Author’s Note: For those not familiar with my long epic, Dark Storm Rising: the Matrix is infected with an alien Virus that calls itself Void and Desolate, or Dark. The Virus borderlines intelligence, but fails to grasp many concepts. This story takes place during DSR chapter 12 (Croix Incepency). But because it is so out of step with the rest of the chapter, it was necessary to write it as a separate story.

I never expected to live beyond three hundred cycles. Frankly, I didn’t know an Autobot who did. Imagine my shock when I first woke up in the Ark on Earth. Deactivation for four million years gives you a sense of perspective not quite like anything else. There was no Matrix-scape, no Pitt. I just lost consciousness then reactivated.

This is where I am again, as I’m lying on the floor in a place I don’t recall landing in. While I hunt through my noggin for memories, I’m surrounded by all kinds of Autobots who I never met before. Well, there’s Perceptor -good to see him. And there’s First Aid. He was so excited his hands trembled like sound vibrations on a cheap piece of metal.

They talked at me, asked questions like: "Wheeljack you okay? You all right? Can you move anything?"

Hey, fellas, how about answering a couple of my questions? Of course it didn’t take a super genius to figure my vocalizer’s on the fritz. I waited to see when Ratchet might pop up. But he’s not there. Perceptor yammered into his internal comline. He answered it out loud because his processors are skipping code lines just to keep up with himself. He firmly told the other person he’s busy.

Perceptor busy? That’s like saying Earth’s sky is blue and the sun is hot.

Someone else told me I was going to be just fine. I’m alive, right? So I suppose there’s truth to that. How long was I out? I’ve gone on mental sabbatical so many times I’ve stopped counting. The last time I was out for an extended period of time was when the Dinobots decided to go AWOL on us an’ managed to get a ride to Cybertron. I love the Dinos but they’re serious dimwits.

Oh, there we go! A few memory circuits kicked in; something about Megatron; something about returning to Earth. I waited for a few more fragments of memory to fill those gaps but nothing else came at the moment.

First Aid hovered over me like a drooping tree. Can’t say he smiled, but man, his optics were cheerfully bright. "Hey, Wheeljack," he didn’t hide the smile from his voice, "what’s the last thing you remember?"

His question bounced around my head like a ballobot. Ping. Ping. Ping. Something about Optimus, right? Something he needed from Earth and we were expecting Prowl and Ironhide to arrive by shuttle. But the shuttle crashed. I think I remember Devastator attacking. One blow after another and our defenses were down and I was racing to... and then everything went black. Were we okay now? Was Windcharger okay?

As I’m picking up pieces of my life before losing consciousness, a team of medic assistants tugged my crippled chassis out of some compartment and carried me on a gurney. I was so busy defragging my head that I didn’t notice we arrived a quiet room until some sweet femme named Apogee approached with cleanser, warm oil and a smile.

She talked quietly, though I heard maybe 15.7% of what she said. Memories of the attack on Metroplex looped over and over. My processors worked hard to gather all the scattered nuts and bolts of thought and memory.

My fingers involuntarily twitched when Apogee lifted my right hand and cleaned it. The warm oil felt good, as though I’d not taken a good soaking in decades.

"I’ve heard so much about you, Wheeljack," the nice femmebot said. "First Aid always said how brilliant you were. Well... are. I can’t believe we found you. What’s the statistical chance? Point 000001 in four hundred billion? Pretty much never. But..." she smiled pleasantly. "We’ve seen a great deal many impossibilities of late. So much has changed and I’m not entirely sure you’re ready to take it all in. So, just give yourself time, okay?"

I wanted to say something. I wanted to ask a million questions. What little I could scan gave me the impression of lab or a station not of Autobot design. Very strange. I guess we’re not in Metroplex anymore.

****

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all for change; new is fresh and different. I’m pro-progress and all. However, as Perceptor used to say, ‘exception is a universal constant’. That niggling, that itch at the back of my cranium chamber poked me with underlining indicators. Something’s not right.

And no, it ain’t just the lighting.

After I shut down for a few blips, my overactive processors thought it funny to wake me with creepy dreams; things like dark spiders and triangle heads and... well, I supposed it’s okay to use the phrase ‘monster mash’.

"Hungry?" That was Apogee again. Nice gal. She had nice, well-rounded shoulder struts and a set of hips I couldn’t quite take my optics from.

"Yeah," I answered. "I could use a good drink. Make it stiff, though, would ya? I have a feeling what I’m gonna learn’s gonna take the wind outta my compressors."

She smiled. I liked her smile. Handing me a tall one filled with stuff I hadn’t tasted in a long time, Apogee sat beside me, gracing the chair with those lovely hips. She joined me with the drink. "I’m not supposed to overload you with information right now, Wheeljack. First Aid gave strict orders not to shock you back into a coma."

"Heh. Well that’s nice of him." The first drink had me sputtering like an ungreased pinwheel. The second went down a little more smoothly.

"So... what all do you remember?"

"Not much yet."

Apogee nodded and finished her smaller drink. "Well, as you can see, you’re no longer on the... uh... I can’t remember what-well, Cybertron, naturally."

"Not in Metroplex, either, I noticed. What’s with the bad lighting? What’s with the weird lines on the walls?" I suddenly paused when I thought I saw the bare outlines of a ghostly image crossing the room. It disappeared through another wall and I forced myself to refocus. "Uh, and where is everybody?"

The pretty femmebot with an emerald green paint job and an animal alt mode leaned forward, arms on knees. "We’re on a gigantic science station imbedded on an asteroid in an area of space we know almost nothing about. You were found... uh, by accident." She paused and pursed her lip components flat. "I probably shouldn’t have told you that."

"Don’t worry about it," I dismissed. "Gonna find out all about it sooner ‘r later anyway. So when do I get to rejoin everybody?"

She glanced at the wall above me and forced a short laugh. "Everyone’s busy, my friend. It’s been crazy, crazy. We’re missing Optimus and Rodimus. Magnus hasn’t taken a break in over a week. They’re still working on canceling the tractor beam-"

"Wait a minute," I said, "did you say ‘Rodimus’?"

"Yeah."

"Who’s..."

"Our other leader-the other Prime."

All I did was stare, baffled. "How long... what year...?"

"It’s Earth date 2043."

I cocked my head right and narrowed my focus on her, unable to find words to fit all the questions and emotions fluttering through my head.

Apogee came through: "you died, Wheeljack. You’re supposed to be dead. We’re just as astonished to find you as you are being here. We think you’re a Quintesson experiment that succeeded. But we won’t know for sure until we’ve scanned you and run a few more tests. But Perceptor and First Aid don’t have the time right now."

"Why? What’s going on?"

Apogee closed her mouth, smiled and shook her head. "I’m sorry, my friend. We just want you to rest." From her subspace pocket the femme produced a digipad. "Here. In case you get bored." I accepted it and marveled at the sleek, updated design. Upon expressing my thanks, Apogee departed and left me to catch up on history in solitude.

I examined the digipad’s casing. I turned it around, spun it on all sides then stared into a blank screen. If nobody wanted me to know what was going on they shouldn’t have left me a pad. Maybe Apogee was young and naive or maybe she gave it to me on purpose or maybe certain bits of information were locked from access.

Heh, no problem.

Like an Earth kid with a new complex toy, I settled for thirty minutes, just learning the digipad’s basics. Cuz after all, if I’m gonna hack something, I wanna know a little bit about its abilities. After admiring the hardware (which featured a handsome combination of amethyst, quartz and conductive stabilized carlonium) I activated the pad, wiggled my fingers and started in.

Charts, News. Dates. Events. Policies. There was lots of stuff I needed to learn after my...

Lifting my optics off the pad, it dawned on me just how strange it was to be alive. How was I alive?? Oh, sure, Apogee said something about Quintessons. I hadn’t heard that name in thousands and thousands of years. And even then, I don’t recall ever encountering them.

In spite of an oncoming headache, I spent a solid three-hour period devouring everything the pad had to offer. But when I asked about current events, I got this ‘ACCESS DENIED’.

A minor set-back as far as I was concerned. The headache forced me to take a short break. I played a game or two then returned to hacking the digipad. Long before I got involved in the war, I used to hack into other computers. Sometimes I did it outta sheer boredom. Other times, Stratagos, a good friend a’ mine, would drop by, bribe me with a few high-priced goodies and ask me to hack into Decepticon computers. I didn’t know where he took the information I got for him. But after several years of the trade, the ‘cons finally caught onto me and I ended up in one of their ‘guest rooms’. It wasn’t exactly comfy-cozy. I can’t remember most of it because... well, it was tough. I watched a lot of political and not-so-political prisoners die in cruel and brutal ways. I lived with the ‘cons until an old friend of mine, Ratchet, convinced the Autobots I was someone worth saving.

The digipad blinked off then on under restart. Utilizing a few personal universal pass codes I hacked into the administrative assembly, rearranged a few things and bingo! I’m in like sin. Records poured into my digipad from a computer on some ship named the Crescent Moon. Intriguing. I winced over the increasing headache. I wanted relief but no one needed to know or see what I was up to. I mulled over a few things Apogee said. According to the timeline, I’m about 40 years into the future. I read the officer’s roster and found a few friends were still alive. But my nurse said I didn’t look the same. I wondered if more of me wasn’t the same, too. The digipad beeped, ready for more input. The first few lines of information made me realize curiosity really could kill. And I was the cat.

According to public logs written by Captain Jemel Helser, I was now among a very small band of refugees headed for Yolthanis III. But they ended up here on Bare Anches. The name invoked a sharp pain in the right side of my head. I winced and shuddered. As I settled down, I saw three dark figures standing across my room. Each stranger wore long robes and boots. Their crested, dark green heads and large bulging eyes studied me like a bug pasted under a microscope. A sensation of terrible dread clutched my lasercore. The fresh energon Apogee gave me thickened into a gooey paste somewhere in my tract.

"No," I said to them. "You got it all wrong. I wasn’t for sale!"

They said nothing, studying me with dire indifference. I slipped off the flatbed, ready for a fight. "I SAID I’m not for sale!" I spun about, searching for anything useful as a weapon. All I found was Apogee’s chair. Smashing it apart, I armed myself with two metal legs. Spinning around to face my opponents, I had to change visual filters in my optics. They weren’t there. A shadowy shape on the wall made me believe someone was there. My arms dropped and so did my weapons.

Hallucinations, maybe? Filled with misery I returned to the flat, back to digipad and slipped into sleep.

Floating faces shrieked as they raced out the room and fires trailed after them. They screamed incoherent words as the universe wobbled like disturbed water.

...GEHENNA.

"No!" I shot up and clutched my chest plate. My lasercore vibrated hard and fast, threatening to explode. I sat and stared into nothing for a long time. I reminded myself that the Autobots found me, that I wasn’t alone. My optics turned to the doorway. It’d be nice if someone I knew came to visit. I wanted to go and find Jazz and the Twins... hey fellas, I thought, I’m here. I exist.

As lonely as I was, I had to be practical and rational. I wasn’t really ready to see anybody just yet. I didn’t know when Apogee might come back, but I hoped it’d be soon.

Swinging my legs over the side, my fingers touched the digipad, reminding me of homework and reorientation. But the faces in my dream haunted me. I knew what they were-or at least in the dream I knew what they were. But my conscious mind denied it; denied everything. Plucking up the pad, I called it back to life with a sense of trepidation.

"I gotta pick stuff up fast," I told myself. "If I’m gonna be of any help, I gotta know what’s going on."

Schooling my concentration I downloaded every fragment of information available to me:

Following the war in 2005, the Quintessons returned from exile with another attempt to take back Cybertron.

The Hate Plague hit the quadrant and millions die under its malignant influence.

The Decepticons, led by Galvatron, agree to a tentative cease-fire. Society is rebuilt and new alliances are formed.

Vector Sigma attempts to rebuild Cybertron. Alliance made with Nebulos. Alliance lasts eight months. The Nebulons reject technology and release a virus that destroyed all of Junkion. All Binary-bonded units and teams flee Nebulos and return to Earth.

The Decepticons flee into exile.

Vector Sigma’s attempt to rebuild Cybertron is short-lived when the supercomputer itself mysteriously dies. Sixty percent of the Autobot population relocates to Earth.

The Quintessons ally themselves with another alien species, the Inoux, and take over Earth.

A huge portion of Earth’s population died during the invasive attack; approximately 550 Autobots and 300 humans/humanoids escaped Earth.

All Autobot fortress-cities fell.

Cybertron is sold to the Inoux.

All the events and circumstances were difficult to process in such a short time. I forced myself to put the digipad down and just stare into nothing. All that happened in forty years? The Quintesson gambit has certainly raised the stakes in our survival. What of the Decepticons? Where were they now?

The door shushed open and Apogee stepped in with a smile and a small tray covered by a clean towel. "Hi there," she greeted. "Thought you might like a little something and some company. Jazz, Perceptor and Bumblebee have been asking about you."

Had my optics been made of organic composition, they’d be wide and round. My lasercore skipped a vibration. "Jazz?" I repeated. "Bumblebee? Perceptor?"

"Yes," she replied with a light laugh. "They want to come visit you but-"

"-it’s crazy, crazy out there." I finished.

She sadly nodded. Lifting the towel off the tray, Apogee revealed two cups of lightly radiated ten-weight oil. She handed one to me and took the other for herself. "I thought you’d like to take a break and unwind. Have you been having nightmares?"

I bowed my head and nodded my confessional. "I feel like I’m in limbo, you know? Like I’m stuck on a show-room floor; I don’t belong to a factory, but I don’t belong to an owner, either."

She tilted her head. "An interesting analogy, Wheeljack." Apogee took a good sip of her ten-weight then lowered the cup. "Say, listen, if you get to the point where the boredom is getting the best of you, I can assign you to help keep the children busy."

"Children? There’s children here?"

"Yes."

"I read that we have 300 humans here, but it didn’t mention children."

Again Apogee nodded. "We started out with 300 hundred organics. I think we’ve lost about twenty-two along the way. Maybe more. We’ve also lost a good number of Autobots. It’s been very hard, very difficult to stay ahead of our enemies."

My fuel lines ran cold when she said that. I heard the last part of that phrase before but the time and place evaded me. My memory raced back, back.

"Wheeljack?"

I heard Apogee, but couldn’t answer. My processor spun like a cyclone, searching for the missing moment locked in some tight box within my subconscious.

"...very difficult to stay ahead of our enemies."

"All we need is a puppet. We have the test subject, the coordinates for the alternate and if we are successful, we shall apply the technique to the Autobot leader."

I watched with an inner mind as the memory surfaced like black oil poured in flask of water. Little bits of faces, sounds and certain smells came first then the entire picture unfolded, naked and plain. Bound to an exam table, I watched as the Quintessons split open a window into another reality. From there, they directed a stream of energy straight into me.

The shock hit me, even as I sat there with Apogee, and left me incapable of verbal expression.

Something very, very wrong happened to me. Apogee tried to get me to talk it out. She took my hands and talked very kindly but the only sound that came from me babbled in broken sentences. Suppressed screams fell from my lip components in pathetic whimpers.

The word ‘safe’ finally penetrated my emotionally-tangled mind. Safe? Lifting watery optics, I beheld Apogee in a surrealistic light. In spite of her sincerity, her eagerness to make everything better, it was me who had to convince myself. Dropping my gaze to the digipad, my fingers feebly scrolled through the controls until I found a photo of Jazz. Apogee said Jazz, Bumblebee and Perceptor were still alive. There really was a glimmer of hope, wasn’t there?

My new life wasn’t starting out with strangers like Skyfire’s did. Starscream was the only person he knew. Okay. I’m gonna be okay. There are friends who will look after me. I realized it’d take a lot of time to sort it out. I wanted to run from the experience, from the sordid past. I wanted to do something-anything-to get my mind off the flashbacks.

"Are you okay, now, Wheeljack?" the patient lady before me asked.

"Yeah. I guess I sorta freaked out there." I couldn’t look her in the optics. I didn’t want to see her pity. I wanted to be strong but my history betrayed me.

"Listen, my friend," she continued, "you’re going to have flashbacks. Some days you’ll have more than others. You’re doing really well, Wheeljack. You really are. How about you try getting a little rest? I’ll bring something in for you later on. Alright?"

"I’ll try. But I won’t promise results."

"Good enough."

My nursebot slipped out the room and I dropped on the flat. With a sigh and a tug of the blanket, I tried to slip into recharge. But the half micron I dropped into unconsciousness, flashes of light and color and subatomic fragments of memory splattered the back of my optics. Rather than fight with myself, I sat up, swept the digipad into my hands and returned to the last page. But at this point, I lost interest in catching up with all the details of "Post-Unicronian’ history.

I almost put the pad down in dismay when my optics spotted a small tag at the bottom of the page.

FOR THE LOVE OF RODDI.

"What the...?" I opened the link and flinched in mild surprise. Some weird version of Hot Rod popped up, smiling like a twisted version of the devil.

"Hello."

If I had human eyes, they’d be rolling.

"You’re probably one of the few peeps with enough rank to review this lovely file I’ve assembled JUST. FOR. YOU!"

All the movements were exaggerated from facial expressions to the finger pointing. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

"Now pay attention, grasshoppers cuz you’ve just left Kansas for the Yellow Brick Road and that cyclone is headed RIGHT. FOR. YOUR. BRAIN!."

Looking up from the pad I shook my head. "This has to be Hot Rod," I said out loud. "No one else I know could be this corny."

As if to answer me, the Roddi-on-video grinned again: "Ready?"

Rodimus gave the whole lo-down about a horrifying event occurring two years ago. Photographs, videos, news clippings... everything, including the USAF, was involved in an incident about a Virus that had taken a hold of the Matrix. I listened and watched as if the pad itself possessed me. My hands trembled. My fuel lines froze then surged and froze again.

How? How by the name of Primus could anything of this nature be possible? The abhorrence left me cold and weak. Where were they now? Where were Optimus and Roddi? Were they okay? My lasercore vibrated hard and fast. The millisecond the video ended, I hacked into the Crescent Moon’s computer and accessed every line and punctuation mark I could scrape from it.

The cold surges made me tremble so that I wrapped the blanket around me and forced myself to focus. Line by line, I committed the situation and all details to memory.

"Symptoms started far earlier," I repeated out loud, "according to Optimus." I read and reread: "The Virus attained a corporeal form in 2037. Rodimus’ symptoms appeared about 2036... Virus has the ability to mold its shape and the shapes of other robotic things and entities..."

"By Primus," I finally said as I took a mental break. The terrible news swirled in my cranium like a rancid batch of lubricant. I dropped to the headrest, tugged the blanket over my legs and admitted regret disobeying Apogee’s suggestion. I wondered what they were doing about the Virus at the moment. None of the files indicated a cure. As my processors reviewed, filtered and defragmented the info overload, the room dimmed into the dark.

******

Presumably, the Me from Over There was still alive. The me from Here was dead; a cold husk kept in storage. The Me from Over There got pulled into Here and that was when I understood all realities, dimensions and universes had names, even serial numbers.

We became a puppet. We hated it. They made us do things, awful things and we heard screams. At one point, We decided to stop doing the awful things. We turned and did the same awful thing to our controller.

"Wheeljack?"

Apogee’s call brought me out of recharge; from the abstract to the somewhat-normal. I sat up and popped a kink out of my neck.

"My goodness!" the femme grinned. "You’re a regular sleepyhead."

"How long was I out?"

"Six hours." she set a tray on the little stand beside my flat then reclaimed her chair and picked up an electro-signature scanner. My optics focused on it while an irrational fear edged along my mind. I didn’t like the scanner but couldn’t say why.

"What’s that for?" my optics drifted from the scanner to the tray on which sat several other examination tools.

"Well... we’re trying to figure out how you came to be here. Perceptor and First Aid don’t have the time. So I’ve been asked to handle it. You don’t mind, do you?"

"What?" I asked with a smile, "getting examined by a pretty girl? Not at all." I felt better when she smiled. "Seriously, though, Apogee. What’s happened to me? Where are we? How did I get here?"

She stared with lips that wanted to speak but no words formed. Shutting the hand scanner off, she held it between her hands and gazed at the floor.

I tried to be patient.

"Wheeljack," she said softly, "we’re not trying to hide anything from you. It’s that we don’t know how you will react to the information."

"React, huh? Listen, sister, I’ve survived a number of wars. I’ve seen things I’ll never say to another person. I’ve even survived a week in Shockwave’s torture chamber. Whatever you have to say can’t be so bad that I can’t take it."

She hesitated then sat straight. "Okay." she stared straight into my optics. "You are not the same Wheeljack as who died back in 2005. At least... not all of him."

I waited two seconds for more information. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

She frowned. "You didn’t ask what I meant." I stared, waiting. Clicking her scanner to life she ran the handheld rotating device. It buzzed, clicked, buzzed and clicked four more times before she changed settings and read the results.

Curiosity got the better of my patience and I squirmed. "So, am I for real?"

She met my optics. "I just wanted to double-check to make sure our main scanners weren’t on the blink. And yes, you are for-real."

"And?"

"And... you are Wheeljack. But you’re not our Wheeljack... entirely, anyway."

"What’s that mean? Come on, don’t make me charm the information out of you."

She huffed with mild annoyance. "You have been fused, Wheeljack. Part of you is from here, this time and reality, and part of you is from another time and reality. We’re worried that the crossing between two dimensions might eventuate in mental and emotional instability."

"You’re waiting for me to crack up, aren’t you?" I snapped. "Not gonna happen."

"You don’t know for sure."

"Apogee, I might not have all my memories right now. But I’ll handle them as they come to me."

She turned stern. "You don’t get it, Wheeljack. According to these scans, you’re two people, not one."

That shut me up for three seconds while my head processed a number of ideologies, semantics and theories. "I’m fine, Apogee. I feel just fine. Look," I produced the digipad and snapped it on. "I cracked into this and tapped into another computer and downloaded..." Images of the Virus paged through my cranium like a fast moving slide show. "I read this and-"

She jumped up. "Oh Primus!" The scanner fell from her hands. "You’re not supposed to know about that!"

"Well, I do." She turned horrified and I snorted. "Look, I was going to find out one way or another; sooner or later. You might as well come clean with me now."

Apogee shook her head. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"I can help," I insisted.

"No! No." she swept up her scanner and fled the room.

"I really am fine," I said to the silent room.

*****

A siren called me from the vortex of dreams. It wasn’t until my vocalizer vibrated at the highest frequency that I realized it was me, my own screams, that woke me. The door opened and light from the corridor slipped in.

"Wheeljack!" Apogee called. "Wheeljack!"

"What?" I asked as the webs of sleep disintegrated.

"What?"

"You were dreaming. You had a nightmare."

My entire body ached and I pushed through stiff lines and decades of neglected joints to sit up. I bowed over, head in my hands as I tried to recollect myself.

"It’s okay for you to go through this, you know," Apogee said gently. "I can’t imagine what you’ve been through."

"I can’t either," I admitted. "I don’t remember anything. I don’t think I want to remember anything."

"Wheeljack, if you need someone to talk to-"

"What I need is something to do. I can’t-I can’t work through this just sittin’ around. I’m not the docile sort. I don’t even know if I can transform or not. I just need some space and a project."

She sighed and stood, but I didn’t look at her. "I will see what I can do, Wheeljack. I can’t promise anything. It’s crazy, crazy out there."

"So I gathered."

"Just... please, be patient a little longer."

I did not respond nor did I return her courteous good-bye. Every nerve fiber trembled and I quietly grieved.

******

Our tentacled captors chained us along the dark walls of the transphasing chamber. The EM field surrounded three gigantic monoliths and pulsed every now and later with white-hot light. The Floating Faces, our proprietors and tormentors, chattered among themselves in quiet tones while they exchanged information. They checked and rechecked their readouts and equipment until one Floating Face declared the moment perfect for the experiment.

They brought him to stand before the field, before the monoliths. The Faces swivelled on their bulbous bodies and cackled under the spell of anticipation. They invited everyone on the base to watch the miracle of their craft and the lines of taboo they crossed to achieve their aim.

They activated the machines, floated back and the young male humanoid screamed with an unsapient sound.

Incassance Chavae had one last thing to say: AUO TERRARE. COTH IME PYR CROIX INSEPENCY. YOU WILL ALL BURN ALIVE IN GEHENNA FOR ALL ETERNITY."

Strangely enough, I understood what Incassance Chavae meant by those words. The Floating Faces had the ability to stare straight into the vastness of eternity but their arrogance prevented them from realizing exactly how insipid and insignificant they really were. Their profane, blasphemous act condemned them-these Faces in particular-to a torment equal to or greater than what Shotar Argroth suffered.

WHEELJACK! WHEELJACK! WHEELJACK!

Something solid impacted the left side of my face. I shot up, screaming uncontrollably. I scooted back into whatever wall stood behind me and curled into myself, still screaming.

"WHEELJACK! SNAP OUT OF IT! YOU’RE CAUGHT IN A DREAM LOOP! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!"

The volume decreased, but I still screamed in unbreakable terror. Gradually the surroundings melted into, apparently, Autobot architecture. I trembled as my vocalizer winded into a pathetic whimper. Apogee, Silverbolt and Jazz surrounded me.

My lip components trembled. "Jazz..." strained by the screams, my vocalizer squeaked with a slight treble. I reached for him and Jazz, crazy, on-his-toes Jazz, caught me and hugged me tight. A familiar face! Someone, who could ground me in thisSeptember 8, 2013 new reality, welcomed me with open arms.

My three friends hung with me a couple more hours while my nerves settled and I took in more energon. Jazz kept the conversation light and friendly and told me all about Snarl’s new get-up, now called ‘Smasher’.

"Smasher, huh?" I asked, "sounds like a good name. Although, I don’t think I know anything about Ankylosaurus. What does Grimlock and the other Dinobots think of it?" The moment turned awkward as the trio of visitors turned sadly silent.

Jazz to the rescue: "Grimlock’s on the not-so-alright list, Jack-man."

"What?"

Silverbolt finally added something to the conversation, "we were on a planet called Cratis, attacked by Decepticons. Grimlock answered the Death Challenge called by some ‘con named Lux. You should have seen this guy, Wheeljack."

Jazz nodded, "yeah, there was a lot a newfangled cons out there. Some Decepticreep named Decetron leads ‘em."

Worry creased my face. "Is Grimlock... I mean is he...?

Jazz and Silverbolt looked to Apogee for the answer. She hunched slightly. "He’s still alive. But just barely. We... we were hoping to remain on Bare Anches long enough to fully repair him. But we’ve encountered a conflict of technology. You built the Dinobots on Earth and the technology here is all Quintesson-based. The... um... whatever... it’s not compatible."

I nodded. "It’s Earth’s polarized electromagnetic fields. I don’t even think we’d be able to properly repair the Dinos on Cybertron. The recallibration process won’t work because the EM frequency is different. Yet, you were able to repair Snarl."

"He wasn’t nearly as badly damaged," Apogee returned. "Snarl was more a matter of exostructure. Grimlock is internal and external-"

"I’d like to see them," I interjected.

"Well-"

"Please," I added. "I got nothing else to do in this room. I already hacked the digipad. What more can I do?" I tugged on a light smiled when Jazz cackled in approval.

Apogee caved in and they led me to the Interrogator, four miles short of the Dancing Siren. I had to suppress my recoil when memories tried to push me into a bad case of anxiety. I wasn’t a prisoner on this rock anymore. To distract myself, I concentrated on the Autobot cruisers, their sizes and specs. Someone packed a lot of years’ planning into each ship. I bet I could study these babies for weeks and still find something new.

We boarded the Interrogator and wound through a thick traffic of Autobots and humanoids as they ascended and left the boarding ramp like ants on a bridge. We paused at a check-in point then Apogee led the way two decks down.

I had no idea what to expect when we entered the ‘playroom’ where three Dinobots currently frolicked with children. Slag, Sludge and Smasher lazed about while little ones climbed over them, played games around their feet or built blanket forts. At the back of the room, Monsterbot Repugnus supervised a story-and-draw session.

I turned to Jazz with disbelief hanging from my opened mouth.

Jazz nodded toward Repugnus with a grin. "Mags has Swoop out on patrol duty most of the time. An’ when the big guys aren’t helpin’ out here, they’re out haulin’ heavy materials, patrollin’ the place or takin’ out the trash. Heh, they like this job the most."

Staring at Smasher, I thought he looked more like an oversized toad with spikes and a tail. Even if it was Snarl, I noticed a vast difference in the Dinobot’s behavior. And kick me stupid, but he smiled. Was that normal for a Dinobot? My babies actually looked content! Were they really? Almost speechless, I moved my lip components before the words formed coherent sentences. "If Grimlock’s down, who’s leading the Dinobots?"

"Yer lookin’ at him." Jazz grinned like an idiot.

I pointed at the Monsterbot. "HIM? A-a-"

Apogee leaned toward the scientist’s left audio. "His name is Repugnus."

"I know what his name is," I snapped. "I’m just wondering whose fiber-brained idea it was to put him in charge."

"Optimus’" Jazz and Apogee chorused.

From the Interrogator, Apogee, Jazz and Silverbolt led me to the Spiral Star, the ship used for quarantine and science investigation. Deck Three utilized the silence-all rule. Many Autobots rested in stasis, waiting for repairs that required much more than a fleet of renegades had to offer. We entered one of the larger rooms wherein stood three stasis chambers, one of which suffered from a crack right down the middle and to the right. At the middle I almost could not make out Grimlock’s shape. The last chamber contained a femme I never met before.

It was at Grimlock’s chamber that we found Swoop. The poor fella simply sat and stared at the floor. I approached, uncertain how the Dinobot might react. Swoop listlessly lifted his optics and stirred.

"Me, Swoop sit with Grimlock today. Not on patrol until tonight."

I offered a compassionate smile. "And I am certain Grimlock appreciates that you keep an optic on him, Swoop. You did good." The fact that the pterodactyl did not recognize me was not unexpected but it made me sad. With a good-bye hand on the Dinobot’s shoulder I stepped up to Grimlock and examined the damage through the fluid filled stasis tube.

"How long has he been like this?" I glanced over my shoulder and eyed Jazz with concern.

"Since we left Cratis in our rearview mirror."

"Almost a month," Apogee clarified. "It’s amazing how strong Grimlock’s life signs are, in spite of his current condition."

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. "We built the Dinobots to last. I guess we were kinda successful, huh?" I laid a hand on the transparent titanium. "You hang in there, Buddy," I said to the unconscious Dinobot. "As soon as I get on my feet, I’m gonna put you back together."

From the far corner of my right optic I watched movement pass the glass pane just above me. I swung around, expecting to see someone in dark colors but only Jazz, Silverbolt and Apogee accompanied me from behind.

Silverbolt followed my line of sight then turned back to me. "Did you see something?"

"No," I lied. "Just tired, perhaps."

Apogee gave me that strange parental smile I’ve seen Carly use on Daniel from time to time. "Wheeljack," she said, "how about we just call it a day for you?"

From Apogee to Swoop, I looked at Grimlock’s little brother to see if he heard the femme call my name. But locked in sadness, the pterodactyl didn’t hear anything. "Yeah," I conceded. "Yeah, okay. You’re right." My companions turned about and left the room. I slowly followed, reluctant to leave Grimlock in such a dismal state. Passing a cluttered work counter, I spotted a hand scanner similar to Apogee’s. Without looking obvious, I swiped the device and tucked it safely into subspace. Slipping out the door, I smiled at Apogee as she sent a suspicious expression my way.

Forcing an easy smile on my lip components, I shrugged innocently. "Eh, I was just wondering about Optimus and uh, Rodimus Prime. What’ve you guys heard? I mean, I know they’re missing-"

Silverbolt opened his mouth but one glance at Jazz forced him into silence. Apogee merely shook her head. "I haven’t heard anything," she said. "I’m guessing that means they haven’t been found yet. Otherwise, I’m sure First Aid would expect me to drop everything and rush to the communications building."

She did not need to tell me what and where that was. I knew the space station’s layout. With a nod I followed the trio off the ship. Once off the boarding ramp, Silverbolt turned to me with a good handshake.

"It’s great to have you back, Wheeljack," he said warmly. "I’d stay and hang with you but the Confiscator needs some attention."

I smiled in turn. "No need to apologize, Silverbolt. Everybody’s got a job to do." as Silverbolt nodded in departure, I scanned the grounds, watching Autobots come and leave about other business. I briefly wondered how the Quints might’ve felt had they known their precious secret science station would be infiltrated by Autobots. Apogee said something but my thoughts and optics turned my attention elsewhere.

Strange shapes moved along the shining hull on another ship. I watched a long moment while the shapes swirled and shifted into distorted faces. I tried to keep my reaction under wraps and merely pointed to the ship sitting in front of the Confiscator. "What’s the name of that ship?"

Jazz took the question. "Oh, that’s the Covenant. Op an’ Roddi made Ambient her captain. But the Mags-man changed it yesterday ‘cuz he needed Ambient on other jobs. So Pontiac’s her new captain."

Surprise toned Apogee’s voice, "I didn’t hear about that, Jazz."

The Trench Driver’s captain grinned. "Ya gotta get up pretty early t’ catch all the latest, Ap! Mags, he don’t sleep much these days."

Apogee and Jazz yammered on like a couple a clickits on a warm night on Cybertron’s Fifth Ward. My optics roved between the Interrogator’s and the Spiral Star’s hull, wings and landing gear. It wasn’t until we passed the Sunset Kummya that I spotted another ghostly figure. But this one was clearly Quintesson. I almost said something when two Humans and a femme walked through the image. Was I seeing things? Or was I seeing stuff no one else could? I hoped to adjust the ‘borrowed’ scanner to get my answers.

Jazz and Apogee walked me back to my temporary quarters on the Dancing Siren. We paused before the doorway and they smiled at me reassuringly.

I’m sorry we can’t stay," Apogee said sadly. "There’s so much I have to do. And Jazz was called to a meeting. You’ll be okay, won’t you?"

"Oh sure," I answered smoothly. "I know you guys ‘r up to your afts in trouble. Just wish I could help out."

"Doctor’s orders," Apogee recited. "Rest first-"

"Insanity later," Jazz cut in. He grinned as if knowing the femme frowned. "Listen up, Jack-man," he added, "you need something, got ‘nuther case a nightmares, you jes gimme a jingle."

My smile spelled relief. "Thanks, Jazz." he gave me a brotherly hug and my friends departed.

Returning to my empty, unfurnished temporary quarters, I tried to deny my laser core felt just as vacant. Forcing my resolve to the surface, I reminded myself that at the beginning of all things, there’s nothing at first. A bot starts with nothing and ends with something. And it was that something I intended to get.

Producing the borrowed scanner from subspace, I picked up my hacked digipad, took a seat on the flat and researched the scanner’s inner workings before making useable adjustments.

Four hours and a set of borrowed tools later I had a digipad and a scanner that worked in sync. The scanner picked up altered sound and light frequencies and the digipad reinterpreted them into standard formats.

Well... that was the theory.

Waiting until personnel shift change, I slipped out the room for a short stroll along the deck. Most Humans and other aliens retired for the day. A good number of Autobots also took time out for a recharge. Except for the occasional med assistant or ship’s personnel, I encountered almost nobody.

The Dancing Siren put the welcome mat at my feet-so to speak-as I searched high, low, one corridor or room at a time. I hoped to find or encounter a ghost or some weird, sourceless, reflection. But three hours turned up nothing. I gave up and headed back, recalculating all the scanner adjustments in my head. Just as I passed the sensory testing lab, it hit me: I didn’t account for time sequencing. Smacking the right side of my head, I slipped into the lab and ran into two guys laboring over a damaged microscope.

"Hi," I waved. "Uh, I, uh, I need to make a slight adjustment on my digipad. Do you have a nine and thirty-ninth’s tempo pulsator handy?" glancing to the right, I spotted the very tool sitting at table cluttered with spare parts. "Ah, I see one! Never mind."

Three steps toward the tool, one of the workers snatched it just out of reach. "Sorry," he said evenly, "you’re not authorized to use this equipment."

"Awe, come on, fellas!" I begged. "I won’t take it anywhere and it’ll only take me a minute or two." They exchanged dubious glances and I realized I had to talk to them techy-to-techy. "Okay, maybe one of you might do it for me. All you need to do is enter the head sequencer, realign the impediment chronometric balancer, bi-calculate the secondary inverse trigger head, close and enable the stationary tract and enter the galactic time trafficker."

With a grin I offered the scanner for one or the other of them to fix. But the two mechs merely stared at me, baffled.

The fella who snatched the tool out of my reach glanced at his pal then at the microscope. "Do you think you can fix the microscope?"

Twenty minutes and two repairs later, I landed my hands on the tempo pulsator. The workers watched me adjust the scanner then realigned the synchronization keys so that the digipad utilized all the corrected information for format translation.

"Hey," the tool-snatcher called, "uh, I’m Copper. This is Slaptack."

I offered a handshake. "Wheeljack."

With rewired equipment, I started my journey anew. Once again I treaded along the corridors and rooms in hopes of finding evidence that I was not hallucinating. But two hours still turned up zippo. I thought for certain the equipment would be sufficient to do the job. Not that it’d read ghosts, necessarily-

"WHEELJACK!" That was Apogee again. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"

Tempted to call her a nanny, I decided to smile instead. "I told you," I returned, "I don’t do docile." She pointed to the digipad and scanner and might’ve asked about my project but a window of light appeared and interrupted the conversation. Glowing on the wall to my left, it did nothing more than glow white. A second window flickered at the right and a third window appeared in mid-air. Everyone in the room stared at the phenomena. Apogee turned horrified and stepped closer to me. The first window displayed snow, just like an old Earth television set. Through the visual static, I made out figures; people and buildings, places I’d never seen. Gradually the snow cleared and a motion sequence of some story or event played out in a loop, like a recording set to replay every fifteen seconds.

The second window cleared and revealed a set of organic eyes shielded by a red visor. The eyeballs roved to and fro as if the person who owned them searched for something through a latch in a door.

Unsettled, Apogee gripped my arm. "Please," she begged, "Let’s go!"

Curiosity overruled my apprehension and desire to run. "What is this?"

"Matrix memories," the nursebot replied. "We need to go-" she took one step when I held her back.

"Wait. What do you mean? What’s this about?"

Before she answered, the floating window zoomed into another Autobot’s face. He stepped back and the window followed, as if demanding the fellow to watch whether he wanted to or not.

Apogee gripped my arm. "RUN!!!"

The mech almost tripped over the table behind him. He gathered his balance and tried to high-tail but the window followed. Two other Autobots actually fired at the window but it refused to deter from the target. The Autobot raced for the far-wall exit but the window beat him to it. It slid in front of him and plastered itself all over his body. The Autobot’s scream churned into a gurgle as his body thrashed for ten seconds. Then he turned still and rotated to face the rest of us; his body now covered in the same snow as the window. He staggered forward, his left arm reached for the closest person.

I refused to run. As much as I wanted to help the window’s victim, there really wasn’t much I could do. But I did take a reading. I recorded everything in the room and my decision came exactly at the right moment.

A shadow slipped up from the floor, something black as Earth oil, except it held tight shapes of triangles and squares. To my horror, it spread out on four legs with a triangle face and a head that swept out the back into a fine point. It ignored us and stared at the victimized Autobot, now frozen. The freakish black thing sunk its head into the poor fella’s middle, and tugged like a dog in play. It tugged and scrabbled with its spindle-shaped legs and I heard a distinctive snarl. It shook its head, again like a dog until it pulled a shape out from the snow-covered Autobot.

My lasercore froze and Apogee gasped beside me. The black thing pulled a Quintesson out of the snow, out of the Autobot. The single-faced freak shrieked, its tentacles whipped and wiggled. It screamed in its own language as the four-legged alien creature expanded its mouth impossibly wide and with unnatural speed, devoured the Quintesson in three swallows.

The Autobot fizzled out of existence. The freakish monster slipped back into the floor panels and left the room in terrible silence.

"What by the Pitt of Primus did I just see?"

Apogee trembled and when she spoke, her voice wobbled with a fear filled sob. "That was the Matrix Virus. I’ve never heard of it doing anything like that before."

I headed straight for the door as the nursebot called after me. She did not follow and I hoped she knew I was not going back to my quarters.

I did not need a map. But I did need a faster means of travel. Stepping off the ship, I treaded rocky terrain until I felt strong and confident enough to try and transform.

"Come on," I said to my body. "I know it’s been a while. You can do this." but attempt Number One failed. Number two was followed by three, four and five. Attempt Number Six gave me a partial. I finally stopped walking and concentrated. "Come on, seven time’s a charm."

BAAM! Back in business!

Ten minutes later (cuz I didn’t slack off in speed) I entered the Communication Center and transformed. Three Autobots glanced my way. Perceptor cheerfully called my name. Ultra Magnus turned to me in solemn greeting. I held up the recording equipment for everyone to see.

"I’m good now," I declared. "Let’s get to work."

T.L. Arens