Caminus. During the Great Expansion period of the Cybertronian Civil War the Autobots reconnected with the distant colony to establish a spaceport, and a safe haven among the stars for the embattled faction. Caminus remains the vibrant heart of the Autobot fleet even in such dark times as the disappearance of Optimus Prime...

PrimeQuest: The Vision
Part 1

Windblade's chronometer went off before the sun rose. She liked the dawn, when Port Solare was still quiet. It didn't take long for the soldiers to start making their noise.

She glided over the rows of warships in the port below. The ships would look regal in their shining finishes and swooping banners if not for the building they sat beneath.

The builders of Port Solare made sure the Temple of the Way would be the first thing Caminus' sun touched every morning in its climb over the high cliffs around the city, a golden arc of fire in the dawn sky topping a dizzying flight of stairs from the docks below. The climb was mainly ceremonial. Most of the Camiens who tended to the grounds were fliers like Windblade, or took the more recently-installed elevators up.

Glass and metal fractals splintered the sunrise into reds and golds across the temple terrace. This was perhaps the most sacred spot on the planet, where the Camiens upheld the Way of Flame. At each new settlement the colonists forged on the planet they had come to call home, a temple to the fires that once lit Solus Prime's forge was built, and a Speaker was ordained to tend to the flames there. But Port Solare was where the overseer of all Speakers, the Mistress of Flame, made her home. Windblade served at her pleasure as the Speaker of the city, a great honor among her kind.

A tall bot draped in Orange cloths (a strange custom among Cybertronians, even Camiens) came out to greet the Speaker as she landed.

"Good morning Windblade. Great Solus shines especially fair today."

"We can extend a blessing for the recent spate of good weather Mistress. The flame doesn't have the same glow under cloudy skies."

The Mistress beckoned her under the awning of the temple. Here the Mistress and her Speaker would take inquiries from the citizens, and pass judgement in civil cases. It was also where the temple fire burned on its pyre, connecting Solare with the Titan in the center of the colony and the devout with the Allspark.

The morning passed without much incident, until a short, stout bot in red and black came up the elevator. She was visibly fuming, both in her apparent anger and from the ports in her shoulders.

"I've had it Mistress! I've kept quiet for cycles, but my respect only goes so far!"

The Mistress smiled patiently, and beckoned for one of the priestesses watching nervously from the corner to get their guest a drink. "Please, tell me your name, and what grieves you so."

"Cassiopeia, ma'am. Friends call me Cassi. I run an organic curio shop on Red Wharf. But the Autobots are driving me up the wall! They come around hopped up on Kremzeek or whatever swill the Express gives them and cause trouble! Lobbing with the sanitation bins, hanging off the lampposts, and today – hoo boy – today I arrived at work to find a broken window and a jet-ski passed out in the center of my store! He had apparently gotten into a fight with one of his mates – quite a throwing arm I suppose – and decided my display of Jovian Cutlery was a fine place to sleep it off. I had half a mind to go get my old cannon in the back room and show him a thing or two! Do you know how many stellar cycles I spent getting –"

"Alright, alright settle now. Drink and be at peace." The mistress sipped from the blue liquid in her glass, and Cassiopeia did the same. "This is indeed troubling news. The Autobots are our guests, and I expect them to behave that way."

"That's just it ma'am. When the Autobots brought their war here they had a Prime on their side. It made sense to give 'em safe harbor. Now that their leader is dead, it seems like they're just a bunch of thugs drinking our liquor."

Windblade spotted a flicker of darkness behind the Mistress' eyes, but the High Priestess didn't move a servo.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Cassi. But I have not yet changed my decision to let the Autobots stay here. For all the chaos this war has brought us, the soldiers have helped us expand our trade markets, among other things. Still, I understand your anger. This will need to be dealt with. Windblade?"

The Speaker had busied herself with the flame, trying to stay out of their conversation. "Yes, Mistress?"

"I do believe it is nearly time for your afternoon break. Why not leave early and see if you can't find out more about our interloping jet-ski and friends?"

Windblade nodded. "I couldn't help but overhear that you get a lot of runoff from the Express? I know Midnight from school, I can see what he has to say."

Cassiopeia grunted and looked down, but nodded back. "That would be a good start. Thank you, Speaker."


Windblade tried not to make to hasty a display of leaving the temple interior. Once she was sure no one could see her she took a running dive off the terrace and converted to jet mode, peeling through the afternoon air to the sea below. She landed in the middle of a busy street in the Wharves. Soldiers ambled about, shoulder to shoulder with Camiens (some riding on the bigger soldiers' shoulders with gleeful looks on their faces). Everyone was loud and boisterous. It seemed more like a war had just ended than like one was currently going on.

It had been nearly a year since the Autobots lost their leader, but in this sector hundreds of soldiers were still lounging around without orders. As much as the Camiens of Port Solare enjoyed the new atmosphere, many of the other Speakers in the colony thought the Autobots were of no use to Caminus now that the Matrix was lost to them. Cassi was evidence that something would have to change soon. Yet still the Mistress allowed them to remain, for whatever reason. Windblade was keeping quiet about her feelings.

A small group of Camiens spotted her in the street and ran over to greet her. Being Speaker lent her a degree of celebrity in the port. There were many smiling faces to be found, thanking her for the work she did for the colony. Windblade would smile back and sheepishly excuse herself. She wasn't sure she deserved all the praise. The truth was, while she worked up high in her golden temple, down here was where she felt closest to Caminus, to the Flame she believed in. The battle the Autobots were fighting seemed like an important one, and if the Camiens could help their brothers and sisters fight it, what should stop them?

At length, her walk through the Wharves brought her to a large cylindrical building, ripped out of the Titan Caminus' old pneumatic transport network. Her friend had always been teased in school for his name, told it sounded more like a hole in the wall restaurant than a robot. This was his way of telling them off.

A tall bot with broad shoulders appeared in the doorway, a tray of Nightmare Fuels frothing rust-red in one hand. He lit up when he saw her. "WINDBLADE! It's been too long! Welcome back to the Midnight Express!"