Title: The Burden of Argus
Rating: T
Universe: Animated
Pairing: None at the moment
Word Count: 631
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Transformers Animated or anything affiliated.
It hadn't taken long for the people of Cybertron to realize it wasn't Sentinel they wanted as a leader – nor was his attitude long put up with after the initial Decepticon fearing phase finally wore off.
An entire solar cycle of Council deliberation, bureaucratic talks, papers that had to be signed – arguments and words. At first, Sentinel had been outraged and insulted – vitriol replaced the energon that flowed through his veins. Now, he was just tired and bitter.
He hated Optimus, and yet there was no one else he was closer to. Optimus was his only friend, his only confidant. But now it was Optimus Magnus, and Sentinel was once again Sentinel Prime.
"Don't make this a big deal, Sentinel." Optimus had told him, both hands on his shoulders to stop Sentinel's tantrum, "The Council is pushing us both in to positions we don't want…" he had gone quieter then, looking down at the floor. "...and there isn't a thing we can about it, except act honorably with what's been handed to us."
Alpha Trion had made it quite clear that he didn't want Sentinel in a leadership role – and once Ultra Magnus' spark had finally given out, the talk of Cybertron had fallen from Decepticon defeat to politics. Optimus had brought out all the stops to shovel dirt over Sentinel's fiery temper. It had worked, when it finally came time to do what needed to be done, Sentinel had honorably resigned from his position without an extra word.
He knew deep down, Optimus had done the right thing. Looking at the whole thing in retrospect , it now seemed obvious that without his friend's advice and the arguments between them - events would have unfolded in an exceedingly unfavorable manner.
It could have been worse, Sentinel thought to himself as he rose from his berth. The ship they had given him was built for the sole purpose of speed and sustainability. Deep Space reconnaissance – solo duty that most Primes balked at in disgust. He had actually pushed for it – he had requested it. Right now, Sentinel wanted to be as far away from Cybertron as possible, and his request had been met with eager agreement from the Council. Optimus had looked at him strangely from up high, but Sentinel had refused to meet his gaze – he couldn't handle the shame.
His ship, the Quickstrike, was well suited for long missions that could last up to an entire Solar Cycle or more. His room was small, a berth and a view screen and a small supply of Energon rations that he had organized for every day so that they would last. A dimly lit hallway was all that separated his room from the bridge. Said bridge was only large enough for one person. A panorama of windows circling the dash allowed him a view in to the depths of space. The dash itself was nothing but a large view screen in the center for receiving transmissions, and on the sides were various panels and buttons for controlling the ship.
He sat down, bringing up displays of energy recordings his ship had taken while he was in stasis and began to scan for anything abnormal. As usual, space was silent and cold.
But this was what he needed right now. He needed the solitude, the isolation, the predictability of nothing new happening. It was here, in the depths of space that he found these things and was content with them.
I know I'm going to continue this, I just don't know how yet