Last and Alone - Secret Part 6
Last and Alone - Secret
Title: Part 6
Rating: T
Characters: Jazz, Perceptor
Warnings: Mech x Mech hinted at/mentioned occasionally
Universe: G1-ish AU/Last and Alone/Monolith
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. They belong to Has/Tak, No infringement intended. Any OC’s to my knowledge are solely mine.
Summary: Perceptor was once part of a gestalt, but the others were destroyed. Since he should never have survived the deaths of his teammates, it’s a secret he has kept for thousands of vorns. Now Jazz is tracking it down.
Part 5 - Secret
Part 6
Jazz had arrived at Perceptor’s lab to find the Scientist waiting for him. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that since the bot had been avoiding him for a week. But it would surely fit with the way his morning was going.
Every time he’d gone looking for Perceptor over the past week he had failed to locate him. Even Teletran had been useless. And that in itself was interesting. So, a full day after talking with Ratchet and a good four days in; Jazz had chosen to ignore the CMO’s warning and sought out Red Alert for help in locating the wayward microscope.
As far as locating Perceptor, that had been a dismal failure. As far as earning Jazz a very loud and long lecture that two thirds of the Ark’s company had heard as well as a couple of dents to his armor, it had been successful. Red Alert had finally crashed late last night after fretting over Decepticons, traitors, and Primus only knew what other types of plots - most of which did involve Perceptor- for the past three days. After a full night of working on Red Alert; Jazz had been first on the Medics list this morning.
Toss on top of that the smiling looks from the crew members who had heard the lecture - pleased they weren’t on the receiving end - the miffed look from Inferno a short time later, and the persistent unsympathetic thread of humor he could feel faintly in the background from Prowl - and though the tactician did not know the full reason for Ratchet’s tirade, he was sure Jazz had earned every loud word and dent he’d received - Jazz had known this was going to be a very long morning, to say nothing about the rest of the day ahead. Then Perceptor had just waltzed into the rec room like nothing was wrong. As though he hadn’t been MIA for the past seven days as far as it concerned the Porsche’s attempts to talk with him.
Now Jazz followed Perceptor into his office just off the lab. Jazz had never been in here, having little enough reason to do so in the past, so as Perceptor took a seat, he took the opportunity to look around. It appeared to be set up more for relaxing that actual work.
While there was a small desk with chair and computer terminal tucked in the corner directly across from where he had entered, the rest of the furniture occupying the decent sized office consisted of a couch big enough for three Standard Class mechs, two matching chairs, a mismatched third chair and a long low table, all of which had seen better days, but appeared functional.
The walls were adorned with pictures of varying sizes. Some of scenes from Earth and some from Cybertron well before the war. Most were just scene captures, most likely taken from memory files Jazz realized; though there were two paintings of the Ark.
The first was how the Ark looked just prior to launch on Cybertron, its gleaming orange hull, highlighted further by various spotlights stood out amongst the cooler colors of their home world. The second as she currently lay buried was at sunset with all the colors in super bright hues of oranges, reds and yellows with the shadows in purples, blues and grays. A handwritten note tacked above both paintings read ‘Everything Changes.’
As Jazz looked closer at the paintings he was surprised to see Sunstreaker’s elegant signature on both. Though who else amongst the crew could have done paintings of this quality he didn’t know.
“A request, he obliged,” offered Perceptor from where he sat across the office.
“I didn’t know you knew he was an artist. Very few do.”
“And I don’t seem the type who would know.”
“Something like that.” Jazz offered as he moved past the paintings to the next picture. It was large for a capture, though smaller than the paintings and consisted of six mechs standing together smiling, happy and relaxed. The background was undeterminable. Jazz paused here again to look at it. Perceptor was the only one he recognized, though even then, there had been some changes in his armor design since whenever the picture had been recorded. That he recognized none of the other mechs was not unusual. Many of the Arks crew had pictures of friends and comrades lost to the war. Perceptor’s words though, did surprise him.
“They’re who you came to see me about.” Perceptor said quietly as he stepped up next to Jazz. “The blue and black with the visor is Slider.”
Jazz could see that his helm was very similar to that of the blue and black mech in the picture and the visor further encouraged the similarity.
“The red and blue to his left is Gazer, our pilot. The three in back, starting on the left are Tonic, Foist and Cavalier. I was the recon scout and warrior. Together we formed the first of three gestalts ever created.”
And with that, Perceptor reached out and tapped the frame of the picture next to the one of the team. Surprising Jazz, it changed from an Earth scene to that of a gestalt of red, black, blue, and white. Perceptor moved back to where he had been sitting, sinking down again.
“The first of three gestalts?” Jazz did not look back at Perceptor but studied the gestalt in the picture.
“Yes. Three gestalts eventually came out of the project.”
“So you’re saying that Devastator is not the first?”
“At best he is the fourth gestalt. The first of your modern gestalts. I don’t know if the Decepticons came up with the technology on their own or if they found some or all of the original files on the program.”
Jazz continued to look at the picture of the gestalt, but not really seeing it. Working to wrap his CPU around the idea that Percy was really part of a gestalt. Sure that was the question he had set out to answer, had in fact been pushed into answering by some deep unexplainable circuit and wires feeling. Yet he realized that somewhere deep in his CPU, just as unexplainable despite what he had told Ratchet; he had believed himself to be on a ‘wild goose chase’ as the humans would say. And now, not only was Percy part of a gestalt, he was part of one completely unknown to the Autobots. The whole situation was headed down the path of the surreal for Jazz.
Jazz focused back on the picture of the six mechs again. He placed each mech in their respective positions within the gestalt. Still looking between the two pictures, unwilling quite yet to look at Perceptor, Jazz spoke. “You formed the torso.”
It wasn’t really a question, just a statement, but Perceptor answered anyway. “Yes.”
“I wouldn’t think you large enough for that position.”
“I do happen to possess mass conversion abilities.” Perceptor replied dryly.
Oops. He’d known that. Between the two sizes of Perceptor’s alt form plus his robotic form the other option was parts compression. He knew Perceptor’s armor was just too good for the compression method which was fine for casseticons, but far from efficient for larger bots; as Broadside could attest to.
Perceptor continued, unaware of Jazz’s self berating. “All of us were Standard Class size mechs but we all possessed the ability. Monolith would have massed in the range of Defensor, Bruticus and Menasor. Superion would be a bit heavier, Devastator more so.”
“That particular ability is not common. We’ve killed so many of our people. Was it more so before the war? ”
“In my time, it wasn’t common, nor was it uncommon.”
“Is that ability a requirement?”
“For the first three it was; else we would never have massed enough for an advantage when combined. But Devastator is a simply a good example of a gestalt comprised completely of Olympic Class bots. I suspect the Stunticons have the ability since Motormaster is Imperial Class and the rest of his team are Standard. But size and class aside, back in my time, there was a lot of care and effort put into finding the right mechs to make the Gestalt experiment work. First and foremost, we all had an inherent encoded predisposition for the gestalt process to be successful. Without that, even with the CPU tinkering, body reformatting, spark bonding and mass conversion abilities we would not have been able to tolerate the physical and mental combination. With the number of factors that needed to be met, we were all targeted long before we had even heard of Gestalt Industries. We just didn’t know it.”
“Targeted?”
“They didn’t just pick the first six mechs they came across on the street for this Jazz. We were all in various circumstances that would make the offer look nice.” Perceptor’s optics dimmed a bit as he remembered. Then he continued. “Even with the bonds revealing everything, I thought they only got Slider because of me, but even if we’d not been rooming together, or our circumstances different, they would have got him. We just might not have been on the same team but he’d been marked as a primary target as well.” Perceptor shook himself, now was not the time to go get lost in a memory.
Jazz turned around and flopped down in the couch, looking at Perceptor. Yes surreal might be a good description. “Huh, it’s funny; I’ve been after you for the past seven days and I really believed that once I found you, this was all going to come down to a battlefield quirk, and you were just embarrassed. I should have lots of questions that I want to ask, as well as questions that need to be asked. And now, with you sitting here having flat out confirmed you’re a member of a gestalt team, I don’t know where to start. I think you’ve stalled my CPU Percy.” Jazz said with an easy smile.
For all that Perceptor had basically set this meeting up and needed to get this over with he was unwilling -for the moment- to lead the conversation any more than he already had. Ultimately he would have to take over, but till then… so he sat and watched Jazz.
Jazz realized Perceptor was not going to offer anymore. “Fine, I guess the first question now is where’s the rest of your gestalt?”
“Dead.”
“No. You’re here so they must be somewhere nearby. And I sure want to know where they’ve been hiding all this time, and how they got here in the first place.”
“Perceptor looked at Jazz, sorrow crossing his features, “trust me, I’d be the first to know if they were alive.”
“No. All I’ve read on gestalts says they periodically have to merge and all and if you kill one member of a gestalt, you’ve killed the team. Maybe not immediately, but within the following orn at most, they’ll all be dead.”
“And do you know who provided most of the information we have about gestalts?” Perceptor asked with a quirked optic ridge.
“Ratchet said that…wait you lied to us?” And Jazz realized he wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not.
“No! No, I did not lie. Every piece of information I offered up about gestalts is the truth. I just… omitted… certain pieces of information. You don’t realize it, and I doubt anyone else does either, or I am sure I would have had a few questions by now, but some of the information contained in my report would not have been… obtainable if I did not know of it from firsthand experience. Our two gestalt teams are too young to realize or even understand the true depth of half of it, and their skill sets for the most part are not geared toward understanding it anyway. They may never understand some of it. They expect and except everything the gestalt is, because they know nothing else. My team existed for 72 hundred vorns. But we weren’t created gestalt.
“Just when did these teams exist?”
“The last of the first gestalts were destroyed approximately 48 hundred vorns before the beginning of your war. Before the Autobots found me, at the time we died, Cybertron was well into the heyday of its Golden Age. And the tiniest, smaller than small hint that it would all end up in a great civil war that would destroy our planet had just broken on the horizon. Our biggest threat wasn’t on Cybertron. It was to and from experimental colonies that had been set up on distant worlds. That was the reason for the CCC, and the gestalts. Though now I’m positive the ultimate reason for the gestalt studies was for war machines. The third and final gestalt team proved that actually. And Devastator is further proof.”
“What’s the CCC? I’ve never heard of it.”
“CCC is or rather was Cybertron Colonial Command. Sound vaguely militaristic to you? They were. They were and were not officially sanctioned. By the time of Monolith’s death, the CCC was the best known defunct but not; secret agency around. If you worked for the Council Senate, you knew we were active, if you were a civilian, you knew the agency had been disbanded and the colonies abandoned, with the exception of a few mining ones, as a failure vorns ago.”
“Some story.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t want my past as common knowledge. I am talking with you because I slipped up, then I panicked. I owe you the explanation. I need you to understand.”
“Riiight. So either you’ve lied to us since the beginning, or you didn’t, or you’re lying to me, or you’re not. Or your just plain lying. Or you’re not. This really clears things up.”
“I already told you none of the information I gave the Autobots regarding gestalts is a lie. I just omitted some things. I am not lying to you about having once been part of a gestalt team. And that is a piece of trivia that as common knowledge would benefit no one. I am not lying to you about the rest of my team being terminated. The pain is something I would not wish on my enemies even. I wish my team were still alive. That I am alive and my team is not is a mystery to me that I have spent vorns since my re-activation trying to understand. I have some theories about my survival, but my files immediately following Sliders death are corrupted.”
“Yeah, corrupted memory files are always convenient for a liar, traitor or espionage agent.”
Perceptor’s optics flashed briefly in anger. “Omitting some information dies not make me a liar. If it did, Sideswipe would hold the honors for that title on a daily basis. But no one gets on his case for omitting facts. Do you honestly think he would be able to tell the truth all the time if he told the whole truth? And I find it hard to believe that you report everything in your mission reports. In fact, as the command officer of Special Operation’s; knowing when to omit items is one of those needed, but not talked about requirements. You have no right to call me a liar because I omitted information regarding my past. And I know I am not the only Bot of this faction to have done so.”
“Yes, but these other bots didn’t omit to being part of a gestalt team.”
“If espionage is your concern, there are far easier ways for a traitor to operate than being separated from his gestalt team! And how do you know none of the others are part of a gestalt? You didn’t even know that I had once been part of one.”
“So your team is alive then.”
“No! No! No! They are dead! Dead! Dead! And Perceptor was practically wailing by the last word.
Jazz jerked and continued to look at Perceptor, surprised by the vehemence and emotion behind the answer from the bot he had always known to be pretty mild in attitude. “You know, I just realized this is the most understandable conversation I think I have ever had with you.”
Perceptor frowned and looked at the ceiling as he reigned in the emotions that threatened to slip loose even further than they had already done. Then looked back to the Saboteur wondering if the change in topic was meant to unbalance him more than he already was.
“This is closer to how I used to talk.” Perceptor began mildly. “The ability to break everything down into dry facts that bore everyone around me or the big absent minded beyond the CPU science talk I utilize now is part of the cover I developed upon on lining in the Autobots medical bay in Iacon. Foist liked to use big over the CPU words and phrases that actually had simple translations, though he had actually given it up for the most part when talking with the team after a few vorns of being gestalt bonded.” Perceptor paused as he thought about Foist.
Then he continued. “In fact, the brilliant scientific intelligence you all think me to be? Is an act. Well it started as an act, but I found with the memories of my gestalt mates as reference I actually have a CPU up to the task. It’s funny though, what makes me brilliant in this day and age, only made my teammates average amongst the science community of our time. You don’t realize the true amount of information that has been lost in your war. Or over time. I really don’t know which.”
“So more lies?”
“No lies Jazz, this is who I am now.”
“And what were you?”
“A member of a gestalt team.”
And Jazz leaned forward a scowl obvious with the tone of his voice. “Don’t test me Percy, I’m having enough trouble with this as it is. And I’m the adaptable Officer among this command.”
Perceptor flinched then spoke in a carefully measured neutral non threatening tone. “I was a scout and warrior with a specialty in Organic Studies.” Perceptor paused again, then continued. “Before that I was an adventure guide for bots with too much time and credits, looking for excitement on nearby organic planets or in the wastelands. And before that, my first job, the one I was created for?… I was an…expert agent… in the illicit procurement of others valuables. Hence my name. I was expert at perceiving that which was hidden.”
Jazz stared; sure, everything he’d thought he’d known about Perceptor was being turned upside down this morning, but what Perceptor had just claimed? That on its own was coming close to being equal in the world of the surreal that Jazz was currently muddling through.
“You’re a thief?” Jazz questioned in disbelief
“I prefer my description, but yes yours works as well.”
“You’re a thief?” Jazz question again
“Was a thief. And amongst previous revelations and those yet to come, I would think that one to be relatively minor.”
“Well true I’m sure, but you really, really don’t seem the type.”
“Hmm, and I suppose Sunstreaker’s not and Artist?”
“Point. So your team is supposedly dead?”
“They are dead.”
“You have yet to prove that. Pit! You have yet to prove any of this is true or not. For all I know, this could be some elaborate prank of Sideswipe’s. And he’s sitting back laughing his aft off at my attempts to track you down.”
“I seriously doubt that Sideswipe would approach me for help with a prank, or that I would give it.”
“Yes, that does seem the logical conclusion, which is all the more reason that this would work. So how’d they die?”
It took a moment as Perceptor caught up with the switch back to the main topic. His optics dimmed and he shifted his gaze to the far wall over Jazz’s shoulder. “We were doing our job…assisting a colony planet when the…aggressors killed Slider. As I mentioned, the last uncorrupted file I have of that battle is Sliders death. The pain of my processor, my spark, everything I was being ripped and torn asunder. I don’t recommend the experience.” Perceptor finished dryly looking back at Jazz.
“How have you been able to avoid me finding you? I in fact, reluctantly compliment you on switching yours and Trailbreaker’s locators. It was very classy. Sly computer talent is not one of your listed skills.”
“They’re not my skills, at least most of them aren’t. They belonged to Slider. And while I can imitate his skills because within me I have all that he was, I’m not as quick solving a problem if he himself never encountered it. The same really goes for all the skills I have borrowed from my teammates in service to the Autobots. Procurement, scouting and fighting skills are mine alone, and the ones I use the least now.”
Jazz pursued “So why not advertise the computer skills or the fighting ones. You handled Dirge pretty well, especially considering you were dealing with that blasted sub-sonic tune of his. A bot with skills like those could be useful in a lot of places.”
“Fighting Dirge is easy, even as out of practice as I am. Not to dismiss his talents as a warrior, but he’s come to rely too much on his sub-sonics to turn his targets into whimpering puddles of fear before engaging. In facing me though, he faced a bot that lives with his greatest fear every day. My team is dead and I live with the feelings and fear of loss and the pain. I cannot emphasize enough how little there is to fear when you live your worst fear every day.”
“I’m not sure I can understand that.” Offered Jazz
“No, you can’t.” was the simple reply
“You’re obviously good at what you do Perceptor, but if you were a warrior, why not continue?”
“The simple truth is I was tired of being a warrior and to confused and depressed at the time I on-lined in Ratchet’s Med Bay to think overly clear, I wanted nothing to do with what had left me disoriented and in pain. And a computer slicer meant utilizing Sliders memories too often. Plus on a selfish level, I was use to the privileges of Rank that were mine as a result of being a gestalt in the CCC. Science, Medical or Engineering would give me the Rank, without the responsibility of having to command troops on a regular basis. That I became head of the Science Division, or that I did it so quickly was a surprise. And I am not about to change direction this late in the game because I slipped up with you.” Of course, Perceptor realized that with Jazz having this knowledge, he might have to change anyway.
“Perceptor, I want to believe you, your record speaks for itself, but the potential security risk you pose is huge. And there’s really no way to confirm what you’re saying. Ratchet has sai…” and Jazz trailed off. Ratchet had said that Perceptor scanned like a normal bot, which according to the CMO would be impossible if Perceptor was bonded, gestalt or otherwise.
“How have you fooled Ratchet and any other Medic who’s ever scanned or worked on you? Ratchet said a gestalt member scans differently than non gestalts.”
Perceptor’s optics dimmed as he paused before subspacing the façade chips. He’d thought of different ways to resolve this situation he had created with Jazz, finally desiding that full disclosure was the best choice. But the facades were so very important to his ability to hide amongst his peers, where sensor scans were a routine part of daily life.
Jazz watched as Perceptor subspaced from a pocket a couple of items that resembled data chips, only about triple the thickness and handed them over. Jazz reached and accepted the offerings and examined them. They really did look like nothing more than thickened data chips.
“Those are system facades. Very specially designed. There are various ports under my armor for those. They sync with my system and create a false signature to lay over my real one. It’ll read as natural every time. It only takes one to pull off, the rest are redundant in case of damage. Which while not as important in my time, where the frequency of damage causing situations was far less, but invaluable in this war. They were standard equipment for all the gestalt teams because the gestalt process was beyond top secret. They were of course in place when I was first brought out of stasis by Ratchet. And I could hardly go from scanning as a normal un-bonded mech, to one with shattered bonds. Gestalt or otherwise.”
“Percy,” Jazz said seriously as he found his normal humor in the Microscopes flinching at the name gone, “You’re sounding very black ops. And I gotta tell you, that’s not a good thing at the moment from my position.”
Perceptor leaned forward towards Jazz, locking his optics on the visor, just as serious, “Let me make you an offer. There’s only one way, whether you realize it or not, for you to confirm my history and the truth of everything I’ve told you. I’m willing to let you deep level interface with me to prove what I have told you is the truth.”
Jazz smirked to himself. “Thanks,” he drawled “but I don’t think Prowl would take that very well.”
Perceptor broke contact with Jazz’s visor and shook his head, then continued with a trace of frustration in his voice. “Yes, I am well aware of your affiliation with Prowl. However interfacing wasn’t always about pleasure. Only in your more modern times with the creation of the central hubs did that become the more prominent thought regarding that term.” He paused and sighed. “Let me re-phrase. I am willing to offer you an uplink with my systems. A full uplink. It’s all about business Jazz.”
( Part 7 - Secret )
Title: Part 6
Rating: T
Characters: Jazz, Perceptor
Warnings: Mech x Mech hinted at/mentioned occasionally
Universe: G1-ish AU/Last and Alone/Monolith
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. They belong to Has/Tak, No infringement intended. Any OC’s to my knowledge are solely mine.
Summary: Perceptor was once part of a gestalt, but the others were destroyed. Since he should never have survived the deaths of his teammates, it’s a secret he has kept for thousands of vorns. Now Jazz is tracking it down.
Part 5 - Secret
Part 6
Jazz had arrived at Perceptor’s lab to find the Scientist waiting for him. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that since the bot had been avoiding him for a week. But it would surely fit with the way his morning was going.
Every time he’d gone looking for Perceptor over the past week he had failed to locate him. Even Teletran had been useless. And that in itself was interesting. So, a full day after talking with Ratchet and a good four days in; Jazz had chosen to ignore the CMO’s warning and sought out Red Alert for help in locating the wayward microscope.
As far as locating Perceptor, that had been a dismal failure. As far as earning Jazz a very loud and long lecture that two thirds of the Ark’s company had heard as well as a couple of dents to his armor, it had been successful. Red Alert had finally crashed late last night after fretting over Decepticons, traitors, and Primus only knew what other types of plots - most of which did involve Perceptor- for the past three days. After a full night of working on Red Alert; Jazz had been first on the Medics list this morning.
Toss on top of that the smiling looks from the crew members who had heard the lecture - pleased they weren’t on the receiving end - the miffed look from Inferno a short time later, and the persistent unsympathetic thread of humor he could feel faintly in the background from Prowl - and though the tactician did not know the full reason for Ratchet’s tirade, he was sure Jazz had earned every loud word and dent he’d received - Jazz had known this was going to be a very long morning, to say nothing about the rest of the day ahead. Then Perceptor had just waltzed into the rec room like nothing was wrong. As though he hadn’t been MIA for the past seven days as far as it concerned the Porsche’s attempts to talk with him.
Now Jazz followed Perceptor into his office just off the lab. Jazz had never been in here, having little enough reason to do so in the past, so as Perceptor took a seat, he took the opportunity to look around. It appeared to be set up more for relaxing that actual work.
While there was a small desk with chair and computer terminal tucked in the corner directly across from where he had entered, the rest of the furniture occupying the decent sized office consisted of a couch big enough for three Standard Class mechs, two matching chairs, a mismatched third chair and a long low table, all of which had seen better days, but appeared functional.
The walls were adorned with pictures of varying sizes. Some of scenes from Earth and some from Cybertron well before the war. Most were just scene captures, most likely taken from memory files Jazz realized; though there were two paintings of the Ark.
The first was how the Ark looked just prior to launch on Cybertron, its gleaming orange hull, highlighted further by various spotlights stood out amongst the cooler colors of their home world. The second as she currently lay buried was at sunset with all the colors in super bright hues of oranges, reds and yellows with the shadows in purples, blues and grays. A handwritten note tacked above both paintings read ‘Everything Changes.’
As Jazz looked closer at the paintings he was surprised to see Sunstreaker’s elegant signature on both. Though who else amongst the crew could have done paintings of this quality he didn’t know.
“A request, he obliged,” offered Perceptor from where he sat across the office.
“I didn’t know you knew he was an artist. Very few do.”
“And I don’t seem the type who would know.”
“Something like that.” Jazz offered as he moved past the paintings to the next picture. It was large for a capture, though smaller than the paintings and consisted of six mechs standing together smiling, happy and relaxed. The background was undeterminable. Jazz paused here again to look at it. Perceptor was the only one he recognized, though even then, there had been some changes in his armor design since whenever the picture had been recorded. That he recognized none of the other mechs was not unusual. Many of the Arks crew had pictures of friends and comrades lost to the war. Perceptor’s words though, did surprise him.
“They’re who you came to see me about.” Perceptor said quietly as he stepped up next to Jazz. “The blue and black with the visor is Slider.”
Jazz could see that his helm was very similar to that of the blue and black mech in the picture and the visor further encouraged the similarity.
“The red and blue to his left is Gazer, our pilot. The three in back, starting on the left are Tonic, Foist and Cavalier. I was the recon scout and warrior. Together we formed the first of three gestalts ever created.”
And with that, Perceptor reached out and tapped the frame of the picture next to the one of the team. Surprising Jazz, it changed from an Earth scene to that of a gestalt of red, black, blue, and white. Perceptor moved back to where he had been sitting, sinking down again.
“The first of three gestalts?” Jazz did not look back at Perceptor but studied the gestalt in the picture.
“Yes. Three gestalts eventually came out of the project.”
“So you’re saying that Devastator is not the first?”
“At best he is the fourth gestalt. The first of your modern gestalts. I don’t know if the Decepticons came up with the technology on their own or if they found some or all of the original files on the program.”
Jazz continued to look at the picture of the gestalt, but not really seeing it. Working to wrap his CPU around the idea that Percy was really part of a gestalt. Sure that was the question he had set out to answer, had in fact been pushed into answering by some deep unexplainable circuit and wires feeling. Yet he realized that somewhere deep in his CPU, just as unexplainable despite what he had told Ratchet; he had believed himself to be on a ‘wild goose chase’ as the humans would say. And now, not only was Percy part of a gestalt, he was part of one completely unknown to the Autobots. The whole situation was headed down the path of the surreal for Jazz.
Jazz focused back on the picture of the six mechs again. He placed each mech in their respective positions within the gestalt. Still looking between the two pictures, unwilling quite yet to look at Perceptor, Jazz spoke. “You formed the torso.”
It wasn’t really a question, just a statement, but Perceptor answered anyway. “Yes.”
“I wouldn’t think you large enough for that position.”
“I do happen to possess mass conversion abilities.” Perceptor replied dryly.
Oops. He’d known that. Between the two sizes of Perceptor’s alt form plus his robotic form the other option was parts compression. He knew Perceptor’s armor was just too good for the compression method which was fine for casseticons, but far from efficient for larger bots; as Broadside could attest to.
Perceptor continued, unaware of Jazz’s self berating. “All of us were Standard Class size mechs but we all possessed the ability. Monolith would have massed in the range of Defensor, Bruticus and Menasor. Superion would be a bit heavier, Devastator more so.”
“That particular ability is not common. We’ve killed so many of our people. Was it more so before the war? ”
“In my time, it wasn’t common, nor was it uncommon.”
“Is that ability a requirement?”
“For the first three it was; else we would never have massed enough for an advantage when combined. But Devastator is a simply a good example of a gestalt comprised completely of Olympic Class bots. I suspect the Stunticons have the ability since Motormaster is Imperial Class and the rest of his team are Standard. But size and class aside, back in my time, there was a lot of care and effort put into finding the right mechs to make the Gestalt experiment work. First and foremost, we all had an inherent encoded predisposition for the gestalt process to be successful. Without that, even with the CPU tinkering, body reformatting, spark bonding and mass conversion abilities we would not have been able to tolerate the physical and mental combination. With the number of factors that needed to be met, we were all targeted long before we had even heard of Gestalt Industries. We just didn’t know it.”
“Targeted?”
“They didn’t just pick the first six mechs they came across on the street for this Jazz. We were all in various circumstances that would make the offer look nice.” Perceptor’s optics dimmed a bit as he remembered. Then he continued. “Even with the bonds revealing everything, I thought they only got Slider because of me, but even if we’d not been rooming together, or our circumstances different, they would have got him. We just might not have been on the same team but he’d been marked as a primary target as well.” Perceptor shook himself, now was not the time to go get lost in a memory.
Jazz turned around and flopped down in the couch, looking at Perceptor. Yes surreal might be a good description. “Huh, it’s funny; I’ve been after you for the past seven days and I really believed that once I found you, this was all going to come down to a battlefield quirk, and you were just embarrassed. I should have lots of questions that I want to ask, as well as questions that need to be asked. And now, with you sitting here having flat out confirmed you’re a member of a gestalt team, I don’t know where to start. I think you’ve stalled my CPU Percy.” Jazz said with an easy smile.
For all that Perceptor had basically set this meeting up and needed to get this over with he was unwilling -for the moment- to lead the conversation any more than he already had. Ultimately he would have to take over, but till then… so he sat and watched Jazz.
Jazz realized Perceptor was not going to offer anymore. “Fine, I guess the first question now is where’s the rest of your gestalt?”
“Dead.”
“No. You’re here so they must be somewhere nearby. And I sure want to know where they’ve been hiding all this time, and how they got here in the first place.”
“Perceptor looked at Jazz, sorrow crossing his features, “trust me, I’d be the first to know if they were alive.”
“No. All I’ve read on gestalts says they periodically have to merge and all and if you kill one member of a gestalt, you’ve killed the team. Maybe not immediately, but within the following orn at most, they’ll all be dead.”
“And do you know who provided most of the information we have about gestalts?” Perceptor asked with a quirked optic ridge.
“Ratchet said that…wait you lied to us?” And Jazz realized he wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not.
“No! No, I did not lie. Every piece of information I offered up about gestalts is the truth. I just… omitted… certain pieces of information. You don’t realize it, and I doubt anyone else does either, or I am sure I would have had a few questions by now, but some of the information contained in my report would not have been… obtainable if I did not know of it from firsthand experience. Our two gestalt teams are too young to realize or even understand the true depth of half of it, and their skill sets for the most part are not geared toward understanding it anyway. They may never understand some of it. They expect and except everything the gestalt is, because they know nothing else. My team existed for 72 hundred vorns. But we weren’t created gestalt.
“Just when did these teams exist?”
“The last of the first gestalts were destroyed approximately 48 hundred vorns before the beginning of your war. Before the Autobots found me, at the time we died, Cybertron was well into the heyday of its Golden Age. And the tiniest, smaller than small hint that it would all end up in a great civil war that would destroy our planet had just broken on the horizon. Our biggest threat wasn’t on Cybertron. It was to and from experimental colonies that had been set up on distant worlds. That was the reason for the CCC, and the gestalts. Though now I’m positive the ultimate reason for the gestalt studies was for war machines. The third and final gestalt team proved that actually. And Devastator is further proof.”
“What’s the CCC? I’ve never heard of it.”
“CCC is or rather was Cybertron Colonial Command. Sound vaguely militaristic to you? They were. They were and were not officially sanctioned. By the time of Monolith’s death, the CCC was the best known defunct but not; secret agency around. If you worked for the Council Senate, you knew we were active, if you were a civilian, you knew the agency had been disbanded and the colonies abandoned, with the exception of a few mining ones, as a failure vorns ago.”
“Some story.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t want my past as common knowledge. I am talking with you because I slipped up, then I panicked. I owe you the explanation. I need you to understand.”
“Riiight. So either you’ve lied to us since the beginning, or you didn’t, or you’re lying to me, or you’re not. Or your just plain lying. Or you’re not. This really clears things up.”
“I already told you none of the information I gave the Autobots regarding gestalts is a lie. I just omitted some things. I am not lying to you about having once been part of a gestalt team. And that is a piece of trivia that as common knowledge would benefit no one. I am not lying to you about the rest of my team being terminated. The pain is something I would not wish on my enemies even. I wish my team were still alive. That I am alive and my team is not is a mystery to me that I have spent vorns since my re-activation trying to understand. I have some theories about my survival, but my files immediately following Sliders death are corrupted.”
“Yeah, corrupted memory files are always convenient for a liar, traitor or espionage agent.”
Perceptor’s optics flashed briefly in anger. “Omitting some information dies not make me a liar. If it did, Sideswipe would hold the honors for that title on a daily basis. But no one gets on his case for omitting facts. Do you honestly think he would be able to tell the truth all the time if he told the whole truth? And I find it hard to believe that you report everything in your mission reports. In fact, as the command officer of Special Operation’s; knowing when to omit items is one of those needed, but not talked about requirements. You have no right to call me a liar because I omitted information regarding my past. And I know I am not the only Bot of this faction to have done so.”
“Yes, but these other bots didn’t omit to being part of a gestalt team.”
“If espionage is your concern, there are far easier ways for a traitor to operate than being separated from his gestalt team! And how do you know none of the others are part of a gestalt? You didn’t even know that I had once been part of one.”
“So your team is alive then.”
“No! No! No! They are dead! Dead! Dead! And Perceptor was practically wailing by the last word.
Jazz jerked and continued to look at Perceptor, surprised by the vehemence and emotion behind the answer from the bot he had always known to be pretty mild in attitude. “You know, I just realized this is the most understandable conversation I think I have ever had with you.”
Perceptor frowned and looked at the ceiling as he reigned in the emotions that threatened to slip loose even further than they had already done. Then looked back to the Saboteur wondering if the change in topic was meant to unbalance him more than he already was.
“This is closer to how I used to talk.” Perceptor began mildly. “The ability to break everything down into dry facts that bore everyone around me or the big absent minded beyond the CPU science talk I utilize now is part of the cover I developed upon on lining in the Autobots medical bay in Iacon. Foist liked to use big over the CPU words and phrases that actually had simple translations, though he had actually given it up for the most part when talking with the team after a few vorns of being gestalt bonded.” Perceptor paused as he thought about Foist.
Then he continued. “In fact, the brilliant scientific intelligence you all think me to be? Is an act. Well it started as an act, but I found with the memories of my gestalt mates as reference I actually have a CPU up to the task. It’s funny though, what makes me brilliant in this day and age, only made my teammates average amongst the science community of our time. You don’t realize the true amount of information that has been lost in your war. Or over time. I really don’t know which.”
“So more lies?”
“No lies Jazz, this is who I am now.”
“And what were you?”
“A member of a gestalt team.”
And Jazz leaned forward a scowl obvious with the tone of his voice. “Don’t test me Percy, I’m having enough trouble with this as it is. And I’m the adaptable Officer among this command.”
Perceptor flinched then spoke in a carefully measured neutral non threatening tone. “I was a scout and warrior with a specialty in Organic Studies.” Perceptor paused again, then continued. “Before that I was an adventure guide for bots with too much time and credits, looking for excitement on nearby organic planets or in the wastelands. And before that, my first job, the one I was created for?… I was an…expert agent… in the illicit procurement of others valuables. Hence my name. I was expert at perceiving that which was hidden.”
Jazz stared; sure, everything he’d thought he’d known about Perceptor was being turned upside down this morning, but what Perceptor had just claimed? That on its own was coming close to being equal in the world of the surreal that Jazz was currently muddling through.
“You’re a thief?” Jazz questioned in disbelief
“I prefer my description, but yes yours works as well.”
“You’re a thief?” Jazz question again
“Was a thief. And amongst previous revelations and those yet to come, I would think that one to be relatively minor.”
“Well true I’m sure, but you really, really don’t seem the type.”
“Hmm, and I suppose Sunstreaker’s not and Artist?”
“Point. So your team is supposedly dead?”
“They are dead.”
“You have yet to prove that. Pit! You have yet to prove any of this is true or not. For all I know, this could be some elaborate prank of Sideswipe’s. And he’s sitting back laughing his aft off at my attempts to track you down.”
“I seriously doubt that Sideswipe would approach me for help with a prank, or that I would give it.”
“Yes, that does seem the logical conclusion, which is all the more reason that this would work. So how’d they die?”
It took a moment as Perceptor caught up with the switch back to the main topic. His optics dimmed and he shifted his gaze to the far wall over Jazz’s shoulder. “We were doing our job…assisting a colony planet when the…aggressors killed Slider. As I mentioned, the last uncorrupted file I have of that battle is Sliders death. The pain of my processor, my spark, everything I was being ripped and torn asunder. I don’t recommend the experience.” Perceptor finished dryly looking back at Jazz.
“How have you been able to avoid me finding you? I in fact, reluctantly compliment you on switching yours and Trailbreaker’s locators. It was very classy. Sly computer talent is not one of your listed skills.”
“They’re not my skills, at least most of them aren’t. They belonged to Slider. And while I can imitate his skills because within me I have all that he was, I’m not as quick solving a problem if he himself never encountered it. The same really goes for all the skills I have borrowed from my teammates in service to the Autobots. Procurement, scouting and fighting skills are mine alone, and the ones I use the least now.”
Jazz pursued “So why not advertise the computer skills or the fighting ones. You handled Dirge pretty well, especially considering you were dealing with that blasted sub-sonic tune of his. A bot with skills like those could be useful in a lot of places.”
“Fighting Dirge is easy, even as out of practice as I am. Not to dismiss his talents as a warrior, but he’s come to rely too much on his sub-sonics to turn his targets into whimpering puddles of fear before engaging. In facing me though, he faced a bot that lives with his greatest fear every day. My team is dead and I live with the feelings and fear of loss and the pain. I cannot emphasize enough how little there is to fear when you live your worst fear every day.”
“I’m not sure I can understand that.” Offered Jazz
“No, you can’t.” was the simple reply
“You’re obviously good at what you do Perceptor, but if you were a warrior, why not continue?”
“The simple truth is I was tired of being a warrior and to confused and depressed at the time I on-lined in Ratchet’s Med Bay to think overly clear, I wanted nothing to do with what had left me disoriented and in pain. And a computer slicer meant utilizing Sliders memories too often. Plus on a selfish level, I was use to the privileges of Rank that were mine as a result of being a gestalt in the CCC. Science, Medical or Engineering would give me the Rank, without the responsibility of having to command troops on a regular basis. That I became head of the Science Division, or that I did it so quickly was a surprise. And I am not about to change direction this late in the game because I slipped up with you.” Of course, Perceptor realized that with Jazz having this knowledge, he might have to change anyway.
“Perceptor, I want to believe you, your record speaks for itself, but the potential security risk you pose is huge. And there’s really no way to confirm what you’re saying. Ratchet has sai…” and Jazz trailed off. Ratchet had said that Perceptor scanned like a normal bot, which according to the CMO would be impossible if Perceptor was bonded, gestalt or otherwise.
“How have you fooled Ratchet and any other Medic who’s ever scanned or worked on you? Ratchet said a gestalt member scans differently than non gestalts.”
Perceptor’s optics dimmed as he paused before subspacing the façade chips. He’d thought of different ways to resolve this situation he had created with Jazz, finally desiding that full disclosure was the best choice. But the facades were so very important to his ability to hide amongst his peers, where sensor scans were a routine part of daily life.
Jazz watched as Perceptor subspaced from a pocket a couple of items that resembled data chips, only about triple the thickness and handed them over. Jazz reached and accepted the offerings and examined them. They really did look like nothing more than thickened data chips.
“Those are system facades. Very specially designed. There are various ports under my armor for those. They sync with my system and create a false signature to lay over my real one. It’ll read as natural every time. It only takes one to pull off, the rest are redundant in case of damage. Which while not as important in my time, where the frequency of damage causing situations was far less, but invaluable in this war. They were standard equipment for all the gestalt teams because the gestalt process was beyond top secret. They were of course in place when I was first brought out of stasis by Ratchet. And I could hardly go from scanning as a normal un-bonded mech, to one with shattered bonds. Gestalt or otherwise.”
“Percy,” Jazz said seriously as he found his normal humor in the Microscopes flinching at the name gone, “You’re sounding very black ops. And I gotta tell you, that’s not a good thing at the moment from my position.”
Perceptor leaned forward towards Jazz, locking his optics on the visor, just as serious, “Let me make you an offer. There’s only one way, whether you realize it or not, for you to confirm my history and the truth of everything I’ve told you. I’m willing to let you deep level interface with me to prove what I have told you is the truth.”
Jazz smirked to himself. “Thanks,” he drawled “but I don’t think Prowl would take that very well.”
Perceptor broke contact with Jazz’s visor and shook his head, then continued with a trace of frustration in his voice. “Yes, I am well aware of your affiliation with Prowl. However interfacing wasn’t always about pleasure. Only in your more modern times with the creation of the central hubs did that become the more prominent thought regarding that term.” He paused and sighed. “Let me re-phrase. I am willing to offer you an uplink with my systems. A full uplink. It’s all about business Jazz.”
( Part 7 - Secret )