A/N: Hey all! I'm back with a whole new story for you. This one was inspired by Fealion's story, "Incarnation of Cybertron." I did send her a message requesting permission to use the concept, but she hasn't gotten back to me yet. Of course, it's been over a year since she last updated her work, so I was kind of going through my own sort of sparkling fluff withdrawals (really, REALLY hope she's alright!). If she should get back to me and refuse my request, then I will obligingly take this story down. This story is being started at this time as a holiday-of-choice present for you all.

Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro and whomever they have granted rights to. The concept of sparklings being created by the Allspark that were then controlled by Sector 7 was inspired by Fealion's work "Incarnation of Cybertron." I own nothing but the oc's and the plot. No infringement was implied nor intended. No financial gratuity was received.

The Caretakers: Establishing Controls

PROLOGUE:

Anyone who didn't know her personally would see a shortish, youngish, calm woman in a white lab coat walking confidently down the hall. However, that was only those who didn't know her. Everyone who did, though, would notice three distinct signs that calm was the last thing she was; her arms were held tightly against her body instead of freely swinging by her sides, left hand in her coat pocket while the right tightly gripped a standard project folder so hard her knuckles were white. Secondly, her normally smiling mouth was held in a straight line. Finally, her blue-gray eyes were focused and glittering dangerously with barely suppressed rage.

Yep, those in the know quickly scrambled out of her way with one thought; Doc Ray was PISSED!

VVVVVBREAKVVVVV

Dr. Ralene Clark forcefully exhaled through her nose as she opened the office door without knocking. She barely glanced at the startled receptionist as she continued on to the door behind him.

"D – Doctor Clark!" he exclaimed in alarm as she grabbed the door handle. "You can't go in there!"

"Watch me," she said determinedly as she pushed open the door.

"I'm sorry Mr. Banacheck," the man hastily apologized from behind her. "She just stormed through."

Tom Banacheck swiveled in his chair to look at the intruders into his office. One look at the normally happy scientist's stern countenance had him putting his bagel down hastily and swallowing the bite in his mouth with difficulty.

Clearing his throat, he nodded at his secretary/bodyguard, "It's alright Jimmy. I'll see Dr. Clark," he dismissed the man.

Angry strides brought her to stand in front of his desk without an invitation as she wordlessly dropped the folder in front of him. As soon as she heard the click of the door shutting, she began to speak.

"They're ALIVE!" she hissed angrily.

"Who's alive?" he asked in genuine curiosity as he rescued his open jelly packet from falling into his lap.

"The NBT's! They are alive and afraid."

"Ray, they're machines. They can't 'live' and they can't 'feel'," he informed her gently.

"How the Hell do you know they can't feel? Have you ever been around one that was still functional?

"As far as their being machines, well, so are we. The only difference is we're organic machines and they are metallic. The basic mechanics are the same."

"Be that as it may, there has been no scientific proof of their status of being alive. Not to mention they've shown no signs of self-awareness."

She looked at him, incredulous, allowing her barely suppressed rage to simmer. "I am the only xenobiologist you have on staff," she said lowly, slightly mollified when he began to squirm. "I am the resident expert on what does and does not constitute life. It is my scientific opinion that the NBT's have demonstrated enough behaviors to be considered living beings.

"I also recognize that they have not exhibited enough behaviors to be considered truly sentient, but that is due to the fact they are usually destroyed or subdued soon after animation. Therefore, they need to be studied further in a non-threatening environment."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I want my own project with them, preferably in another facility, to observe and attempt to interact with them. We need to determine what they are capable of when supported, if they can be taught or trained.

"Tom," she continued as she covered his hand with her own, "we need to determine if we were right about them being nothing more than AI's, or if we have been engaging in an unspeakable act of genocide against another intelligent species."

Huffing out a frustrated breath, he removed his hand from her possession and finally opened the folder. He didn't even bother to read it; he already knew that every argument was thoroughly thought out and defended rationally, despite her obviously passionate opinion.

"You know," he sighed as he flipped through to each copy's signature pages, "the higher ups are not going to want to hear that." He signed them all with a flourish as he informed her of the door she was about to open.

"Yes, I know, which is why I used the argument to keep them as controls."

He chuckled as he handed her back her signed copy so she could begin her part of the project. Her enthusiasm was always contagious, he thought as she literally skipped out of his office. He just really hoped she didn't find what she was looking for. If she did, he feared the higher ups would do whatever they could to keep her quiet.

"Is everything alright, sir?" Jimmy asked as he quickly poked his head back in his office.

"Yes, it's fine Jimmy.

"I'm going to need you to distribute these new project orders to the necessary department heads. Dr. Clark already has hers as do I. Please see to it they're delivered before the end of the day."

"Sure, sir," the young man answered as he crossed the office to the desk. Accepting the files, he opened the top one to find the distribution list and stopped dead in his tracks.

Quickly, he leafed through each page, immediately reading and memorizing the entire report before he turned back to his supervisor, visibly paling.

"She . . . she thinks the NBT's are alive?"

"Yes. Ludicrous, I know, but she does bring up the valid point that we need to keep some of them as controls," the career, bureaucratic scientist affirmed as he considered his assistant. Jimmy's photographic memory still amazed him.

"You are aware that Agent Simmons is not going to be happy about this when he sees this report."

"I'm aware of that. It's also a very good thing that he isn't slated to return from his rounds for another three weeks and will immediately go on his two month long vacation after that."

"Yes sir, but he is scheduled to catch up with his paperwork for three days after his rounds and before his vacation."

"I doubt there's much he can do to derail or delay her project in those three days."

"I hope so sir.

"By the way, what does he have against her?"

"Hmm," Banacheck said thoughtfully as he chewed on his bagel. "Simmons is the type that doesn't care about what he doesn't know as long as he thinks he's untouchable by it. Ray believes in understanding what she doesn't know. That and the fact she received four PHD's by the time she was seventeen doesn't sit well with him either."

"I see sir. I'll go officially 'receive' these then and distribute them appropriately," the younger man answered as he left the office.

Thoughts whirling in his brain, he sat at his desk and fished out his stamp and ink pad before he stamped each front page with a big red "Received." Glancing at his calendar to remind himself of the date, he wrote in the date of August 19, 1985 and initialed below it.