Chapter Four
Experiment

"I reach out
But you don't even see me
Even when I'm scream out
Baby, you don't hear me
I am nothing without you
Just a shadow passing through..."
—Clay Aiken, Invisible

The deep thrum of the distant Energon barges brought Dusk online. Her optic covers retracted and she lay there on her berth, savoring the steady beat of her pump and the slight, soft whir of her ventilators. Memories of the night before cycled through her cortex, light lines of text floating gently by only to vanish as she sat up.

One by one, she pulled the cords that linked her to the berth – torso, upper thigh, and that pesky one in her lower left shoulder, the one that almost always got tangled in her rounded strut. She should count herself lucky, Dusk reminded herself, swinging her legs around and simultaneously wrapping the cables; rumor had it that Transforming Cybertronians had to use twice that many wires to support their suped-up systems.

Wistfully, she glanced at her chronometer. Unsurprisingly, she was late in coming online. Well, that’s what you get for trying to break into Mother Beta’s project files, she thought darkly. It was quite possible that all the morning meetings were over and done with; any new news from Iacon would have to be obtained through the biased newsnets and not the clear-optics of her comrades. With that thought in cortex, she reached over and switched on the small vid unit that sat across from her bunk. Just as she thought …

“… The Iacon Council again sat down to debate the closing of several arenas today. Sentinel Prime was called upon to spearhead legislature that would outlaw any operation within the limits of the city …”

Dusk pursed her lip components and resolutely flicked the vid unit off, blanking the image of a broad-shouldered grey mech with a low brow ridge and glaring red optics. That was the third such meeting in a few months – that she knew of, anyway. Who knew how many times the Council had come together in session to try and shut down all those arenas! That they had summoned Sentinel Prime, no less, to speak in their favor … well, it seemed that things were getting out of control on the outskirts. The city-state of Kaon was so famous for their trials of combat that the newsnets just stopped reporting the carnage.

Time to get going.

Stuffing the cables into their proper holds, Dusk left her small room. As she predicted, coming up the stairs were the older femmes, chattering away about the day’s news. As she passed them – they said not a word to her, nor did they so much as look her way – she caught wind of their conversation:

“It’s the Council’s fault for allowing those cursed arenas to still operate. They should have closed the first one before it became too popular.”

“Really, Blazia, what harm did it cause? I admit, it’s a little brutal, but we do need warriors. What if we were attacked? What if some otherworldly creatures tried to enslave us like they enslaved Mother Beta?”

“Do you really believe those old legends? We’ve much to thank Mother Beta for, but seriously, Lightstar –”

Dusk hung back, balancing on the rail of the stairwell, her well-tuned aural tract wide open. Lightstar had stopped dead in the middle of the hall, her arms wide open; Blazia folded hers, staring pointedly down at the sun-colored femme. The other three watched attentively, making no move to join in this debate. “Of course I believe!” Lightstar proclaimed passionately. “Mother Beta has no reason to lie to us!”

Blazia sighed. “Let’s not open up that old can of oil, eh? Listen up. They want to close the arenas because some of those street warriors are getting too slaggin’ powerful. The Councelors are getting afraid that one might get it into his cortex to do more than fight for a few thousand credits.”

Dusk leaned forward, her backplate scraping against the polished bronze of the rail. The sound alerted the older femmes. Blazia pointedly stared at her before drawing her friends about her and marching down the hall. The sky-colored femme sighed; today would be the last day she would overcharge. How she would have loved to be in the midst of that debate!

Longingly, she stared at their fading backs before pushing herself off the rail. In her reflective mood, she completely ignored the massive figure making its way up. Dusk all but bounced off of the flame-colored mech’s broad stomach-plates; she stumbled, her feet tangling with each other on the narrow steps. A hand the size of her upper torso gently closed around her arm, righting her. Up, up, UP! Her warm blue optics traveled past the expansive barrel chest and finally settled on the wisest face she’d ever encountered – baring Mother Beta. A curving helm much like her own framed the mech’s head in bold orange and yellow – not a glaring yellow like some of the femmes sported, but a golden color, a proud, steady yellow as the sun shone.

“S-sen-tinel … Pri-me!” she spluttered incoherently, nearly going lax in the great mech’s grasp.

The formidable mech merely smiled, easing his paw of a hand off of her upper arm. His broad shoulders dipped slowly, and Dusk had to rerun the memory several times afterward, but she swore on Vector Sigma that the Prime appeared sheepish. “Tell me, young femme, which is the way to Beta’s office? I’m afraid that she and I do not convene often enough, and never here.”

All Dusk could do was stare. Her shyness seemed to have kicked in full gear upon seeing the Prime. Here was Cybertron’s pride and glory, the wise and powerful leader whose intellect and judgment was second to none. And yet, he looked more like a great soldier with all that bulk! There was no doubt in Dusk’s cortex that this mech could hold his own and more.

Sentinel’s shoulders rose a little in good humor, and he crossed his arms to wait placidly while she scraped together what little face she had left this morning.

Come online, Dusk! she chastised herself forcefully, jamming her fists into her hip guards and biting the inside of her lower lip component. Slowly, her cortex cycled into normalcy. She lifted her head and stared into those cool blue optics. “N-not up here, I’m afraid,” she replied at last, and kicked herself for the stutter. Twice!

The giant mech’s lips twisted into a polite, easy smile. He lifted one massive arm and lowered it to her level. “Then, perhaps, you can lead me to her?”

As long as I don’t have to talk, I’ll lead you anywhere! With her mouth shut completely, Dusk raised her hand and laid it tentatively on the Prime’s forearm. But it seemed that the flame-colored leader would have nothing of it; he promptly drew her companionably close, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. That done, she began to guide him – or he, her (she quietly contemplated that Sentinel Prime knew exactly where he was supposed to go) – down the stairwell and across the great hall. What a pair they must have made, and what thoughts might have been going through her sisters’ cortexes at the sight of the bulked-out, flame-colored Prime and the slight, dying-sky-colored femme. Complete and total opposites!

“Here, sir,” she managed, presenting Sentinel before Beta’s door, not a few yards from the main staircase.

Apparently, Beta had been expecting him. The door promptly slid back and Beta hovered there in her chair, hands griping the ends of the arms. Her brow ridge rose slightly at the sight of Dusk hanging onto (or, rather, hanging off of) Sentinel Prime’s limb but she remained mute about the circumstances. “Dusk, my dear, thank you for bringing Sentinel Prime. You may be about your business now.”

Dusk inclined her head and started to pull her arm from the Prime’s grasp when she found herself stuck. Beta’s brow ridge went up another notch, and so did hers. “Sentinel?” the faded green femme queried, leaning hard on his name.

The Matrix bearer smiled slowly. “I think that Dusk would make a perfect logger for our conversation today.”

Beta’s surprise sloped into a slim frown. “I’m sure Dusk would appreciate the opportunity, Sentinel, but I do have a program for that.”

As Dusk hung between the two, she increasingly became more and more uncomfortable. Clearly, Sentinel Prime wanted her there for a reason – one she could not fathom – and Beta wanted to keep their words private.

“Lord Prime,” she began quietly, hopefully demurely, “I do have research …”

The massive arm shifted. “Never ‘lord’,” the huge mech chastised gently. “And Beta, whatever we have to say, I am sure this young femme can keep to herself. You did tell me that she was one of your brightest, did you not? And I have yet to read that thesis …”

Beta huffed in her chair. “This has yet to be recovered.”

Sentinel smiled charmingly. “In due time. Now, might I come in?”

Slowly, Beta powered her chair backwards. “Dusk, take the comm to the right. And you are not to speak a word of this, understood?”

“Of – course!” And with that affirmation, Sentinel Prime dropped her hand. It swung lazily against her side until her oppressed servos kicked in, bringing power back to her limb. A funny feeling that was, almost akin to sensory depravation. As she made her way to the console, she saw Sentinel Prime walk up to Beta and pat the back of her chair.

Beta began first: “I thought that your summons to the Council took precedence over seeing me.”

The Prime chuckled low and deep. “The Council can summon all they want, but I am in full command of myself.” He shifted, having somehow found a chair in the otherwise bare quarters. Those huge metal plates creaked and snapped as he folded his hands before him. “Now, Beta. What do you think?”

The dying femme’s laugh was low and raspy. “You came all this way to ask me about that? As if I have anything to do with those things anymore.”

“Beta, Beta. For all intents and purposes, you are my senior in this matter. I am asking for your advice.”

“As a friend or as your senior?”

There was a pause, and Dusk chanced a quick glance over her sloping strut. Sentinel Prime was bent over his clasped hands for a moment and then he straightened, those huge shoulders with their powerful artillery scraping the back of the chair. “Both.” He paused again. “I am worried about the unrest in Kaon, but it is difficult for me to move around down there. Even my agents have found it hard. There seems to be a rift among us Cybertronians, Beta. And that rift has begun in Kaon.”

Tap-tap, went Beta’s slim digits on the arm of her chair. “Kaon was always a hotbed of insurgence. We had several camps down there during the resistance.” Another pause. “But this cult following of arena warriors – now that, I do not like.”

“My agents have identified one charismatic mech. We do not know where he hails from, or even the name of his creator. He calls himself ‘Megatron’, and he has gathered about him quite a crowd of admirers. I have seen vids of his battles, Beta. What were supposed to be trials of combat have turned into massive fluid-baths. Megatron does not simply beat his opponents; more often than not, he rips their very sparks from their chests and personally sees to the destruction of their laser cores.”

Dusk stiffened, her digits gone numb. Her own Energon pump quickened and her cortex raced.

“Is he a threat?” Beta asked quietly, soberly.

Sentinel Prime considered this a moment. “At the moment, no, but if he continues this mad parade through the arenas, then yes, I would say so.”

“And this is why the Council wants them shut down. To curb his power.”

“He has enough power, just not enough followers.”

Air whistled low from Beta’s aged ventilators. “What can I do?”

Metal scraped on metal as Sentinel Prime leaned forward. “Nothing – just not yet. I will be reviewing the situation with the Council, and, if necessary, I will call for a shutdown of the arenas.”

Beta pursed her lip components and looked down at her faded wrist guards, at the place at her hip where her famed crossbow once hung in tandem with its powerful energy bolts. The silence stretched on; Dusk’s digits hovered over the console’s board, ready to take up the thread at a moment’s notice when there was a sharp rap on the door. Three heads turned, yet no one rose. Beta tapped a quick sequence out on the recessed pad located in the right arm of her chair.

“Yes?”

“Beta –” It was Twilight, sounding extremely irate.

“Yes?”

“We have a visitor.”

Beta tilted her head at the femme’s terse reply. “Who?”

“Switchblade. He has Dusk’s kit and he wants to give it back to her – personally. I told her she was not in residence, but he refuses to leave. He’s parked his skidplate on the steps and won’t move. I’ve threatened him with the Protectorate, but he says he’ll just pay them off.”

Sentinel Prime arched a brow ridge at this pronouncement but wisely said nothing. Beta on the other hand, shook her head. She looked over her shoulder at where Dusk sat uncertainly at the console. “You had best go and see him, my dear. I do believe this is the first time in a long time that I’ve seen Switchblade take the initiative.”

Deep inside her sleek chest, Dusk’s pump seized again. “Y-es,” she stammered, almost clawing her way out of her seat. “Mother Beta, Sentinel Prime.” She bowed to each and scurried out of the room, trying not to calculate just how tall the Prime was, as he dwarfed her even when seated. That orange and yellow-helmed head merely followed her as she passed on by, a thoughtful expression on his grey face.

Twilight was waiting impatiently on the other side, her lip components drawn into such a thin line that it almost split her malleable facial plates in twain. Dusk looked at her once, then away. What could she say? She didn’t ask him to come – in fact, she’d given up hope that she’d ever see her kit again!

Twilight laid a hand on her upper arm. “Get your kit and get back inside,” she whispered low. She turned on her heel and strolled away, pointedly keeping her back to the foyer.

Great. Dusk watched her go, idly rubbing the spot on her arm where Twilight had touched her. In all her existence, she’d had a rather cordial relationship with whichever of Beta’s femmes whom she came across. Now, she didn’t know what to do. Ever since that incident with Switchblade, Twilight seemed slag-bent on reaming all the venom she’s built up over the vons into Dusk’s audios. And, quite frankly, it was getting to be tiring and stressful.

Well, if she wanted that kit back, she was going to have to get it herself. Squaring what shoulders she had, Dusk took that first step, then another, and finally pushed the door open. The streets on this side of town were normally quiet, with the occasional transport vehicle coming to and from the labs and idle road traffic. Given Switchblade’s tendency to roll en masse, Dusk was surprised to find him sitting all alone on the edge of the steps, swinging the kit by its straps.

“Well, this isn’t the first time Twilight’s lied to me,” he pronounced quite distinctly into the air. The kit continued to swing from his elegant black hand: left, right, left, right. “Here you are. Take it. I should’ve known better; if I wanted true entertainment, I’d’ve gone to a bar.”

Any polite mechanism would have held out to her; Switchblade merely let the kit’s straps slide through his slim digits. It clattered to the curb below and stop just inches from rolling over the edge and into the path of on-coming traffic. Air whistled violently through intakes already strained through stress as Dusk watched her precious kit come to a halt. Without thinking, she darted forward, a swift blue-violet-rose blur, and snatched it to safety.

Sharp laughter, devoid of any true humor, assailed her aural tract as she spun around, clutching it to her chest. “You sparklings are all the same. When will you learn that Beta is no Primus?” Switchblade snorted in disgust and gave her a quick glance over his high-arching shoulder.

Stunned, Dusk clutched the kit. Outside of the oratory, she had no eloquence; coupled with her innate shyness, she normally stayed silent. As it was then, so it was now. If Switchblade had anticipated a tirade, he would be sorely disappointed. She merely looked at him, which only served to irritate.

“Hrmph,” he snorted. “Looks like that slag-sucker Beta’s gone and lost her touch. Not going to say anything to me? Not even a ‘why’?”

It was the kick in the skidplate that she needed. Still holding her kit to her chest like it was the Matrix itself, Dusk gave a little side-step and turned to face him. Trepidation wound its way through her circuitry as she faced the elitist. Somehow, he managed to look down at her even as he looked up: icy blue optics set into a flawless grey face were half-shuttered. Then, knowing that she was assessing him, his chin lifted and his shoulders went back, their high, rounded ends meeting over the top of his pharaonic silver and blue helm.

“Why?”

He laughed. “Because I can.”

It was such a highly egotistical statement that Dusk’s lips twitched despite herself.

Switchblade rose elegantly, his long and lean limbs swinging cleanly from his shoulders. There was hardly a pneumatic hiss or whine of internal hydrolics, his motion was that smooth. Brushing off invisible dirt from his skidplate, he took one step off the stairs, then paused. “You’d do your best to leave while you can,” he cautioned, tucking his chin against his curved chestplate.

Dusk peered at him, trying vainly to figure out the core of his intentions. “Is … is that concern?” she ventured.

Again, that low, cultured laugh. “No. I don’t give a sorry slag about you. It’s merely a warning.”

Dispite herself, she was curious. “Why? There’s nothing to harm me here.”

Those long strutted shoulders rose in a sigh. The black and silver mech lifted his chin and pierced her with those cold optics. “That’s what I thought. But I was wrong. Beta enfuses this place with a false sense of security when all she’s doing is playing Primus with your sparks.”

She staggered backwards at the accusation. “You … lie,” she hissed, shaking her head, trying to banish those heretical notions.

“Do I?” Switchblade arched a sardonic brow ridge. “I know something you don’t, little femme. Something few do. And that’s why Twilight hates me – because I know.” He lifted his foot from the step and meandered on over to her. This close, he was tall, but not as tall as Sentinel Prime. Planting one hand on his hip carriage he leaned over so that the hot air from his sensitive ventilators washed over her. “After the war, Beta got it into her little cortex to start experimenting. Little projects here and there – most of those high-brow scholars are her firsts. But then she began to try and twist the sparks Vector Sigma had created, much like her Quintesson oppressors had to done from the very first.”

Rapidly, Dusk’s optic shutters fluttered. Those project names she’d glimpsed in the library before Twilight had burst in on her. Were they really codenames for something deeper? Something … wrong?

Switchblade continued, well aware of the horror flittering before her optics: “She believes that she’s creating a better Cybertronian, one that will withstand future attacks by some unknown enemy. But that is where she is wrong. She twists, manipulates. And what she can’t achieve by means of persuasion, she develops little programs for and secretly inserts them into your cortex while you’re offline.”

“No … no!” Dusk breathed, clutching the kit so tightly, it groaned under the increased pressure.

“Yes! And that’s why I left. I wouldn’t be a part of that family project any more. I wouldn’t have my fate decided by a crazed Quint-bot!”

Her shoulders were shaking so badly, she was amazed that she didn’t fall apart at the seams. Switchblade laughed, almost taking vile pleasure in her revulsion. “And now that I’ve got you sufficiently shaken, I’ll take my leave.” With a sardonic wave, he pushed off the steps and before he hit the road, he transformed in mid-air, rocketing off into the waxing afternoon. Torrents of blue smoke billowed out from his twin engines, clogging her intakes.

Dusk reeled, choking. With kit in hand, she staggered up the steps, hacking bits and puffs of smoke from deep within her chest. At last, the miasma cleared, yet she could still smell that acrid odor, stuffed high up into her olfactory sensors.

Experiment! her ventilators chanted with each new breath.

Experiment!

At last, she could function properly and found herself down on her kneecaps on the front steps, her precious kit with all that vital information tucked between her legs. A massive foot was in her line of sight – a flame-colored affair that undoubtedly lead up to a flame-colored body.

Sentinel Prime.

“Are you all right?” the kindly Prime queried, reaching down to help her to her feet. Slowly, she shook her head; all that she was, all that she had inspired to be flickered across her optics. Was her existence a lie?

Sentinel Prime took her gently by the chin and raised her head so that he could look into her optics. Dusk squirmed under the scrutiny, but he held her fast. Then, just as quickly, he let her go, still holding her up until she proved she could stand securely on her own two feet.

“What did he say to you?”

Terror kept her lip components shut, locked her jaw.

“What … did he say to you?”

The words rang inside her head, inside the very depths of her cortex. Plaintively, Dusk looked up. “I … am … an experiment.”

The Prime huffed in disbelief. “You are no such thing,” he tried to assure her. “You were created with a purpose.”

Oh, a purpose. A purposeful experiment, she thought.

“That one is a rogue, Dusk,” he continued. “If he said something to you, it is best that you forget it.” She merely stared, so he tapped her on the side of her helm with one beefy digit, gently. “I know without a doubt for what purpose you were created for – a scholar, a learner. A giver of knowledge.”

Slowly, his words wormed through her, assured her. Of course. How could have she forgotten? He was elite, a manipulator as much as he purported Beta to be. But could she doubt the slim grain of truth she’d felt at his pronouncement? Looking up into the Prime’s optics, she nodded.

“Good,” he declared. “Now that you have your information back, would you show it to me?”

“Of course,” she whispered, reaching down and around her legs for the straps. With Sentinel Prime’s hand on her shoulder, steadying her, they walked back inside.