Coherent. Chapter One
Note: Inspired mainly by the fanon trope of bringing Jazz back to life after the 2007 mission. My brain played around with the concepts of cybertronian reincarnation until it was satisfied with an explanation for it. Then gave a very long plot to go along with it.
My thanks to my beta taunicon
Title: A Spark, Remembrance
Story arc: A Spark, Coherent
Chapter One
Characters: Shockwave, (?) Autobot, a bunch of OCs for plot related purposes
Continuity: post 2007 AU, but meshes TF:A, G1 and a bunch of different concepts I've absorbed through fanon
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: In the darkness of Shockwave's lair, one captive Autobot unravels the truth of the war as he is forced to recall all incarnations of his existence
“You have something that I need,” Shockwave stared down at him, his single yellow optic flickering. A system glitch? Insanity? He couldn’t tell. “I’m so close to achieving true freedom.”
He forced himself to speak. It wasn’t as simple as it once had been but he did it nonetheless to remind himself he still had some control.
Error: access to vocaliser disabled. Incorrect access codes.
The correct access codes of course were attached to the previous line of Decepticon restrictive programming, quarantined away from his base codes and unable to escape. The new lines that Shockwave had just inputted circled his firewalls, trying to break them down. Carefully he wrote his own access codes, firewalled them, and then transmitted it to his vocalisers. It would take several breems for the restriction codes to decipher the simple program and then destroy it but it would be suffice. There was no reason to compromise himself by writing a piece of complex code that Shockwave could study and use to breach his firewalls.
He did not know how many vorns it had been since his capture (he would not risk himself to access his chronometer) but he’d existed in the continuous agony of an overworked processor, the combat between the restriction coding trying to control and his attempts to free himself in the same set of circuits constantly melting some of his components down. Often, the Decepticon programming was the victor in control but it never managed to embed itself into his core codes like it was supposed to and he kept degrading it down from behind the safety of his firewalls. The result was a spectacularly glitched mech that certainly was not what Soundwave and Shockwave had expected from their experiment.
“I’m certain that after all this time all my information on the Autobots is outdated,” it was a relief to hear his own voice, for too long all he’d heard from his vocalizer was the twisted mockery they had given him with the restriction coding.
“You mistake my intent,” Shockwave replied, “I have never cared for the Decepticons or the Autobots. The war was simply a part of my builders’ designs. Now the next stage of their plan is so close, I know that I will soon be redundant.”
The scientist reached down carefully and pulled a patch of protective plating away from his helm. A lifetime ago, that action should have been excruciating painful but the lack of repair and maintenance had killed the nanites there and it was simply another dead part of his neural net.
“It should not bother me,” Shockwave continued, “They made me to for one purpose only and that was to see the downfall of Cybertron and the enslavement of your kind again. The timescale of this project was always outside my projected lifespan. And yet I have outlived it several times over. If anything, I should be satisfied to see the results of my efforts.
But I am not.”
Shockwave felt around and found a cable that connected to a nearby terminal; the scientist was being oddly conversational.
“Then, you are a true drone?” the prisoner asked, there was a terrible suspicion growing inside him that he was trying his best to deny because if he was right, then his people are in far greater trouble than their civil war and the threat of extinction the loss of the Allspark has dealt them.
“Originally,” Shockwave typed a few commands into the terminal’s holographic interface. “A true drone would not be bothered by imminent deactivation for the completion of its function. I find myself…dissatisfied with such an outcome. Therefore, I will seek the answers I need from your spark.”
“I don’t think hacking my processors will help you there. My spark and my processors are two separate things.”
“The knowledge is not within your processors but I need them to decipher your spark code. My studies of your kind reveal that it is possible for sparks to retain memories from previous existences. Your frequencies match what my builders have on file and I remember your spark. I killed your previous incarnation on the builders’ orders. Now, however, I seek to rectify that error, there was much I could learn from you.”
“You have yet to breach my firewalls,” he pointed out coolly, determined not to let this new piece of information faze him, though he dedicated several hundred subroutines to disseminate it and its implications.
“You mistake me for Soundwave, I have never cared whether you were properly converted to the Decepticon cause or not,” Shockwave plugged in the terminal cable straight into an exposed port in his cranial case. “This has been my objective all along. I have been gathering data on your systems for hundreds of vorns, even all the time you spent scouting in deep space on that useless mission Starscream sent you on. Now we shall see how you fare against my analysis.”
On that ominous note, all the captive mech’s processes were immediately diverted to his firewalls, pulling up every trick he knew against the input of the new program. It tore into his defences, seeped into his circuits and he could feel its relentless commands to remember.
He doesn’t want to.
He has lived a long life. There are things he doesn’t want to remember and things that he does regardless. The memories of his life prior his own reprogramming haunts both him and the Autobots that knew him before and after constantly. Then there were the flashes of spark memory, of a lifetime that he has once lived and was determined to never let shape him anymore than it already had.
By his own understanding, he has lived two times already and sometimes his cynicism subroutines likened his current coerced tenure as a Decepticon as his fourth.
He does not want to remember. A crack opens in his firewalls, impenetrable for so long but failing at last and he recoils as the virus snakes a line of code inside him. In the astrosecond it takes for him to process this, he frantically spins off a program to divert it.
Accessing memory core.
Shockwave wanted him to remember. He had several lifetimes to choose from and Shockwave had failed to specify which one.
He remembers his first onlining to his second life.
The sudden spark of awareness, of self, of living, of his frame, that he can think and process and be. An overload of impressions as his processors tries to adjust the change from the state of not being to sudden existence.
-I’m bringing the XD995 online-
It takes him an astrosecond to understand, the code that crawls through his processors are foreign and unfamiliar. Then his databanks provide context, communication, words and the concept of something that is not himself. A system check reveals that he is an XD995 frametype, and he is pleased (happiness, an emotional sub-routine, one that feels good and he would like to feel again) to deduce that something is referring to him. He is then promptly distracted and intrigued by the self-diagnostic function and quickly runs it.
Optical sensors. Status: disabled.
Audio receivers. Status: disabled
Thermal sensors. Status: disabled.
Pressure sensors. Status: disabled.
Comm system. Status: disabled.
Locomotion system. Status : disabled.
-I’m about to activate your optical sensors as a test- the code signature attracts his attention and he feels the changes in his software, as a section of himself that he couldn’t feel before is suddenly there. -Access your optics sensors, set them up for wavelengths from 100 nanometres to 10 micrometres long. Those are the default settings most mechs set them on but you might choose to adjust them in future for whatever preference you have. Set up at least three dedicated separate sub-routines to handle the input from your optics.-
He reached into the unlocked sector of his processors and followed the instructions. Two astroseconds later, the foreign processor unblocked several programs and suddenly he could see.
There had been no concepts of light or dark or colour prior, for the few previous moments he had existed in the bliss of sedate binary coding within his own processors but now he was truly aware of the concept of outside, could apply it to things that are not him. There are objects, a million different colours and textures and his databanks struggled at the quick influx, a continuous stream of pre-loaded information all clamouring for his attention so that he can understand.
A shape (a mech, (like him), more specifically of the medic function (not like him)) shifts slightly. He focuses on the medic and realises that a (cable) from the medic’s red(wrist port) is connected to his (shoulder port). Another mech moves (the idea of movement is fascinating and he is frustrated to remember that his locomotion are locked by a medical override) and stands in front of him and part of him is awed (the place that seems to know so much about the world). He however disagreed with this assessment, there is nothing present at the moment that deemed a response from that emotional subroutine; no matter how enamoured he is with movement. (In the astrosecond it had taken for him to incorporate the concept, he had grasped that it was something very basic.)
That is a PRIME, his databanks protested, and the historical background and cultural knowledge that they impart implies to him that reverence is the correct and required response to the title. He ignored it and terminated the inappropriate emotional subroutine. He does not know this mech yet and will not award random responses until he has enough knowledge to determine which would be the correct one.
-I’ve never seen a spark so sceptical in its first moments of onlining,- the words scroll through his processors, the medic, he deduces, connected to him by the interface cable.
-Correct, that’s me in your processors. Designation’s Solder and I am the medic in charge of the newly sparked. You’re the last one today; I’m going to activate the rest of your systems and once you are comfortable with them, the Prime has a speech for you and the others.-
The mention of others directs his attention back to his optics and while the medic moves around his circuits, he takes the opportunity to look around from his frozen position. There is a line of mechs next to him, all the same pale grey but the frametypes varied into three different models. There were the ST144s (scientist class), the LK288s (heavy industry frame types) and his own XD995 model (one of the many popular civilian lines). The Prime (and he firmly squashed the…nonsense sensibilities the preprogramming evoked, the responses were not logical when he knew so little) stood before them, waiting patiently.
-You’re quite strongly decided for a new spark,- Solder noted as his locked systems slowly begin to come online. -Although admittedly I do think the code mechs were a little zealous when it came to the datafiles about the Primes. New sparks shouldn’t be influenced like that.-
The other mechs (new sparked like him, he realised, brought online in the temple of the Allspark by the Prime to take up a valued function, that’s what is going on) are all still but Prime shifts minutely again, changing his weight and suddenly he is impatient to have his locomotion circuits active, to be able to move and be able to do things.
-Well, isn’t that interesting,- the medic retreated from his mind and then disconnected the cable from his shoulder. “We should have this XD995 checked for coherency. It was far too impatient and opinionated to be a new spark. Didn’t like all the preprogrammed Prime propaganda and wanted to get a move on with things.”
Sound. A new input, one that had been locked before. The medic had calibrated the settings already; the test with his optics had been for his benefit, to give him an understanding of his systems. He could move now, the urge to stretch his frame out and gain of measure of understanding of his systems was strong but a sense of decorum (previously unknown) stopped him.
ldquo;Fascinating,” the Prime said. He moved forward until he stood before him. A designation ping gave him a name, Zeta Prime. They are close enough that he can feel Zeta’s EM field, the unique frequencies that only a matrix beater had that focused on him with sudden intensity.
There was a shift in his spark, acknowledgement and a very vague recognition in response to the quantum threads that pulled at him. Strange. His databanks had no answer for this, he could not have existed before this onlining and a new spark could not remember things-
“Zeta?” Solder did not feel the majority of the EM interaction but he could tell that something was not right.
“Very curious,” the Prime moved back. “The Matrix knows of this spark but there are no corresponding or direct datafiles attached to it. Almost like it was shielded or altered every time the Matrix encountered it. Probably a cautious, very old spark and very likely one that was never recorded. A coherency test will probably establish that we have a mature spark here but no matches in the records.”
Coherency, his databanks have something to work with now, a strange but scientifically proven phenomenon. The Allspark is a quantum link to Primus and the unique metals it was built from made it a receptacle for spark energy. When a mech died, the free energy is drawn back to the Allspark where the passage of time would break down the frequencies the spark had established over its lifetime. But older sparks were more set in their frequencies and required longer to revert to a blank spark state. Sometimes those sparks were drawn to a new frame, still possessing remnants of their previous life. A spark’s full spectrum was determined by the events of its life, other sparks it had bonded to, its experiences and knowledge, therefore each was unique. Portions of a coherent spark would sometimes match those already on record.
Part of his spark carried memories of someone else’s lifetime. Such a strange concept when he had only been online for such a short amount of time. A touch on his shoulder plater diverted his attention before he could dedicate his processors to the conundrum.
-Don’t think too much about it,- the medic advised over an comm channel. -Whoever you were, you are a new person now. You are who you want to be.-
Zeta Prime straightened, the simple movement somehow commanding the attention of the room. “It was my pleasure,” the Prime began, “To call all your sparks forth from the Allspark. The gift of life is a precious thing; all of you here will be given the time and opportunity to reach your full potential as you take your place in society. It will be a pleasure watching you grow and mature and decide the paths your lives shall takes.”
Efficiency. Something he decided that he would appreciate. Solder straightened and pinged an everyone-follow-me signal as he headed for the temple door. The relief he felt when he started moving was ridiculously overblown and he examined his emotional sub-routines carefully. Apparently he’d been bored, which didn’t make much sense given how little ceremony the Prime had made over the batch onlining (and now he officially was annoyed with his emotive databanks, given how they disappointed were over the lack of fanfare. The information inside them was very useful but they shouldn’t have been programmed with opinions.)
Solder lead them into a simple side room and waited patiently for them (25 newly sparked, he was sure to count) to file in. Three mechs were already inside, one was an enormous dark brown LK288 mech with one hand modified into a drill (a material extractor, more precisely), the second had a slightly larger than average XD995 frame (a function ping and the black colour scheme told him the mech was an enforcer) and the last was a ST144 much smaller than his counterparts.
“Alright,” Solder said briskly, “You were all brought online for different reasons. However, please note that you are not required to go ahead with these functions. You will be given time to adjust to your frame and to determine who you are and what you want to do and you will be assigned mentors to help determine that. Choice is something we all have and new sparks are not to be pressured into anything they do not want to do under the law. That being said, onlining only occurs when there is space in the population to allow for it. Fifteen sparks were brought online because a new colony is being set up in Penticase quadrant. Five were brought online because the Praxus city state recently lost a few Enforcers. The remaining five were for the Science academy. No one will begrudge you if you choose to do something else.”
The thought of sitting around, doing nothing but constantly interacting with other mechs while he waited for his personality coding to develop so he could decide what he wanted to do with himself was incredibly boring.
“I’m going to assign you temporary designations, please update your registries with them. When your personality matrix is developed enough, you may choose one more befitting.”
A designation ping against his sensor net informed him he was to be referred to as XD99525, a combination of his model number and the order of his onlining within the batch. He updated his registries and felt the change in his processors now that he had an identifier. He sent a ping to his batchmates requesting their designations as apparently that was the polite courtesy according to his databanks. Social conformity was important for a smooth running and civilised society, after all.
“Now, I’ll let your mentors get you settled. I’ll be checking your development over the next two vorns. Enjoy your functioning.”
Solder left the room as the material extractor move forward. A data ping identified him as Twist Drill. “Immobilizer, Gear-Tech and I will be your primary mentors,” the behemoth’s faceplates moved in a way that apparently equated to a ‘smile.’ “I know Solder said that the choice is yours but that doesn’t mean we can’t expose you to our functioning. Well. I can’t, there aren’t any mines near Iacon.”
He paused, evidently waiting for some sort of a response. When none of his batchmates responded, XD99525 tilted his helm and observed flatly, “That was an attempt of humour.”
His vocaliser’s default setting was a dull monotone and one that he immediately decided was unsuited for him. XD99525 set himself a reminder to have that corrected when he had the chance.
“Query: what is the purpose of humour?” XD99521 asked. “My databanks explain the concept but I am unable to find a valid explanation for it.”
24 out the 28 mechs in the room all added their approval for the question. “Humour?” Tech Gear spoke up, “Why, humour is a cognitive response to certain experiences in which mechs tend to apply their amusement subroutine.”
There was a pause. “Query: why?” LK28812 asked. “How does one determine which sub-routine to apply in a given situation? What makes one situation ‘sad’ and another ‘happy?’”
The three mentors exchanged glances. “This might take a while to explain,” Twist Drill said. “Why don’t we go out and explore Iacon?”
“Observation: Material extractor Twist Drill is changing the topic and avoiding the question.”
Iacon was a dizzying rush of new inputs, new experiences. They had spent several orns in one of the parks, just watching and observing society as their mentors patiently fielded questions. While the databanks provided them information, they did not provide enough in depth context for the newly sparked to rely on them solely. Their mentors had experiences and understanding that they would impart and help bridge that gap in their education.
“Berths are an unnecessary extravagance,” XD99525 insisted. This was an opinion that his batchmates shared. “To recharge, a unit only needs a power cable. An entire structure dedicated to allow a mech to lie down and plug in is a waste of resources and material, when one can simply initiate a frame lockdown.”
“It’s a personal preference,” Immobilizer explained. “Some mechs don’t like frame lockdowns, they don’t like letting up control of their frame even if they are shut down.”
“Objection: that statement is illogical,” ST14418 responded. “A mech that has shut down his systems for recharge has no control over their frame.”
Twist Drill rubbed his helm. “It’s like paint preference,” he said.
Paint preference was Twist Drill’s excuse for things that did not make sense, the batch had discovered early on. What made one colour better than another varied immensely from mech to mech and yet there was no quantifiable reason for the difference. To the batch, their uniform grey was acceptable but apparently to other mechs it was far too drab and dull.
“Paint preference is illogical,” XD99525 retorted, feeling something very much like frustration in his spark.
Immobilizer sighed in exasperation, then his helm snapped towards XD99525 as their sparks shifted in response to each other, quantum threads brushing in gentle questioning. The rest of the mechs felt it in the EM fields and the batch perked in interest to this new phenomenon.
“What,” XD99525 said, frame stiffening, “Is that?”
“Spark interaction,” Tech Gear spoke up. “Our society is built upon layers and layers on social bonds, both at the spark level and on the intellectual. As mechs interact with each other, their sparks naturally adjusts their frequencies to be better in tune. Batches normally form their primary sparked network with each other and their mentors. It’s how a city made of millions of mechs exists in harmony, every spark on some level is connected.”
XD99525 studied Immobilizer intently; the enforcer stared back with a hard, blank gaze, fields neural. Very carefully he felt the other spark attune to him and for a brief moment, he was aware of Immobilizer, of his dedication to justice and the law, his love for a particular style of music, his interests in various cybertronian martial arts and his gently bubbling amusement and fondness for the batch. And beyond him, thousands of other sparks shining bright, connected to Immobilizer on the quantum level.
It’s too sudden, too intimate. XD99525 recoiled backwards both physically and on the spark deep level and the connection snapped. The backlash resonated through his frame and distress bled out into his field. For several moments he fought to get his responses under his control, fingers were clenched into fists as his frame shook helplessly. There had been too many and there had been no way to shield himself, no way to stop them from looking back into him.
“I’m sorry,” the glyph that Immobilizer used indicated sorrow from a spark deep level and his field reflected his regret, “The mentoring datafiles all seemed to agree that unfiltered sharing with new sparks was educative and comforting. I did not know that it would be a cause for distress.”
To his confusion, XD99525’s databanks agreed with this assessment, sharing spark frequencies and wireless networks helped development as the raw influx of new information had already been processed by other, more capable processors and experiences could be shared on a real time scale. The lack of privacy shouldn’t have bothered him, as new sparks didn’t have a ready sense of self to protect.
“Query: cause of XD99525’s distress?” ST14415 asked.
“I was not ready for it,” he answered honestly. “In future networking, I will endeavour not to be surprised so easily.”
And just like that, the batch accepted his excuse and moved on to the next curiosity. The three mentors gazed at him with concern before Twist Drill and Tech Gear turned their attention to the relentless questions. XD99525 stared back at Immobilizer, unsure why he felt so uncomfortable until the realisation of what he’d just done caught up with him.
It had been terrifying, allowing so many unknown sparks access to him and he could not comprehend why mechs would grant strangers unrestricted access to their systems. Part of him had already made the decision to never repeat the experience.
Which meant that he’d just lied to his batch and mentors.
“Are you sure?” ST14415 didn’t express any disappointment at his refusal to join the batch network (not a sparked one, but a joining of processors on the wireless level, a closed grid). “Tech Gear let us into his grid and there were so many minds. All thinking, all processing at the same time, coming up with new theories and ideas. When I was in there I could feel my processors changing, so many things that didn’t make sense before, I could understand.”
XD99525 repressed a flare of frustration in his field as he stood inside the quarters he’d been assigned. His batchmates had taken to sharing with all the enthusiasm he lacked and were determined to make him a part of the experience. He kept feeling requests pinging on his datanet and every moment spent in close contact he kept receiving quantum brushes against his spark.
“I’m very certain,” he answered. He had finally found a setting on his vocaliser that felt right to him and his smooth baritone contrasted greatly with ST14415’s monotone. The rest of the batch had finally stopped vocalizing part of their subroutines with each statement however.
ST14415 studied him carefully. “I do not understand your reservations,” he replied in honest confusion. “We are learning while you are not. Keeping yourself isolated from the grids means that you have removed yourself from the flow of information and without information you cannot develop. None of this is logical. Is it possible that your systems are glitching?”
The insult, intended or not (unlikely, ST14415 did not understand enough to mean it and was simply being honest), jarred him. His optics darkened and his frame stiffened. -Very well,- XD99525 snapped. -I will join you.-
He reached into his wireless subroutines and unlocked them. When the request ping came, he accepted and was drawn into a datastream of code. The sudden press of minds was oppressive but he bore it stoically, keeping himself heavily firewalled against intrusion as he oriented himself.
Eventually he felt comfortable enough to remove his outermost firewalls. What he found was oddly disappointing.
It was so empty.
No brilliant quicksilver thoughts or independent processors working together in harmony, his batch was juvenile and had advanced little more than basic coding. They processed but mostly it was all the same level, far too similar and immature from limited experience and heavily reliant on the same preprogramed information in their databanks to express complex, true thought. They were integrating but progress was so slow it was going to take vorns before there would even be emotion in the networks.
It was at this moment that he realised that his processing was completely different. He held expectations and he felt true disappointment. He didn’t know why though, why the thought of strangers having access to his processors filled him with fear, why his spark flinched and went wrongwrongwrong every time one of the batch tried to acclimate themselves to him.
In a network of 25 processors he suddenly felt incredibly alone.
-XD99525?- LK28802 pinged, unsure why he had not taken down the rest of his firewalls. -Is there a problem?-
Yes, he wanted to say, something is wrong, why are you all so slow? Why do you lean so heavily on the databanks, recycling information again and again in the same processes and why can’t you form opinions and feel frustration? Instead, he tightly locked that rant away and lowered another set of firewalls (something he just realised none of the other processors here with him even knew how to make).
To his batch, the appearance of their final member was a novelty they were yet to experience before. They rushed in, with no sense of self they didn’t hesitate to explore every code of his processor. Information, code and datafiles were to be shared so they could all learn, develop and integrate themselves together. But it wasn’t an equal exchange, there was nothing they could give him but they could take and there wasn’t much of him to give-
He threw up firewalls and ripped himself from the grid. ST14415 booted up next to him an astrosecond later. “Why did you leave?” the mech asked in confusion, “Your code was new, why didn’t you share it?”
Because it was his and not theirs, XD99525 would have said, but his batch lacked the distinction of self and wouldn’t understand. The need to develop their codes meant as much information input as possible and unspoken was the understanding that they were entitled to that information. But the mentors, the other mechs, they were fully developed and had the datafiles to spare.
He didn’t.
He felt cold, scared, true fear at the almost violation his batch had unwittingly and uncaringly committed. Without a word, he was on his pedes and out of the room, ignoring ST14415’s calls for him to come back.
He almost walked into Immobilizer as the mech entered the hallway. He almost apologized but the need to get away, leave, go as far away as possible, was stronger. Immobilizer on the other hand, was faster.
The enforcer grabbed a wrist whilst maintaining an acceptable amount of space between them. He studied the mech in his grasp for several moments before saying, “You should talk to Solder.”
The medic. Relief bled into his field. Solder would know what was going on with him. “I’ll come with you,” Immobilizer offered cautiously.
No!
Wait.
Since that disastrous sharing between them, the enforcer had maintained a careful distance. The other mentors had kept trying to encourage him into the networks but Immobilizer alone had recognised his need. He gave an affirmative ping, too overwhelmed to bother with his vocaliser and his mentor lead him out of the apartment that had been allocated to the batch.
He didn’t recall the trip to Solder’s clinic. When he finally came back to himself, a check to his chronometer revealed he’d been there for several orns.
“How are you feeling?” Solder glanced up from his seat. They were in his office and thankfully alone.
“Aware,” he answered sombrely.
A systems check revealed all systems were functioning though still unsettled from the strain of processing the unshielded share. He gazed at the medic suspiciously, Solder would have had ample opportunity to scan his systems while his processor had been recovering himself.
“I wasn’t going to scan you without your consent,” Solder said softly. “Not after what your batch did.”
A confused look prompted him to explain. “They went to Immobilizer; they did not understand why they were denied,” the medic sighed. “In a batch, development normally occurs at the same rate as everything is shared between them. There is no risk of damaging each other because everyone is at the same level. There is no risk to the mentors because they have enough datafiles to make up for the lack of information they are getting through a share.”
“I am different from them,” XD99525 stated simply.
“Yes. I think if I scanned your systems, I would find a vastly developed personality matrix already. You are at the stage where you are aware enough to want and need privacy. But while your sense of self has been developed, theirs haven’t and they did not have the sense to distance themselves.”
"You said my spark was coherent.”
“I’ve been waiting for a specialist to arrive in Iacon since your onlining nine orns ago. He should be here within the next couple of joors actually and we’ll be able to determine what is best for you.”
He thought for a moment. “Tell me about spark coherency.”
“I’m pretty sure the datafiles cover most of it. Your spark still has some of its frequencies set from its previous incarnation. And it has been known to cause mechs to develop faster,” Solder paused then stated, “Immobilizer said you were rejecting every attempt to draw you into a network.”
“It felt wrong,” XD99525 said softly, “Their sparks, the quantum threads were the wrong frequencies. And I felt Immobilizer’s grid when it was unshielded, I didn’t have anything to stop them looking into me.”
“But when you entered the batch grid, you had firewalls to protect you. You figured out how to make them from the databanks,” Solder looked impressed.
XD99525 didn’t correct the medic’s impression. He’d looked at the recommended instructions for the new sparked inside the databanks and had felt something he knew now had been amusement. Those had relied heavily on pre-existing codes that could be adjust to a mech’s code but were available to anyone. True firewalls, he understood, were built personally from the code up, therefore before they could even be hacked, a mech needed to have an understanding of how the creator processed.
He’d assigned himself it as a challenge; in between listening to Twist Drill and Tech Gear explain paint preference for the fifteen hundredth and seventy ninth time and the other inanities life brought. That was when he’d discovered the medical overrides and Solder’s direct access code (the access code was unique to Solder as the medic was the one inside his systems during that first onlining) that were embedded in his software. Removing those had been the real task, given that he couldn’t read medical script in the first place. He’d studied his own coding intensely, digit by digit, figuring out all of the math and that had allowed him to bypass the language barrier.
“I needed to be able to shield myself,” XD99525 answered, “In case it happened again.”
Solder glanced up sharply at him. “You don’t intend to ever network?” he asked.
“No.”
The medic leant back, watching him carefully. “Do you have preferences?” he questioned, changing tactics. At XD99525’s confused look, he added, “Have you discovered things you like to do?”
Something told him that mentioning the enjoyment he’d derived from breaking down the medic codes would not go over well. Instead he said, “Puzzles,” which technically wasn’t a lie if one thought of codes as puzzles to be solved.
“Puzzles?”
“Yes.”
Solder was silent for a moment. “You don’t have access to the infonet yet. I could download some complex algorithms for you. Would you let me transfer them to you to through an interface cable?”
“You could just upload them to a datapad,” XD99525 pointed out coolly.
“I could do that,” Solder agreed, “But I think it’s important to do it this way. As your medic, there will be times where I need to enter your systems and it would be rather inefficient if you panic every time. I can keep myself shielded, if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
The mech was silent for a long moment. Then with great reluctance, he popped open his shoulder port. Solder leant over and inserted a wrist cable and waited for their systems to sync up. He opened a link to the infonet in the meantime and set up a download in the background before he turned his attention to his patient.
The first thing he came across was XD99525’s firewalls. Those, he observed, were definitely not standard firewalls. -You coded them from the baseline up?-
-Yes.-
-Impressive- he pinged back. Then he noticed the lack of medical overrides and his own backdoor code, which should have been impossible to remove. He fought to keep his alarm spilling over the hardline connection. -You’re going to have to put those back. What if a medic needs to get in your systems in an emergency? That could be fatal.-
Solder watched as the codes elegantly (albeit reluctantly) reinserted themselves. -How did you learn medic script?-
-I didn’t. I studied my own basecodes and detached the medic code from them and quarantined the overrides.-
-That shouldn’t have allowed you to get around the language barrier. Those were embedded in your coding, although, I suppose theoretically, your systems are relatively uncomplicated and maybe… no. A code specialist would be best to explain whatever you just pulled,- Solder pulled back and observed, -Puzzles, hmph. You were bored.-
-Very.-
-With your permission, I would like to take a systems scan,- Solders said carefully. -The scientist from Polyhex will be arriving soon and he needs an assessment of your personality matrix.-
For a long moment, he had no reply. Then more firewalls shifted aside and he could access XD99525’s personality matrix though he was careful to maintain his distance. The coding was beautifully complex and the math elegant and far too advanced for a mech that had been online for as short a time period as XD99525 had. Even as he watched, more lines developed and slowly integrated themselves. With an apologetic brush of his EM fields, he scanned the personality matrix then backed out.
Before he terminated the connection, the medic sent the algorithm problems he’d downloaded and after an astrosecond, XD99525 accepted. For the next joors the recently sparked mech sat in Solder’s office (alone, thankfully alone, Solder had drifted out to his medbay) and worked through the maths. It finally eased his processors and eventually he was able to fully restore all the files that had been damaged in the disastrous sharing and his abrupt ejection from the grid.
A ping against his sensornet marked Solder’s return. The medic was not alone, beside him stood a green mech with a scientist frame-type. “This is Fuse-Link,” Solder said, “He’s been studying the sparks and the Allspark itself for a few hundred vorns now.”
Fuse-Link studied XD99525 intently. “Do you have a designation?” the scientist asked, eventually.
The mech in question gave a confused pulse in his EM field, surely Solder had sent this information. “My designation is XD99525,” he answered.
“That is a temporary designation that Solder assigned you,” Fuse Link tilted his helm at him. “Coherent mechs sometimes determine their designations early on and your development is of a sufficient level. I thought you might such a case, but I see I was mistaken.”
A true designation? His spark whispered a name that felt right to him. “Prowl,” he said. “My designation is Prowl.”
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