Past Lives
A fanfic by Bill T. Taylor
a.k.a. RedStreak
Before the lurid gold light of Vector Sigma came forth a new life. As its circuits booted up and power cells charged it laid there, stiff on the table, caught in the gray void between life and oblivion, a half-life waiting to be.
Moments later its eyes flashed blue, and for the first time it saw the world. Slowly, it swiveled its head from side to side, fingers twitching as it gathered its senses, then its bearings. Hovering above, it saw a brilliant sphere dimming, the chamber about it reduced to twilight.
Then there was another shape, different, like its own shape. This one was tall, red with striking patterns of yellow and orange arranged in curious curves. What looked like wings spread out from its back, making this one have an almost divine image. It looked down at the new life with the same blue eyes as its own and, more intriguing, a strange, yet convivial icon in the shape of a face printed upon its breast.
“Father?” the new life said.
“Father?” Rodimus Prime replied with a surprised look on his faceplate.
Perceptor, working on the elevated bench beside Rodimus, tried to explain. “I think he believes you to be his creator, Prime.”
Rodimus chuckled. “Well, that title should go to you then, Perceptor.” Looking back at the new-born transformer, Rodimus said, “Welcome friend. You’re the newest member of our team now. I’m not your father, but I am commander of the Autobots. I’m Rodimus Prime.” Prime struck out a friendly hand towards him.
The new transformer sat up, looking curiously at the hand. A moment passed before his logic circuits initialized, after which things become drastically more clear. Smiling embarrassedly, he took Rodimus’ hand and sat up on the bench.
“It’s…good to be online,” the transformer said, “But I feel…dizzy, light-headed. Is this normal?”
Perceptor opened a panel in the transformer’s arm and checked a few built-in sensor displays for readings. “I apologize,” Perceptor politely said, “It’s a side effect of your…difficult assembly. Without the key to Vector Sigma we had to chance reactivating its energy matrix in an unstable….”
“Perceptor means,” Rodimus tried to sum up, “is that it was hard bringing you to life. A lot of work on your vital systems were needed to stabilize your spark. It’s a miracle that you’re alright.”
A miracle alright, Rodimus thought. He, Perceptor, Pipes, and other Autobot scientists and engineers worked decacycles on the designs. A grand scheme: incorporating schematics from deceased transformers to create something new, something more efficient that could later be used to draw basis on an even-far-flung idea simply called the ‘Maximal upgrade’. But that was something more than this ‘bot was destined for.
His helm and antennas bore a resemblance to Prowl’s, Prime’s old security chief, and to the sides were boxy lights similar to Wheeljack’s, the inventor and engineer. His frame was a blend of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s bodies, and even his vehicle mode would be a sports car akin to them. Just to look upon this ‘bot was too much of a memory.
The transformer paused for a moment, searching his data banks for something. Looking up to Perceptor and Rodimus, he started to say, “What is…what is...what is….”
“What is what?” Perceptor asked.
“My…name?”
The two Autobots looked to one another. The transformer awaited an answer, perplexed by their blank face plates.
Shyly, Perceptor admitted, “We…didn’t think so far as to…consider that.”
The transformer’s eyes widened. “I DON’T HAVE A NAME? WHO AM I?”
Rodimus gestured with an open hand. “Our apologies; normally, it is a tradition that each transformer chooses his or her own name. If you want, you can call yourself anything you please.”
“But…but I just came online. I-I-I wouldn’t know how to chose my own name,” said the ‘bot unsurely.
Before the debate could continue, a beeping noise went off from Rodimus Prime’s direction. The Autobot commander clicked on a small switch in his left arm, a panel opening with a built-in video screen within.
A static-ridden image blared in, one of a green-colored Autobot. “Prime! We’ve got bad trouble here on Earth!” a voice yelled, “Galvatron has unleashed a massive coordinated attack using his Gesalts. Superion and Defensor are trying to hold the line in Paris, but we’re losing ‘bots fast! Ultra Magnus and I are trying to provide support…but….”
“Just hang on Springer,” Rodimus said, “I’ll be on my way with backup from Cybertron! Just hang on!” Clicking off the com-link, Rodimus looked to Perceptor and the unnamed Autobot. “Looks like trouble on planet Earth. ‘Bots, let’s roll out, and fast!”
Rodimus Prime’s body unfolded and reshaped, the gigantic form of a red truck adorned with massive silver pipes appearing. Perceptor jumped up, transforming in mid-air and shrinking down a hundred fold his former size. Rodimus rolled down his window, catching the microscope in his front seat. To the new ‘bot he yelled, “Come on! We’ve got a situation…and we need every Autobot to spare.”
Slowly the new ‘bot got up, naïve to the situation but understanding much was at stake. He immediately tripped, falling face down to the floor. “Uh…perhaps you’d better go along without me,” he said, lifting himself up with his arms, “I’ll catch up once I’ve learned how to shift gears.”
His engine revving impatiently, Rodimus Prime replied, “Alright, but try to be quick.” With that Rodimus drove off with Perceptor in tow.
Grunting, the new ‘bot got to his feet. He looked to his hand, flexing and stretching his fingers. He felt so stiff, so vacuum-packed. Ever joint and rivet felt glued together, like cheap plastic or flimsy aluminum. Would he ever get used to these weird sensations?
He turned about and saw his reflection in the golden surface of Vector Sigma. “Who am I…what am I doing here?” he asked, seeing his own face in the gold iridescence. His hand went to his chest plate, molded from the design of some alien vehicle. There, he saw the icon Rodimus wore, the ‘Autobot’ symbol. “So…is this what I am? What I’ll always be?”
Sighing, wondering how he’d handle this new life, the transformer leaned against the hovering mega-computer. “I just don’t understand this.”
“There is much you have yet to understand, young one…”
“What?” He looked around, hearing an echoing, distant voice. There, in place of his own reflection was one of an old transformer. Like Rodimus, he bore the symbol of the Autobots…but yet something was different, like he was ancient.
“Who…are you? Can you tell me who I am?” the Autobot asked.
“Indeed,” said the old ‘bot, “You are, will be, and always will be…a part of the Matrix, the great all-spark we are all a part of.”
“I don’t understand….”
In a flash, the ‘bot was floating in a sea of gold, radiant light. Somehow, it was as if he were transported deep inside of Vector Sigma itself. There, not far from him, was the same old ‘bot whose image he saw before…except here he was solid, real, not some mere reflection.
“What…what is this place? Why did you bring me here?” he dared to ask.
“You have entered the consciousness of Vector Sigma, birthplace of transformers, heart of the Oracle, and link to the Matrix itself,” said the old one, “I am Alpha Trion, voice of Vector Sigma, mentor of Prime…and I have brought you here, young one, to show you your future.”
The Autobot, frightened and yet compelled by Alpha Trion’s words, felt himself push away, towards the golden walls of Vector Sigma. Once again, he saw his reflection in the gold. Hesitantly, he reached out to it, to touch it.
In an instant it changed, becoming something new. In it’s place was a gasping being, as young and witless as he was now. It was red and white and covered with fur, but underneath was silver and blue metal with bits of green here and there. A transformer, but unlike anything the Autobot had ever seen.
His reflection changed again. Now it was bigger, darker, more twisted. Its torso was a glass cockpit with a yellow-orange spark hovering within, red eyes gazing at him instead of blue from a beastial, canine head. Different, yet somehow connected to the previous reflection.
A third reflection appeared yet again, one that made the Autobot shout “Rodimus?” But it wasn’t Rodimus Prime. But it was so familiar…same colors, same designs…so much in common.
“These are,” Alpha Trion told the Autobot, “Reflections, of what is to come. Greater deeds than any that will come of this Great War shall be seen by your eyes and come of your hands…for your spark will be shared by one who has yet to be born.”
“But…Alpha Trion….”
In a flash everything turned back…except for one flickering point of blue white light. A portal, one made of thousands upon thousands of blue sparks was there, with the old Autobot standing before it.
“WAIT! DON’T LEAVE ME! I-I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM!” cried out the Autobot.
His façade fading fast, Alpha Trion’s voice echoed, “You are what is yet to come, and are what you are now. That is all you need to know. Now go…the Matix…will always be with you.”
He was returned back to the Vector Sigma chamber, back to the real world. It was hard to believe what he had seen, to believe the phantom of a long-dead Autobot. Was it real, or a delusion?
Then he remembered. “Rodimus…Rodimus Prime needs me,” he muttered aloud, “I…I must help him. I know what to do…and who I am.” He simply knew.
The Autobot instinctively transformed. His arms folded up front, becoming the forward half of a Firebird. His legs kicked back, folding up behind his head which was absorbed into the trunk. Yellow headlights flared up and engine growled. The shining insignia of all Autobots twinkled in place of a license plate below the bumper.
Shifting into drive, the Autobot said to himself, “I am RedStreak.”