It was late.

For some time now, Soundwave had stood in quiet repose, staring out of his vast window that opened up onto the spectacular panorama of the ocean and watching the constant motion of the fish outside. Occasionally they drifted by in serene, bilious schools, or sometimes they suddenly darted past like clouds of silver arrows though the shadowy water. These were his private chambers. He was a creature of deep, quiet thoughts that shifted like the sluggish ocean currents before him. His typical mood was one of passive regard for the world around him. In this vein, he had designed this place to accompany to his reflections and meditations. The prevailing colour scheme was dark blue and deep green, with a warm diffuse lighting from an indistinct source. The inside furnishings included a recharger, a computer outlet, a storage chamber, and a small seating arrangement with a good view of the window. The whole atmosphere was designed to place one at ease, perhaps helped by the occasional trickle of alien music that seemed to drift from nowhere, or the crystalline wall-hanging that subtly shifted through a spectrum of colors. When Soundwave had finished his current cycle of contemplation, he looked downwards, his steady amber gaze alighting on the small table before him. He regarded the small form there and critically studied it, tracing the almost undetectable flow of energy along the converging wires and listening to the whisper of the energon pump circulating fuel through meticulously designed fuel lines. The flickering light from the window pooled around him as he carefully traced one of the wires to the cerebral circuitry.

There, an inert datacore hung there in an exposed tangle of wires. Taking hold of the complex processor with the tip of a narrow clamp, Soundwave carefully disconnected it from the supporting wiring. Moving quickly, as it only had a few minutes of power to sustain it disconnected, he began installing it into the inert body-frame curled on the table beside the equipment. Formed from clean-edged lines and polyhedral shapes, the frame resembled a sleek, stylised dragon, coloured in highly-polished green and verdigris chrome. A streamlined jetpack was mounted on its back, shined to a silvery mirror-finish. The frame sported reclining wings, mounted with highly-maneuverable laser batteries on the underside. A long segmented, silver tail coiled beneath the form, its tip terminating in bladed mace. Its optics were dark, awaiting a spark of animation to grace their ruby-red depths. The head was angular, forking into a two-horned crest. The entire structure was designed to be quadropedal for lateral movement and bipedal when performing manual tasks. The hind legs seemed to support most of the frame's body-weight while the shortened forearms appeared as both dexterous and delicate.

Reaching into the exposed cranial cavity with the minute tip of a tool that slid out from the end of one finger, Soundwave made the connections one at the time, attaching the datacore to the complex web of cerebral neurocircuitry. He spoke to the inert form quietly as he worked. "This will give you your skills, Chasm. Whatever individual possessed them will yet be able to contribute to the Decepticon cause, once you are given sentience to go with the abilities." The datacore was the compound result of years of research and work. It contained reconstructed information extracted from another datacore, one far older, blasted and smelted by two million years of burial.

When he had finished installing the datacore, Soundwave studied the delicate connections linking it with the virgin metaprocessor. This secondary device was nascent, hoarded from the produce of a since-destroyed factory. All that needed now was for him to initialise the metaprocessor with his own priming signature, the "green light" that would wipe the factory status lock on the complex little computer and initialise Chasm's master programs, after it downloaded information from the datacore. After connecting a cable between himself and the inert body frame, Soundwave rested his hands on the table and concentrated, transmitting his priming signature.

The dull optics on the body-frame suddenly lit up in a ruby-red blaze and the delicate claw endings started to twitch. The long looped tail jerked spasmodically. Soundwave's optics flashed brighter for a moment, and then returned to steady amber as he stabilized the input. He scanned his creation for functioning mental signals, probing for definitive signs of incipient consciousness. Soundwave's goal was to observe an awakening mind and to this end he watched hopefully and expectantly.

Electrical signals throbbed through the matrix where the datacore interconnected with the neural pathways... The information that resided in the old datacore started to flood the metaprocessor with new signals and seemingly-random impulses that were actually part of a complex testing process. It was here that the experiment went wrong. The virus remained true to its purpose. As it was created to deconstruct individual personalities into fragments, so it preserved its host's personality despite millennia of data degradation and its subsequent retrieval and construction. Chasm's new-born mind was strangled at the moment of birth, as it approached the threshold of awareness, as it would have gazed at Soundwave for the first time and uttered questioning syllables... Vague images washed over the rising sea of consciousness... There was a sensation of falling, a distant sound of gunfire, a sudden explosion...

Utter, utter blackness...

Soundwave's optics flickered a bit as he caught the fragmented images. However, after receiving a "functioning" signal from the construct, he disengaged the link. The creation was aware! More importantly, it was aware of him.

"Who are you ?" it asked faintly.

Soundwave allowed himself to relax. His optics returned to their normal shade and then brightened in pleasure and relief. He positioned the small armored panel over the little dragon's exposed cerebral circuitry and fitted it securely in place.

"Welcome, Chasm. I am pleased that you exist. I am Soundwave, your engineer." He said carefully, to orientate the new construction. "You have been created to assist me in furthering the

Decepticon cause. You will have a great deal to assimilate in the next days."

Chasm stiffened, faced with a conflicting welter of information between his datacore and metaprocessor. Faced with a paradoxical overload, his metaprocessor seized on the identity was immersed in the skills and technical information that it had absorbed from the ancient datacore. "Look, there's obviously some mistake going on here. I'm Crackdown. I'm an Information Resource Manager, of North Point, Carnifex. Data processing and all the other odds and ends that go with the job. Is this some sort of medical facility? I have credit, I should be covered for most emergencies." He checked his status report, recoiling in shock. Nothing was the way his datacore said it should be. "What is this housing?" he demanded. Things were suddenly very, very confusing. "I'm a Class-V8 Skyhawk Aerial Hovercraft. There's obviously been some frightful mix up somewhere. I demand to see my attorney."

Slightly stunned, Soundwave murmured, "Some bit of residual memory remains within you. This should not have come through to your conscious mind."

Chasm, still adjusting, continued to speak. "There are severe penalties that go with medical
mix-ups, you know. Don't think I can't, or won't sue..."

Soundwave studied his construction thoughtfully. "Perhaps the datacore's personality could not be entirely separated out from the skills I wished to impart to you. But do not be confused. Your current inputs are not to be taken as facts. They should fade shortly." He sounded less than convinced, however.

Chasm frowned. I don't like the sound of this. What's this fool carrying on about? "I want access to a vidphone so I call my attorney," he snapped firmly.

Soundwave's optics darkened a bit as he looked at the little metallic dragon
before him. How do I phrase this? "You ... do not have an attorney, Chasm. You are suffering from some residual effect of the datacore I implanted. That is all."

Chasm tilted a wing forward. "What a horrid housing to be placed in. The signal is all wrong. And it's green. Bah, I can't abide that colour!"

Soundwave said carefully, "Personally I think you look most becoming. It is a unique form,
one I have never attempted before. I am pleased with the outcome. You will find it most maneuverable and agile." He ran through his options. He could blank the core and start the process again, after manually filtering out the corrupted information in the datacore. He had found it long ago while testing weaponry at an ancient bomb-site. In fact, he had found a number of them in the equivalent of a mass-grave and had kept some out of maudlin curiosity them as well as for future tests of his theory of data-retrieval. After establishing a process for downloading information from near-destroyed datacores, he had declared Chasm's prospective core as the only useful and salvageable one in the lot. However, despite rigorous tests and watertight theory, there had evidently been holes in his data-retrieval process: Chasm did not believe that he was Chasm... But what had gone wrong? He would never have begun this project had their been even an element of doubt. Yet some unaccounted-for variable had been introduced...

Meanwhile, Chasm was craning his neck around to get a look at himself. "I shall repeat myself, as you seem to be a wee bit intellectually impaired or hard of hearing. My name is Crackdown, I am an Information Resource Manager at North Point, Carnifex. I have obviously suffered some sort of accident, and due to a mix up of serial codes I have been reconstructed in the wrong housing. I want a vidphone to call my attorney, so I can work out how to resolve this mess, meanwhile charging your firm with the highest possible sum I can get for malpractice!"

Soundwave sighed. He was an engineer. Despite the nature of his cause, he had never destroyed a single life willingly. To wipe the metaprocessor was tantamount to destroying Chasm, erasing a mind before it had even began to experience life. Perhaps he could reason with it...

He said gently, "You will do best to ignore the memories that seem to be your own. They are not, I assure you. Perhaps I can trace their source and eradicate them, but I do not wish to make the attempt until your mind has adjusted to its unique physical housing. There is no need for alarm or annoyance."

Chasm glared at Soundwave. "'Unique' ? You mean you've put me in some sort of
experimental design ? The very nerve of it all! And I can assure you that I am who I say I am. My memories are faultless. It is you, and your shoddy medical firm who are in error!"

Soundwave sighed mentally. Greatly concerned, he nonetheless tried to present an air of reassurance. He said carefully, "You will be fine, Chasm. And yes, it is an experimental design, in terms of the body form, but the internals function just as your "siblings'" do. You will see what I mean when you meet them."

Chasm held up an articulated claw. "Let's go back a step. The last thing I recall I was in my villa, I had redesigned to this most tasteful shade of peach with the latest works on the walls... and then, no, what's next? Hmm, there are gaps... I'll put them down to the accident rather than your clumsy medications for now. Anyhow, I recall that the oaf from the army wanted to see me and rather rudely demanded that I pay his contract. And then... What was next?" He shook his head slightly, emerging from his reverie. Leaning his head on a paw rather thoughtfully, he studied Soundwave critically. "No doubt it shall all become clear after I speak with my attorney. You know, I begin to doubt your competence as a practitioner. My name is most certainly not 'Chasm', and I don't have an 'siblings'. Perhaps you must be one of the patients, I take it ? Find me a real doctor will you? One who can guide me to a vidphone."

Soundwave shook his head and slightly clenched his fists. "Chasm, your memories are not
complete. They are not truly yours. That the fragments should have remained at all, however, is truly puzzling. We will alleviate the problem as soon as I track down the exact cause. I cannot imagine they will be too difficult to eradicate as soon as I am sure of their exact location in your datacore."

Slightly concerned now, Chasm tried to locate his last recorded memory.

Thunderwing stepping forward, hands locking around a rifle. "Treacherous worm! Thief!"
Soldiers circling around me as I peer up at them through shattered optics. "You bastard! I told you it would take three days to get the funds..."

I bellow as someone clubs me from behind with a rifle butt. I hear Thunderwing snarl out, "Execute him."

Got to uplink the Zero-Zero virus. I delay, I grovel, I beg. A few more seconds and I'll have them...

A stray shot from behind. Pain receptors kick in. A few more seconds...

... utter, utter darkness...

Soundwave's voice cut in through the dim fog of flashback. "Listen to me, Chasm. Whatever memories you are finding, are not yours. They belong to someone who is long dead. They are simply a residual..."

Chasm's optics flared. "The Decepticons! They shot me!" His tail lashed out, smashing into delicate equipment. Anger thrummed through his voice and he extended his little claws, raking the tabletop.

Soundwave, quickly guessing the nature of the residual memories, said gently, "This individual that you speak of, was killed long ago." He paused, considering, and added more quietly, "I was not aware of the reason...."

Chasm moved forward, balancing himself with his long hose-like length of tail. "I cannot accept this." He said firmly. "I will not. I have stated quite clearly who I am, and have asked for some quite reasonable terms. You have refused. I believe that you are deluded, and wish to emphatically state that the entire situation is unacceptable!" Chasm flicked his wings outwards in agitation. "Who would be the owner of this motley third rate chopshop? I must speak with him urgently." After a slight pause, he added hopefully, "And would he have a vidphone?"

Soundwave's optics flickered for a moment as he stared at Chasm, at a loss over how to deal with the situation. Then he seemed to come to some decision and the shade of his optics settled into something close to their normal color. "I am currently in charge of this 'motley third rate chopshop,' until our leader returns. Until then, you will deal with me." He spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, quelling the doubts that were passing through his mind. "Whoever you may think you are, you are a Decepticon. Our leader is Megatron, and as a Decepticon, you will show him the proper respect. And no, are no "vidphones" available."

Chasm looked aghast, " I've been reconstructed by Decepticons? Well, that would explain the primitive bedside manner, but that doesn't help my situation. I've been strictly neutral in this war and intend to remain so. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way ..." he said, readying to fly himself to fly off the bench.

Soundwave said coldly, "There are no neutrals. Not for long. And there is no where for
you to go."

Chasm craned his neck about furtively, trying to spot an exit, or better yet, a wall with a vidphone.

Soundwave sighted inwardly again and took on a more personable tone. "Come, I will show you some computer files of the others in our organization. Your "siblings", for instance."

Soundwave reached out as though to pick Chasm up.

Chasm cocked his head to one side, sliding back from Soundwave's grasp. "Carnifex is gone?" he muttered, as though that was the only thing that mattered. He caught a blurred glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of the table and noticed for the first time the brilliant Decepticon insignia ramped on his forehead. He scratched at the sigil unbelievingly.

Soundwave pulled back his hand, a little reluctantly, with the briefest look of disappointment. "Carnifex no longer exists, Chasm. Now come, you will have to be aware of the situation you are in, in order to be fully effective. I did not build you in order to have you fall prey to the Autobots, or to your own delusions."

"What happened to Carnifex?" Chasm demanded.

Breakthrough, Soundwave thought. "The individual whose memories remain within you has been dead for almost two million years. You are not on Cybertron, but on another world, which is serving as a source of resources for our claiming of Cybertron." He watched the little dragon, hoping at last there would be some sense gathered there, a realization of the true status of things. The denial would be over. But his hopes were shattered when Chasm stared at him directly in the optics. "No," he said stubbornly. "I am Crackdown. I may have been rebuilt as your precious Chasm, but I am not him."

Soundwave turned away, muttering to himself, "Perhaps this was a mistake. Too grand of an ambition..." He went over to the small computer station along the other wall and activated the screen without looking back at the dragon. He assembled some of the fragmented historical files that had survived in bits and pieces from the last two million years.

Chasm moodily stretched outwards, muzzle resting on his paws. "The Zero-Zero Virus! I never uplinked it. Its very nature must have acted as a safeguard that maintained my personality despite your butchery. One does not navigate the worldsphere without learning caution, you know."

Soundwave said distantly, "Whatever specialisations this Crackdown had for navigating cyberspace are well outdated by now, I assure you. Come over here. If you wish to catch up on what has been going on since the time you have memories of, you may want to download these files."

Chasm said coldly, "I assume my other mode, according to these statistics, is some sort of information containment device?"

Soundwave nodded. "I will show you how to make use of your alternate mode."

Chasm carefully glided through the air, testing his flight systems. Despite the considerable loss in size and mass, his flight mode appeared to be highly maneuverable. Perhaps not as badly constructed as I first thought... He studied the interface port on the computer, noting its difference the industry standard he was used to.

Soundwave scrolled through a portion of the historical files on his computer. He continued his orientation lecture dispassionately. "You will find you have limited anti-gravitational abilities in your alternate form, Chasm. It will allow you to enter and access almost any computer."

Chasm phrased his next query carefully, "Once I have familiarised myself with the, er, temporal adjustments shall I then be free then to pursue my individual career?"

"Consider this. You are on an alien world, in a situation that you have no first-hand knowledge of. Where do you propose to go?" Soundwave said grimly.

Ignoring the engineer for the moment, Chasm shifted into his secondary mode, a jade-and-silver cassette tape. Locking into the port, he began to adjust his interface with the system. When that was established, he began to download the information Soundwave was presenting him with. He tested the security barriers. Different, yes, but still recognisable. Shouldn't be too hard to cut my way through and then... And then what? Despite the ease of procuring secret Decepticon military information, who was left for him to sell it to? And was there currency left to be paid with? He asked Soundwave this without much hope. "What's the current pay-rate the Decepticons are offering?"

Soundwave replied curtly, "Your payment will be victory for our kind and control of Cybertron, which is ours by right. You are confused as of yet."

"You mean, not only have I to be drafted into your rather pointless cause, but I don't get paid?" Chasm shuddered. He quickly sorted through the new information. The aliens! "These 'human' creatures still have an economy, rather thankfully. Perhaps they could be of service to the re-establishment of industry?"

Soundwave dismissed the humans with an abrupt gesture. "They are useless for any purpose other than goading the Autobots."

Maybe, Chasm thought, feeling a small thrill of hope for the first time since his resurrection. He prodded further at Soundwave. "Even if by some miracle the Decepticons obtain control of Cybertron, I don't think they'll bring back private enterprise, will they? I don't see that in the official dogma."

"Industry will be established soon enough again on Cybertron once the Autobots have been defeated. There will always be need for expansion and improvement. You will be privileged to witness it."

Chasm sighed. I'm dealing with a fanatical nutcase. He ejected himself from the computer and shifted back into his primary mode. "Aren't I lucky?" he muttered sarcastically to himself so that Soundwave could overhear.

Ignoring the tiresome ingratitude, Soundwave touched another control on the keyboard, bringing up another file. "Here is another matter of importance. The Decepticons who share this base with you. These are the personnel files of the warriors currently stationed here. You should be aware of those you will be working with."

Chasm remarked bitingly, "'will be working with?' Isn't that rather an assumption on your part?" He perched on the edge of the table. "And would you care to inform me of how my datacore came into your possession? I didn't notice any explanation in your files."

Soundwave pointed to the computer. "Download this file, and I will explain to you."

Chasm sighed, but spent a few picoseconds uploading the Decepticon public-access personnel files. It was what he expected, your usual range of antisocial social psychopaths, philistines and political warmongers hell-bent on world domination. I'm going to die of cultural starvation, he reflected moodily, listening to Soundwave's edited run-down on how he came to find Crackdown's half smelted datacore.

"I came into possession of it through a chance find," the engineer was saying. "Yours alone among a great many others retained enough stored information to possibly be retrievable. I have done extensive work on cerebral neurocircuitry, and I wished to see if it was indeed possible to reconstruct that stored information."

"You know, I seem to get more "experimental" by the minute," Chasm remarked snidely.

Soundwave continued, "I found that the individual you call Crackdown had certain skills and
talents that I felt would be useful to our cause. So, rather than simply copying the data into some file for later use, I instead gave the data to you in a viable form." Here Soundwave's optics darkened. "Unfortunately some life-memories from this Crackdown were intertwined in his encoded abilities, and I was unable to remove them. Which is why you are having this delusion that you are in fact Crackdown. I assure you, he is long dead, and you are Chasm. But I can see how the situation is confusing from your point of view."

Chasm folded his arms together. "Your experiment was a great success," he sneered. "I'm now far away from home and my business, free enterprise doesn't exist any more, I'm marooned on an alien planet in a body which is a most unsightly shade of green, I have been drafted into the military who were directly responsible for my demise in the first place and I have to work with someone who thinks I don't even exist. But do you know what the worst thing is on top of all that ?? The final humiliation ?" Chasm tilted his head back. "I don't get paid!" he yelled, almost screeching.

Soundwave explained patiently, "I think you will come to see differently in time. It is my hope that these fragments of memory will fade of their own accord. As soon as I feel your mind has adjusted to its enclosure, I will probe further and help the process along. You will not be forced to live In such confusion."

Chasm backed away from Soundwave across the table, moving nervously. "You will do no such thing, I can assure you! I have adapted perfectly, and subsequently will not be requiring you to incompetently poke and muddle about with my mind, which remains, after all, my own property and not yours! I hope we are clear on that."

Soundwave said carefully, "Your mind is your own property, of course, but I can see the turmoil. And you cannot expect me not to alleviate it. You are, after all, my creation, whether you realize it at this time or not."

Chasm spat, "I am not your creation. This junk you have constructed may indeed be my current housing, but that is your limit of your involvement in my formation."

"Your actions are no fault of your own, in any case. I wish I had more experience with this sort of problem, but I am sure it will sort itself out," Soundwave said optimistically.

Chasm muttered, "I should be grateful that we have made some small progress. The situation had better improve. It can hardly get worse."

Soundwave concluded his orientation lecture, sighing inwardly. "I think you will come to feel at home here soon enough. Once you get adjusted."

Chasm grunted. First you die and everything is dow hill after that. "If you'll excuse me, I have to "get adjusted."' Chasm said with false cheer. "Thank you for your briefing session as it was most, er, informative. I shall see you, later, I suppose. Better luck with the next one as they say, eh?"

"Familiarize yourself with the base before then, but do not go off on your own," Soundwave said warningly. "I hope to have some time to introduce you to the planet at later opportunity."

Chasm nodded and quickly leapt up into the air. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must me off," he said rapidly and darted out of Soundwave's chambers, out of sight.

Behind him, the engineer stared out of his window, alone, ready to begin a new cycle of contemplation. He absently regarded the tracking device flashing on his screen. Chasm could not get far. He reflected on the work he had just completed. The experiment had not quite failed - what did it matter how Chasm's personality formed, when it was skills and tasks done that mattered in the end summation? When the final mote of dust fell, it was the Cause that mattered. The Cause was formed of individuals. Crackdown's ornery personality would give Chasm an illusion of experience that would perhaps serve him well. And if he refused to assimilate or obstructed the Cause, there would always be Ravage... Soundwave stared out at the ghost clouds of fishes and hoped it would not come to that. If he believed in human mysticism, at that moment he would have prayed for Chasm's soul.

Meanwhile, the dragon crept out alone into an unfamiliar world. All he had was himself: his skills, his luck and his ambition. And coiled around his code was the sequence for the Zero-Zero virus. The ultimate weapon. Chasm smiled for the first time in a long while.

Two million years, in fact.

The End