Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light I, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--The Lost Light, Que's workshop--

    "Hold still," Que said to WALL-E as he inserted a card-like device into the latter's control panel. "You might feel some sort of jolt, but that's--"

    WALL-E suddenly seized up, whirring and clicking randomly.

    "--Perfectly normal. Wait a few seconds before trying it out."

    WALL-E did as told. Then, with some tentativeness, he started speaking. "H-hello?" His servos suddenly shot up towards where his mouth would have been. "I can... I can talk? Wow... I can talk!"

    Que beamed. "You certainly can."

    "This is amazing! I've never spoken full sentences before!"

    "Hallelujah, someone give him a Novic Medal," Rodimus said flippantly. "So, WALL-E... let's hear your story."

    After testing his new vocal processor a bit more, memorizing the internal dictionary that came with it in the matter of seconds, WALL-E told the gathered Autobots everything: the pollution and evacuation of Earth, his duty to clean the planet, meeting EVE, and helping the humans return to their home.

    When he was done, Rodimus went over it all in his head. Then, folding his arms, he said, "Okay, that's interesting and all... but there's just one problem with it."

    "What?" WALL-E asked.

    "You say that Earth was polluted beyond habitation for seven hundred years. But I've been there myself no more than six months ago and it looked just fine. Not perfect, but fine."

    "Oh." WALL-E tapped the side of his head for a moment, thinking. "Well then... I don't know."

    "Wait a second," Que said. "You mentioned something about humans living their lives in a spaceship... was this ship called the Axiom?"

    WALL-E blinked. "Yes. How did you know?"

    Que smiled. "Are you not friends with an Autobot called Skids?"

    The smaller robot suddenly became ecstatic. "Yes, I am! Is he here?"

    "He most certainly is--"

    "Whoa, hold it," Rodimus said. "What's going on? How does he know Skids? What's an Axiom?"

    "Captain, we should go see Perceptor," Que said. "Because unless I'm mistaken, I believe this little robot has come from the future."

--The past--

    Traveling across the Interstate Bridge, Nightbeat eventually made his way back to Iacon and headed for the High Council Pavilions. He reached Central Hall and entered the building, striding up to the main office desk, where a bored-looking mech sat.

    "I'm here to see Ambassador Crosscut."

    The mech lifted his optics at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

    "Yes, I called him an hour ago."

    "Ah, right. You're the one who made it short notice." The receptionist typed something into his terminal before saying, "Hall C, Office 95."

    Nightbeat quickly thanked the mech as he headed straight for the hallway. He was no less than three feet away from Crosscut's office when the ambassador himself burst out of the room, being pushed out by a red and blue femme.

    "Get back!" the latter cried. "Grenade!"

    Nightbeat immediately dove for cover as an explosion went off. As his audio receptor started to his ring and his vision blurred, he suddenly felt a strong hand seize his shoulder.

    "What are you and what is your business here?" he heard the femme demand.

    "Easy, Road Rage, he's a friend," Crosscut said, stepping forward to help the detective up. "He had nothing to do with this."

    "What happened?" Nightbeat asked once his sensors had returned to proper functioning order.

    "A grenade dropped from the ventilation shaft in my office," Crosscut said. "Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, but I do believe someone's out to kill me."

    Road Rage raised a hand to her helmet and called into her comlink. "Road Rage to all security units, we have Code Red. I repeat: Code Red! There's an assassin on the loose."

    As the entire Central Hall went on high alert, Crosscut said to Nightbeat, "I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our meeting, detective, unless it's something that absolutely cannot--"

    But the detective wasn't listening, for he was already running down the hallway, ignoring Road Rage's protests.

*  *  *

    Going by the list of Relinquishment Clinics Optronix had received, Prowl and Tumbler had made their first stop at a clinic located near the Shrine to Solomus in the Greater Iacon area. Since then they had been kept waiting by one of the workers there, who claimed to have "more pressing matters."

    As they stood in the waiting room, kept occupied only by a news broadcast on the viewscreen, Tumbler said to his partner, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

    Prowl glanced at him. "Depends. How crazy is it?"

    "I'm thinking the High Council is behind this."

    "The entire council?"

    "Well, no, just the leading party. Proteus' group." Tumbler shrugged. "It just came to me when we were comparing notes with Optronix and he brought up what Councilor Shockwave told him-- that Sherma was one of only two known Decepticon sympathizers. It just... I don't know, makes sense to me."

    "You may be onto something," Prowl said. "But we should wait until we have more conclusive evidence."

    A few minutes later, a spindly gray and orange mech entered the room, an overly cheerful smile on his face.

    "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he said. "My name is Trepan. If you're here for the special offer on Triple Changers, I'm afraid we're all--"

    "We're from the I.M.D., sir," Prowl cut him off as he raised a datapad with the visages of the two assassins. "These two mechs were causing trouble in Translucentica Heights. We believe they were utilizing donated bodies."

    "Never seen them before in my life," Trepan said.

    "Are you sure? Look carefully."

    "What's with your fingers?" Tumbler asked the clinic worker, pointing out his extended needle-like fingers.

    "Ah, nothing!" Trepan quickly retracted the needle points. "I was just... in the middle of something."

    Tumbler suddenly took his hand. "There's engraving here. What's that for?"

    "Ah, yes, it's an Old Cybertronian saying. 'Form follows function.'"

    "I can read Old Cybertronian, you know."

    "Oh, uh, yes, what I meant to say was 'cleanse and control.' I used to be a sanitation--"

    "Now I know you're lying."

    After cuffing Trepan and leaving him restrained to a desk, the two investigators set off to explore the clinic. After passing a wide array of equipment, they eventually reached a set of steps that led into what appeared to be another facility. Making sure to keep out of sight, they began to inspect it.

    They went from room to room, each one showing all sorts of horrors: Cybertronians injecting needle-like fingers into others' heads; a dozen Empties lined up as a row of corpses; an unconscious mech restrained to an operating table. Just when they both thought they had seen it all, they came to a stop at a window looking into a ward of sorts.

    Dozens of mechs, all with spindly bodies and multiple arms, walked to and fro piecing apart brain modules. Some could be seen extracting modules from others' heads and at least a hundred brains were spotted going down a conveyor belt into some dark abyss.

    Tumbler turned to Prowl and motioned at what they were witnessing. "There you go. There's your conclusive evidence right there."

    "I don't even know what I'm looking at," Prowl murmured.

    "Isn't it obvious? Cerebrosurgeons performing lobotomies and playing with brains... we've just found the Institute."