transformersclandestine

[transformersclandestine]

Opportunity

(Author's note: the original version of this story contained a plot thread I decided did not fit with my ideal timeline of events in this universe. As such, it has been rewritten.)

~~

Megatron stood in his apartment’s living quarters in the darkness. The only illumination came from the neon glow of downtown Kaon through his blinds. The only noise came from his comlink, in conversation with a mysterious stranger he had met at Maccadam’s. Said stranger had given Megatron a vague gesture of employment - to what, Megatron had no idea. But this stranger, this Soundwave as he’d introduced himself, clearly had big ideas for the former miner.

“Hold on a nanoclick,” Megatron interrupted. “Working on what, exactly? You still haven’t given me any information, just a card and a name.”

“Excuse my enthusiasm, Megatron,” Soundwave apologized, “it’s like I said at Maccadam’s: not every day you come across someone with the bearings to stand up to a bot like Nitro.”

“I see in you great potential, Megatron. You stood against a bot twice your size with thrice his tenacity. Had the guards not pulled you two apart, you’d have his spark casing in your clutches.”

Megatron listened in silence to Soundwave’s praise. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with this entire conversation. Megatron was no fighter, at least so he claimed. But he couldn’t help but believe in some of the things Soundwave was saying. He had stood up against Nitro, he had nearly beaten the bot before they were separated.

There was just one problem with it all: Soundwave was getting all the details correct. Megatron knew the police reports didn’t take his side of the story, they were getting all the information from Nitro and the other foremen at the mine. This perplexed Megatron and he interrupted yet again.

“You sound like you were there yourself, Soundwave. I must’ve missed you.”

Soundwave chuckled sinisterly.

“Let’s just say we have eyes all around.”

“Who’s we?”

Soundwave’s line sat silent for a bit. Megatron became concerned he was being traced or monitored. Then, the visored bot spoke up again.

“Let me ease your anxieties by simplifying things: we meet, we discuss what me and my colleagues have in store for you. You don’t like it? You can walk and we’ll wipe all of our history together out of each other’s databanks. Agreed?”

Megatron hesitated to respond. A trap, it sounded like a trap. He feared that agreeing to this meeting would result in him being stripped of his plating and drained of fluids. Soundwave sensed the unease and cleared the air again.

“No need to worry. We know what you’re capable of and we wouldn’t dare try and stop you from leaving. This offer has a time limit, though.”

Megatron hated to admit it, but he was intensely curious about this proposition. He remembered what Orion Pax had said earlier that night at Maccadam’s about a job in the Iacon Vaults. It wasn’t that the offer was bad or anything, it just wasn’t the trajectory that Megatron had wanted for himself. The way Soundwave talked up Megatron, it made him seem like a trillion shanix. A moment’s hesitation later, Megatron responded.

“Alright. Send me the location.”

“Excellent,” Soundwave replied, “it’s transmitting to you now.”

In rhythmic succession, the location followed. It was in Tarn, a sister polity of Kaon’s but one with a far seedier reputation. 

“Time to meet will be 0700 hours. Come alone.”

Soundwave’s line ended swiftly after. Megatron sighed. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

The weekend made the Iacon Vaults mostly empty, save for a few automated units that kept the place operational. The lone exception was Megatron, who had taken a seat at his favorite table and was deeply entrenched in writing. The ideas he put to paper were very scattershot, just a constant stream of thoughts being written for posterity, but they flowed like a river of crude Energon. Before long, Megatron had written two paragraphs:

If the idea of a free Cybertron is to sit and wallow in an uneasy state of mind, then a free Cybertron it is not. Though we are far removed from the extremist beliefs of past leaders such as Nominus Prime (whose system pundits and buffs have taken to calling “functionism”), the introduction of the First Cybertronian Senate several deca-cycles prior to this writing has continued a sense of uncertainty in the establishment of a continuing prosperity on Cybertron.

The job, nay, the purpose of the Senate is to oversee the civilization we Cybertronians have constructed with our bare hands, guiding us and delivering the teachings of our forerunners. However, the simple fact remains that the current landscape of Cybertron is far removed from an idyllic peacetime once sought. Criminality has taken over many formerly prominent polities and sectors, disease spreads among the downtrodden and the establishment of a lawless market makes for corporate profiteering at the expense of the common bot. The abolishment of classist structures with the assassination of Nominus Prime and the ousting of his ministers has provided the public-facing arm of Cybertron’s government with a ready shield against further critique and further evolution. The sitting Senators stand idly by continuing to hedge insider profits, grasp savagely for power, and ignore prominent societal issues in favor of the establishment of an uneventful normal.

An unexpected hand on his shoulder cut Megatron free of his writing daze. It was Orion Pax, his best friend. Orion warmly greeted Megatron and took the seat opposite. Megatron was surprised to see Orion at the Vaults on his day off. 

“Well…somehow I knew you’d be here,” he explained cheerfully.

He noticed Megatron’s data pad and light-pen.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“It’s…not complete,” Megatron responded, “It’s not anything, really. Just a scattered assortment of ideas. Thoughts about Cybertron.”

“And what to do about it?”

Orion’s question cut deep. Not in a negative way, just in a way that wasn’t expected.

“Maybe,” he replied. The conflicted author placed his head in his hands in contemplation.

“You always talked about running for office, Megatron.”

“With no source of income and an arrest on my record? Ha. Maybe in the past, but not now.”

Orion didn’t accept Megatron’s doubts. He believed in the strength and conviction of his friend, that it was more than enough to propel him to potential victory.

“May I read it?” He asked politely.

Megatron hesitated for a moment out of embarrassment of his writings, but he eventually relented and handed Orion the data pad.

Time seemed to tick slowly as Orion read Megatron’s work. His facial expressions did not change.

When finished, he handed it back to Megatron.

“Seems to me like you’re more ready than you think.”

Megatron was shocked at Orion’s praise. Were his random thoughts really enough to warrant a political career? Megatron thanked Orion for his kindness and glanced over the data pad once again. He thought about the loss of his job, he thought about the many bots he saw on the street without stable livelihoods, and he thought about the Senate sitting proudly in Iacon without a care in the world. These thoughts turned to anger, fury, and Megatron clenched his fist in response.

“If I were to run,” he asked Orion, “would you be willing to help me?”

Orion playfully bopped Megatron on the shoulder.

“Of course, my friend. I’ll do my best.”

Megatron smiled at his friend’s optimism. With Orion by his side, he felt invincible.

——

There was a reason few outsiders ventured to Tarn. From what Megatron could see upon his arrival, he couldn’t blame anyone. Tarn was an especially run-down polity; broken roads, dirty street corners, booster-abusing bots sleeping on said corners. The entire city appeared to be a ghost-town of decency and Megatron wondered just what exactly its leadership was doing to leave the rest of their populace in such a state.

As he neared the coordinates sent to him by Soundwave, he wondered if this was all worth it. He was trusting the word of a bot he had only met briefly, a sinister-sounding one to boot. Megatron couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all leading up to something that wasn’t good.

But what if it wasn’t? That thought also entered his head. What if all the secrecy and shady tactics were just a test? What if the job Soundwave was offering was something that, dare he thought, Megatron liked?

His thoughts were interrupted by one of the drug-addled bots scrambling up to Megatron with an outstretched hand. Though their dilapidated appearance was certainly shocking, their face was a kindly smile, as if they were unaware of the decay of their own bodies.

“Spare some shanix?” The broken-down bot asked Megatron. Feeling guilty and generous, Megatron pulled a few tokens from his pockets and handed them to the bot. He tipped his head in thanks and began to turn away before Megatron gently grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving.

“What happened to this city?” Megatron asked the bot. The rusting old-timer trembled and coughed.

“The Senate is what happened,” he answered, “they’ve become a government for the richer polities.”

Megatron sighed. Of course it was the Senate. It could only ever be the Senate. 

The rusting bot continued, unprompted.

“They leave us with barely an income to keep going. Most of us spend it on circuit-boosters…it’s the only thing we can really do to keep the rust pains away. No pharmacy within ten kils from here. Senate refuses to fund the construction of one here in Tarn.”

With each revelation, Megatron became furious. Tarn was a far cry from Kaon, itself a more blue-collar and relatively poorer part of Cybertron. But this…this was just a hellscape. How any bot could live in these conditions escaped Megatron.

“Far as I’m concerned,” the vagrant continued, “the Senate’s just waiting for all of us to fall to pieces. Then they’ll annex the city as part of a mining operation or something.”

Their conversation ended abruptly as they both sensed the presence of another. A block ahead, the silhouette of Soundwave lingered underneath one of the few operable street lamps. He stood with an imposing purpose and the blazing glow of his crimson visor penetrated the sharp shadows surrounding him. The rusting bot shivered and cowered, turning away to leave the area, apologizing for a nonexistent faux pas. Megatron turned to keep the bot from leaving, but he ignored Megatron and slunk away into a nearby alley.

After the bot disappeared, Soundwave stepped out beneath the light and approached Megatron.

“You’re on time. That’s good.”

There was an uneasy pause. Megatron felt it more than Soundwave. The visored bot broke the silence by leading Megatron towards a large, dome-shaped building.

“In here.”

The domed building was purple in coloration with golden details. There was clear wear on it, yet it appeared to be the most well-maintained out of any structure in Tarn. From the streets outside, Megatron could nearly make out a roaring sound coming from inside which he eventually realized were the sounds of a raucous crowd. Peppering through the surging cheers were striking sounds of metal clashing.

Walking through dimly lit corridors, Soundwave said nothing. The inner portion of the building was filled with rest areas and bots of all manner of sizes, though mostly leaning on the large side. Each one brandished scars all across their bodies. Some were carrying or carefully cleaning edged weapons of various makes. Coupled with the noise from an audience on the other side of the walls, Megatron made the startling connection: this was a fight pit, and Soundwave had selected him as the latest warrior recruit.

Approaching a more brightly decorated area of the arena, Soundwave led Megatron through a corridor into an entrance atop a row of stone bleachers. The view of the arena was spectacular and Megatron took in the extraordinary view of hundreds of spectators, each bots of all makes and models, from the old and broken to the new and shiny. In a private viewing box to the north, a gangly and imposing bot stood. He was of intense height with one hand ending in a laser cannon and a penetrating gaze embodied by a single golden optic.

“Is that…” Megatron wondered aloud.

“Yes it is: Shockwave, one of Cybertron’s greatest military commanders," Soundwave confirmed, "He’s on the hunt for new recruits. Most of Squadron X was found here in the Battlegrounds."

Megatron attempted to garner an explanation out of Soundwave for why they were here, but before he could get a word out, Soundwave entered back into the halls and motioned for Megatron to follow. It was here that Megatron finally managed to stutter out a protest.

“If your plan is to make me one of these barbaric fighters, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“You’re very perceptive, Megatron.” Megatron stopped Soundwave in the halls and pleaded his case.

“Look, what happened with Nitro was a mistake. Plain and simple. A lapse in judgement.”

“I’ve seen my fair share of lapses in judgement. What happened to you was something else: an awakening of something buried deep inside your spark.”

Megatron attempted to fluster out a rebuttal, but Soundwave interrupted him with a simple outstretched hand and continued walking. After a short distance, the two arrived at a more ornately decorated entrance, shrouded by a large purple curtain and guarded by two masked bots wielding lances. Soundwave approached the dual guards and they moved aside.

“Wait outside,” Soundwave ordered Megatron before heading through. A few nanoclicks later, Soundwave peered through the curtain and gave the OK.

The room they entered was dimly lit. Fading nitron lamps littered four of the corners, while a large glass window peering into the arena provided most of the illumination. Accompanying Soundwave in the room were two other bots. One, slender in build with a large, flashy wingspan leaned against an unkempt bookshelf impatiently. The other was many sizes larger than all three of the others, rounded in shape but with powerful limbs and ironclad feet akin to military boots. Blue steel in color, his face was sharpened with no jaw to be seen but displayed a fearsome visage that appeared out of Cybertronian myth. He was barrel-chested with multiple symbols of indeterminate origin or meaning adorning his chest. He fiddled with a very large and very sharpened silver axe whose blade was digging into the ground, grinding away sediment with each impatient twirl. 

Soundwave approached the larger bot and gave a slight bow. Megatron didn’t know whether or not to follow suit, but bowed anyway out of respect. The winged bot sneered and laughed.

“Governor Straxus, I've returned with the prospect we discussed,” Soundwave reported.

The governor tapped his fingers impatiently on the top of his axe’s handle.

“Hm…so this is the defiant one…”

Straxus thought to himself for a moment, then rose from his throne and approached the window, snapping his fingers and pointing next to him. Soundwave nudged Megatron and the quizzical bot approached the governor’s side, who splayed an open palm and gestured towards the arena. 

From the vantage point of the box, Megatron could clearly make out the brawling brutes in the middle of the arena. One was a hulking teal and purple bot with a cycloptic eye, brandishing an enormous mace and currently winning his exchange. His opponent was a smaller bot clad in red with a mohawk-like crest. The cyclops bot was forcing the mace against the red bot’s shield, which was buckling under the pressure. Megatron watched in awe as the cyclops bot suddenly flexed hard against the shield, causing the red bot’s knees to buckle. Taking advantage in rapid succession, the cyclops bot kicked his opponent in the gut, causing him to fly backwards, the shield shattering in the process. Dazed and clearly beaten, the red bot could only audibly concede as the cyclops bot advanced upon him and held his head under the tip of the mace. The bell rang and the fight was over. The cyclops bot turned his attention away from his opponent and hoisted his mace high in the sky, roaring in victory.

“Very impressive, yes? Another fine match from our current champion, Lugnut. A native of Kaon, same as you.”

Megatron nodded politely. Lugnut continued to soak in the adulation from the crowd as his opponent limped off the field.

The crowd erupted in applause and the extravagant governor continued his vague speeches.

"Soundwave has told me of your endeavor. The little protest that could, so to speak."

He turned towards his guest and placed what Megatron assumed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder. Megatron could only feel unease and tension instead.

“Energy like that is what's needed in Cybertron today,” Straxus continued, “respect…is at an all-time low.”

Megatron didn't understand what this governor was talking about, but decided not to interrupt for his own safety.

"Here in Tarn, I am respected, for I have built this sanctuary to aid those who are in your position. It can be an outlet for aggression, a temple of discipline, or even…a headquarters for revolution.”

Megatron hid his discomfort well, but sensed that Straxus was already onto him. Still, Megatron internalized his dialogue as it was similar to the things Soundwave had been saying about Megatron: a revolutionary.

“Revolution?” Megatron finally spoke up, quizzically.

Straxus nodded. “You and I both know the Senate is a stain on Cybertronian prosperity. They order the working bot around with no respect for individuality all to gain more power and to feast greedily on its pervasive outcomes.”

Though his rhetoric was particularly exaggerated, Megatron nonetheless had to admit that Straxus was saying agreeable things. He almost felt chilled, like Straxus had somehow read his writings before they were even published.

“Soundwave has not summoned you here to be a fighter, despite what you may think, Megatron,” Straxus revealed, “there is a greater use to you outside of the battlefield.”

“Outside?”

Straxus shook his head.

“Do you make it a habit to talk exclusively in single words?”

Megatron stammered out an apology, but Straxus was already on to his next piece.

“Megatron, you have already tasted the succulence of revolt. I believe within you is the ability to act upon this. I ask of you to join with me against the Senate to continue instilling doubt in their mockery of government.”

“You’re not talking about terrorism are you?” Megatron wondered nervously.

“Not terrorism, no. Too extreme. Easily snuffed out. What I’m thinking is something more subtle. Continue your protests, exercise your right to free speech. Sow doubt.”

“What about infiltration?” Wait, what? Megatron didn’t even realize at first what he had said. It was as if he was speaking purely from the spark without even thinking.

“Infiltration…? How so?” Straxus had been caught off-guard by Megatron’s suggestion.

“Running for office?” Megatron’s internal conscience was ringing alarm bells and trying desperately to take back what he had said, but it was as if another force entirely was taking the reins now. Something buried deep within his spark. 

“Running for office is risky,” Straxus objected, “no guarantees at election. Ripe for meddling.”

“Or martyrdom.” Whatever force had unearthed itself inside Megatron had fully taken control.

Even Straxus was astonished at the lengths Megatron was proclaiming to go for this cause. He had to admit, Soundwave had chosen quite well with this prospect.

“If you believe that is your destiny, Megatron,” Straxus responded.

“As long as it’s for the good of Cybertron,” Megatron stated.

Straxus nodded and returned to his seat. 

“Very well, then. I believe we have found our candidate for the next Cybertronian Senate Election,” he enthusiastically remarked.

Megatron had come down from the thrilling high of the last conversation. He couldn’t believe he actually had agreed to not only rally against the Senate in his own fashion, but potentially die for it. All for a group of bots he had just met. But then again: running for office wasn’t just a matter of personal pride, it was the chance to truly make a difference. He couldn’t do it without help, after all. With these bots plus Orion by his side…

He thought about Orion, his best friend. He remembered the quiet conversation they had at the Iacon Vaults earlier in the day. Orion had said it himself: “you’re more ready than you think”.

Straxus interrupted Megatron’s thinking with a bark of orders.

“Soundwave, since you were the one who discovered Megatron here, you will serve him as a close advisor to his campaign, and as a liaison for myself.”

Soundwave nodded. The winged bot in the room, who had been silent the whole time, rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Straxus grabbed a nearby data pad and began work on setting up various assets and accounts for Megatron’s campaign.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe we have a massive amount of work to prepare. Would you escort our candidate to the exits, Soundwave?”

“Of course, Governor Straxus.”

Soundwave led Megatron out into the hallways through the curtain. After an uncomfortable few moments of silence between the two, the winged bot stepped away from the bookshelf he was leaning on and approached Straxus’ desk.

“You seriously can’t believe that miner will win his first election,” he sneered, “Or that he’s willing to die for the cause.”

Straxus did not look up from his data pads and merely returned the derision.

“I do not, Starscream. That is why Soundwave was sent to contact him. We must eliminate all potential interlopers.”

“And the Senate?”

“They are informed. Have been since the arrest. Another orbital cycle free of intervention.”

Starscream smiled and chuckled to himself. 

“Glory to our cause.”

[transformersclandestine]

Bar Talk

Inside the dimly lit barroom of Maccadam’s Old Oil House, there was a fervent ease. To most of the patrons there, it was the end of the work week; a time to relax and celebrate another cycle of hard work and accomplishment. To the two ‘bots sitting in a corner booth however, there was uncertainty and a bit of melancholy.

Orion Pax played with the glass holding his Engex. Double-shaken, just how he liked it. But despite his initial positivity towards the trip to Maccadam’s, he had to admit that he really wasn’t in the mood for drinks.

Neither was Megatron, Orion’s best friend who sat across from him in the booth, his glass also remaining untouched. Megatron was never one for drinks, but Orion’s infectious enthusiasm convinced him. And yet he too sat in uncomfortable silence, gazing out the nearest window as the bar around him was teeming with life and laughter.

Orion, naturally, was the first to speak up.

“So…any ideas for a new job?” He asked Megatron, whose only response was a subtle shake of his head.

Megatron, formerly an Energon miner by the name of D-16, had just this evening been arrested for assaulting his foreman at the mine. The foreman, of course, had incited the incident as Megatron was not one for unprovoked violence. Like clockwork, when Megatron was arrested, Orion was the one to pay the bail and free his friend. The data clerk was also an effective peacekeeper and had managed to convince Nitro, the foreman Megatron attacked, not to press charges. However, the negotiations were not without sacrifice from Orion’s side as Megatron was fired with cause from his mining job. In Orion’s eyes, it was a necessary action lest Megatron spend most of his early years rotting in a Kaon prison cell.

Megatron sighed and placed his head in his hands.

“I don’t know, Orion. I can’t believe I attacked Nitro. I don’t know what came over me.”

Orion placed a comforting hand on Megatron’s arm.

“You said it yourself: a lapse in judgment. It happened, there’s nothing you can do, now. You just have to move on to a better you.”

Once again, thought Megatron, the uncharacteristically inspiring librarian has done his magic. Orion’s positive message cemented itself into Megatron’s mind and he slowly relaxed, taking a sip from his Engex.

“Thanks, bud. I’m still clueless about my career, though”, Megatron said.

Orion rapped his fingers on the table in quick but deep thought.

“I can try to scrounge up something at the Vaults. Wouldn’t pay as much as the mining gig, probably sanitation duties, but it’s something.”

Megatron shrugged and took another sip.

“At this point, anything’s worthy.”

Orion finally began drinking his Engex. A little room temperature now, but all good just the same. 

“Another round?” He asked Megatron who had gotten to the bottom of his glass faster than Orion. He shook his head and waved his hand.

“Nah. Not unless you’re buying.”

Orion laughed. 

“After all the shanix I just spent bailing your hide out of jail? You’re a shrewd customer, Mr. Megatron.”

Megatron laughed back. He took his glass and Orion’s and headed towards the bar. 

Maccadam’s crowd made it a bit snug for Megatron to walk through. Squeezing his way between ‘bots of all shapes and sizes, he made it to the barkeep, ordering another round of Engex for him and Orion. Across the bar, a boxy, faceplated ‘bot with a piercing red visor stared intently at Megatron. He left his post and approached the unemployed miner.

“So you’re the Megatron I’ve heard about,” the visored bot uttered. His voice was chillingly electronic, what sounded to Megatron like the effects of consistent and unregulated cygar use. 

“Depends on what you heard,” Megatron shot back.

The visored bot sat next to Megatron on an unoccupied barstool.

“It’s not every day you hear of a Kaon miner fighting back against the ongoing worker’s oppression - literally,” the stranger chuckled. Megatron was slowly growing leery of this bot’s tone, as if he was implying something sinister. The stranger noticed the unease and placed his hands on the counter innocently.

“Don’t worry, I’m no cop. Just a scouter looking for potential and talent.”

This got Megatron’s attention. 

“What kind of talent?”

“Strong of will and strong of chassis.” The stranger’s chest opened, and he produced a holographic business card, handing it to Megatron. On one side was a purple symbol, opposite was a scannable code that Megatron’s internal systems registered as a communications frequency.

The stranger got up from his stool and turned to leave Megatron to him and Orion’s newly-arrived drinks.

“If you’re looking for a substantial career, give us a call.”

Megatron looked again at the strange symbol. When he glanced up, the stranger had already disappeared into the crowd. He nervously looked around before paying the bartender for the two drinks and walking them back to him and Orion’s table.

“What kept you?” Orion asked playfully. Megatron cautiously set the drinks down and carefully hid the business card on the inside of his hand before resting it on the booth seat. 

“Long line at the bar,” Megatron lied. It seemed to work as Orion shrugged and took a swig from his drink.

“But yeah,” Orion continued, “let me talk to Codexa after the rest cycle. I’m sure I can manage to get you in somehow.”

Megatron smiled and nodded. He raised his glass as did Orion in turn.

“To the future,” Megatron toasted.

“To our future,” Orion added.

The two clinked glasses and continued their weekend pleasures.

———

Megatron slid the door open to his apartment. It wasn’t a pretty place but it did the job insofar as providing him with a place to recharge and relax during the rest cycles. It was decorated with mementos of his past, including more than a few copied data tracks Orion had made him for their various celebrations. There were also some tasteful electronic paint murals adorning the living space though these were standard with the building and not a choice of Megatron’s. 

Closing the door and locking it behind him, Megatron fished into his side compartments and pulled out the stranger’s business card. Scanning the code on the back, he downloaded the frequency and began a call. It took a few minutes, but Megatron finally heard the other line pick up. Immediately, he recognized the gravely tone of the stranger from Maccadam’s.

“Seems like you’re interested,” the stranger growled over the line.

“I’m willing to talk,” Megatron replied.

“Excellent. Before we begin though, a few pleasantries now that we’re on a secured channel. Name’s Soundwave. It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Megatron.”

[transformersclandestine]

Identity

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

D-16 sat at his usual spot in the Iacon Vaults. The table he was sitting at had become worn out from continued use by its current occupier. The chair that accompanied him was also on its last legs; the hovering technology used to keep it upright was inching closer to the last of its battery. The young miner had strewn an assortment of data tracks on the table and was furiously reading through each and every one. The topic of his research today was the fall of the Covenant of Primus, a legendary unit of Transformers who legends claim were the first to inhabit the planet, seeding life through all its provinces and cities and ushering in the first true pillars of Cybertronian society.

“These ‘bots were the beginning of everything. All that we know came directly from their hands. It’s just…amazing.” D-16 gazed longingly at the data track’s holographic display, showcasing a mural of an epic conflict with twelve warriors engaged in battle with alien forces. One was clad in shining metal armor, wielding a glowing blade of pure light, another in darker armor with a blazing inferno seemingly flowing from his skin. D-16 fixated on this particular ‘bot and stared in awe.

“The Fallen…what did you ever do to be banished from this beautiful world?” he wondered out loud. 

“That, I’m afraid”, said a calm yet jovial voice approaching D-16’s table, “is a question the archives are unable to answer.”

The voice belonged to Orion Pax, D-16’s closest comrade. A data clerk at the Iacon Vaults, Orion was the first individual that D-16 had met at the library of knowledge and after many visits by the curious miner, the two had become fast friends. During D-16’s break periods, he would visit the Vaults and read everything he could about Cybertron’s history. From the great skirmishes in the Age of Expansion to the legendary exploits of the Covenant of Primus, it all was absorbed by the young ‘bot. Orion had taken to jokingly referring to him as “Cybertron’s Biggest History Nerd”, a playful jab that D-16 himself embarrassingly accepted. D-16 appreciated Orion’s company; the archivist was an extremely patient listener and one with similar world beliefs as D-16. Orion was just happy to have another person he could talk to about the things that he was interested in.

D-16 greeted Orion as he sat down in the chair opposite. He too stared at the mirrored image of the mural that D-16 was fixated on. 

“Nobody really knows what happened to the ancient Primes. The records simply say that each went their separate ways after the Primal War. All except The Fallen, whose true name was stricken from history. He was the only member of the group to be forcibly exiled. Whatever he did…it was nasty enough to warrant erasure.”

D-16’s gaze turned from intense adoration to solemn acceptance. He swiped through the data track, replacing the battle mural with an image of a stone carving of a natal chart, each with the symbols of the Covenant on their ends.

“I just don’t understand it. The Fallen, by all current historical accounts, was Cybertron’s greatest military mind. He commanded a legion of troops so disciplined and powerful. They expanded Cybertron beyond the stars. The colonies! Interstellar travel! Space bridges! All stemming from The Fallen’s military prowess. I just…I want to know where it all went wrong.”

Orion looked at his friend solemnly.

“That’s the thing, D. Sometimes history’s greatest achievements are burdened with insidious intent. I trust the judgement of our forefathers. Like you said, look at what they gave us.”

Orion waved a hand to the large glass windows of the Vaults. Outside, Iacon bustled with activity. Flying ‘bots streaked past the panes, lights flickered and Energon flowed through visible pipelines. On the highways in the distance, vehicular ‘bots raced across at blinding speeds. From an outside perspective, it was utopia.

“This peace had to come from somewhere. I’m sure even The Fallen, whoever he was before his banishment, would have agreed to sacrifice whatever it would take to achieve this.”

D-16 had to admit that Orion was right…again. For a librarian, Orion was bridled with undeniable charisma. Any issue that D-16 had, Orion usually had a speech in place ready to right his nerves. In the right system, at the right time, he would’ve made an excellent leader. But they both knew that their place in the world was here at the bottom rung. D-16 a miner and Orion a data clerk. Eventually, Orion broke the small silence.

“Anyway, thought these might cheer you up,” Orion said. Protruding from his clenched fingers were another set of data tracks. He slid them across the table to D-16 who activated them. Inside the tracks were historical records of The Fallen’s mighty armada. Accompanying the text were images of brightly designed flags and propaganda posters featuring mighty soldiers. Things D-16 had never seen before.

“It’s the complete story. At least, all we had. I know they were your special interest, D. I gathered all I could.”

D-16 couldn’t believe his eyes. While some of the text was repeated information from other tracks, the wealth of knowledge Orion had unearthed would keep him occupied for days on end.

“Sweet Kaon, this…this is a goldmine!” D-16 exclaimed. He impatiently swiped through the screen of every track, taking no time to absorb the concrete data, instead simply basking in the gift that Orion had offered him. 

Orion smiled, enamored with his friend’s childlike innocence and excitement. D-16 calmed himself for a moment and smiled back at Orion.

“Thank you, Orion. I don’t know what to say.”

“Think nothing of it, friend. Consider it a thank-you present for your continued support of the archives…and for all the good company too.”

The two shared a fist-bump, then D-16 went back to his research. It was hard for him to pick a spot to begin. Everything he had ever wanted to know about The Fallen’s personal squadron was at his fingertips: the members, their battle records, even the official name of the squadron which he hadn’t come across in his archival binges until now: the Megatron Corps. Reading the name gave D-16 a strange feeling, almost a connection of sorts. 

“Megatron…” D-16 repeated softly to himself, “...Megatron…”

He sat at the table in silent contemplation. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the data tracks and collected them to be returned to their proper place. Something inside of him had suddenly overtaken his joyous reading, replacing it with a bizarre feeling. It felt to D-16 like a call to some previously-unknown responsibility. 

Suddenly, a miniature vibration went off in D-16’s internal systems. It was his alarm. Breaktime was over. As he began to leave the Vaults to return to the Kaon mine, D-16 turned to Orion who was busy returning data tracks to their proper servers. Orion noticed his friend was leaving and gave a wholesome wave.

“Breaktime’s over already, huh? Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll keep those special data tracks on hold for you.”

D-16 smiled at his friend and waved back.

“Thanks, Orion. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

——

The miners of Kaon were having a brutal workday. Due to an Energon malfunction in one of the lower sublevels, production was behind by 33%. The foremen of the mine, furious over the falling output, were working the miners twice as hard as before. More than a few collapsed from exhaustion, to which they were swiftly replaced by willing, yet unskilled, newcomers. This further added to the veteran workers’ frustrations and made the work take twice as much time to cover the newbies’ mistakes.

“Keep at it, scraplets!” yelled Nitro, one of the foremen of the mine. Walking behind the miners, he sealed the ceiling of the cave with his arm-mounted nullification ray to prevent them from collapsing as his workers dug further. His anger with the production setbacks was being taken out on his underlings and he regularly kicked dirt at their backs as they worked. 

“I don’t want a single drop of Energon left untouched in this cavern! You’re behind on your quota and the faster you work, the faster you can all leave!”

D-16 toiled rigorously at a stubborn outcropping, drilling through a thick bed of rock. Suddenly, his drill bit hit a large deposit of obsidian and stalled, spinning out of position and locking up. Frustrated, D-16 slammed his fist on the component to try and start it up again. Nitro noticed the miner’s interruption and zeroed in on D-16.

“D-16, what is the malfunction?!” Nitro screamed. D-16 looked up at the foreman with an exasperated expression. Nitro continued berating the panicking miner.

“Get it working, cog-grinder or you’re going home!”

D-16 struck the bit once more and it whirred to life. Nitro shot the still-nervous miner a nasty look and moved on to other victims. D-16 relaxed a bit and returned to his outcrop, taking care to drill around the obsidian deposit. 

——

Four hours later, the day’s operations came to a close with the beginning of the work curfew. Enacted by Cybertron’s Senate, the work curfew forbade any extra work-related activity after a certain hour, put in place to prevent ‘bots from overextending themselves beyond their capabilities, potentially damaging themselves in the process. To most of the working class, however, it was simply a means to cap the workers’ salaries by reducing hours. 

The Kaon foremen, Nitro among them, lined up the miners for an end-of-the-day speech before they were sent home. Sureshock, another of the foremen, stepped forward. 

“You scraplets did alright today. We’re back at optimal proficiency. But tomorrow starts a new work order, put in place by the energy commission themselves: double the output, double the depth.”

Murmurs echoed throughout the cave as the miners questioned what Sureshock was relaying. One spoke up from the back.

“Are we gonna work past the curfew?”

Sureshock didn’t look towards the inquisitive miner and continued pacing in front of the lineup.

“Same hours.”

Frustrated shouts swiftly replaced the quiet uncertainty. The miners began protesting the absurd requirements. One stepped forward: D-16. He spoke above the crowd, directing all his volume towards the foremen.

“We don’t have the botpower and we especially don’t have the skill with all the newbies you’re throwing in. How on Cybertron are you expecting us to make this new quota?”

The rest of the miners cheered in agreement with D-16. Nitro stepped forward, feeling a sense of obligation as D-16 was part of his sector. He pushed past Sureshock and stood in front of D-16.

“Get back in line, D-16.”

D-16 stood his ground. He dug his heel into the soft sediment of the cave floor. He looked Nitro directly in his single-eye.

“I am D-16 no longer. My name is Megatron.”

The miners behind D-16 quieted down, shocked at their comrade’s sudden insubordination. Nitro chuckled and stepped closer.

“I said,” Nitro’s face moved closer to D-16’s, “Step. Back. D-16.”

Nitro placed a hand on D-16’s chest and shoved him back. Immediately, D-16 retaliated, lunging forward towards Nitro.

“MY NAME…IS MEGATRON!”

The two began brawling in the cave, crashing into pillars of stone and wrestling into equipment. Nitro clearly had the upper hand when it came to strength and size but Megatron pounded at the bigger ‘bot with tenacity and raw fury. Foremen immediately ran into the escalating conflict to separate Nitro from his worker. The miners in turn went towards Megatron and tried to calm him down.

Radioed in by Sureshock in the ensuing chaos, two large security detail ‘bots stormed into the cave and immediately honed in on Megatron. One grabbed the miner’s arms and held them behind his back while the other brandished an energy baton.

Megatron struggled in the grasp of the security enforcer before his vision faded as he was knocked unconscious by the swing of the other’s bat.

——

The piercing buzz of an alarm woke Megatron from his stasis. The door outside his cell unlocked and a red-and-white security ‘bot stepped forward into the room. Holding the door behind him, he was followed by a visitor: Orion Pax. The security ‘bot closed the door behind them, locking it securely, before stepping forward and deactivating the door to Megatron’s cell. 

“Your bail’s been posted, D-16,” the security ‘bot uttered. Megatron looked up at Orion who was shooting the miner a concerned look. Megatron stood up from the cell’s recharge slab and exited, Orion following suit. Once outside, the two began to speak.

“What happened, D?” Orion asked with an immense concern Megatron had never heard before. Megatron shook his head and then chuckled to himself.

“A simple mistake,” he uttered back. “A lapse in judgement. One I don’t plan to make again.”

Orion sighed and placed a concerning hand on Megatron’s shoulder. 

“This ‘simple mistake’ cost you your job, D. You’re lucky I convinced Nitro not to press charges.”

Megatron perked up. It wasn’t his sudden unemployment that caught his attention, but Orion vouching for his character and paying his bail admittedly got to the former miner. 

“Thank you for this, Orion. I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me. I’m sorry to drag you into this mess.”

Orion stared compassionately as his friend slowly regained his composure back. He knew D-16 wasn’t a criminal, but he worried for him. With a dangerous former career and an uncertain future ahead of him, it was up to Orion to steer him back on a steady path.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back on your feet soon.”

He smiled and playfully slapped Megatron on the back.

“Now come on, let’s go to Maccadam’s. You can pay me back with a drink, D.”

The two shared a joyous laugh, but Megatron stopped, feeling the need to softly address Orion’s unintentional mistake.

“I actually, uh, changed my name Orion. I’m no longer D-16. I’d like to go by Megatron now.”

Orion stopped and looked at his friend quizzically, before continuing to laugh jollily. 

“Haha, Cybertron’s Biggest History Nerd at it again! Come on then, Megatron. Maccadam’s awaits.”

[transformersclandestine]

First Steps

“It is difficult for organics to remember their beginnings. From the moment you are born, you’re growing, changing, evolving into who you will eventually become at the apex of your lifetimes. But for us Cybertronians, for all mechanical life, the moment we are born is the beginning of the rest of our lives…”

——

The heating system began to cool off. Armatures that once carried the newborn life folded away out of use. In the center of what was shaped like a large coffin sat a pulsating mound of living metal: sentio metallico, the very fiber of every Cybertronian’s body. Inside this body pulsed the beating, electrical heart that provided the essence of who this ‘bot would become: the spark.

Terminus, blacksmith of the Kaon hot spot, twirled his instruments impatiently. This was not his first forging, but it was an odd case of a spark taking longer than expected to form the sentio metallico around it into a protoform. As a blacksmith, it was Terminus’ job to guide this spark along and help shape it into a final form, complete with an efficient alternate mode. As Kaon was a heavy mining town, it was expected that this protoform, Terminus’ 16th forged this hepta-cycle, would also be formatted into a ready-to-go worker. Right as Terminus’ patience with the protoform was reaching its boiling point, the living metal ball shifted and pulsed. Points began forming, shaping into limbs, a torso, and a head. Terminus got to work. The forceps he had been clicking to himself whisked into the still-malleable sentio metallico. Concentrating, he flicked and manipulated. Forming the body of a strong, miner-type ‘bot required precision and concentration, but to a blacksmith as tenured as Terminus, it was merely second nature. To some Cybertronians, the art of blacksmithing was holy work, garnished by the will of Primus Himself. To the faithful, blacksmiths were the crafters of life; the engineers responsible for bringing Primus’ ideals and hopes to physical form. To the blacksmiths themselves, especially Terminus and those working in the more rural areas of Cybertron, it was simply work.

The forging of the protoform did not take too long, Terminus’ skills made sure of that. Upon completion, Terminus stood back and let the protoform’s spark take over.

——

It seemed at first, a flash; a pulse, somewhere in the distance beyond his sight. Not that he had sight, for the world beyond him did not exist: it was nothing. No color, no sound, nor smell existed. Until all at once and without warning, it did.

His mind struggled to comprehend. The complex shapes and images that suddenly assaulted his newly-forged senses were overwhelming. After a short time, things began to fade into view. His electro-synapses that were sparking wildly just moments ago calmed themselves into a distinct rhythm. The feeling…the feeling was strange. He didn’t know it, but he was alive.

He spoke. His first words were a question.

“What is this? Who am I?”

Terminus did not look up from his tool box, of which he was packing up after a forge well done. He had gotten used to the protoforms asking questions immediately upon birth. It was much preferable to the diode-splitting screams from his earlier forging days, before modern tools made the process much more stable. Without looking, he responded.

“Your designation is D-16. And this is the world. Welcome to it.”

D-16 swiveled his head in an artificial manner, not used to the movement of body parts and seeing the new world around him. He took in a view that admittedly wasn’t very pleasant. The hot spot he was born in was a rather dark, damp hydroswamp. A sizzling pool of some vicious green liquid sat some distance behind Terminus. The soil beneath his blacksmith’s servos sank in slightly and the air was filled with steaming fog from the pious pool. The protoform tried to move his lower limbs. His legs swung out of his forging container awkwardly. They tried in vain to take a first step, but his foot spun to the side and he lost balance. Thankfully, Terminus had caught him on the descent.

“Easy there,” he said to D-16, who didn’t seem to notice any issues, “first steps are usually the hardest. Best to take it slow.”

D-16 looked at Terminus with newborn awe.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Terminus helped the ‘bot to his feet before holding out his hand. “Terminus. I’m your blacksmith.”

D-16 didn’t reciprocate the intended handshake. Instead, he began studying Terminus’ extended hand, almost as if he were uncovering a lost artifact from a time beyond. Terminus relaxed his hand and rotated it, palm outstretched.

“Come,” he said calmly to the intrigued newborn who placed his own hand in Terminus’, “I’ll show you your new world.”

——

Terminus led his curious protoform out of the hydroswamp. Though the swamp sat not far from the gates of nearby Kaon, the journey took longer than expected due to the newborn’s insistent fascination with the new world he had found himself in. Every particle, element, and facet of the world piqued his curiosity and Terminus had to gently coerce him more than a handful of times to keep moving. 

The gates of Kaon were industrial in design, owing to the polity’s penchant for blue-collar work. Large spires of crystallized Energon, lifestuff of Cybertron, mounted the archway into the city. This too fascinated D-16 and he stopped short once again to gaze at the structure before him. This time, Terminus did not interrupt. The sight of Kaon’s gate was indeed one to behold. Outside the gate, a large mining vehicle with a conical drill puttered forward before suddenly shifting into the form of a robot. This took D-16’s attention more than anything they had encountered thus far. He uttered an excited and amazed phrase as the ‘bot greeted him with a kind smile and wave before going on his way. D-16 mimed the motion and turned awestruck back to Terminus who looked on with a bemused expression. 

“What was that?” D-16 asked his de-facto tour guide.

“That’s a fellow miner,” Terminus answered back. “What he did was transform. It’s something we all can do. Watch.”

In the flick of an optic, Terminus reconfigured his body into a similar-looking mining vehicle. D-16 gazed in amazement, then looked down at his hands and clenched. Nothing happened. Shifting his servos ever so slightly, D-16 tried again. This time, he could feel the surge of energy flowing through his circuits and he too transformed into a vehicle of similar design.

“This…is…AMAZING!”, he cried out in joy. The young ‘bot spun around in vehicle mode, kicking up dust and dirt, having a blast in doing so. Terminus transformed back to robot mode and smiled. Seeing the newly forged ‘bots discover their inner purpose was one thing he could never get tired of.

——

As Terminus and D-16 ventured further into the polity of Kaon, the newborn’s eagerness to learn grew and grew. Though this wasn’t Terminus’ first rodeo with an extremely inquisitive protoform, he had to admit that D-16’s curiosity rivaled all of his former protégés combined. He tried in vain to answer everything D-16 asked but the rate of questions was becoming overwhelming. Stopping short of the entrance to the Kaon mineshafts, he held up a hand to D-16, who had begun to ask why the ground was getting rougher.

“Hey, kid. That’s enough,” Terminus said sternly, “I know it’s a brand new world to you and that everything has a story behind it, but I’m just your blacksmith, alright? I don’t have all the answers. I’m only here with you because we needed help down in the mines.”

D-16 stopped walking, stunned and slightly hurt, but understanding. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry.”

Terminus relaxed his hand and placed it comfortingly on D-16’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I apologize too. Like I said, everything’s new to you. I shouldn’t be so harsh. You’re just…way more questioning than any other protoform I’ve helped forge.”

The older ‘bot led D-16 into the Kaon mines’ opening. The entrance was a natural cave, a stark contrast to the metallically paved roads that led to it. Purple streaks of residual Energon lined the walls and acted as guide lights for the ‘bots that entered.

“These are the mines of Kaon, your new workplace.” Terminus explained. As they walked further in, D-16 noticed plenty of other ‘bots similar in shape to him and Kaon using tools to crack rocks. Some had found solidified purple crystals inside and began loading them into bins. 

“Energon is the lifeblood of this planet. It’s our fuel, our food, and our livelihood,” Terminus continued, “What you do here helps not only yourself but every ‘bot on the planet. They all rely on you - on us - to keep Cybertron operational.”

It was there, in that moment, that it all began to make sense to D-16. His childlike curiosity had suddenly become burdened with the weight of Terminus’ words. Though D-16 did not fully understand why, it was clear that this task he was built for was something far grander than he had been expecting. He clenched his fist and glanced confidently at Terminus.

“Then I’ll do my part,” D-16 said, “Cybertron will survive so long as I am in this mine.”

Terminus chuckled at D-16’s newfound confidence.

The mine’s newest worker picked up the closest pickaxe and began chipping away at the rock foundations before them. Confident in another successful forging and introduction to society, Terminus began to leave D-16 to his new life. Before he got too far however, he heard D-16 utter one last question.

“Terminus, are you happy with your work?”

It stopped the old teacher dead in his tracks. For the first time, he was presented with a question he could not answer easily. It took him a minute to think, before he looked back to D-16 with a smile.

“As long as it’s for the good of Cybertron, then yes” he answered.

D-16 returned the smile and eagerly returned to his work. Before long, he had struck a small purple crystal in his rock outcropping. He excitedly pulled it from the formation and placed it aside in a small bin.

Terminus began to leave again before stopping once more. He reached into a containment pocket in his chest and pulled out a small clear file card. 

“Hey, kid!” Terminus called back to D-16. When the young ‘bot looked up, he tossed the card and D-16 caught it. 

“My Iacon Vaults card. Greatest repository of knowledge on Cybertron. If you’re ever curious about anything, they’re sure to have your answers.”

D-16 clenched the card close to his chest and nodded to Terminus. The two exchanged respectful glances before the blacksmith turned away and left D-16 to his work. The newly forged miner likewise returned to his work, blissfully chipping away at a new outcropping of rocks.

——

The halls of the Iacon Vaults were unlike anything D-16 had seen before. Whereas his first steps into Kaon blinded him with a flurry of grungy, hardened architecture, Iacon’s premiere data archiving library was seemingly sculpted by the hand of Primus Himself. The front entrance sprang from a large, crystalline structure, rounded at the end with a welcoming presence. It felt almost sacrilegious to D-16 to even walk these halls, as nearly every crystal detail was polished and clean. At the back of the building, D-16 could spot what appeared to be flight bays welcoming in and seeing off dozens of flying ‘bots and smaller cargo ships. The Vaults were humming with activity today.

Inside, the grandiose display didn’t simmer. Lining the walls were racks and racks of servers, each blinking with a dazzling display of lights of every color. In contrast to the outside hustle, the inside of the Vaults were strangely empty. Not a single soul lingered in the halls and all D-16 could hear were the soft buzzing of the servers operating. Alone at the front’s information desk sat a broad-shouldered, red-and-blue ‘bot carefully scanning over an assortment of data pads. Upon noticing D-16’s approach, he quickly stood up and gave a warmly inviting smile. 

“Welcome to the Iacon Vaults. My name is Orion Pax. What can I help you find?"