Transformers: Survival of Defective Products

Chapter 144 Aquitron Days 1 & 2

The first day in Aquitron began with supplies and reception.

The Ark was docked on the east side of the outer port area, while the Retribution was docked on the west side. The two port areas were separated by a vast expanse of sea and a neutral channel, with routes, maintenance teams, and data terminals all located separately.

The curator explained this as follows:

"We understand that both sides are currently in a state of hostility. Therefore, the docking areas will not overlap, and data access will use separate ports."

Impeccably considerate.

The jazz stood in the harbor outside the Ark, looking at the distant silver-blue sea, and muttered, "This place is so beautiful it makes me uncomfortable."

Arcee inspected the port area passageways, her tone wary: "Stay vigilant."

Bumblebee nodded: "I know."

The sea at Aquitron was calm, with waves gently lapping against the city's outer walls. In the distance, the dome reflected the sunlight into a soft blue, and a low-frequency melody, indistinct and persistent, played over the port's public address system.

This planet is telling its visitors in the gentlest way: there's no need to be nervous.

-

The Ark delegation consisted of Optimus Prime, Alita, Prowl, Jazz, Arcee, Bumblebee, and Ratchet.

The ambulance driver didn't want to disembark.

"I have no interest in a welcome hall for extraterrestrial civilizations," he said. "If they really want to show goodwill, give me a medical energy composition chart and then leave me alone."

The curator really did give it to them; the ingredient list was so complete that the ambulance was silent for two seconds.

"That makes it even more suspicious."

The main reception hall of Aquitron is built on the sea, with a transparent dome covering the entire hall. Underfoot is a translucent silver-gray floor, below which one can see the quietly flowing water.

The local hosts around me were polite, had gentle expressions, and maintained just the right distance.

The curator stood at the far end of the hall.

"Thank you for coming in person." He bowed slightly. "We know that trust is hard to build after war."

Optimus Prime said, "Trust takes time."

"Of course. Aquitron is willing to wait."

The police car accessed the open data ports in the reception hall. Access to all data, including supply information, medical and energy data, port maintenance data, and deep-sea observation records, was clearly defined.

Everything is normal and clean.

The curator raised his hand, and the water-screen-like projection lit up.

"This is a high-level life energy remnant captured by the Aquitron Deep Observatory seven local cycles ago."

A faint waveform appeared on the screen.

The police car immediately approached, and Optimus Prime looked over as well.

The waveform was faint, but it did indeed show a local similarity to the residual trajectory of the spark source.

In an instant, the hall fell silent.

The curator opened the access permissions to the data: "You can verify it yourselves."

The jazz tapped his fingers on his arm repeatedly without saying a word.

Bumblebee glanced at him, then looked at the waveform, and a vague sense of familiarity suddenly surfaced in the processor.

As someone once said in a college classroom, the more complete the evidence, the more we need to examine why it is complete.

He remembers the classroom, the projection screen, a stack of dry legal textbooks, and how he almost fell asleep at the time.

The name of the machine used for lecturing seemed to fall into water, creating a few ripples that quickly dissipated.

"Bumblebee?" Arcee asked.

Bumblebee snapped out of his daze: "It's alright."

The curator stood at the front, speaking gently: "It's common for voyages to experience occasional sluggishness after not docking for so long. The magnetic field of Aquitron may also cause a slight delay in adaptation."

That makes sense, and Bumblebee temporarily put that oddity aside.

The police car recorded this, but did not make an appearance; they needed more evidence.

-

The reception for the Retribution Number also began.

Megatron first had the sound waves repeatedly scan the port area.

The conclusion drawn by sound waves is very brief.

No attack deployment detected.

No armed ambush detected.

The local signal field persists.

[It is recommended to maintain isolation.]

Red Spider stood to the side, rolled his eyes, and said, "Of course they wouldn't put a trap at the door."

He knocked down the man holding the polishing machine and casually remarked, "Maybe they're just being polite."

Red Spider looked at him: "You believe that?"

Knock Down chuckled: "I don't believe you. But I admit the lighting here is pretty good."

Megatron eventually led Starscream, Soundwave, Barricade, Knockout, and several Decepticon officers into the western reception area.

The main hall is closer to the energy port, and from the dome, one can see a massive sea platform and rows of operating energy extraction facilities. In the distance, the maintenance port is clean and bright, with several defense towers submerged underwater, maintaining a low power consumption status.

The curator still personally received them.

"The outer thrusters of the USS Retribution are showing significant wear and tear," the curator said. "Aquitron can provide a repair port, but it will not access your ship's core systems."

Megatron scoffed coldly, "You know what to say."

"This is the proper etiquette for receiving travelers from afar."

Red Spider chuckled: "The etiquette also includes temporarily preventing our ship from taking off?"

The curator turned to him, his tone unchanged: "We are willing to assist in the investigation and provide compensation."

Megatron raised his hand, stopping Starscream from speaking further.

"Spark Source Data".

The curator didn't beat around the bush and turned on another set of projectors.

As the water curtain unfolds, it reveals not only wave patterns but also some ancient records.

Interstellar trajectory, unknown life-derived remnants, and an old file with parts deliberately obscured.

Megatron stared at the gap: "Why isn't it complete?"

"This involves the ancient forbidden zone of Aquitron," the curator said. "It requires higher-level authorization."

Red Spider scoffed, "What a coincidence."

The curator wasn't angry: "Many important documents are not convenient to hand over at the first meeting. This isn't about distrust, it's just negotiation."

The red spider choked for a moment.

Megatron stared at the curator: "What do you want from me?"

The curator paused for a moment, then spoke in a low, slow voice:

"Aquitron wonders if the war on Cybertron will cross the stars."

"What if?"

"Then we need to choose how to deal with it in advance."

Megatron scoffed, "You want to mediate?"

"If both parties are willing."

"Innocent."

"Perhaps," the curator said, "but some civilizations always try to ask one more question before they perish."

Megatron stared at him, and suddenly Crystal City came to mind.

The hibernation pod, a silver-gray nameplate, and a name.

That name is buried deep within his fire, and should not be obscured by anything.

But at this moment, it seemed to be shrouded in a thin mist, becoming blurred for a brief instant.

Megatron's optical mirror suddenly darkened.

The curator spoke up at the opportune moment: "Megatron?"

Megatron's tone was cold: "Don't call me."

The curator readily bowed his head and said, "Excuse me."

The sound wave display flickered slightly.

Megatron stared at the sea beneath his feet.

He didn't believe in this planet, but he couldn't quite grasp its throat.

-

Before the end of the first day of reception, the curator sent the itinerary for the second day to both sides.

The Autobots can enter the Deep Observatory to view more data related to the AllSpark waveform.

The Decepticons were granted access to deeper areas of Energy Harbor to verify fragments of ancient Aquitron records concerning high-level energy sources.

Inside the bridge of the Ark, police cars sealed all the data and created isolated copies.

Optimus Prime's gaze fell on the light blue planet outside the window, and he closed his eyes briefly.

The planet was so peaceful that it reminded him of something Cybertron hadn't had in a long time—the tranquility before war.

What followed was an even deeper sense of guilt.

He led the Autobots away from Cybertron in search of the AllSpark, leaving many machines behind. He obtained the Matrix of Leadership, but still could not end the war.

A voice said something from a very far place.

Calm, tired, yet always able to speak directly when he is lost in thought.

Optimus Prime opened his optical glasses.

who is it?

A bluish light flickered in the depths of my memory, quickly being covered by the soft light reflected from the sea.

"Are you alright?" Alita asked.

Optimus Prime snapped out of his daze: "I'm fine."

Alita looked at him for a while, then stopped abruptly, as if she was about to say something.

She seemed to have forgotten why she had been worried just now.

-

The following day, Aquitron opened the deep-sea observation array.

The Ark delegation passed through three independent verification gates before entering the observation tower on the east side of the main city.

The curator stood next to the central control console.

"Aquitron rarely interferes with the journeys of voyages," he said, "but what you are looking for is very special."

Several layers of data slices were displayed, and the first waveform to appear was similar to the spark source, which was clearer than yesterday's.

The police car was immediately connected to a separate recorder, and all data was first entered into an isolated copy before being read in parts.

"The waveform similarity has increased," he said, "but the source link is still incomplete."

"We cannot confirm where it ultimately led," the curator said. "We can only confirm that it passed through the vicinity of Aquitron."

The ambulance driver coldly observed, "Why didn't you just give me this yesterday?"

"Because you were still in the docking and adjustment period yesterday, providing high-level information rashly could deepen the distrust."

The ambulance driver, arms crossed, said, "Is this considered showing consideration for us?"

The curator bowed slightly: "Civilizations at war are usually not lacking in hostility, and we don't want to add to that."

Now, even if the ambulance driver curses, it will seem like he's being unreasonable.

More data subsequently emerged, revealing ancient Cybertronian footage, predating the Golden Age and the Council.

The image is incomplete, yet the outline of the nascent mechanical city is still discernible. Many early Cybertronian life forms walk among the low, rough metal structures.

Bumblebee opened its optical lenses wide: "Is this Cybertron?"

Police cars quickly verified the image source.

"The material characteristics match the structure of early Cybertron, but the image has been transcribed multiple times, making it impossible to confirm the original source."

The curator nodded: "These are copies that Aquitron preserved from an even older system of records."

Hot Rod couldn't help but ask, "Who recorded this?"

The curator seemed to carefully consider his words.

"An ancient interstellar civilization."

The data slice flips, revealing several blurry, enormous outlines. Their shapes are bizarre and their structures complex; the images are deliberately softened, allowing only the multifaceted outlines to cast shadows above the ancient city.

"They had a deep connection with Cybertron," the curator said. "They also tried to guide Cybertron toward order."

Alita's tone was sharp: "That counts as guidance?"

The curator paused for a moment: "Perhaps the approach was a bit too forceful."

The jazz man raised an eyebrow slightly: "That's a very tactful way of putting it."

The curator did not shy away from the question: "Ancient civilizations often make the same mistake. They think they possess superior knowledge and therefore want to dictate the path for younger civilizations."

He spoke as if he were admitting a mistake, so they couldn't refute him.

The curator continued, "They brought institutions, engineering methods, the concept of interstellar trade, and models of social division of labor, as well as many of the fundamental orders that Cybertron used for a long time afterward."

Several paragraphs of text flashed across the screen: function, selection, contribution.

Bumblebee felt uncomfortable seeing those words.

Alita blurted out, "These were injuries from the very beginning."

The curator replied softly, "Perhaps."

Instead of making excuses, he appeared even more sincere.

Bumblebee stared at the text; a sentence was being pushed up in the processor.

Decay will call deprivation order, resistance misunderstanding, and thus judgment will be stolen.

He opened his mouth.

But who said that?

That name has sunk to the bottom of the water once again.

-

The curator continued to display the materials.

How did ancient civilizations come into contact with Cybertron? How did the early Cybertronians resist? How did the conflict between them escalate?

"Conflict," "Miscalculation," "Over-management," and "Trade Imbalance"

Each word lightly records the riots, rebellions, and uprisings that actually occurred in the past.

Alita's anger was gradually ignited.

She thought of the Cybertronian War, the AllSpark, the fallen warriors, the cities forced to evacuate, and the growing weariness on everyone's bodies.

The gentler the curator spoke, the more she wanted to interrupt him.

But she held back. She was the Autobots' second-in-command; she couldn't afford to lose control here.

Optimus Prime finally spoke: "Curator, what is the connection between this ancient civilization and the AllSpark?"

Curator: "Some of the records they left behind mentioned the life core of Cybertron."

Optimus Prime's optical mirror subtly shifted: "The AllSpark?"

"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," the curator said. "Ancient languages ​​have multiple translations, and we don't want to give you false hope."

"What's the name of this civilization?" the police car asked.

The curator paused for a second: "They have many names, and different star sectors record them in different languages."

"What is your name, Aquitron?"

Outside the dome, cloud shadows swept across the sea, dimming the light and obscuring half of the curator's face.

"The Five-Faced One".

He spoke calmly.

"Or, you could call them—the Five-Faced Monsters."

-

The reception on the second day of the Retribution was more direct than that of the Autobots.

Megatron entered the depths of Energy Harbor, followed by Starscream, Soundwave, Barricade, and Knockout.

The curator opened the core exhibition area of ​​the Energy Port.

Massive energy pipelines extend from underwater, connecting to energy storage rings suspended in mid-air. Each energy storage ring operates stably, like tamed fragments of stars.

The curator said, "Aquitron does not expand by force, but we understand the value of power."

Megatron gestured for him to continue.

"Power is one of the foundations of order, though it should not be the only one."

He opened a file.

"We have noticed that an ancient artifact exists on Cybertron, the Leadership Module."

Megatron's gaze instantly turned dangerous, and Starscream also dropped his mockery.

The curator continued, "It's now on Optimus Prime."

"Aquitron has no intention of judging your internal rules of succession. But it would be too narrow-minded for a civilization to determine its leader solely by an ancient relic."

The fact that no one spoke made a sound; this statement hit a dangerous spot.

Megatron slowly took a step closer: "Continue."

The curator said, "The fact that the leadership module didn't choose you doesn't mean you lack the ability to lead civilization."

The energy port is so quiet you can hear the energy storage ring running.

"Cybertron's old days rejected many machines that should have been seen," the curator said. "Miners, warriors, low-level laborers, unrecognized geniuses, and the strong who were suppressed at the bottom by the power system."

Within Megatron's red optical depths, a fiery light seemed to burst forth.

The curator raised his hand, displaying the ancient high-level energy structure.

"Symbols can be inherited, or they can be created."

Red Spider whispered, "A new leadership module?"

The curator looked at him: "One possibility."

Megatron's ambitions were throbbing.

-

Red Spider was quickly led by another host to the airspace information desk.

The other side pulled up a simulation of the Retribution Tracker formation and the Aquitron high-altitude flight path.

"Your air force formation maintained a high degree of stability during the long-range chase," the host said. "Especially during the evasive maneuvers through the asteroid belt, the command was extremely precise."

Red Spider crossed his arms: "You guys even record this?"

"The voyagers left behind some residual flight paths before entering the Aquitron signal range, which we are only analyzing."

Red Spider looked at the simulation diagram; he had indeed been in command those few times.

Few organic people truly know how brilliant those route adjustments were.

The host said, "In many civilizations, a commander like you is capable of leading an entire legion independently."

The red spider's expression remained unchanged, but its wings trembled almost imperceptibly: "Your flattery is quite pleasing."

"I will state my conclusion."

That's the same phrase again. It seems like someone did it a long time ago.

Red Spider suddenly became agitated: "Your analysis lacks variables."

The receptionist casually asked, "What variable?"

Red Spider opened its mouth as if to speak, but the name was stuck deep within the processor.

Blue-green, noisy, will praise him but will also talk back.

Red Spider frowned sharply.

The receptionist gently reassured me: "Fatigue from a long voyage can affect memory retrieval; you may need to rest."

Red Spider glared at him: "I don't need you to remind me."

"certainly."

The receptionist bowed his head and stepped back.

Red Spider stood in front of the airspace simulation map, motionless for a long time.

Damn it, he couldn't remember.

-

Before the end of the second day, the curator arrived at the wall of light deep within the main city.

A voice came from the shadows: "They are resisting."

On the light barrier, the name "[Gravity Vector]" was highlighted by fluorescent light, surrounded by a blue mist that connected to countless other names: Optimus Prime, Megatron, Soundwave...

The curator stared at the intricate and glaring web of relationships, his tone flat and emotionless.

"The traces she left behind are more difficult to deal with than anticipated."

He raised his hand and placed several new fake memory templates into the waiting area.

Optimus Prime conceals the truth about the voyage.

The leadership module leads to decision-making bias.

The Cybertronian Wars stemmed from the rejection of the guidance of an ancient civilization.

The clues regarding the source of the spark must be explained by Aquitron.

He looked at it for a while, then added another one.

[Key figure: Non-key person.]

As soon as the template was formed, the surrounding connecting lines immediately rebounded slightly, and the light wall flickered briefly.

The curator was forced to stop: "We can't force the implantation yet."

Why?

The curator looked at the connecting wires.

"She is a way of judging the world in many ways."

The presence in the shadows remained silent for a moment, its tone somber.

"On the third day, we began to separate and make contact."

"Let them doubt each other first."