Matrix Born

While planets such as Earth developed organic based life forms, other worlds like Quintessa and Cybertron developed robotic life. This is the Pre-history of Cybertron. These are tales from before the dream… before they became Transformers.

The world had gone mad, and Stack was running scared. They had all turned on him, even Ram. If Ram turned on him, then any of them could be against him. Maybe all of them were against him. They were all mad, and wanted to destroy him, but not if he got them first.

By sealing the bunker, Prime thought he had protected his group of cybertronians by isolating them from this strange hate plague… but he watched Stack standing at the window. Watched the change in Stack as the madness took him.

There were only five of them here in the bunker, and the bunker had been sealed, no one could get in, and no one could get out.

Stack must be made to see reason, thought Prime, before it was too late. "Stack, calm down! No one is going to harm you. Its me, the Prime… You know I won't hurt you, right?"

With maddened eyes, Stack looked up at Prime. "Yeah… I know exactly what you'll do." With a lunge Stack wrapped his hands around Prime's neck.

At the physical contact, Prime realized his mistake, and he hated Stack for it. He repaid Stack's betrayal by crushing his head into the nearest wall.

The rest was a blur of sparks, oil and wires.

The Prime stood alone surrounded by the deactivated bodies of those he tried to save. The ones still fighting outside taunted him. Dared him.

For a time he tried punching his way through the wall, his maddness clouding his mind so he could not even remember the combination to get out. He sagged, faced alone against his worst enemy… himself. NO! He had to get out. Get at the others! But how…

Mind cloudy… have to think. Calmly think. Door. Combination. Remember why he was there. What prompted him to come into the bunker in the first place? The thing within him despised the boredom, lashed out.

Prime fought back. His reason, his knowledge, wisdom. They were the only things he could use to fight against this madness that drove him to hate all he loved.

Finally, it stopped fighting back. He was free. But through the window he knew the madness continued.

"Oh, dear lord… How can I stop this? Someone help me stop this!"

The Prime wasn't sure where it came from. It seemed to grow out of a single speck of dust. It looked like a personality matrix… a Spark, only within it were billions of spark. It did not say, he simply knew. They were the dead, and thoes waiting to be created, all waiting within. The All-Spark, the one thing assumed by many to be a myth like Vector Sigma.

"Primus?"

"The Dream is consumed. Choose your fate, the Fate of Cybertron."

"It can be stopped, Primus, but I cant do it alone! I cleansed the spores out of myself with my wisdom, but I cannot reach into the minds of the other Cybertronians to drive it from them. You can!"

Impassioned, Prime stood to face his god directly, "Merge with my Soul, and lend me your power so I can save our people!"

"The Choice has been made, and Fate directed!"

The All-Spark was gone. Prime was alone once more, helpless. No, not helpless. He could feel himself as never before. He could feel the others too. There were so many of them! He had no idea. This would stretch his mental endurance to the utmost.

Reaching into their minds he felt the madness flooding at him, but unable to reach him. Through his new mental link he taught them. Calmness, reason, and all the wisdom he could. One at a time, by twos and threes, scores at a time… or was it all at once? With each Cybertronian he saved, he felt his, and Primus' energy expended. When he finished there would be nothing left for himself, or for his god. But at least his people would be saved, and that was enough.

It was a few days later that the first medical team breached the bunker. They took Stack and three others away to see if repairs could be done, but of the Prime there was no trace.

It was one of the repair workers, Rodd who noticed it buried in a pile of dust. Something that had never been seen before. It looked like a spark… only sparks were basically an energy matrix and this was crystalline… and far more complex than any spark he had ever seen pictures of. Somehow he knew that it was something special, this Matrix.

Gently he picked it up, and took the rest of the day off. The rest of the day he spent in his workshop to create a housing for this matrix. Somehow it seemed instinctual what it should look like, a basic ball to house the matrix crystal, and handles on the sides to give it an overall oval shape.

Once completed, Rodd set his treasure gently on his mantle shelf. A fine work of craftsmanship. He had no idea what to do with it next.

Continued…