Chapter Text
Paper Planets
Ch 1
Stupid intruders came and ruined an empty space
I don't know why I bother fronting a nice face,
it's fake
“You’re interested in the Station Master position?” The women at the desk said, peering dubiously at the screen in front of her. “For the Lost Light ?”
“Yes.” Ian “Inferno” López said, not bothering to hold his smile. This was the fourth time he’d been asked this question since he’d arrived at the job center, and the thirteenth time overall since he’d made the decision to apply.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” --and that would be the eleventh time he’d answered that question.
“It’s just that--”
“It has a reputation, I’m aware.” Inferno agreed.
It was an odd career move. The space station Lost Light was widely regarded as a career killer--both figuratively and literally. A lot of people died, and practically none of those deaths were Decepticon related--which meant there was no career advancement to be had. (Not that there was much of it these days anyways, what with the war being “technically” over.) If you did come back, you often had weird things to add to your resume. Things like “Defended 200 personnel against poisonous bubbles.” or “Talked my unit’s way out of a gunfight between two unknown alien species through a vicious round of Uno .” Just...
Odd.
Nevermind that the station was the farthest out in Autobot space. It was practically cut off from the rest of the army, let alone the rest of the universe. If Decepticons did decide to attack in force, there wasn’t much the Lost Light was going to be able to do about it.
Inferno didn’t care about any of that. His career was already dead--defeated by a fire rescue gone awry. The injuries he’d sustained had gotten him an early retirement from the force, and the only other skills he had to fall back on was the one he’d originally trained for. The position his parents had wanted him to take all those years ago.
They were long deceased, but he often imagined the conversation they would have now, if they were still alive. About how he could have avoided this all to begin with if he’d just stuck with the way his family did things. How he’d argue that he didn’t regret a thing, even though he’d never walk without the assistance of a “walker” again.
The metal device strapped to his waist went all the way to the floor, supporting his legs with pistons and metal loops as it went. It was slightly bulky, and it made a decent amount of noise every time he moved a leg, but it held his weight without issue. Though he wasn’t paralyzed, Inferno couldn’t walk far on his own, and the metal contraption allowed him at least that.
If he’d had another 200,000 credits available, he could have even gotten the one that let him jog, but he figured that was no longer necessary. Not for that price, anyway.
“Yes.” The recruiter agreed, using that tone of voice that meant she agreed the Lost Light was a mess but it wasn’t what she was talking about just then. “But so does the Station AI.”
Inferno raised an eyebrow. “How so?” He said.
“It’s had fifty-two station masters since its installation.” The recruiter finally looked up, trying to hammer home how she serious she was. “It’s not bad, does its job, but people don’t get along with it. It’s apparently rather...paranoid.” She made a face, then added; “The past twenty six Masters have all recommended getting a replacement.”
That got his attention. Though AI and human personality mismatches weren’t uncommon, recommending a Station AI be replaced was a big deal. Station AI’s were almost impossible to remove without replacing the entire station. Often a replacement couldn’t access the entire station without cascading issues and the old one could too easily make problems for the new.
Despite the idea that AI’s were supposed to do as commanded, 100% of the time, without any personal input or decision, no one these days was stupid enough to believe they didn’t have minds of their owns.
Particularly Station AIs.
Still--Inferno didn’t have much of a choice. This was the only available position for a Station Master and likely would be, for some time to come. It was this or sitting around on his ass, collecting retirement and hating life.
Inferno was done wasting away.
“You’re welcome to the job of course.” The recruiter was quick to add, her face clear she expected him to reject it. “No one else has bothered to apply and they’re desperate. So long as none of this bothers you.”
“Honestly? Nah.” Inferno shrugged. “Station AI’s are always weird.” Compared to mechs and personal AI’s, anyway. Even if this one was apparently more weird than normal.
A Station AI’s job was to control the entire space station, and insure everything on it ran smoothly. They were the first and last defense against everything from a tear in the hull to some idiot smoking in the oxygen storage. It required a seriously powerful AI processor, nevermind any kind of specific programming that required specialized care. Most, if not all, Station AI’s ended up a little odd because of it.
Nothing Inferno wasn’t prepared for--or that would turn him away, anyways. Not now.
“I’ll take it, if they’ll have me.” He said.
The recruiter just shook her head. “Oh they’ll have you.” She murmured, as she processed the paperwork, then handed it over for him to sign. “Good luck.”
He was accepted two days later--without an interview.
He wasn’t surprised.
xXx
The Station AI’s name was Red Alert, and he was definitely weird.
Inferno stared at his own reflection for a moment--cast in the glass window of the closed, security room door. He was built nicely, muscles that were gained from labor rather than just working out. He was tall enough that window cut his reflections head off, but he could still see wisps of his shaggy brown hair. He’d grown it a touch longer than former regulations had allowed. Station Masters didn’t care if hair got in the way of their helmets after all.
He hadn’t been on the station longer than a week before he’d ditched the outfit given to him and gone with normal clothing. Seemed like everyone else around him had done it. Might as well join in. The place was small enough to know everyone by sight anyway.
Inferno took in how his black shirt melted into his tan skin-- before shaking his head and making a fake coughing noise. Then another.
He didn’t know why he bothered. He knew by know Red Alert wouldn’t answer to that or anything else considered polite.
He waited a beat anyway, and braced himself when he got nothing.
Inferno took a breath, before gathering his wits and made the motion to access his implants. It was entirely unneeded--humans had been augmented with a built in computer for decades now--but his were recently redone to fit his new job and the motion helped with the unfamiliarity of the new programs. ::Red Alert?:: He said over comms, ::Can you let me into the security room?::
A red light appeared before the door, in a way that was very HALish. “Why?” Red’s voice asked, accessing a speaker from God knew where.
“I need to complete the daily tasks.” Inferno replied, keeping his voice even and smooth. He tilted his head up to eye the light, still unsure if it was a camera or a distraction the AI used to spring some kind of trap on them.
“There is no need, I’ve already done them.” Red Alert said. As he had said, every morning, for the entire time Inferno had been acting as Station Master.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” Inferno said. “I do need to check them off though.”
‘I have already alerted Command to their completion.’ Inferno thought, seconds before Red Alert said it. He choked back a sigh.
“Thank you, but Ultra Magnus has asked that I sign off on them as well.” He said.
“Ultra Magnus has accepted my sole signature for years. I do not see why he would now require yours.” Red Alert was getting a bit touchy now, a bite to the voice where there hadn’t been one prior. AI voices were no longer robotic, but instead made up of a random mix of previously recorded voices. All so that they appeared more human, and less “artificial.”
“Alright.” Inferno gave up, as he had given up, every morning. “But I do need to check on the room. I want to pick up where I left off yesterday.”
A pause. Inferno knew the AI was considering his options, as he always did. Just as they both knew Inferno would win in the end. At least on this--because Inferno had raised an excellent, inescapable point. Red Alert was fully capable of running the station by himself--even if Inferno thought the workload was far too much. He was not however, able to pick up all the paperwork.
Government regulations, as they always were, were horrifically old school. In the 21st century faxes were the only way the US Government would send “confidential” information. In the 31st, physical paperwork was required to make a number of systems clear.
Neither made any sense but neither did half the things the government did, then or now.
The result was the security room floor being covered in piles of paperwork. An entire ocean, really. Inferno wasn’t sure when the last time Red Alert had allowed someone into the security room was (it certainly wasn’t for the entire duration of the prior Station Master, that was for sure) but he guessed there was at least several years worth of paperwork that needed sorting through.
Here, Red Alert had been forced to admit defeat. It remained to be the only reason Inferno was let into the rooms--Red Alert had been extraordinarily cautious about him even being near the bank of monitors, nevermind the computer.
It was something though, so Inferno was happy to take it.
‘Slow progress is still progress.’ His fire Chief had told him, over and over. ‘ Patience and timing is a more important part of our job than the public will ever think it is. If something isn’t time just right, it can throw off the whole operation.
‘Nerves won’t help you in a ship-fire. Frustration, worry, doubt--those have no place on the front lines. Not ours, anyway. Courage isn’t just meeting danger, it’s greeting it like an old friend. It’s acting calm to help those panicking around you. Only a clear mind can truly help save others.’
It was a long speech but one Inferno knew by heart. It had saved him more than once, and allowed him to save others countless times. Just because he was no longer a firefighter, didn’t mean it didn’t count here.
Not when his job clearly involved winning over an AI who’d been fucked over before.
“Fine.” Red Alert said, the door unlocking with a series of clicks. Inferno spoke his thanks and entered, thinking first of what area he wanted to clean today, and secondly of how clear it was Red Alert’s paranoia didn’t just stem from a few malfunctions.
Digging through the stations archives as a lot harder when you technically couldn’t get into them. Thankfully the station’s SIC kept a meticulous paper record, and happily allowed Inferno to take it over once interest was expressed.
“It’s my job, isn’t it?” He’d said, but worried over the implications that the last few SM’s hadn’t even bothered to go this far. It appeared all they did once they stopped fighting Red was sit around and drink.
At least Ultra Magnus was someone the AI respected. Inferno had tried asking a few times how the man had done that but none of the answers were very forthcoming. Just a lot about protocols and security and things that left Inferno’s head drooping.
At least the paper archives held something. A clear look into at least one reason Red Alert was the way he was.
The AI had malfunctioned. He had also had a string of bad Station Masters from the start, two of which had been jailed over it. The station itself had been passed around the Autobot army for a while, before someone decided to do--whatever it was Rodimus did with it.
In both cases, Red had been blamed for not catching his SMs, or alerting proper authorities for what they were doing. Combing through what little he had, Inferno couldn’t see how Red was supposed to be able to figure it out--it looked like both SMs had been locked him out of numerous systems. The AI, having been new--and yes, also having a malfunction--hadn’t known he was allowed access to those systems.
That at least, explained his reluctance to just hand the place over.
Nevermind just how many Station Masters Red had--Inferno wouldn’t exactly trust a newcomer either. Sure it had been years, and yes, Red had been cleared to work with his malfunction being considered “operable” but--still.
It explained something. As well as gave something for Inferno to think about, as he went around picking up the sea of papers and carefully sorting them into piles. This task, at least, would take him a solid week to complete--more if he stretched it out. He had time.
He just hoped the time he had was enough to get through to Red.
xXx
Two more days and Inferno hadn’t gotten anywhere. Talking to Red was a akin to traversing a minefield--he was never quite sure what topic would set the AI off. He hadn’t gotten kicked out of the room yet though, so he considered things a win.
At least Ultra Magnus took over on the weekends.
It was unusual for the SIC to do so but then, Inferno was quickly realizing everything was unusual on this station--more so than the recruiter warned.
He’d have been less comfortable with it if Red Alert wasn’t as paranoid as he was. If nothing else, Red Alert could be trusted to raise the alarm the second something went wrong--and Inferno would be the first to know. Reluctance to accept him or not, his implants had been purposefully formatted so they were the easiest for Red Alert to reach.
To the point where Red often used him as a walking camera--looking out of his eyes without warning. Just another thing to adjust to, Inferno figured. His firewalls were tight enough that the AI couldn’t exactly rummage around in his head, but he’d certainly gained more access that he was necessarily allowed.
Another thing on the list that had no doubt freaked a few former SMs out.
Inferno didn’t care. If that’s what made Red comfortable then that’s what he’d do, so long as the AI stayed respectful. Which he had for the most part--and by this point Inferno had grown so used to him piggybacking that when he woke up to find Red gone it felt--odd.
‘Probably just switched over to Ultra Magnus.’ He thought, going through his routine--but still. Something felt off.
xXx
The mess hall had been converted into an obstacle course. Inferno felt like he shouldn’t have been surprised and yet, here he was!
The station map he was using was clearly outdated--Ultra Magnus had explained it was the newest version Red Alert had allowed him to print. It was clearly from a few decades prior, and no doubt didn’t include a number of updates.
Including, this, apparently.
“So if one wanted food…” He asked the first person he saw, and was promptly given directions to two different bars.
He wasn’t surprised much about that, either.
xXx
The sense of something wrong grew as Inferno made his way to the bar closest to him. Visages was a fancier place then he expected to see out here, and the interior far more delicately decorated than he’d ever imagine a small-station bar could look.
He wanted to think it was that--his general surprise, that was unsettling him, but he knew himself better than that. Red Alert hadn’t checked in. Not even a “brush” to see if he was there.
To go from having the AI ping him constantly to suddenly being ghosted just...didn’t sit well.
Once again he tried to tell himself he was likely just haunting Ultra Magnus, only this time, his thoughts decided to spit out giving away ground seemed highly unlike for a paranoid thing such as Red.
He resolved to at least visit Magnus and ask about it today, then sat down to enjoy lunch.
He’d gotten as far as ordering and getting a drink when someone started yelling in his ear.
“Man you’re handling Red Alert really well!”
“Thanks?” Inferno asked, turning to look at the guy who’d plopped down next to him. Well built, decently muscled, blonde hair and teeth so white they made his skin look pink. A walking stereotype of a pilot.
Inferno hoped he was a techie.
“You’ve got to be the first person to get it to consistently allow you into the security room! Thing’s a total nutcase about that!”The man said, slapping him on the back so hard it lurched Inferno forward a good foot.
It was uncomfortable for a number of reasons, including the now hand print shaped bruise he was certain he had, the use of the term “it” and the fact that talking trash about a Station AI while on the station was never the best idea. Especially not where the AI could blatantly hear it, instead of sensibly, over comms or something. “How’d you hear about that?” He asked, trying not to let his discomfort show.
“You know how small stations are. Any new thing is news! Name’s Getaway by the way--no need for an introduction, I already know yours!” A small chuckle--and then Inferno realized he must have done a poorer job than he thought because he added;
“Oh don’t worry, it’s not listening in. Captain boxes Red in on the weekends. Gives us all some sanity time.” He followed it with a boisterous laugh that Inferno immediately disliked
“Boxes him in?” Inferno echoed, stomach suddenly clenching. Surely they couldn’t mean... ?
“You know--blocks its access. You can’t really shut down an AI, especially not a Station AI, but you can override em. Rodimus shuts it down until it can only access one of the broken AV rooms.” A large, conspiratorial grin was shot Inferno’s way. “ It can’t control anything when locked in there.”
“How’d he manage to do that?” Inferno asked, trying not to give away how horrified he was. “Shouldn’t Red have been able to stop him?”
“Yeah but we got it during an update.” Getaway leaned in, talking in the same animated way one used to tell an daring story. “It was a trick and a half just to get that AI to update, but we said it was essential for some part or another not to fry. Freaked ‘em out enough that we got it to accept the download. The second it accepted it, bam!” Getaway clapped his hands. “No crazy bullshit on the weekends!”
It was beyond horrific. It was torture, for a Station AI. They were physically built into the station--not being able to access it was the same was the same as a human going into a vegetative state awake. Being unable to talk, move, or alert anyone to the fact they were there, thought to be in a coma the entire time.
Nevermind that the only way for Red Alert to be completely “shut down” was to not give him access to any kind of outer connections--internet, comms, a general entertainment screen-- nothing he could piggyback on.
They weren’t sending him into a room. They were sending him into solitary confinement.
“Who’s in control of the station when he’s locked away like that?” Inferno asked, mind reeling.
“You now!” Getaway said happily. “Before that we just kinda took turns. Nothing really happens much out here until it does, you know? In an emergency we’d unlock the little bastard but until then, things can run just fine for the weekend.”
It was a Station Master’s worst nightmare, come to life.
“Rodimus is in charge of this?” Inferno asked faintly. He felt the absence of Red Alert the longer time went on, but now it was urgent.
“Yawp. Probably the only good thing he’s ever done.” An overly dramatic eyeroll there, and Getaway was slowly becoming one of the most annoying people Inferno had met.
“Do you know where he is? By any chance? I have a few, uh, more questions.” Questions and a strong desire to yell.
“Dunno. Check the maps maybe? Now that you have access to ‘em with Red Alert gone.” Getaway grinned.
“Thanks.” Inferno said. “I’ll do that.”
He did.
xXx
“Look I get it,” Rodimus Prime, acting commander of the Lost Light as well as it’s supposed Captain (Don’t ask Inferno how that worked, he’d been shushed the first time he’d asked why a space station had a Captain. ) said, feet kicked up on his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. “It’s bizarre, against code and it freaks a lot of people out. But trust me, this is the only way we can get anything done. We consider it to be a nice compromise.”
'Red Alert would have had to agree for it to be a compromise.' Inferno thought, but choked it back.
“Ultra Magnus agreed to go along with this?” He said desperately. It was a last ditch effort in a series of them. He’d been here for twenty minutes, arguing Red Alert’s release, and had gotten absolutely nowhere.
“He did after Red Alert accused him of being a Remulak spy and locked him out of all his computers.” Rodimus said, changing from spinning the pen to throwing it up and catching it. Implanted tattoos in the shape of flames ran up and down strong, dark-brown arms, animated with flickering lights.
“Like I said, I get it. This isn’t what I want to do either--but we just can’t operate fully when Red Alert’s, well, himself.” He shrugged, a movement causing him to almost miss catching his pen. “We don’t know what else to do with him.”
At least Rodimus referred to Red as a “him” rather than an “it.” Inferno thought dully.
He sat for a moment, struggling to come up with something, anything--and came ended up with an idea that made him cringe. He went forward with it anyway.
“Transfer him to my room.” Inferno demanded, sitting up as he decided upon the action.
Rodimus stared at him, startled. “What?”
“Instead of the box or room or whatever it is you have him in--transfer him to my room.” It was stupid, and likely going to drive him nuts but it was also right.
Rodimus frowned, finally sitting up himself. “I don’t know…”
“You had to have a few tech guys who came up with the program that locked him in right? Should be easy to remote in and change the room.” Inferno stared his Captain down, backbone straight as a rod.
“Uh…”
Inferno leaned in, face serious. “You can transfer him over to my room or I can bother you about it every weekend, until you do. You won’t be able to get away from me or--” thoughts went wild, and Inferno reached for one desperately, “--or Ultra Magnus!"
He hadn’t been on the ship a full week and he already knew that was the right threat.
“I have all the access codes and the updated Station map and I have no problems giving him unlimited access.” Yup. Yup he could see it in Rodimus’s stupidly blue eyes--no one wanted Magnus on their ass. Not when Inferno could supply the SIC said persons exact location.
“Well shit.” Rodimus said, defeated. “You realize you’re gonna regret this, right?”
‘Yes.’ Inferno thought. “Not even remotely.” He said.
Red Alert was transferred that day.
xXx
“What happened?” Was the immediate demand two seconds after the transfer went through. “Are we under attack?!” Lights shot on and off, speakers cackling to life then abruptly cutting out. His terminal--locked out of most of the ship as demanded by Rodimus--
“No, we’re fine.” Inferno assured, sitting on his bed and watching the AI perform a computer version of a freak out around his room. “I had them transfer you over to my room.”
He could practically feel Red Alert’s suspicion. “Why?”
“Because it wasn’t right.” Inferno growled. “This isn’t either, but,” He gave a pat to his room terminal, “we’ll get there.”
Red Alert responded by locking him out of everything.