The following story started off simply, and has grown into something of a scale and duration I never expected. It has been shaped directly thanks to the input and inspiration of the fanfic board readers. Please read, comment and inspire. Thank you.

This story begins in the middle of the G1 cartoon episode War Dawn, is based on this episode’s circumstances, and attempts to explain some nagging questions created by this episode. The story fits within the Generation 1 cartoon, comic and Beast era continuities (but does not feature BW characters) and mixes in some miscellaneous Transformers lore. Later chapters also reference events from the episode "The Search for Alpha Trion".

If you aren't familiar with the "War Dawn" episode, click here for a YouTube clip.

Comments are welcome and appreciated.


Before the Dawn – Part 1

An Autobot sat next to the outer door holding his severed leg in his lap.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered as he reached down to his distressed limb and fumbled for the tube that was leaking lubricant on the floor.

Alpha Trion lifted his foot from the puddle as the outer door shut behind him. “No need to apologize.” He turned to one of the larger medicroid drones tending to the wounded. “ML-27, bring a clamp for this patient now, and clean up the mess.” The drone complied.

Alpha walked past the clusters of battered and crushed Autobots crowding the front foyer and the inner lab. When he first heard explosions 20 breems ago, Alpha had sent out drones from his hermitage to collect the wounded from the battlefield. Now, the ground level of his laboratory was filled with the barely functional.

“Make do. Wait your turn. The medicroids work slow, but efficiently. You’ll all be repaired,” Alpha told the room at large.

“And then what?” someone said, and coughed up a burst of static.

“Yes, where will we go?”

Alpha didn’t answer. Hermit might be a pejorative word, but it suited him. He wasn’t prepared for this sudden invasion of beings into his home. Where was this discomfort coming from? A quick diagnostic of his cerebral net revealed that his self-inflicted seclusion had developed an agoraphobic subroutine in his personality processor. He would run a diagnostic and deal with it later.

“You can’t stay here,” Alpha said quietly, and the floor of the laboratory shook from some distant explosion.

Alpha looked down at the face of the young bot in arms. Orion Pax was one of hundreds, perhaps thousands, wounded in today’s hostilities. A current of anger pulsed down Alpha’s manifold. All of this was needless, avoidable.

He placed Pax on the diagnostic table and flipped a switch. Crab-like medicroids dropped down from their ceiling docks onto Pax’s body and connected life support cables to his critical junctions.

“Complete diagnostic scan,” Alpha commanded the computer. The scan would be the final word if Pax’s form could be repaired. Alpha stepped to a separate console across the room and pulled up schematic files of body forms he had on file. It would take about two cycles to fabricate one of them using the automated forges located on the underground levels.

A ringing tone signaled that the scan was complete. Alpha called up the results on his console and read through the disheartening outcome. Pax’s alloy skin was visibly scorched and damaged; the scan found microscopic fractures had formed where the alloy had been flash-heated, then cooled quickly, resulting in a brittle consistency throughout his form. Alpha placed his hand on the bot’s leg and squeezed gently, then released in surprise when the metal cracked under his touch.

That was just Pax’s epidermis. There was extensive internal damage inside his small form. From his cerebral processor to his leg cydraulics, nearly every diode and interlink was either fused or melted through.

These wounds were caused by a weapon Alpha had not personally witnessed in use, but he had seen similar damage marring the corpses the drones had taken below. How this young, unremarkable bot had survived not one, but two blasts from a fusion cannon at such close range was a miracle from Primus himself. The fact his spark hadn’t dissipated immediately after the attack was statistically improbable, and yet here he was.

Alpha looked down at Pax’s slack face. “You are blessed or lucky, young bot, or both.”

Fixing the existing parts would be impossible; the components were too damaged to repair. Orion Pax needed complete reformatting.

Alpha turned back to the schematics console. On a whim, he called up the directory of new battle configurations he had designed. These body designs were so new that none of the Elders on the Council had seen them. He’d made some technical breakthroughs in the past three stellar cycles since his proposal for new Autobot warriors had been rejected by the Elders. His discovery of cydraulic system miniaturization, a process that could put the energy of a Guardian robot into a body one-eighth the size, was integrated in the new, battle-ready form on his screen now -- perfect for future Autobot warriors.

“Autobot warrior, oxymoron,” Alpha mused sadly to himself. Regardless of strength and weaponry, would he find anyone with the will to fight, to endure the hardships of war among the labor droids and civilians that wore the Autobot symbol?

“Let’s get on with it. Now, where did I put that…oh yes,” Alpha picked up a disjoiner tool and used it to peel away the distressed alloy from Pax’s chest.

The diagnostic scan confirmed Pax was in stasis lock, but he was still in danger. It would take much delicate work to disengage his vital systems from his spark chamber without killing him, more delicate than the medicroids could manage. If the regulators on Pax’s spark chamber sensed catastrophic distress or power loss, it would compensate with the spark energy itself. Too much power drain then spark would dissipate and the essence of Orion Pax would be lost.

The viewer behind him chimed to indicate an incoming message. Alpha turned away from his work and pressed the acceptance toggle. The face of Xaaron materialized in front of him.

“A-3, I know you don’t like visitors but I need to see you.”

“The door’s locked, old friend. I’ll be right there.”

Xaaron rushed inside and Alpha met him at the door. “Who are those bots sitting outside–” He looked around the crowded room and turned to Alpha in shock.

“I heard about the attacks on the monitors, but I didn’t know it was this bad. No one knows it’s this bad. Why are they here?”

“I sent my drones out for them,” Alpha said.

“You say you want to stay out of things, but you can’t, can you? So, it’s going to be war? It’s happening just as you predicted, isn’t it?”

“No, not quite. I didn’t expect it to be this swift, or this cruel.”

“But it’s happening. Are you watching the monitors?”

“I don’t need the monitors. I’ve got plenty of distractions here.” Alpha handed Xaaron a diagnostic wand and a surgical probe. “Be of some use. Do some triage.”

“This faction is organized, attacking key points, infrastructure. It seems their main target is energy stores, and they don’t take prisoners.” Xaaron said as he waved the wand over an Autobot who was twitching violently. “They’ve been identified by markings…Decepticons. Is that historical irony, or bad taste?”

Alpha slammed a disjoiner down on the tabletop in anger. “Neither. What else do your sources say?”

“Security officers have managed to capture some rebels, but the only thing the captives say is some rambling pledge of allegiance to their leader, Megatron. The bastard attacks civilians with a fusion canon.”

Alpha heard a rustling on the table behind him. So, now he knew the name of the culprit behind Pax’s brutal wounds.

“Wait a moment,” He stepped back over to the work table. Pax was trembling; his small hands clenched and his optics fluttered. The force of spark, the same spirit Alpha had sensed earlier when the strange, winged bots had brought Pax to him, was still stirring inside this wreckage. It surprised and impressed him a second time.

“Don’t wake, young bot,” Alpha said. “You can’t endure this level of pain.” He cut the damaged linkage between Orion’s central processor and his laser core, forcing him back into stasis lock.

Alpha turned back to his visitor. “Megatron, did you say? I don’t recognize the name.”

“He is a virtual unknown. Some security warrants were circulated for him in the past stellar cycle, but my sources don’t know anything else. What news from the Elders?”

Alpha bristled. “The Elders don’t call me anymore. They told me they don’t need my advice. And I’m the eldest of them all,” he muttered the last bit to himself.

“Sorry to open up an old wound. I assumed they would have called you at a time like this, when your predictions were so on the mark.” Xaaron said as he placed the probe on a sensitive junction. His patient stopped twitching. “Looks like I still have some memory of my field medic training.”

“Hmmm,” Alpha said, glancing at Pax’s form. “I do have other things to attend to so if you–”

“I have political news,” Xaaron interrupted.

“Ah. Here’s the real reason for your visit.”

“They’ve asked me to take your place on the council,” Xaaron said after a moment’s hesitation.

“You have my sympathies.”

“Heh. I spent the last cycle debating if I should tell you myself, or let you hear through the nets.”

“In all truth, I can’t imagine anyone else who could do the job as competently as I did,” Alpha said.

“And yet you were dismissed from the position. You set the bar low for me, old bot.”

“Careful.”

“If they ask about you, what should I tell them?”

“Tell the Elders I’m sitting in a dark corner polishing my guns.”

“In all seriousness, I haven’t given them my answer yet. What would you advise?”

“At a time like this, the council needs as many sensible voices that it can get, to drown out Tomaandi and the other fools. Are you going to stay here and help?”

“Security forces set up barricades outside your sector just before they sent in the Guardians. I barely made it here, and I doubt my chances of getting out safely. I’ll stay, but only if you promise not to treat me like another drone.”

“You better stay. I don’t need another wounded Autobot leaking all over my lab, especially the newest member of the Elder Council.”

“If this war is unfolding like you predicted, soon nowhere will be safe,” Despite his tone, Xaaron smiled. “I can see your rusty cogs turning behind your optics. What are you doing?”

“I need to get back to my work.” Alpha strode back to the table. The lights inside his lab flickered and the floor beneath his feet shuddered as he scooped Pax up and walked to the lift.

“Where are you going?”

“Down,” Alpha said as he stepped inside. “This one is a special case.”

The lift took the pair down to the forge level. Alpha put Pax on a table, but before he picked up a tool again, Alpha pulled up the schematic files again on the closest terminal. In the face of such impending danger, he could not compute why the Council of Elders had rejected his warrior designs, and his call to recruit a standing army. They preferred to deny the evidence of a possible rebellion. They dismissed the fact that the entire region of Kaon had been overrun and Autobot security forces, those that survived the brutality, had been driven out.

We’ll let them have Kaon, Elder Tomaandi had declared at Alpha’s last visit to a council meeting. That will satisfy them.

The sound of an explosion, closer than the last barrage, caught Alpha’s attention. That was not the sound of satisfaction.

There was no denying the evidence of war now, but the more pressing issue was, were the Autobots too late to save themselves?

He looked back at the design; he had code-named this first one “optimal.” It was a powerful configuration, perhaps the most powerful he’d designed, but had not yet fabricated. He called up the fabricating queue for the mechanized forge on his terminal and reviewed all of the current jobs for replacement limbs and parts for the wounded. None were vital. Alpha halted the queue and entered both the optimal form and the specs of Pax’s body into the forge’s processor.

He wanted to know this Orion Pax better before he made any firm decisions.

After a few short junctions made by the medicroids, Alpha replaced Pax’s burnt out vocal processor with a refurbished unit. He made sure the sensory dampeners were suppressing any pain data from Pax’s consciousness, then reconnected Pax’s laser core and central processor. Pax’s optics flashed and winked out, then flashed again and remained lit, albeit dimly. Alpha leaned over the table into the Autobot’s field of vision as he came out of stasis lock.

“Hello, young bot. I’ve severed the connections between your extremities and your central processor, and engaged sensory dampeners, but some data will still seep through to your consciousness. Do you understand?”

The servos in Pax’s neck twitched, but Alpha was not sure if the movement had any meaning. He simplified his question.

“Pax, are you in pain?”

“Pain,” Orion whispered with considerable effort.

“Is the pain tolerable?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Alpha. Your friends brought you to me. It seems you were attacked and left for dead.”

“My friends…”

“Yes, the fellows with wings are fine. They brought you here.”

“Wings? I…I cannot sense…why can’t I sense anything?”

“I’ve shut off almost every system in your body except your central processor. You’re going to need a refit.”

“Refit…” he trailed off.

“There’s not enough undamaged material left of your form to repair.”

“How…this happened. I can’t remember.”

“It was within the last cycle or so at the river docks.”

“At the docks, my friends…You must help my friends!” Pax’s voice broke with static and his optics fluttered.

“The winged fellows are fine.”

“No…not them. My friends at the docks. They were attacked!”

“Oh, they will be retrieved later.”

“Now. Fix them now.”

“If they are in similar condition as you, then a simple fix will be insufficient.”

“Get them. Repair them first, before me.”

“They will be cared for.”

“Repair them first.”

“My friend, I can guarantee that they will-“

“Repair them first,” Pax demanded again.

“Why?”

“Please.”

“Tell me why I should repair them before you.”

“Please.”

This Pax was stubborn, Alpha thought. “Tell me.”

“They’re in pain.”

“You are in pain.”

“Repair them, please.”

“Stop that now. No one else is here. No one else will be impressed.”

“Impressed? I don’t understand.”

“Your selflessness, it won’t impress anyone. It’s just you and me here.”

“I want you to help them. I don’t care...what anyone else thinks.”

“Pax, do you trust me?”

“How can I trust you? I don’t know you.”

“You have to trust that I intend to help you. The console in front of me controls the support systems that are keeping you alive.” Alpha said. “I can flip a switch-”

“Then do it,” Pax interrupted, “shut me down, if that’s what you want.”

Alpha laughed. “One moment you want to live, and the next you want to die.”

“I’ve been threatened enough today.” The static in Pax’s voice indicated exhaustion.

Alpha lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to threaten you. Let me finish. I meant to say that I can extinguish you with a flip of the switch, but why would I? I’m here to help you. You need to trust that I will help your friends, too, but only when I’m finished with you. One at a time.”

“You don’t know me. Why would you repair a stranger?”

Alpha chuckled as he cut away Pax’s inner chest plate. “If I only help the bots I know, I wouldn’t help anyone. Is your pain still tolerable?”

“Most of it.”

“I can turn up the dampener sig-”

“It’s not that kind of pain,” Pax interrupted.

Pax’s anguish over his friends was causing his systems much stress and exacerbating his precarious condition. Alpha continued his work disconnecting the junctions between Pax’s spark chamber and his other bodily systems. The work was delicate. One mistake could short out his processor and extinguish his spark. He would be in less danger if he was in stasis lock during the procedure, but then he couldn’t speak. Alpha grimaced at the dilemma. Haste was required.

“What were you doing at the shipping docks?”

“What?”

“The winged fellows said they brought you here from the shipping docks at the river. Why were you there?”

“I supervise loading and unloading of shipments from the energy plants downriver.”

“For how long?”

“I’ve been shipping supervisor for three stellar cycles.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for one young Autobot to handle himself.”

“It’s not hard, not much of a challenge.”

“You want to be challenged?”

Pax let out a weak laugh. “I told the dock foreman last stellar cycle I wanted a more challenging job, more responsibilities. He told me to shut up and do what I was programmed to do.”

“That’s typical Autobot thinking. If we all only did what we were programmed to do you and I wouldn’t be here. We’d be working on a Quintesson assembly line until our limbs fell off.”

“Quintesson?”

“You don’t know about Quintessons?

“No.”

“What do they teach in schools these days?” Alpha muttered to himself. “The old masters, the usurpers. They were the enemy in the first Great War, the revolution that freed all Cybertronians.”

“They didn’t use drones for that kind of work?”

“Back then we were the drones. If you didn’t operate within a certain percentage of peak efficiency the Quints beat you and then dragged you off to be melted down,” Alpha paused in his work. “I lost many friends that way, many friends. The only way I continued to function was to stop just following programming. But the memory of my friends made me hesitate. I had to put them out of my mind.”

“Don’t ask me to do that. I can’t stop thinking about them.”

“Can you remember the one who tried to kill you?”

Pax’s answer was hesitant, grave. “Yes.”

Alpha pushed one of the medicroids aside and started to sever the connections of Pax’s regulatory systems. “What’s your opinion of him?”

“I-I don’t want to think about him.”

“He has changed your existence forever. To not think about him is to deny reality. If you do that, you will not recover.”

“He is…a monster.”

“He is a Cybertronian like you and me, monstrous or otherwise.”

“No, not like me. I’m not a soldier. I’m not his enemy!”

“Yes, you are.”

“How? How could that possibly be true?”

“You live and believe as you do. Because you live for purposes other than his.”

“How could he exist?”

“His nature isn’t far from yours and mine.”

“I can’t believe he…I don’t want to talk anymore,” Pax said.

“Then rest.”

Alpha stepped back to the console and flipped the switches that lit the rest of the level. Power coursed through the forge’s superconductors. New alloys and parts of the two forms were nearing completion.

Alpha glanced over at the lift. In the lowest level of his lab complex, a hundred meters below his feet, was a locked chamber that he hadn’t opened in centuries. It contained the most precious artifact to all Autobot-kind. At the moment, that artifact sat useless on a pedestal in a locked room.

It had been given to Alpha Trion for safekeeping, not for use. He had been tempted to access its power, but he knew such an attempt would most likely be unsuccessful. History proved that the artifact had a will of its own, and picked its own successor.

But deep inside his spark, Alpha harbored a deep, internal disappointment. The Matrix of Leadership had been passed to him, and yet he could not wield it. Did it find him wanting in some way? Unworthy?

Perhaps.

Alpha looked back to the forge, but voiced his uncertainty aloud. “Will there ever be a Matrix-bearer again?”

Continued in Part 2

 

Very nice attempt at filling some gaps. I'm looking forward to part 2.

 

Marvelous! Yours is the first and only fanfic I've read. Can't wait until the next installment!!!

 

Excellent character development! More, I say! MORE!

 

Extremely well written! I'll be waiting for the next chapter as well.

 

Wow. VERY impressive start.  
Very atmospheric writing. I actually winced a little when you were describing Pax's wounds, even through he's a robot. It's also nice to see Optimus' trademark concern for others shining through in his conversation with Alpha Trion. And the dialouge was top notch stuff as well.

I'm subscribed and waiting for part two.

 

Before the Dawn: Part 2 (G1 cartoon fanfic)

Part 2

If Primus was good, he would let Alpha Trion meet the next Autobot leader to inherit the Matrix of Leadership before his own lifeforce fizzled and went back to the Well of All Sparks. Was that too much to ask after centuries of faithfully guarding the Matrix? Wasn’t this a fair request in exchange for a lifetime of service?

“If only the universe was fair,” Alpha muttered.

Mechanical arms released the outer shells of the two forms from the forge crucibles. Coolant nozzles sprayed foam over their white-hot exteriors.

“Faster than I expected,” Alpha piled the parts for Pax’s copied form on one table, and let the medicroids begin the assembly. On the other table he piled the parts for the new optimal form and began connecting linkages himself.

A new thought gave him pause.

What kind of hell would the Council, or even a friend like Xaaron, raise if they knew what he was doing? They would accuse Alpha of treason, of building his own private army, of undermining the existing security forces, or worse.

Pax’s situation had come upon him abruptly, before he had time to formulate contingencies for going forward with such a plan outside of official Autobot channels.

Alpha had no desire to command troops again, but he had even less desire to play father to any of the bots he rebuilt and sent to the front lines. And who was he to craft this bot into a powerful construct, and then set him loose with no knowledge of how to use this power?

He still had options. There were two new forms, after all. If he had doubts about Pax, the optimal form could be placed in storage, and Pax could continue on with his old life, or whatever this new war would let him have, in the body similar to his previous form.

Distracted by this new wave of doubts, Alpha put his tools down and stroked his beard. He segmented a small portion of his own processor and dedicated it to compute practical answers to these questions, and set the rest of his attention back on the assembly.

The medicroids finished connecting the internal infrastructure, the skeleton of the optimal form, when the viewer flashed with an incoming message. Alpha waved his hand to accept it.

The polished face of Elder Tomaandi materialized. “Trion, have you heard from the security commander in your sector? He isn’t answering my calls.”

This was absolutely the last being on Cybertron Alpha wanted to speak to right now. He put the joiner down as inconspicuously as he could.

“Not recently.”

“No one responds at security headquarters. The Council needs a status report of the rioting on that side of the city.”

“The most likely answer is the sector security station has been attacked and the force stationed there are all dead.”

“No need to exaggerate. This particular outbreak is larger than the others, but nothing so severe to lead me to conclude-”

“What conclusion can you draw from the fifty wounded Autobots in my foyer room, Tomaandi? And the sparkless hundreds my drones left in the open because it was too late to help them?” Alpha nearly lost control of his tone.

“Don’t start preaching at me, Trion. I had my fill of your prophecies in the council sessions, and so did the other Elders. The Council is handling this.”

“How?”

“The security forces are containing this riot and the Guardians have-”

“The Guardians were designed to herd crowds of unarmed slaves, not to defend against guerilla warfare. We need to recruit ground troops to protect Iacon. Let the Guardian robots do the defending and get Autobot troops to do your real fighting. Who is in command?”

“Don’t group together coordinated terrorist attacks and call them a war, Trion. That’s taking advantage of the situation to fit your own personal theories -- theories that were rejected by every military-minded Council member.”

“There are no military-minded Council members. Who is in command?”

“The Council is.”

“Then who is coordinating the security force deployment?”

“The Council.”

“Who is the security commander?”

“That is unimportant. The Council dictates security policy, therefore we command the security forces.”

“You’re running a war by committee. Perfect. As Chief Elder, do you cast the deciding vote on the terms of Autobot surrender?”

There were a few moments of silence before Tomaandi spoke again. “I thought isolation would have pacified you in some way. How foolish of me. I won’t make the mistake of calling on you again.” The screen went blank.

“Fool,” Alpha growled.

“He didn’t sound happy with you. He’s a Council member?” Pax asked.

“Oh yes. I know all the Elders, and I can tell you that few have any sense whatsoever. I used to be a member of the Council, until they asked me to leave. They said I’m an alarmist, a warmonger. Well, you heard him yourself.”

“You really think this is war? It was just one attack on an energon storage hanger.”

“The Decepticons hit more than just your hanger, Pax. There were coordinated attacks all over the state, and they’re still happening. The unrest in Kaon over the last few stellar cycles, the repetition of attacks, the targets. This is war.”

“You were a soldier once. Is that how you know?”

“I was a soldier long time ago. I fought with the hope that something greater would come after me.”

“If you used to be a soldier and an Elder, why are you here now, repairing me?”

“I’m a bystander, just an advisor. But there aren’t many mechanisms that want my advice these days. This is the place where I can do the most good. Your new form is almost complete. I need you to-”

“I am not like him,” Pax said.

“Who?”

“Him, the one who attacked me. You said I was like him. His name was-”

“Of course you are like him,” Alpha responded. “You have the potential to let life flourish, or to actively destroy it. Each of us chooses a way, and tragedy or joy is the byproduct.”

“We are not the same! He inflicts tragedy on others.”

“Again, a byproduct of life, of choice.”

“Dion said the Guardians could protect us. Why didn’t they stop him?”

“The Guardians weren’t designed to protect us from these kinds of attacks, Pax. I know. I helped reprogram them after we won our freedom from the Quints. The Guardians are good defenders, some of the ones that patrol the outer cities even have sparks and sentience. But they have their weaknesses, and they cannot protect every Autobot everywhere at all moments.”

“But why me? Why my friends?”

“Why not you?”

“Don’t say that to me. That’s not an answer. ”

Alpha paused in his work and looked over to the unmoving form that still housed Pax’s spark. The scorched parts had been pulled away and just a bare, vulnerable collection of cydraulic shafts and wires remained of the young bot’s body.

“Orion, I have been in the presence of Vector Sigma itself, and asked that same question, the question of existence. Why tragedy? Why suffering? Why now and not later? Why this being and not that one? I presented every possible variable to it for analysis, and the answer it gave me was…unexpected.”

“What was it?”

“The answer won’t satisfy you.”

“I want to know.”

Alpha leaned over the young bot. “What do you think Vector Sigma said?”

"It said what you said. We must live, and even fight, in the hope of something greater coming after us.”

Alpha turned his back to the young bot and rubbed his beard. “Do you believe what you just said?”

“Yes, more than anything now.”

“Then you don’t need to know Vector Sigma’s answer.” Alpha stepped back to the table to finish the final linkage on the new form. Drones helped him seal the seams of the outer skin.

“You’re quiet now, friend. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m ashamed.”

“Why?”

“It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“I trusted Megatron. I let him into the storage hanger without even knowing who he was or what he wanted. I broke the security rules.”

“You have a trusting spark. It’s not a failing. It needs to be tempered with experience.”

“I neglected my duty because I…” Pax struggled with the word and finally spat it out, “…admired him. I was impressed by his power. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Your actions had consequences beyond your experience or processing capacity to predict.”

“That’s not an excuse. I know the difference between right and wrong.”

“It’s not your fault that your enemy is evil. You aren’t responsible for his decision to attack you. But it is your fault if you sit aside and do nothing when he threatens you.”

“You don’t understand. He did threaten me and I tried to stop him. Whatever I tried to do, it wasn’t enough. He flicked me away, like a piece of rust. I don’t think he even hesitated when he fired at me, or at Ariel.”

Alpha stood over Pax. “What if you had the power to stop him? What would you do?”

“Now?”

“Yes, what would you do now if you had the power now to stop him?”

“I don’t understand. How is that even possible?”

“Orion, you are an Autobot between two destinies. I have constructed two new forms in the lab here, and you have two choices. The first is, I give you a new form similar to your previous one. You might be able to assimilate back into the life you lived as a loading supervisor, if this war allows you to go back.”

“The second choice?”

“The second choice means accepting that the life you lived is over. You choose this new form. I designed it for combat, and gave it the tools for war. If you choose this form and you decide to fight you will experience terror and loss and pain more intense than you did today. When others rest during the quiet after battle, you will be preparing for the next. Victory will bring you fame, but you won’t be able to enjoy it. You will be asked to sacrifice yourself on many occasions and one of those occasions will likely extinguish you.”

Alpha paused. Pax said nothing so he continued, “You will be powerful, and at times vicious, but you will need to temper all with mercy. Cybertron will be united again in the future, but not until the enemy is brought down by force and compelled to see reason. I offer you power Pax, but power that must be wielded with mercy. It is your decision, but this is the moment to choose.”

Alpha paused again, but Pax remained silent.

“I know what you are thinking, because I had to make this choice myself. My enemies forced me to choose, much like your enemy has forced you into this moment now. Those who fight are the ones who feel that they must, so others won’t have to. You said it earlier. We fight in the hope that something greater will come after us. I can give you the power to exercise that hope. But it is your choice.”

Still, Pax did not speak.

To be continued...

 

Once again, very cool. Nice to see Alpha Trion being honest with Orion about what life in the Optimal body will be like. He certainly doesn't see the world through rose-tinted glasses, does he? 
Also interesting to see the council in such denial, and unable to adapt to the thought that their old way of life is basically over.

All in all.  

 

Part 3

“Perhaps you need more time to think.”

“No. I choose,” Pax said, finally. “I choose to fight, but I’m not worthy of what you want to give me.”

“Your answer tells me you’re worthy. I must put you in stasis lock now,” Alpha pressed the disjoiner to Pax’s laser core connection, and his optics winked out. Alpha then removed a strange device from a hidden compartment in the wall. He took great measures to keep this tool hidden, even from those he trusted.

It was a spark extractor.

He stood over Pax’s form and lowered the device downward, gingerly penetrating the spark compartment casing. Gripping the shining ball of light that was Pax’s life force, his essence, Alpha lifted the tool with a firm yank and brought the spark up from Pax’s chest. The form, now completely devoid of life, drooped against the tabletop.

With a soft step he moved to the tables and stood over the two forms. Pax had made his choice, but now Alpha had to decide. Did he trust the character of this young bot to use this power wisely? Justly? Indecision made him waver, but Vector Sigma’s answer to the question of existence flashed in his mind, the answer he did not tell Pax, the last answer Alpha expected from the most advanced intelligence on the planet, if not the known universe.

Vector Sigma said, “You must have faith.”

Alpha placed the spark inside the chamber of the optimal form, and released it. The chamber, made of an ultra-dense alloy, sealed itself shut. Within a second, the connection rods between the chamber and the form surrounding it shone brilliantly with the new presence, the new life force coursing through them. Every inch of the new form vibrated and expanded outward for a moment, as if inhaling life to capacity.

Alpha connected the laser core to the form’s central processor. The new optics flashed and shone steadily.

“Orion, can you hear me?”

“Yes.” The voice was much different than Pax’s previous form -- deep and resonant.

“Don’t attempt to move yet. I need to make a few adjustments.” With a wave of a tool, Alpha closed the seams in his chest compartment and made some final connections inside his neck joint.

“What is that?”

Alpha stood. “What is what?”

“What did you just do?”

“I made the final connections between your autonomic and voluntary cydraulic systems. You can move now, but don't.”

“My arms.” Orion clenched his right hand into a fist, and released.

"Stop moving."

He raised his hand and touched the mask across his face. “A mouthplate? Why?”

“The mask protects your face and your thoughts. The emotions of a soldier should be yours, and yours alone. You will share them with those you trust and keep them from those who don’t need to know your doubts. Put your arms down.”

“But it will isolate me, keep some from trusting me,” Pax said as he sat up.

“Trust takes work, and isolation is not altogether a bad thing. Lay down and wait a moment,” Alpha connected a wireless receiver to his head and called up the file names he had searched for previously. He then entered the download command.

The massive dump of information caught the new bot’s attention. He touched his temple. “That’s almost more data than I can process.”

“History of the past wars, tactics, battle strategies, close combat techniques. I’m giving you all the information I have about the complexity of conflict. You’ll have to consciously process it, of course. I’m also giving you the specs on the weapon I’ve designed for you.”

Pax shook his head. "I've never fired a weapon before."

“Then I suggest you review that data first. All of it should be useful, but only to a point. Your future battles will be different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your enemy is not like the enemies we Autobots faced in the Great Wars of the past. The Quintessons were cruel, but lazy. Their Dark Guardians were overcome through a combination of ingenuity and force. The Decepticons of previous centuries were focused on conquest. They wanted to rule all Cybertronians,” Alpha explained. “I’ve studied this new wave of tactics used by them and the weapons are more catastrophic, designed not for damage but for destruction. They don’t wish to rule over the Autobots. They want genocide.”

“Genocide. What can we possibly do to stop that?”

“Your enemy will teach you, as will your allies, as will history. Study what I gave you, and I suggest you volunteer for service at the local security command hub. My last diagnostic is done. You can get up.”

The young bot got up from the table and stood slowly. He stood on one leg, then the other, and then crouched low to the ground, placed his hand on the floor between his legs and straightened up. He rolled his head around on his neck joint, then lifted his hands and looked them over.

“These will be useful if I ever go back to my warehouse career.”

“Hmmm.”

“That was a joke.”

“Humorous."

Pax glanced over to the table where the last scraps of his old form were being collected by the drones. He looked at his hands again.

"The last diagnostic is clear. Your form is operating at peak efficiency, but there’s something missing. Oh yes,” Alpha went back into his storage room and lifted the new ion weapon from its case. The early tests proved the rifle’s power and accuracy. Not as vicious as a fusion canon, but destructive enough to stop an unshielded enemy with one shot. Securely in the hand of a soldier, the targeting sensors inside the weapon melded with the soldier’s optical system, assuring accuracy within a nanometer. Alpha desired that it was a bit lighter, but he hadn’t the time to swap out lighter parts.

He carried the weapon back into the lab over his shoulder. His new creation was leaning over the monitors, pressing buttons and sifting through the security reports.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting the knowledge you gave me to use. The fighting has spread to almost all the outskirt cities. Guardians are faltering and the security barricades have been breached,” he turned to Alpha. “I can see the pattern. The Decepticons are positioning themselves for an all-out attack on the energon-refining district.”

“They’ve made progress, too much progress. But your enemy is vulnerable after he thinks the battle is won. I’ve learned never hesitate to exploit overconfidence in my enemies,” Alpha said, handing him the weapon. His creation took it without straining at its weight.

“And a loss on one front could have a ripple effect and undermine the confidence of the Decepticon troops fighting at the other fronts,” the soldier said and paused for a moment to process. “The fighting at the riverfront docks is still severe. The entire sector is compromised. If I make it through the engagement line, could your drones follow me and take my friends out of there?”

Alpha hesitated. There were so many battles right now, so many other places that urgently needed defending. Time could not be wasted on trivial matters.

He looked into the soldier’s optics and chastised himself internally. He had given Pax knowledge of battle and strategy, and bestowed upon him a powerful form, but the same spark pulsed inside that broad chest. What better first mission for this new warrior than a mission of mercy?

“My drones will be sixty astroseconds behind you,” Alpha promised.

“Then let’s roll,” He started for the lift.

“Wait. One last adjustment.” Alpha pushed a button on the lab computer and held the wireless receiver against the warrior’s helmet. It accepted a short line of code into his cerebral processor, a cascading sequence of commands that would cause the memory files of the last 80 breems of this bot’s life to be stored back among his low priority files. It was the closest thing to amnesia for a Cybertronian brain. Within two solar cycles he would remember Alpha Trion with passing familiarity as an acquaintance, and nothing more.

When the transmission finished, Alpha shut down the connection, removed the receiver and then walked to the other side of the room to pick up a bag with his field repair tools.

“Stop, what is this…what did you just do to me? What is this code?” The soldier touched the side of his head.

Alpha turned in surprise. The code in that transmission was scrambled and hidden inside generic operating instructions. How could he have been conscious of it? Alpha frowned and chided himself again for underestimating his creation. This Autobot was perceptive in so many ways. He certainly defied prediction.

“It’s a repression code. It will de-prioritize any memories you have of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You heard my discussion with Elder Tomaandi. I’m unpopular with the Council. I don’t want you hindered because of your connection to me.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have confidence you will accomplish great things. Your configuration alone will make you stand out among your fellow Autobots. But any loyalty you may show to me will only stifle your future. You’ll need a new name, a new identity, without any connection to me.”

“How long before it takes effect?”

“It is a cascading process, bit by bit. It will start in the next few cycles.” Alpha moved toward the lift but the young Autobot grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“This is wrong. You shouldn’t take this away from me.”

“You will remember your past. You will remember what happened today, but you won’t remember me. You may in the future if you need to remember, but not until then. Now, let me go.”

The new soldier released him. “After everything that has happened today, now you’re forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. You are my creator. That fact is important to me.”

“You have a noble spirit, too noble. That’s why you’ll be forced to forget. You should be judged by your own actions, not by the circumstances of your creation. This is the only way,” Alpha explained, while trying his best to hide the regret in his voice.

They rode the lift up to the ground floor and Alpha led the young bot into the outer lab. The floor was still covered with wounded Autobots, laying together, wincing at their wounds. Creaking sounds, low moans and the whir of medicroid tools filled the air. Xaaron was attending to a bot with a shattered elbow joint. The bots who could stand were huddled in groups, passing vials of energon to those more severely wounded.

“Make a path, please,” Alpha said and the bots who could move under their own power shuffled aside or helped move the wounded in order to clear a path to the outer door. Alpha reached the door control and looked back.

His protégé was still standing at the other doorway, looking down at the mass of wounded. His left hand clenched shut and his grip tightened on the rifle. He lifted his head and finally stepped into the room. Every Autobot face turned toward the sound of his heavy stride. His optics met theirs. Surprised whispers followed behind him until he reached Alpha’s side.

Xaaron stood, his mouth agape. Alpha motioned for him to be silent.

“You said power must be wielded with mercy,” Pax said quietly. He leaned down and placed his heavy hand on the shoulder of one of the offline bots. “There’s no mercy here.”

“That’s the real difference between you and your enemy, isn’t it? Mercy was never an option he exercised. When the moment comes between you and him, you’ll have to decide if it’s an option you’re willing to give.”

Pax picked up his weapon and stood. “I’ll have to wait for that moment then, because I don’t feel like being merciful right now.”

The elder bot looked at the surveillance monitor outside the main door. Five winged Autobots were sitting outside. “Your friends are out there, waiting for you.”

The soldier looked at the monitor. “They’re still here? They barely know me,” he said, surprised.

“They sound like friends worth keeping. Let’s reintroduce you to them,” Alpha reached for the door control.

“Wait, before that.”

“What?”

“If I’m going to be forced to forget this day, then I need to thank you now.”

“Thank me? Why would you thank me? I fear that I’m sending another brave young Autobot to the last-” Alpha didn’t finish; the emotions of the last half-cycle finally flooded over his central processor. This was an old, but familiar feeling, something he felt the last time he had ordered his peers into battle, and almost certain destruction.

The new soldier affirmed those unspoken sentiments with a bow of his head. “This was my choice. I wanted to say, thank you for giving it to me.”

“My young friend, I believe you are one of the best of us,” Alpha said and opened the door.

The five Autobots outside stopped talking between themselves and jumped to their feet.

“Well, it’s finished,” Alpha said to them. “You may not recognize him; he is no longer Orion Pax. Now he is the first of our new defenders, Optimus Prime.”

 

A+ stuff keep it up

 

 
Lots of nice little details in there, such as the reason for Prime's faceplate, and Alpha Trion's desire to keep Optimus at a distance from him. I'm guessing from the lack of a "to be continued" tag that the story is at an end. If so, thanks for sharing it with us, it was very well written and fun to read.  

 

Brilliant! I enjoyed it a lot. Thanks for sharing!

 

SuzyP...fantastic writting. Seems like every time I venture into TFW2005, I find something that either choaks me up or causes me to out and out cry. Very well done!! Many thanks for sharing your talent and passion with us all.

 

This is awesome!!!! It really is the one of the best i've read. could you do one for ariel?

 

Wonderful. I love it!

 

Well written and thought out,would love to see your talents turned towards a bigger project.I feel like you are in the vein of Peteynorth and his Transformers 2.0 redux.Again,well done.

 

That's rather high praise. My story doesn't really compare to the five-year fan fiction odyssey that Petey came up with, but thanks.

 

Part 4.

Two solar cycles earlier

The cydraulic system sensors in Ariel’s legs sent fresh pain data into her consciousness. She de-prioritized the sensations and kept running. Through force of will she strained her body forward, leapt over a traffic sensor node, landed and sprinted ahead.

A sound behind her, a high-pitched tone, made her skid to a halt and transform into her vehicle mode. Ariel sped off, skimming just inches above Cybertron’s metallic surface. She wasn’t as sleek or fast as some of her friends, but she knew how to handle tight turns. She urgently fired her jets, but just as she did the figure of a small drone popped up out of the ground. Ariel had just an astrosecond to maneuver to the left. She mentally steeled herself and channeled all the power she had into forward thrust.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Ariel thought.

The high-pitched noise sounded again.

“Rust it! I’ve never transformed at this speed before!” She cringed internally, then set her transformation sequence in motion. The sudden twist of her center of gravity from horizontal craft to vertical robotic form made her whole body creak in pain. She threw her arms out to regain her balance but her speed forced her shoulders forward.

“Roll with it. Gotta keep moving,” she told herself, kicked forward, somersaulted and rolled back on her feet. She started running again. The gate was just ahead, lights blinking on either side of the door.

Disregarding another internal warning from her monitoring systems, Ariel flung herself across the gate and slid to a halt. She doubled over as her body shuddered from the stress. Her hands planted on her hips, Ariel shook off the disorientation as her internal systems repaired stress flexes in her alloy legs and a minute fracture in her transformation cog.

“Not bad,” said the white and black bot with the Cybertron Security Corps badge on his chest, as he walked toward her. He pressed buttons on his databoard, but didn’t bother to look up. “Not the fastest time I’ve seen, but within the required minimum.”

“Huh,” Ariel managed to grunt, still recovering from the exertion.

“Your physical trial score, combined with your above average score on the marksmanship test puts you over the top in meeting the physical requirements for Security Corps,” he explained. “Nice job.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I made it,” she said, straightening up.

“You haven’t ‘made’ anything yet. You just haven’t washed out,” he corrected her.

“Right,” Ariel nodded and waited as he pressed more buttons.

He finally looked up from his board. “What made you apply to the CSC?”

Ariel held her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her fidgeting fingers. “I’ve seen the ads on the monitors, and I thought that the Corps would offer me some new opportunities. And I want to make a contribution to society -- you know, give back.”

The security bot rolled his optics. “That’s what every bright, little scraplet says to me. Now tell me the real reason you want to join up.”

Ariel hesitated after his blunt comment. “I meant all that. I really did.”

“I’ve been a recruitment officer for three hundred stellar cycles now, and there’s motivation behind every bot’s application besides the usual ‘duty and honor’ speech. So what’s yours?”

“Maybe it’s…” she stood up straight. “I want to find that point where I think I can’t push myself any further, and then step over it. Is that a selfish reason?”

“Being self-motivated is certainly a better excuse than revenge, or just wanting to shoot some large guns,” he said, pressing another button. Ariel forced a smile at what she hoped was a joke.

“My board shows that, barring any last minute red flags, there’s a 98.774 percent probability that you’re going to be accepted.”

Ariel nodded and smiled. She hoped her excitement wasn’t too obvious, or deemed unprofessional. “Thank you, sir.”

“That means two stellar cycles of training at CSC Command in Iacon, including quartering in the security barracks.”

“Iacon?”

“Your application says you currently reside here, in Tagan Heights. Is moving to Iacon a problem?”

“No, it won’t be,” she said, but her smile disappeared.

“Your occupation field says ‘inventory specialist.’ What do you do here?”

“I compile inventory data on shipments stored at the energon warehouse near the river.”

“Sounds easy.”

“Hardly,” she snapped. “There are 13 bays with at least 300 different barge shipments a day arriving or departing from different parts of the planet. The rationing protocols are extremely strict. If my inventory figures are off by a fraction of a percent, entire city-states could go dark for several cycles.”

“A fraction of a percent, eh?”

“We don’t publicize the importance of the river shipments for security reasons. It could make the complex a target for terrorist attack, but as an officer you already knew that, right?” Ariel said, and wondered if she’d overstepped herself.

To her surprise, the officer grinned at her outburst. “I do now. Thanks for the tip, Ariel.”

“My pleasure, Officer Prowl.”

“Just so you know, I won’t be your recruitment officer after tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s why,” he pointed over to the plume of smoke on the horizon. “CSC Command is censoring the news reports, but that explosion near the Iacon border was a terrorist attack, not an industrial accident. They’re calling up bots like me from non-combat roles to active duty, which is why we need bots like you to join and take our places.”

Ariel shielded her optics from the starlight as she looked toward the plume. “Who attacked?”

“Malcontents mostly -- the Empties, the criminals, the rabble. Same rust buckets, but just more of them in one place, trying to act like some kind of army. Security will take care of them, we just need more officers to round them up. This means that after tomorrow, don’t bother trying to call me.”

“What does that mean to my application?”

“Like I said, the probability of your acceptance is virtually guaranteed. You’ll get your mustering orders in two solar cycles.”

“I’m ready,” Ariel said with conviction.

“I’ll put-” Prowl trailed off and looked up at the sky. Ariel followed his gaze, but didn’t see what caught his attention. “Slag,” he cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Another scouting run,” Prowl muttered and tapped on the side of his helmet to activate his comm. “This is R.L. Officer Prowl, reporting from CSC center in Tagan Heights. I’ve sighted another scouting flight. Two, possibly three hostiles in the air. Confirmed, three hostiles.”

Ariel looked up again and spotted them, three bots making a wide arc through the yellow sky. They weren’t flying in alt modes but flying -- actually flying -- in robot mode. It was the strangest thing she’d ever seen.

“Some kind of levitation technology?” She asked.

“Whatever it is, it’s new and it’s one smelter of an advantage,” Prowl said. “Some bots think they’re just showing off, but they’re scouting for targets. Looks like they’re interested in this area next.”

“Why doesn’t someone shoot them down?”

“Flying isn’t illegal, but it should be. The amount of energon output needed to power flying devices must be equal to a guardian robot regiment,” Prowl said, stowing his databoard in his chest compartment. “Command is going to need my report. If you don’t get your orders in two solar cycles, just call the recruitment office. And welcome aboard.” He transformed and sped toward the horizon stained by smoke.

Ariel looked around the training course. The security center was surprisingly empty. She wandered out to the street, favoring her stiff right leg.

How should I feel? I’m elated for being accepted, but what about everyone I'm leaving behind? She wandered slowly back to her domicile building and took the lift to the sixth floor. The door mechanism recognized her energy signature and unlocked itself. When Ariel stepped into the flat she heard the sound of the entertainment monitor in the next room; an announcer named the latest winner of extra energon rations in some kind of contest. Ariel pursed her lips and strode through the foyer to the table in front of the only window in the place, but her arrival was noticed.

“Orion left you a message,” said her flatmate, Moonracer. These were the most words the other bot had said to Ariel in a solar week.

“I’ll look for it." Ariel responded, looking through the private messages.

“I know where you’ve been.”

“Fine.”

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this.”

“Fine.” Ariel was too weary to argue these tired points again, but her flatmate wasn’t finished.

“Don’t expect me to ask you how it went.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t expect me to celebrate if you make it.”

“I’d sooner expect to enjoy pouring molten cybertonium over my head,” Ariel muttered, and read the message Orion left her in his usual succinct prose.

-- Working early, large off-hours delivery arrived before morning shift. See you when you come in. --

“It’s ridiculous for someone like you to join the Security Corps. I mean, what’s a small, inexperienced fembot like you going to accomplish as a security officer?” Her flatmate scoffed.

“They’ll find something,” Ariel flipped from the message screen to the news channel and looked for reports on this morning’s attack. Officer Prowl was right; reporting was scant. The real story was being suppressed.

“If you wanted to join the fascists, just cross over the Kaon border,” Moonracer muttered.

Ariel stepped over to the entertainment monitor, shut off the sound, and stood between it and her flatmate. “I’m tired of being the embodiment of everything you think is wrong with society. I am your friend until you say otherwise, but you will have to come to terms with the fact that I am joining the Corps. Can you do that?”

Moonracer clenched her jaw, reached down for her most powerful verbal weapon, and let fly. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

“What does that have to do with you and me?”

“You pretend to be so high and mighty by joining Cybertron Security, but you can’t even tell Orion that you did it, can you? Did you ever think that maybe he’s holding off his plans for the future to be with you? And then you just decide to walk away from all of us. That’s real fair.”

Ariel stepped back. Moonracer’s sarcastic comment convicted her deeply, even if her flatmate hadn’t intended it that way.

“You’re right. It’s wrong of me not to tell him. I’ll go right now.” She walked to the door and paused. “At the risk of offending your sensibilities, I want to let you know that I’ve been accepted into the CSC. I’m leaving for Iacon soon, which means you’ll have to find a new flatmate.”

Ariel closed the door and leaned against the hallway wall. She grasped tightly onto her emotions, and forced them to hide behind an impassive mask. Why does this have to be so hard?

Inside the flat, Moonracer put her face in her hands. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. Don’t go,” she mumbled.

Two solar cycles later

Xaaron rapped his gold knuckles on the tabletop. Alpha looked up from repairing damage to the chest plating of an orange and blue bot. “I need your help with another one.”

Alpha followed him to the table where a small female bot lay. Before his refit, Optimus had called her Ariel, but Alpha could not confirm or deny her identity right now. The trip through the battlezone had been costly for his drones; two were lost to enemy fire as they retrieved three bots from Optimus’ workplace, but they lost track of the new soldier when he rushed off to the front line. Since that battle, Alpha had heard nothing from his optimal creation.

He looked down into Ariel’s slack face. For now, she was evidence of a promise Alpha was committed to keep. His view moved to the diagnostic monitor on the wall.

“Lots of stress fractures across the board. Her optics, auditory sensors, and almost every other sensor needs complete replacement. The drones brought her in just in time to get her on support. But here’s the strange part, when I try to wake her, her spark core regulator reports a catastrophic failure and performs an emergency shunt. It’s happened three times now, every time I tried to bring her back online,” Xaaron explained.

“Spark condition?”

“Despite her injuries it’s pulsing on-spec.”

Alpha plugged the medical diagnostic machine into Ariel’s arm port and ran a spectrum scan on her spark core. The results flashed nominal on the monitor.

Xaaron sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“Bring her into my lab.”

Xaaron followed Alpha into the lift with Ariel in his arms. When they reached the lower level, he placed the small female bot on the diagnostic table.

“Modified spectrum scan, all frequencies,” Alpha ordered the terminal and it recycled the information through a more complex set of diagnostic algorithms. A diagram of her spark appeared on screen.

“Again, the test comes back clean. What is keeping her in stasis lock?” Xaaron wondered. His vocal pattern was tinged with frustration.

“Look here,” Alpha pointed to the scan.

To be continued...

 

Cool, now we get to see Arial's side of the story. Keep it coming. 
(Nice Prowl cameo, btw.)

 

Well done!