Barricaded -- Chapter 7
Title: Barricaded -- Chapter 7
Rating: T
Continuity: AU Movieverse, G1 influences
Warnings: Reprogramming
Characters: Barricade, Smokescreen, Optimus Prime, Ratchet
Chapter 7
The humans glanced around. The Autobots were still.
“You... would sacrifice yourself?”
Barricade shrugged. “I technically don't exist. I’m just a program. He's the real mech.”
YOU SLAGGER! YOU'RE A REAL MECH! YOU HAVE A FRAME! YOU HAVE A SPARK! Smokescreen shouted.
Barricade flinched.
“You are wrong,” a deep voice rumbled, and the Decepticon looked up. His gaze was met by the wize, infinitely old optics of the Prime. “You are a mech. No simple program would give itself up for a real mech. No program would rebel against its coding. Only a mech. Only someone with a spark and the will to live.”
“But that's the thing, Prime. My spark isn't mine. It's Smokescreen's.”
Optimus shook his helm. “Yet, you are still a mech.”
There was silence for a long time. Ironhide and the humans were confused, and very close to breaking the quiet to voice their questions, but it held all the same. The weight in the Prime's gaze rested heavily on them, keeping them back, keeping them quiet.
Barricade bowed his helm, but said nothing. Optimus vented and sat back. “Ratchet, please explain to Ironhide what has happened. I will consult the Matrix.”
Ratchet's optics widened, then he nodded slowly. “Very well. We will keep watch.”
Optimus lay down, stretching his long frame out. His systems slowly wound down, some non-vital systems completely shutting down, others going into standby, others simply cycling down into a lower, power-saving mode.
The silence prevailed.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
You are a mech.
No, I’m not. I’m a program in a borrowed frame and spark. I’m running off your emotional protocols, your core systems... Remember what happened when I tried to get rid of you? I lost myself. I was exactly what Shockwave had programmed me to be. I was... I was a machine, not a mech.
That was a long time ago. You have grown since then. You have developed.
How do you know? How can you be sure?
'Cade, I was a psychologist before the war. You know this. I know a mech when I see one.
Forgive me if I remain skeptical.
If you were just a program, you couldn't be skeptical.
Mute it. I told you. I’m running on your programs.
I still believe you're a mech.
It doesn't matter.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Optimus came back online with a jolt, two days later, alone in the hangar save for Barricade and Ratchet, who was standing guard. Without saying a word, he motioned the medic closer and opened his medical dataport. Optics wide, Ratchet plugged in. After close to fifteen minutes, they separated.
“Are you sure this will work?”
Optimus shrugged. “They told me they did this before the Quintessons. I do not know if it will work or not, but they said it would. However, the second part must wait until we have the materials.
Ratchet nodded, then stepped toward Barricade, who was watching them both with wide optics.
“Barricade,” the Prime rumbled, and the red optics snapped to him. “The Ancients gave me an answer. Do you know anything about our planet from before the Quintesson enslavement?”
“No, sir.”
“Hm. Not many do. The Quintessons were the ones to make the Cube. No one quite knows how, but they did. Before that, we reproduced in different ways.”
“I know that,” Barricade interrupted. “Sparking. It's how most Cybertronians are - were - still made. And how all of them will be made from now on.”
“Yes, that is one way.”
The Decepticon blinked. “What? There were... others? Other ways?”
Optimus nodded. “Ratchet would explain better than I, though. He has the information the Ancients gave me.”
An expectant set of red optics turned to the medic, who vented heavily.
“In layman's terms, they would split a spark. Not like twins, but... Well, I should start from the beginning.” The medic vented again and ran a hand along the back of his helm. “A mech would download a second personality matrix and integrate it into themselves. From what I know, it would happen in a similar way as what happened to you, except for the most part, the original personality would retain control of the frame.
“The implanted personality matrix would develop in the... the host's processors and spark. The process was much faster than any sparking, because the new matrix would have the other bot's memories and experiences to lean on. After it was deemed developed enough, the host would receive donations of spark energy from at least seven different mechs, as well as... well...”
Optimus chuckled. “The Prime would give the host spark a jolt with the Matrix. It is not sacrilegious to say it, Ratchet.”
The medic vented yet again. “I know. But that would jump-start the splitting process. The extra energies would be used to create a new spark from a small fraction of the host spark, and that new spark would be moved to a new frame. The developed matrix would be downloaded into the frame, along with any memories the host had decided to let the developed keep. And you'd have a new mech, much sooner than any sparkling would develop. It was basically the very start of the preprogrammed mecha.”
Barricade was staring. “So... this was...”
“It was, once, a commonly practiced way to create a new mech,” the Prime said as he slowly sat up. “As I said, Barricade, you are very much a real mech. All that remains is donating the spark energy and creating a new frame for you.”
Barricade practically fell against the wall, blinking rapidly.
Ratchet, standing next to him, smiled. “There was one part I left out. The two personalities, while still in the same frame, were able to trade control. I may be able to help let Smokescreen to the forefront of your processor, if you let me plug in.”
“Please do,” Barricade murmured, offering his dataport. Ratchet clicked his cord into the plug at the base of the Decepticon's helm, and a moment later, the black and white frame stiffened. Ratchet unplugged and moved back.
A klik later, Barricade relaxed again and sent an easy smile in the medic's direction. A familiar smile, one he hadn't seen in vorns.
“Thanks, Ratch',” Smokescreen said as the red optics faded toward a muddy purple color. “'S good to finally be able to move again,” he murmured, lifting a hand and flexing it slowly.
Barricade, watching from optics that no longer seemed to be his, smiled. Now I know what your life has been like for the past few vorns.
Yeah. Thanks, 'Cade.
No problem, Smokey.
Smokescreen's smile widened. “Thank you, Prime. But... ehh... Now what?”
“We wait for more Autobots to come to Earth. I sent a signal before we came here. They will come. And you...”
Another wide grin, and the shared spark of the black and white mechs fluttered happily. “We'll have our own frames.”
“Yes. You will.”
Grins were exchanged all around, and the three mechs moved toward the door. They had a new base to see to.
Rating: T
Continuity: AU Movieverse, G1 influences
Warnings: Reprogramming
Characters: Barricade, Smokescreen, Optimus Prime, Ratchet
Chapter 7
The humans glanced around. The Autobots were still.
“You... would sacrifice yourself?”
Barricade shrugged. “I technically don't exist. I’m just a program. He's the real mech.”
YOU SLAGGER! YOU'RE A REAL MECH! YOU HAVE A FRAME! YOU HAVE A SPARK! Smokescreen shouted.
Barricade flinched.
“You are wrong,” a deep voice rumbled, and the Decepticon looked up. His gaze was met by the wize, infinitely old optics of the Prime. “You are a mech. No simple program would give itself up for a real mech. No program would rebel against its coding. Only a mech. Only someone with a spark and the will to live.”
“But that's the thing, Prime. My spark isn't mine. It's Smokescreen's.”
Optimus shook his helm. “Yet, you are still a mech.”
There was silence for a long time. Ironhide and the humans were confused, and very close to breaking the quiet to voice their questions, but it held all the same. The weight in the Prime's gaze rested heavily on them, keeping them back, keeping them quiet.
Barricade bowed his helm, but said nothing. Optimus vented and sat back. “Ratchet, please explain to Ironhide what has happened. I will consult the Matrix.”
Ratchet's optics widened, then he nodded slowly. “Very well. We will keep watch.”
Optimus lay down, stretching his long frame out. His systems slowly wound down, some non-vital systems completely shutting down, others going into standby, others simply cycling down into a lower, power-saving mode.
The silence prevailed.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
You are a mech.
No, I’m not. I’m a program in a borrowed frame and spark. I’m running off your emotional protocols, your core systems... Remember what happened when I tried to get rid of you? I lost myself. I was exactly what Shockwave had programmed me to be. I was... I was a machine, not a mech.
That was a long time ago. You have grown since then. You have developed.
How do you know? How can you be sure?
'Cade, I was a psychologist before the war. You know this. I know a mech when I see one.
Forgive me if I remain skeptical.
If you were just a program, you couldn't be skeptical.
Mute it. I told you. I’m running on your programs.
I still believe you're a mech.
It doesn't matter.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Optimus came back online with a jolt, two days later, alone in the hangar save for Barricade and Ratchet, who was standing guard. Without saying a word, he motioned the medic closer and opened his medical dataport. Optics wide, Ratchet plugged in. After close to fifteen minutes, they separated.
“Are you sure this will work?”
Optimus shrugged. “They told me they did this before the Quintessons. I do not know if it will work or not, but they said it would. However, the second part must wait until we have the materials.
Ratchet nodded, then stepped toward Barricade, who was watching them both with wide optics.
“Barricade,” the Prime rumbled, and the red optics snapped to him. “The Ancients gave me an answer. Do you know anything about our planet from before the Quintesson enslavement?”
“No, sir.”
“Hm. Not many do. The Quintessons were the ones to make the Cube. No one quite knows how, but they did. Before that, we reproduced in different ways.”
“I know that,” Barricade interrupted. “Sparking. It's how most Cybertronians are - were - still made. And how all of them will be made from now on.”
“Yes, that is one way.”
The Decepticon blinked. “What? There were... others? Other ways?”
Optimus nodded. “Ratchet would explain better than I, though. He has the information the Ancients gave me.”
An expectant set of red optics turned to the medic, who vented heavily.
“In layman's terms, they would split a spark. Not like twins, but... Well, I should start from the beginning.” The medic vented again and ran a hand along the back of his helm. “A mech would download a second personality matrix and integrate it into themselves. From what I know, it would happen in a similar way as what happened to you, except for the most part, the original personality would retain control of the frame.
“The implanted personality matrix would develop in the... the host's processors and spark. The process was much faster than any sparking, because the new matrix would have the other bot's memories and experiences to lean on. After it was deemed developed enough, the host would receive donations of spark energy from at least seven different mechs, as well as... well...”
Optimus chuckled. “The Prime would give the host spark a jolt with the Matrix. It is not sacrilegious to say it, Ratchet.”
The medic vented yet again. “I know. But that would jump-start the splitting process. The extra energies would be used to create a new spark from a small fraction of the host spark, and that new spark would be moved to a new frame. The developed matrix would be downloaded into the frame, along with any memories the host had decided to let the developed keep. And you'd have a new mech, much sooner than any sparkling would develop. It was basically the very start of the preprogrammed mecha.”
Barricade was staring. “So... this was...”
“It was, once, a commonly practiced way to create a new mech,” the Prime said as he slowly sat up. “As I said, Barricade, you are very much a real mech. All that remains is donating the spark energy and creating a new frame for you.”
Barricade practically fell against the wall, blinking rapidly.
Ratchet, standing next to him, smiled. “There was one part I left out. The two personalities, while still in the same frame, were able to trade control. I may be able to help let Smokescreen to the forefront of your processor, if you let me plug in.”
“Please do,” Barricade murmured, offering his dataport. Ratchet clicked his cord into the plug at the base of the Decepticon's helm, and a moment later, the black and white frame stiffened. Ratchet unplugged and moved back.
A klik later, Barricade relaxed again and sent an easy smile in the medic's direction. A familiar smile, one he hadn't seen in vorns.
“Thanks, Ratch',” Smokescreen said as the red optics faded toward a muddy purple color. “'S good to finally be able to move again,” he murmured, lifting a hand and flexing it slowly.
Barricade, watching from optics that no longer seemed to be his, smiled. Now I know what your life has been like for the past few vorns.
Yeah. Thanks, 'Cade.
No problem, Smokey.
Smokescreen's smile widened. “Thank you, Prime. But... ehh... Now what?”
“We wait for more Autobots to come to Earth. I sent a signal before we came here. They will come. And you...”
Another wide grin, and the shared spark of the black and white mechs fluttered happily. “We'll have our own frames.”
“Yes. You will.”
Grins were exchanged all around, and the three mechs moved toward the door. They had a new base to see to.