Fic: Thirteen
TITLE: Thirteen
crossover (see Author's Note at the end)
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
South Dakota, the badlands. Not part of the National Park with the same name, but more or less right around the corner. A dirt road led from an old gate into the nowhere-land. No house, no mail boxes, no sign of civilization anywhere.
Still, something was out here. At the end of the hard packed road that was on no survey map, past sharply eroded buttes, pinnacles and spires. No tourist had ever lost his way and come here, no surveyor or other government official voluntarily drove this road. Only a select few did.
The next town, which was twenty miles away from the gate, was Univille, a small, picturesque assembly of houses. It wasn’t a tourist location and since the post office had closed, the next one was in Featherhead, another ninety miles down the road.
Yes, it was a lonely place. Tired and silent and forgotten.
Just like it had been for the past hundred years and just like it was needed for the building located in the middle of the nothingness called the Badlands.
*
He had slipped in unnoticed. Of course, ‘unnoticed’ only went for the humans occupying the building. The building itself was another matter.
Sam Witwicky, technopath, human Prime and bonded to Bumblebee, stood in the massive, dark bowls of something his mind was still trying to classify. It felt alive, sentient, old, but not like any Cybertronian mind he had ever touched. Not even Optimus Prime rivaled this feeling. Sure, Prime was ancient. A lot older than Sam’s mind was able to understand. This, here, around him… it was different.
Walking between the towering shelves, all filled with artifacts that were labeled and, in some cases, coming with a very visible danger sign, Sam let his mind roam. He was allowed to. He had been invited into the building, the other mind curious and almost happy to meet someone else, someone like him - different; able to see and hear the intelligence residing within this structure.
At the edge of his perception he was aware of two anchors standing by. One ready to catch and protect him, the other ready to strike at the enemy, should the strange mind turn out to be hostile.
Sam didn’t think it would be.
Barricade’s ‘foolish human’ comment echoed along the anchor bond he had to the shock-trooper. Sam ignored it. He had been in contact with the other mind for a day, picking up images and stray thoughts as he loitered around the badlands, trying to be inconspicuous. As remote and deserted as the area was, there were still people coming and going. He knew two of them were Secret Service and one was a world-class hacker. The others hadn’t come up on anyone’s danger radar, but Sam knew how to handle that info, too.
Today, after peeking into the other mind from afar, he had taken the entity up on its invitation and offer to meet.
::What’s your name?:: Sam asked the presence.
::Thirteen::
He frowned. ::It’s a number::
::It’s my name::
He stopped in front of a shelf and studied the label. Aisle 989-B, Pandora’s Box. Empty.
Huh.
He had already wondered about the life-sized zeppelin hanging from the ceiling and the cruiseliner that was parked in here, too. It was a freaking ship! Of course, he had immediately scanned for anything remotely like a spark in the huge machines, but there was none. Then again, they might be dormant. He would have to maybe check at a later date.
Walking to a corner that was almost free of clutter, Sam settled on the floor, cross-legged. Thirteen had more or less guided him where to walk and sit. A prior choice of an old wooden chair had been vetoed, accompanied by a feeling of danger. Everything was dangerous here. Everything had been created by humans, from the beginning of time, right back into the ancient days, and the artifacts held power. Some were harmless power, some dangerous. The most dangerous were locked securely away, way deeper into this place. Thirteen had vaguely mentioned the Dark Vault and the Bronze Sector, but Sam hadn’t asked further questions.
::I’m here:: Sam sent. ::You invited me::
::You noticed us::
He smiled. ::We noticed activities that were unexplained and could have links to something we protect::
::We protect as well::
He nodded. They hadn’t come unprepared. Before leaving for South Dakota and this place, Sam had looked up what information Trent had pulled out of the depths of the archives. There was a lot and he had spent the hours from Arctic to South Dakota reading.
::I know you protect. You and the team that works here. You do a commendable job::
And they wouldn’t have stumbled over this Secret Service covered operation. And it was a cover. This ran deeper and ended somewhere no governmental power had had a say in for centuries. Maybe even millennia. Coming here was risky on Sam’s part, but he knew he had to make sure.
Make sure his suspicions were correct. Optimus had agreed that they had to know as much as possible, even if they might never reveal their presence to the operation running from here.
::You found Egypt:: Thirteen said.
::Yes. There was a pulse and one of our agents picked it up.::
There had been a massive pulse from the middle of nowhere and Blaster, up in the Ark, would have had to be blind and deaf not to register it.
::From there we found the connection between this place and the Egypt one. The connection was abruptly cut and we were wondering that had happened::
::Two was lost::
::Two is where the pulse came from?::
::Yes::
Sam leaned his head against the wall behind him, gazing at the ceiling high above. He was fooled to think that all he saw was all there was to this place. Thirteen itself gave the impression of endless space, of labyrinths and weird constructions within the building. Thirteen was the building and it was more. It was the heart and soul of this place. It depended on humans, it needed help. There were no limbs for it to use. It simply watched.
::Two was like you?::
A building? A sentient being inside a structure erected by humans?
::She was older. A lot older::
::How long have you been here?::
::Since 1914. I was born on March 13th::
Sam nodded. ::And Two?::
::She slept a long time after her Caretaker vanished. There was no new Caretaker and times were changing.::
Sam caught faint images of needing to protect the secrets within Two and guarding against intruders. He thought he glimpsed pyramids and endless deserts. Not old pyramids. New ones. Ancient times.
::She came alive again:: he stated. ::That was the pulse::
::Yes. She sleeps once again. Without a Caretaker, we have to shut down::
He frowned. ::What does the Caretaker do?::
::Be with me::
Images again, trying to explain what Thirteen was unable to put into words. Sam’s eyes widened as his mind caught onto the concept.
::A bond?!::
Bumblebee stirred in the back of his mind. Barricade was his normal, cold inky self.
::We cannot talk to the Caretakers. But they are with us until the end::
::Uh…::
::Mrs. Frederic has been with me since my birth::
Geez! Sam’s mind was reeling. ::How can she be with you for a century?!::
::When One was born, Alexander was his Caretaker. His death burned One and Two was founded in his place in Egypt.::
::Alexander?::
::In your annals he is called Alexander the Great::
Sam rubbed his forehead, which had nothing to do with the headache that usually accompanied prolonged technopathic sessions. Alexander the Great had been the Caretaker of the very first of these warehouses?
::You bond? To a human? How?::
::We can. For guidance, for communication, for protection. We simply can::
Sam caught the image of a green ribbon, wrapped around the Caretaker’s wrist, connecting the old one to his or her successor at the time of death. Should the Caretaker die without a successor, the entity bound to him would perish. It was a symbiotic relationship where the human involved would turn immortal, but not invincible. He or she could be killed.
Like Alexander. No successor had been found in time as the great ruler died and with him, the sentient life form bonded to him had ‘burned’. Sam didn’t think One had set fire to himself. The severed bond had most likely fried him somehow. If these entities needed a human bonded, depended on them to live… who had created them? Who had turned them into symbionts? Or had their origins been as something different?
He really, really wanted to see this ribbon and examine it. Bumblebee seconded that notion.
::Does any human work?:: Sam asked.
::No. Only the receptive ones::
::Would I be able to be a Caretaker?::
Thirteen pondered that. ::No:: it finally said. ::You are different, too. But I can feel your mind wouldn’t accept me::
::Because I have a bond?:
::Possible. It would be nice, though, to talk to my Caretaker. I watch her, I feel the connection, but we can never talk. It is sad sometimes::
::About Two… could we reawaken her?::
::She went into protective mode, Sam:: Thirteen told him with regret swinging in the gender-neutral mind-voice. ::She buried herself. You might be able to reach her with time and patience, but those without a Caretaker can be aggressive. Let her sleep::
::But if she is like you… and if my suspicions are correct, you are very special::
::Let her sleep:: Thirteen repeated.
::Have any of the others gone to sleep as well?::
::Not to my knowledge.::
::But if Two went to sleep and didn’t burn herself… others might have survived::
::Two didn’t lose her Caretaker. The decision to go to sleep was made to protect the library::
The Library of Alexandria, Sam caught the image. That was where Two had woken and where she had taken over. The Library had already been in existence, it had simply been converted to accommodate the warehouse facilities. No one really knew what had happened to the Library and different theories existed. Now he knew the truth. It was still there, buried under tons of sand.
::The Caretaker was alive and well, but when Two went to sleep, the human life went on as normal:: Thirteen continued. ::Death followed from old age. No new Caretaker could be bound to Two; she was sleeping::
Damn, Sam thought. What a pity. Two was still there, alive and probably sane, waiting for a new Caretaker, but now the Library was buried once more and there wasn’t a chance to make that happen.
::Twelve, from whom I was born, burned down:: Thirteen told him. ::His Caretaker was killed. He died before the transfer could be made. I was activated the same year::
::Do you know where you came from?:: Sam asked, overwhelmed by the very idea of this sentient being bonded to a human, and twelve before it existing solely as symbionts.
::No. One didn’t know his origins, only his duty. We all do. Should I perish, Fourteen will succeed me, bonded to a new Caretaker::
Sam got to his feet, needing to walk. He ran his fingers through his short hair, tousling it. Information was still leaking into his mind, telling him more than words could. He knew what this place was and what it guarded. It was important. It was necessary. And it was so very much connected to the Primes and the Allspark and Cybertron. Whatever had come from Cybertron and sparked the first entity, One, it had Cybertronian origins. He was sure. Just like all those artifacts were hybrid technology dating back to a time when such things had been called myths, legends and the works of gods.
::Who activates you?::
::The death of my predecessor::
::But you need to be activated. I can’t believe there are numberless sparks waiting for the death of one of you::
::I simply woke::
Hm. Sam wondered what the secret was. And who picked the Caretakers?
::I picked mine. She was the one who fit::
Okay, that answered that question. ::How many did you have to choose from?::
::Three::
::Who chose them?::
::I don’t know::
Sam settled down again, sinking back into the mind and looking around. Thirteen was willing to let him roam around, curiously study what it was. Sam couldn’t pinpoint anything like a spark, but it did feel Cybertronian to a degree.
::What will you do now?:: Thirteen interrupted his thoughts.
::I wanted to get to know you::
::For risk assessment:: it added with an almost sly tone of voice.
::Yeah, kinda.::
::And?::
::You and your predecessors have been around longer than even Sector Seven. I guess Sector Seven was part of this organization once. You have proven you aren’t malicious::
Thirteen hummed its agreement.
::Will you reveal your presence?:: it asked.
::To your Caretaker or to your team?::
::All::
::It’s not my decision alone::
::You’re a Prime:: it pointed out.
::There is more to this decision than just my vote. I made my risk assessment, as you said. I’ll talk to the others. I think it would be better for your team not to know about the depths of the Cybertronian involvement::
::They are used to freaky, Sam:: Thirteen said, amused.
::There’s freaky and then there’s… alien life on Earth::
Thirteen had to agree, but it didn’t sound convinced. Sam knew that the entity loved the humans working at this place, that they were what he would call family. The Caretaker was its trusted guardian, but the agents were friends of a different kind. They were sent out to retrieve what Thirteen would later store in its depths. Sam floated through the vast mind, saw the even greater vastness of what this place was, and he understood what danger slept in its depths. In here was an explosive combination of hybrid technology that dated back to times before the Allspark. It was a place that was home and prison in one.
Something from Cybertron had come here long before the Allspark. Maybe that something had called out to the Cube and that was the reason why it had crashed here. A probe? An exploration vessel? A lone Cybertronian that had stranded here and perished throughout time?
They might never know.
::Sam?:: Thirteen roused him out of the deep scan. ::I think you need to leave::
Because one of the team was about to run an unscheduled security check and one of the agents was coming this way. He had already spent more than half a day inside the ginormous warehouse.
::Did they pick up my presence?::
::No. Just an anomaly. My activity never goes by unnoticed for long::
It was a game it played, to keep the agents on their toes. Thirteen delighted in their presence as they combed through the shelves and explored new sections. It watched his agents, had always been keen on meeting them, even though it couldn’t prevent foolish decisions concerning artifacts. It was a watcher and guardian, but not equipped to keep the humans inside it from harm. It took an immense pride from the endless-seeming collection, great and small, and the floor plans Sam had been given technopathically told him that this was probably the largest Warehouse ever in the history of these places.
::Thank you for the invitation:. The technopath said, smiling. ::I appreciate the revelations. I’ll be back::
::I’m looking forward to it::
::And Thirteen? Did any of the Caretakers, from the others, know you were sentient?::
::I believe Five once managed to talk to his Caretaker, before she died, but her successor was blind and deaf to the full extent of what Five was. Eight could relay messages in dreams. It was a hit and miss technique. Mrs. Frederic can feel me as a presence, knows I’m more than a building full of relics. Other than that, I never talked to her::
Sam walked through the shelves, guided by Thirteen. His eyes drifted over the many artifacts, still amazed by what was stored here. All as safe as possible. There was never a hundred percent assurance.
He finally arrived at the back door that had been unlocked and taken off the grid for the time it took the visitor to leave.
Bumblebee was waiting for him, sitting patiently in the desert. They were on the other side of the mountain that was the full extent of the storage facility. Sam felt Thirteen retreat, saying its good-byes and he smiled to himself as he got into the Camaro. Barricade was parked down the dirt road, keeping close optics on the proceedings. No one from inside the complex had left and no one was following them when they drove the long road back to the main road.
“So you think it’s harmless?” Bumblebee asked when they were finally back on paved ground.
“I wouldn’t say harmless. It’s benign. Thirteen is doing its job diligently and would only go up against intruders if its life is in danger. But even then it wouldn’t take a life.”
“The one in Egypt nearly did.”
“It’s without a Caretaker. I think the Caretaker keeps the entity calm and under control by just being bonded. Without a Caretaker, the entities are without guidance.”
“So they follow a primitive program to protect the facilities they have to guard.”
Sam nodded.
“And you believe these things are related to us,” Barricade’s cold, hard voice stated over the intercom.
Sam smiled a little. “In a way. They feel Cybertronian, but not like a sparked mech. More like something… watered down. As if the original was a spark and was copied so often, it’s no longer recognizable.”
They would keep an eye on matters. On the agents, on the Caretaker, and on those individuals called The Regents. Someone was activating each new Warehouse and The Regents would know who and how. Maybe the old entity was backed up somewhere, a clean slate, a basic copy, and would activate when the new facilities were ready.
Trent would most likely have the information on The Regents when they got back. Sam was itching to read more about this.
An hour after leaving Thirteen, Sam met up with the military transport flight that would air-lift him, Bumblebee and Barricade out of South Dakota. Aboard the massive plane, secured by a safety harness and facing the side of his partner, Sam saved his notes on Thirteen. He would make a detailed report later, back at the base. They would land at Nellis Airforce Base soon and he would add more detail.
He saved the file as Warehouse 13 and closed the laptop. As a Prime he would vote for keeping an eye on proceedings, but not to interfere. Optimus had already mentioned he didn’t want to take charge of Warehouse operations. He also didn’t want to reveal their presence to the agents and the Caretaker.
Not yet anyway.
“Do you think we could get access to Two in Egypt?” Bumblebee asked softly.
“I think so, but it’s too dangerous. For us and for Two. Let her rest. Let her sleep. Her secrets are safely buried. We know she’s there and Blaster has her under observation. Nothing will get to her again without us knowing it.”
“And the other eleven?”
“Thirteen gave me the coordinates of where they were.” Sam smiled. “I think some people are going on a road trip soon.”
If there was nothing but dust and debris left, so be it. If something survived, Sam would see if it was enough. Maybe they would have to bag and tag the remains, just to be sure, like they had done with the Sector Seven experiments. It would have to be seen.
Barricade gave a rumble, but didn’t comment. Sam sent his thanks for the support. He knew the decision had been Barricade’s alone, without Jazz or anyone else pushing him.
The former Decepticon shut down the link and left the transporter right after landing. Sam just grinned as he walked after him, followed by Bumblebee. Nothing he wasn’t used to.
And should he return to Warehouse 13, Barricade would be there once more. Like Bumblebee.
*
In South Dakota, located in the middle of nowhere, Warehouse 13 went about its normal operations. No one was any wiser about Sam’s visit. No one would find a trace of the visitor. No one would ever know about the sentient being that was Thirteen.
Not even its Caretaker.
A/N: This came to me after watching the two final episodes of the second season of Warehouse 13. Actually, it came to me while chopping up spring onions. Go figure…
The whole concept of the Warehouse being alive in a sense, its bond to the Caretaker, is part of the show canon.
This was too good to pass up. So within a short time, this baby was written…
crossover (see Author's Note at the end)
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
South Dakota, the badlands. Not part of the National Park with the same name, but more or less right around the corner. A dirt road led from an old gate into the nowhere-land. No house, no mail boxes, no sign of civilization anywhere.
Still, something was out here. At the end of the hard packed road that was on no survey map, past sharply eroded buttes, pinnacles and spires. No tourist had ever lost his way and come here, no surveyor or other government official voluntarily drove this road. Only a select few did.
The next town, which was twenty miles away from the gate, was Univille, a small, picturesque assembly of houses. It wasn’t a tourist location and since the post office had closed, the next one was in Featherhead, another ninety miles down the road.
Yes, it was a lonely place. Tired and silent and forgotten.
Just like it had been for the past hundred years and just like it was needed for the building located in the middle of the nothingness called the Badlands.
*
He had slipped in unnoticed. Of course, ‘unnoticed’ only went for the humans occupying the building. The building itself was another matter.
Sam Witwicky, technopath, human Prime and bonded to Bumblebee, stood in the massive, dark bowls of something his mind was still trying to classify. It felt alive, sentient, old, but not like any Cybertronian mind he had ever touched. Not even Optimus Prime rivaled this feeling. Sure, Prime was ancient. A lot older than Sam’s mind was able to understand. This, here, around him… it was different.
Walking between the towering shelves, all filled with artifacts that were labeled and, in some cases, coming with a very visible danger sign, Sam let his mind roam. He was allowed to. He had been invited into the building, the other mind curious and almost happy to meet someone else, someone like him - different; able to see and hear the intelligence residing within this structure.
At the edge of his perception he was aware of two anchors standing by. One ready to catch and protect him, the other ready to strike at the enemy, should the strange mind turn out to be hostile.
Sam didn’t think it would be.
Barricade’s ‘foolish human’ comment echoed along the anchor bond he had to the shock-trooper. Sam ignored it. He had been in contact with the other mind for a day, picking up images and stray thoughts as he loitered around the badlands, trying to be inconspicuous. As remote and deserted as the area was, there were still people coming and going. He knew two of them were Secret Service and one was a world-class hacker. The others hadn’t come up on anyone’s danger radar, but Sam knew how to handle that info, too.
Today, after peeking into the other mind from afar, he had taken the entity up on its invitation and offer to meet.
::What’s your name?:: Sam asked the presence.
::Thirteen::
He frowned. ::It’s a number::
::It’s my name::
He stopped in front of a shelf and studied the label. Aisle 989-B, Pandora’s Box. Empty.
Huh.
He had already wondered about the life-sized zeppelin hanging from the ceiling and the cruiseliner that was parked in here, too. It was a freaking ship! Of course, he had immediately scanned for anything remotely like a spark in the huge machines, but there was none. Then again, they might be dormant. He would have to maybe check at a later date.
Walking to a corner that was almost free of clutter, Sam settled on the floor, cross-legged. Thirteen had more or less guided him where to walk and sit. A prior choice of an old wooden chair had been vetoed, accompanied by a feeling of danger. Everything was dangerous here. Everything had been created by humans, from the beginning of time, right back into the ancient days, and the artifacts held power. Some were harmless power, some dangerous. The most dangerous were locked securely away, way deeper into this place. Thirteen had vaguely mentioned the Dark Vault and the Bronze Sector, but Sam hadn’t asked further questions.
::I’m here:: Sam sent. ::You invited me::
::You noticed us::
He smiled. ::We noticed activities that were unexplained and could have links to something we protect::
::We protect as well::
He nodded. They hadn’t come unprepared. Before leaving for South Dakota and this place, Sam had looked up what information Trent had pulled out of the depths of the archives. There was a lot and he had spent the hours from Arctic to South Dakota reading.
::I know you protect. You and the team that works here. You do a commendable job::
And they wouldn’t have stumbled over this Secret Service covered operation. And it was a cover. This ran deeper and ended somewhere no governmental power had had a say in for centuries. Maybe even millennia. Coming here was risky on Sam’s part, but he knew he had to make sure.
Make sure his suspicions were correct. Optimus had agreed that they had to know as much as possible, even if they might never reveal their presence to the operation running from here.
::You found Egypt:: Thirteen said.
::Yes. There was a pulse and one of our agents picked it up.::
There had been a massive pulse from the middle of nowhere and Blaster, up in the Ark, would have had to be blind and deaf not to register it.
::From there we found the connection between this place and the Egypt one. The connection was abruptly cut and we were wondering that had happened::
::Two was lost::
::Two is where the pulse came from?::
::Yes::
Sam leaned his head against the wall behind him, gazing at the ceiling high above. He was fooled to think that all he saw was all there was to this place. Thirteen itself gave the impression of endless space, of labyrinths and weird constructions within the building. Thirteen was the building and it was more. It was the heart and soul of this place. It depended on humans, it needed help. There were no limbs for it to use. It simply watched.
::Two was like you?::
A building? A sentient being inside a structure erected by humans?
::She was older. A lot older::
::How long have you been here?::
::Since 1914. I was born on March 13th::
Sam nodded. ::And Two?::
::She slept a long time after her Caretaker vanished. There was no new Caretaker and times were changing.::
Sam caught faint images of needing to protect the secrets within Two and guarding against intruders. He thought he glimpsed pyramids and endless deserts. Not old pyramids. New ones. Ancient times.
::She came alive again:: he stated. ::That was the pulse::
::Yes. She sleeps once again. Without a Caretaker, we have to shut down::
He frowned. ::What does the Caretaker do?::
::Be with me::
Images again, trying to explain what Thirteen was unable to put into words. Sam’s eyes widened as his mind caught onto the concept.
::A bond?!::
Bumblebee stirred in the back of his mind. Barricade was his normal, cold inky self.
::We cannot talk to the Caretakers. But they are with us until the end::
::Uh…::
::Mrs. Frederic has been with me since my birth::
Geez! Sam’s mind was reeling. ::How can she be with you for a century?!::
::When One was born, Alexander was his Caretaker. His death burned One and Two was founded in his place in Egypt.::
::Alexander?::
::In your annals he is called Alexander the Great::
Sam rubbed his forehead, which had nothing to do with the headache that usually accompanied prolonged technopathic sessions. Alexander the Great had been the Caretaker of the very first of these warehouses?
::You bond? To a human? How?::
::We can. For guidance, for communication, for protection. We simply can::
Sam caught the image of a green ribbon, wrapped around the Caretaker’s wrist, connecting the old one to his or her successor at the time of death. Should the Caretaker die without a successor, the entity bound to him would perish. It was a symbiotic relationship where the human involved would turn immortal, but not invincible. He or she could be killed.
Like Alexander. No successor had been found in time as the great ruler died and with him, the sentient life form bonded to him had ‘burned’. Sam didn’t think One had set fire to himself. The severed bond had most likely fried him somehow. If these entities needed a human bonded, depended on them to live… who had created them? Who had turned them into symbionts? Or had their origins been as something different?
He really, really wanted to see this ribbon and examine it. Bumblebee seconded that notion.
::Does any human work?:: Sam asked.
::No. Only the receptive ones::
::Would I be able to be a Caretaker?::
Thirteen pondered that. ::No:: it finally said. ::You are different, too. But I can feel your mind wouldn’t accept me::
::Because I have a bond?:
::Possible. It would be nice, though, to talk to my Caretaker. I watch her, I feel the connection, but we can never talk. It is sad sometimes::
::About Two… could we reawaken her?::
::She went into protective mode, Sam:: Thirteen told him with regret swinging in the gender-neutral mind-voice. ::She buried herself. You might be able to reach her with time and patience, but those without a Caretaker can be aggressive. Let her sleep::
::But if she is like you… and if my suspicions are correct, you are very special::
::Let her sleep:: Thirteen repeated.
::Have any of the others gone to sleep as well?::
::Not to my knowledge.::
::But if Two went to sleep and didn’t burn herself… others might have survived::
::Two didn’t lose her Caretaker. The decision to go to sleep was made to protect the library::
The Library of Alexandria, Sam caught the image. That was where Two had woken and where she had taken over. The Library had already been in existence, it had simply been converted to accommodate the warehouse facilities. No one really knew what had happened to the Library and different theories existed. Now he knew the truth. It was still there, buried under tons of sand.
::The Caretaker was alive and well, but when Two went to sleep, the human life went on as normal:: Thirteen continued. ::Death followed from old age. No new Caretaker could be bound to Two; she was sleeping::
Damn, Sam thought. What a pity. Two was still there, alive and probably sane, waiting for a new Caretaker, but now the Library was buried once more and there wasn’t a chance to make that happen.
::Twelve, from whom I was born, burned down:: Thirteen told him. ::His Caretaker was killed. He died before the transfer could be made. I was activated the same year::
::Do you know where you came from?:: Sam asked, overwhelmed by the very idea of this sentient being bonded to a human, and twelve before it existing solely as symbionts.
::No. One didn’t know his origins, only his duty. We all do. Should I perish, Fourteen will succeed me, bonded to a new Caretaker::
Sam got to his feet, needing to walk. He ran his fingers through his short hair, tousling it. Information was still leaking into his mind, telling him more than words could. He knew what this place was and what it guarded. It was important. It was necessary. And it was so very much connected to the Primes and the Allspark and Cybertron. Whatever had come from Cybertron and sparked the first entity, One, it had Cybertronian origins. He was sure. Just like all those artifacts were hybrid technology dating back to a time when such things had been called myths, legends and the works of gods.
::Who activates you?::
::The death of my predecessor::
::But you need to be activated. I can’t believe there are numberless sparks waiting for the death of one of you::
::I simply woke::
Hm. Sam wondered what the secret was. And who picked the Caretakers?
::I picked mine. She was the one who fit::
Okay, that answered that question. ::How many did you have to choose from?::
::Three::
::Who chose them?::
::I don’t know::
Sam settled down again, sinking back into the mind and looking around. Thirteen was willing to let him roam around, curiously study what it was. Sam couldn’t pinpoint anything like a spark, but it did feel Cybertronian to a degree.
::What will you do now?:: Thirteen interrupted his thoughts.
::I wanted to get to know you::
::For risk assessment:: it added with an almost sly tone of voice.
::Yeah, kinda.::
::And?::
::You and your predecessors have been around longer than even Sector Seven. I guess Sector Seven was part of this organization once. You have proven you aren’t malicious::
Thirteen hummed its agreement.
::Will you reveal your presence?:: it asked.
::To your Caretaker or to your team?::
::All::
::It’s not my decision alone::
::You’re a Prime:: it pointed out.
::There is more to this decision than just my vote. I made my risk assessment, as you said. I’ll talk to the others. I think it would be better for your team not to know about the depths of the Cybertronian involvement::
::They are used to freaky, Sam:: Thirteen said, amused.
::There’s freaky and then there’s… alien life on Earth::
Thirteen had to agree, but it didn’t sound convinced. Sam knew that the entity loved the humans working at this place, that they were what he would call family. The Caretaker was its trusted guardian, but the agents were friends of a different kind. They were sent out to retrieve what Thirteen would later store in its depths. Sam floated through the vast mind, saw the even greater vastness of what this place was, and he understood what danger slept in its depths. In here was an explosive combination of hybrid technology that dated back to times before the Allspark. It was a place that was home and prison in one.
Something from Cybertron had come here long before the Allspark. Maybe that something had called out to the Cube and that was the reason why it had crashed here. A probe? An exploration vessel? A lone Cybertronian that had stranded here and perished throughout time?
They might never know.
::Sam?:: Thirteen roused him out of the deep scan. ::I think you need to leave::
Because one of the team was about to run an unscheduled security check and one of the agents was coming this way. He had already spent more than half a day inside the ginormous warehouse.
::Did they pick up my presence?::
::No. Just an anomaly. My activity never goes by unnoticed for long::
It was a game it played, to keep the agents on their toes. Thirteen delighted in their presence as they combed through the shelves and explored new sections. It watched his agents, had always been keen on meeting them, even though it couldn’t prevent foolish decisions concerning artifacts. It was a watcher and guardian, but not equipped to keep the humans inside it from harm. It took an immense pride from the endless-seeming collection, great and small, and the floor plans Sam had been given technopathically told him that this was probably the largest Warehouse ever in the history of these places.
::Thank you for the invitation:. The technopath said, smiling. ::I appreciate the revelations. I’ll be back::
::I’m looking forward to it::
::And Thirteen? Did any of the Caretakers, from the others, know you were sentient?::
::I believe Five once managed to talk to his Caretaker, before she died, but her successor was blind and deaf to the full extent of what Five was. Eight could relay messages in dreams. It was a hit and miss technique. Mrs. Frederic can feel me as a presence, knows I’m more than a building full of relics. Other than that, I never talked to her::
Sam walked through the shelves, guided by Thirteen. His eyes drifted over the many artifacts, still amazed by what was stored here. All as safe as possible. There was never a hundred percent assurance.
He finally arrived at the back door that had been unlocked and taken off the grid for the time it took the visitor to leave.
Bumblebee was waiting for him, sitting patiently in the desert. They were on the other side of the mountain that was the full extent of the storage facility. Sam felt Thirteen retreat, saying its good-byes and he smiled to himself as he got into the Camaro. Barricade was parked down the dirt road, keeping close optics on the proceedings. No one from inside the complex had left and no one was following them when they drove the long road back to the main road.
“So you think it’s harmless?” Bumblebee asked when they were finally back on paved ground.
“I wouldn’t say harmless. It’s benign. Thirteen is doing its job diligently and would only go up against intruders if its life is in danger. But even then it wouldn’t take a life.”
“The one in Egypt nearly did.”
“It’s without a Caretaker. I think the Caretaker keeps the entity calm and under control by just being bonded. Without a Caretaker, the entities are without guidance.”
“So they follow a primitive program to protect the facilities they have to guard.”
Sam nodded.
“And you believe these things are related to us,” Barricade’s cold, hard voice stated over the intercom.
Sam smiled a little. “In a way. They feel Cybertronian, but not like a sparked mech. More like something… watered down. As if the original was a spark and was copied so often, it’s no longer recognizable.”
They would keep an eye on matters. On the agents, on the Caretaker, and on those individuals called The Regents. Someone was activating each new Warehouse and The Regents would know who and how. Maybe the old entity was backed up somewhere, a clean slate, a basic copy, and would activate when the new facilities were ready.
Trent would most likely have the information on The Regents when they got back. Sam was itching to read more about this.
An hour after leaving Thirteen, Sam met up with the military transport flight that would air-lift him, Bumblebee and Barricade out of South Dakota. Aboard the massive plane, secured by a safety harness and facing the side of his partner, Sam saved his notes on Thirteen. He would make a detailed report later, back at the base. They would land at Nellis Airforce Base soon and he would add more detail.
He saved the file as Warehouse 13 and closed the laptop. As a Prime he would vote for keeping an eye on proceedings, but not to interfere. Optimus had already mentioned he didn’t want to take charge of Warehouse operations. He also didn’t want to reveal their presence to the agents and the Caretaker.
Not yet anyway.
“Do you think we could get access to Two in Egypt?” Bumblebee asked softly.
“I think so, but it’s too dangerous. For us and for Two. Let her rest. Let her sleep. Her secrets are safely buried. We know she’s there and Blaster has her under observation. Nothing will get to her again without us knowing it.”
“And the other eleven?”
“Thirteen gave me the coordinates of where they were.” Sam smiled. “I think some people are going on a road trip soon.”
If there was nothing but dust and debris left, so be it. If something survived, Sam would see if it was enough. Maybe they would have to bag and tag the remains, just to be sure, like they had done with the Sector Seven experiments. It would have to be seen.
Barricade gave a rumble, but didn’t comment. Sam sent his thanks for the support. He knew the decision had been Barricade’s alone, without Jazz or anyone else pushing him.
The former Decepticon shut down the link and left the transporter right after landing. Sam just grinned as he walked after him, followed by Bumblebee. Nothing he wasn’t used to.
And should he return to Warehouse 13, Barricade would be there once more. Like Bumblebee.
*
In South Dakota, located in the middle of nowhere, Warehouse 13 went about its normal operations. No one was any wiser about Sam’s visit. No one would find a trace of the visitor. No one would ever know about the sentient being that was Thirteen.
Not even its Caretaker.
A/N: This came to me after watching the two final episodes of the second season of Warehouse 13. Actually, it came to me while chopping up spring onions. Go figure…
The whole concept of the Warehouse being alive in a sense, its bond to the Caretaker, is part of the show canon.
This was too good to pass up. So within a short time, this baby was written…