the far end of the room as if he were scanning over the complicated-looking setup. "Does this help the squishy get home? Yes. Well, probably. Well, yes, in a way. It opens up a unique ability to communicate with the organic planet."
When Brainstorm turned back around it was clear he was soaking up the attention. "Yes, that's right, instant communication with Earth. You heard me correctly. Continue to feel free to add any applause."
"It would take eons to send a message to Kathrine's planet," Ratchet sounded beyond skeptical, "Do we even have its coordinates?"
"Almost. But we don't need coordinates for this to work." Brainstorm was leaning in expectantly, clearly waiting for someone to ask him how.
"How—?"
"Terribly impressive I'm afraid," Brainstorm flung an arm around Perceptor's shoulder. "Me and Perceptor, it took all our smarts to come up with it. Isn't that right, Perceptor? What do I always say: we're the perfect team, we fit together like sparks and T-cogs. No, like enriched nucleon and criminal charges."
"Perceptor and I," Perceptor corrected.
"Right," Brainstorm mumbled. He spun to face us, "Communication is possible specifically because our quantum signatures are intertwined. The generators are confused, they think they're a part of the same machine, because they really technically are the same."
He then spoke to me, "We have rules to prevent this sort of thing, you know. But I guess you humans just jump right in. The Ark's generators are old. Maybe even pre-golden age, if we still even call it that. They run on different innards than the new ones. Whatever is on your planet, squishy, it is beyond me."
He clasped his hands, "At any rate, if both generators have mistaken each other for themselves— a technological identity crisis, if you will. Then say we send a little pulse through our generator, not enough to destabilize anything. No, just enough to notice. C'mon everyone, you know where this is going, say it with me." He had his arms out as if attempting to orchestrate the small group. "If we're able to notice our own pulse, then…?" He said.
"The organics can too?" Misdirect asked.
"Brilliant! Yes, same machine, same pulse. I'm so proud. Honorary quantum physicists, all of you," He reached for a chair and plopped into it. Using his feet, he rolled himself back into our group huddle.
This was getting a bit too confusing for me, but to my surprise, I think I was getting it. I was visualizing it like two cell phones with the exact same phone number: if one phone sent a text to itself, both phones would receive the message.
"It will be tedious, but we can fluctuate the pulses to communicate," Perceptor said.
"Like morse code?" I asked.
Brainstorm squinted, "Sure, just imagine it like way cooler."
"When can we start?" Ratchet asked.
"Preferably a few cycles ago?" Brainstorm said, "We've been sending pulses for ages now. I know you humans have noticed them, but no response yet, nothing meaningful. Providing that this 'team' of Kathrine's can possibly hurry things up, we'll be, as you say, 'on a roll.'" Brainstorm spun in the chair lazily while he complained, "I thought these were supposed to be the smart humans."
"This hardly sounds possible," Ratchet admitted.
"Physics is being flouted," Brainstorm was leaning back now, looking up at the ceiling as he continued to spin, "Don't think about it too hard, just be glad it works."
"How long do we have?" Misdirect asked, "Could the generators get unstuck?"
Perceptor spoke, "We have as long as the quantum jump holds. Our fuel cells will give us a few solar cycles at most before they run out. Preferably we will resolve this discrepancy before that point."
"The quantum jump?" Ratchet asked.
"Has anyone been listening to the fine mess we're in?" Brainstorm said, "We're all stuck in the in-between, hanging on the verge of universal collapse? Remember? The quantum jump never finished, it's just… let's say, been paused."
"Hold on Brains, the ship is still jumping?" Misdirect said.
"Ridiculous, right? I'm glad we're all catching on," Brainstorm said. "Theoretically we're in three other places right now. We're just mostly here in this spot."
"Don't they usually only last like a fraction of a fraction of a second?" Misdirect glanced around the room, as if expecting it to vanish before his eyes, "That sounds kind of dangerous."
Brainstorm leaned forward and buried his head in his hands, "Primus. I give up."
Our small group shared a worried look. Even Ratchet looked uneasy.
Brainstorm's head popped back up, "Anyway, we've done our bit." He spun in the chair with his legs extended, forcing everyone to back up, "Anyone else have a revolutionary discovery to share? No? Perfect. I'm very busy."
"Wait!," I said, "When you guys talk to Earth, what are you going to say?" I couldn't help but feel excited, but I didn't want to give myself hope yet. We still had to see if it worked.
Brainstorm stopped turning, and his expression suggested he'd be raising an eyebrow if he had one, "You want to go first? Sure, I only came up with the whole idea, and did all the work."
Perceptor made a noise as if clearing his throat.
"We," Brainstorm said sweetly, "Sorry, Perceptor and I, did."
"You could send 'Kath' k, a, t, h" so they know I'm ok," I said.
"Hear me out," Brainstorm said, "Just a thought of course, but instead of that. Instead of 'Kath.' We could instead just say: 'Greetings, fellow squishies. I, Kathrine, am currently starving because I don't know good fuel when I see it.'"
"I didn't know we could do full sentences like that."
He scoffed, "Squishy, I will send over every single note of constructive criticism I've made regarding your human 'quantum generator' if you don't give me something longer than four letters."
"Fine, let me think," I pivoted back towards Misdirect, "Any ideas?"
"Your call," he said.
I mulled it over. "'Hi Dad,'" I started, and immediately felt myself choking up. I cleared my throat. "Hi Dad, this is Kathrine. I'm ok, I'm safe. My…friends are going to talk to you now, you need to listen to everything that they tell you. I love you, tell David I love him too. See you both soon." I blinked away tears. I had to keep it together.
Brainstorm interrupted the thought, "You're going to have to type that out if you expect me to remember any of it." He paused, "But I'll make sure they get it." With that, he pushed off a table and glided in his chair to the other side of the medbay.