A Year in the Life of Optimus Prime: Five

By Buckeye Belle and Vivienne Grainger

Chapter 1

(A.N. Transformers belongs to Hasbro and whoever they have allowed the rights to it, which certainly doesn't include me. No money has been made from this fanfic and no copyright infringement is intended. All I own are my OCs.

This story contains religious and spiritual discussion drawn from various religious paths both real and fictional. Those who wish not to be exposed to religions other than their own should turn back now.

This is the seventh story in The Sidhe Chronicles series. Previous stories are "Swords and Jewels," "The Sidhe Chronicles 2: Dark of the Moon," and the first four stories of "A Year in the Life of Optimus Prime." This is a separate AU from the "Come on up for the Rising" verse.

"Normal speech"

::Silent speech (Internal radio or through a bond)::

Scene Break: -Sidhe Chronicles-

Thanks to my beta and co-author, Vivienne Grainger. /A.N)

-Sidhe Chronicles-

(Cybertron, at the dawn of war)

Orion Pax hurried through the streets, his university cloak drawn tight around him. Vorn had passed since he had played on the streets of Lowtown as a sparkling. His high-caste markings had drawn little attention from the shopkeepers and laboring-caste mecha that he lived among, for they all knew he was the fosterling of Ironhide and Chromia. No one had much, but they all knew each other's designation. When necessary, they would all pull together to help out a neighbor who had fallen into misfortune.

Their "little" had always somehow been "enough." He had always had enough energon in his small tank, a roof over his helm, and most importantly, the secure knowledge that he had a place in his family.

Much had changed since then. Oh, he still had enough...since being taken into the palace, he had lived in wealth and security unimagined to most mecha on all of Cybertron. But when he sought the comfort of cohort, especially since his recent falling-out with his brother, he returned to the place that would always be home.

It had not been very long ago that the trip from the palace to Lowtown had been a pleasant ramble. A clerical-caste mechling in a university cloak was by definition an impoverished student, beneath the notice of those who might think to do him harm. There were enough such academic vagabonds in Iacon that one more was of no consequence. Once he left the university district, he no longer stood out as one of the princes of the palace. He was simply one of the people.

But now, that carefree stroll was no more. When energon had become scarce, a mech was as likely to get coshed in an alley for the fuel in his lines as for the valuables in his subspace. He stayed in the middle of the street and did not dally.

At the same time, Orion did not transform into alt mode and speed through the streets—that profligate waste of energon could attract worse than the evil eye from mecha who scrambled to acquire enough cubes to keep themselves and their families functional. He did not truly relax until he turned into his own cul-de-sac, where any mecha he passed knew him for "little Orion, Hide and Chromia's foundling made good."

As he passed through the familiar rusty old archway into their apartment commons and greeted the two old geezers who served as unofficial doormechs, he wondered if this would be the last time he made this familiar journey incognito.

His two aunties—Chromia's twin sisters, junior to her and actually a little younger than he—hugged him as they let him into the apartment. Immediately, he was mobbed by family, surrounded by their love and welcome. He saw Ironhide every day, for the big black mech had arranged to be his armsmaster not three orn after he had been taken from them, but that did not stop him from throwing an arm around his foster-father's shoulders. He had seen Chromia and her sisters almost as often. But the rest of the cohort—Ironhide's parents, his brother and nephews, the ill-tempered medic, Ratchet, who had been as good as a brother to Ironhide since Primus knew when—sometimes Optimus went many orn with only Ironhide's news of them.

As for the rest…he was home. Among the shabby furnishings and dilapidated walls that marked the place he always thought of himself as "coming from."

He unsubspaced several cubes of energon and gave them to Chromia. His visits could at least insure that his family would be fed for a few orn. For the twins, he had a small plate of energon goodies—his own dessert, subspaced when no one had been looking. He often saved such things and gave them away, guilty that frivolities like that were available at his whim but out of reach for others. He was pleased by the twin femmelings' happy squeals as they shared the bounty out to their family.

Chromia asked, "How long can you stay?"

"I should spend the night, I think. It would be unwise to be out wandering the streets during first joor." He smiled down at Arcee, and put his large hand on her helm.

Ironhide grunted, "Ya got that right. The other night, there were a mob of empties down by the railyard. I don't know how they got up there unless they stowed away in an unlocked boxcar, but it took a bunch of us to round 'em up. Never saw that kind of trash up here before—or within three or four levels, for that matter. I told the femmies, I want 'em back here a quarter-joor before day's end, while there are still plenty of mecha on the streets."

"From what I saw tonight, I agree with you entirely." Arcee, still under his servo, assumed a pout. "On the way down here, I had the sense that I could easily have been seen as prey. I think my university cloak has outlived its usefulness as a way to blend into the scenery."

Chromia suggested, "Come, sit." They ranged themselves along what humans would later come to call a sofa, this one sagged with age and rubbed along its arms. "Maybe you ought to wear your acolyte's tabard instead. It would be safer, even if you do get stopped and asked for a blessing every other block. Surely nobot would try robbing a temple mechling."

Orion replied, grinning, "There is that. Maybe we should consider pledging the twins to the temple for a vorn or so."

Flareup, playing strateka with Ratchet, yelled, "We don't want to be temple maidens!"

Chromia said, "Not a bad idea, now that you mention it! You could get your training as healers through the temple, then go to work with Ratchet. Some time in the temple wouldn't hurt you two Pit-spawn at all!"

Arcee said, "Admit it, sister, they'd throw us out inside the orn!"

Flareup added, "Or the roof would fall in!"

Ratchet added mildly, "Or I would."

As their elders laughed, Orion shook his head. His small aunts were probably right about that.

Chromia shared out a cube of the energon that Orion had brought in, and brought a bag of rust sticks out of the pantry to add to the impromptu feast. They visited, caught up on everything Orion had missed, and gossiped about all the neighbors, until the cohort all went to their own apartments and Chromia sent the twins to recharge for school the next day.

Ironhide said, "Mechling, what's the matter?" He gestured Orion to the seat next his on that sagging sofa.

Orion sat, and put his elbows to his knees, leaning forward to clasp his servos. "You know me too well. Megatron did not return to the palace."

"You think he did have something to do with that bombing that killed Zeta Prime?"

"I would rather think that he did not, but when I asked him where he had been the orn before the explosion, he had no explanation for me. He was only furious that I asked."

"He fell in with a bad crowd around the Kaon arena. I think he's got into some of the shadier fights, too—there are illegal arenas where it's more than bare servos and practice weapons. Mecha fight to the death down there."

"I have heard of those places, of course, but surely the Lords Protector would no more allow him to become involved than the Primes would allow me to do so."

Ironhide gathered what wisdom there was to be found from the corner of the small room. "Not sayin' they allowed it. But it's a logical reason why he wouldn't want to tell you where he'd been."

"So it is."

"On the other servo...I can't say for a fact that I don't believe he could have been involved. I know you two have a brother bond, son, but that's the truth. He's changed in the past vorn or so and I don't think it's in a good way."

"He has blocked our bond. I believe he means to sever it before he is asked to take vows as my Protector."

"Aw, Orion. Frag."

Orion's mouth set in a way Ironhide had known very well since shortly after he and Chromia took an orphan in. Then as now, it signified that a formidable will was being brought to bear. "I will not bind anyone to me against their wishes."

"I know you wouldn't, but you kids used to be so close. I can't count the number of times you two sat right here arguin' politics, figurin' out how you were gonna change the world."

"Sentinel Prime refuses to present me to the All-Spark for my elevation. With Zeta Prime dead, with unrest everywhere—and now, you say that empties are leaving the Underground—it is time, Ironhide. This has passed caution to the point of defying the will of Primus."

Ironhide reached out to clasp his foster-son's shoulder. "I'll defy Primus or anyone else to keep you safe, mechling. You do this before you're ready, they'll carry your cold gray frame out of the temple. I don't ever want to live long enough to see that, d'you understand me?"

"I do understand, Ironhide, and it is not my intention to worry you. I—there is always a chance that I could fail the upgrades. I know that. But if I do not do this, I will have to request an ordinary adult upgrade soon, or risk remaining a mechling forever. Had Primus intended that for me, he would never have marked me with this sigil." He laid a hand over his spark, where the sigil lay on its casing.

"Talk to Ultra Magnus," the old black bot said, after a few moments' thought. "He's a medic, ain't he? If he agrees that you're ready, then do what you have to do. And then Megs will have to face up to his responsibilities, and take his place as your Protector."

"That is wise counsel."

"Comes from livin' as many vorn as I have. Don't jump into things with both peds before you're ready, and ya might get there yourself someday."

"Ironhide, when I have spoken to the other Primes who were elevated after the Matrix was lost, they tell me that it was their ties to those that they love, and who love them, that carried them through the ordeal. Those who failed have tended to have fewer ties. Things may be strained between my brother and me, but I will always have my cohort. You and Chromia are not merely cohort to me, you are my Guardians. I know that when I go into the Temple, I will have your support."

"Always, kid, come what may, I swear to Primus I'll have your back."

"I have never doubted that," Orion said, and that, for both of them, was the end of the conversation. Orion found his way to his old room, and recharged very soundly in it, surrounded by those he loved.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Orion raced to keep up with Ultra Magnus as his elder strode through the crystal garden surrounding the Palace. "Magnus, I do not understand why Sentinel Prime wishes to protect me, but you and I both know, the time for that has passed. Our people are rioting because they have no energon and no hope. I do not know what Primus intends for me to do about it—but certainly He does not wish me to hide in the palace pretending to be a child while my people are dying!"

"Joining Ariel in the Well of All Sparks cannot save a single one of them," the Magnus said, and Orion, oddly, felt himself relax. This was a truth, and he could rely on Ultra Magnus to tell him that.

He nearly clipped a crystal in his haste to stay near Ultra Magnus. "No. But perhaps accepting my destiny as Prime, and living on without her, can."

The supreme ruler of all Cybertron exvented, remembering his own elevation, and surrendered to destiny. "So be it, mechling. If you fail, I will pray for Primus to send your spark back to us without delay—but do not fail. We cannot afford to wait for you to grow up again!"

"I will not fail you, Ultra Magnus."

"Don't worry about failing me, mechling. It is yourself that you must not fail."

Orion offered the elder a grin many vorn beyond those he had so far achieved, and said, "I won't fail either of us."

And the Magnus thought, during the evening as he prepared himself for recharge, that this young mech was the first Prime candidate he had ever known to approach the ordeal with a sense of humor. He found himself hoping, for reasons beyond those of duty, that the mechling would succeed.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Orion looked around in confusion. He had no idea how long the agonizing series of upgrades had lasted, or even precisely what changes had been made in his frame and processor...and his spark. No one had ever told him that it was possible for spark-level programming to be overwritten, but now he understood that it was that which truly set a Prime apart from all other mecha: from his people. For the rest of his life, he was Primus' own.

Now, that painful process seemed to have run its course, but he no longer lay in the shadow of the All-Spark. Instead, he was in what must be an organic world, though he saw nothing organic, only sand and stone.

"Orion?"

The voice was that of a femme, and at first he thought it was Chromia. That was good—it must be time for him to wake up. He shook his helm, but the dream did not end.

"I am here. Who calls me?"

A tall femme stepped from between two boulders. Her plating and her optics were a brilliant green, and she had the sturdy frame of a bot designed for hard work. Her servos bore the myriad small scars of a life lived at the bench and the forge. Yet, for one so strong, her voice was infinitely gentle. "I am Solus. Welcome, brother Prime. By what designation shall I know you now?"

"I am Optimus, Lady Prime. Have I failed my ordeal? Is this the Well?"

"No, only a place very near it. You have not failed. You have so very much to do before your destiny brings you here to stay. A hard road lies before you. May courage, and wisdom, and honor travel it with you always, my son."

Optimus began to say, "I thank you, Solus," but awakened in the temple, bathed in the warm light of the All-Spark. He stood carefully, and nearly fell because his frame had changed so much. He was at least a third again taller, and much more massive, not least due to the heavy battle armor he now bore.

New subroutines unpacked themselves, allowing him to deal with the higher center of gravity and increased mass. There were other things—weaponry, modifications to his alt mode and transformation sequence, and—a new cohort bond, with all the other Primes both living and dead. That, perhaps, was the greatest change of all.

His HUD flashed with a series of alerts and error messages. He crossed to a basin of energon, there for the use of the Primes, and now Optimus fully understood why it was there. Harnessing the power of the All-Spark required effort. His tanks were dangerously low. He dipped a cup into the basin, and offered a libation to the All-Spark before drinking.

Even after refueling, the doors to the All-Spark chapel were nearly beyond his power. But the temple's priests had been keeping vigil outside, and as soon as he emerged, they rushed to assist him.

"Where are the other Primes? What has happened?"

The chief priest said, "Forgive me, Prime, but Guardian Prime is dead. Assassinated; Megatron has claimed responsibility. Sentinel Prime is on his way back to the city. The rest of the Primes and their Protectors are holding the Hall, for now, but the city has gone insane. There are rioters and looters everywhere. A rumor circulated that the Primes are hoarding energon under the Hall."

"That is impossible. I know the undercroft like the back of my servo, from studying in the records repositories down there. If there were energon stores of any size at all in those galleries, I would have seen some evidence of it. Guardian, murdered? And my brother says he did it?"

"He was shot with a fusion cannon, Prime."

Optimus felt an enormous pain seize him. He dismissed it, he had to, and took a few klicks to steady himself, then observed his new cohort bonds. Yes, there was a difference between Sentinel, Ultra Magnus, Nexus, Lio and Alchemist on one servo, and Guardian and the others who had crossed over before them. They were not gone, precisely. He knew Guardian and Zeta's field patterns in the cohort bond, and now that he had met her, he could pick out Solus' presence as well. He could guess at other identities. But there was an unimaginable distance between them.

Optimus looked at the chief priest—it would take a great deal of getting used to, this looking down at such mecha. He was probably taller than Ironhide now. "I must go to the Hall."

"My lord, with respect, you will never get in. There are too many glitched mecha in the streets, and Megatron controls all approaches to the Hall."

"Maybe not all of them. As I said, I know the undercroft and the surrounding sublevels very well. I know I can get as far as the Plaza. I have to try."

"At least, be fully refueled before you go." The smaller mech offered him a full cube.

"Thank you," he said, taking it carefully in a hand that now dwarfed it. "That is wise."

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Optimus descended into the catacomb levels of the temple. It was the custom of the temple mecha to donate anything usable in their frames to the clinics that cared for the poorest Cybertronians. The rest of their mortal remains were interred here, generations of them. No one came here any more, for as Cybertron built outward from the planetary core, what had once been ground level was now several sub-basements deep—and those old levels went all the way to that core.

In better times, Optimus had spent many happy joor exploring these ancient tunnels and rediscovering Cybertron's forgotten past. Sentinel and Guardian had set him strict limits, for exploring too far from the warmth and light of areas frequented by ordinary mecha put one at risk of running afoul of criminal gangs, bands of desperate empties, or deadly mecha such as Insecticons. Also, Cybertron had its share of silicon-based wildlife, such as the terrifying drillers, leviathans of the abandoned places.

Orion being Orion, he had pushed those limits, and had learned his way around under Central Iacon very well. That knowledge served Optimus now. While he often caught glimpses of bobbing lights, and heard running peds and rough voices in the old main corridors, he made his way through lesser-used side passages where none of the rioters saw a reason to venture.

A glimmer of light from the door and windows of a gutted building nearly made him jump out of his plating, and every horror story he had ever heard about the fate of some hapless bot cornered by a gang of empties went immediately to the top of his decision queue. That was definitely a set of optics. Without conscious thought, he extended an energon dagger.

In its light, he saw a decrepit old bot scramble further back into the ruined building, stopping only when his back hit a wall. Optimus retracted the dagger. "Easy, old mech. I mean you no harm."

"You're not one o' them gangsters runnin' wild over in the Alley?"

"No. I'm not on any kind of energon raid or anything like that."

"Neither are they. Saw 'em carryin' slag in, not out!"

"What kind of slag?"

"Energon cubes!"

"Do you know where the old temple market is? Down this way and through this residential area?"

"Yes."

"The rioters haven't been in there much. If you go that way, you can reach the old market stairs. Now don't go up there, I heard shooting from the new market. But if you go down the old market stairs, you'll find a plaza with a collapsed balcony blocking half of it. Go around that, then take a corridor with a red mark on the right hand wall. Follow it until the first ramp going up. You'll be right across a byway from the back temple gate. Go there and beg sanctuary; you'll have to give up any weapons you're carrying but they'll let you in."

"Thank you, young Lord. Who shall I tell the priests sent me?"

"Optimus. My name is Optimus."

The old bot went where he was told. Optimus continued on. When he passed a dry energon fountain, he knew he was under the council hall gates.

If the Primes were holding the council hall, then he was sure every entrance would be blocked from the inside. If the rioters couldn't get in, he wouldn't be able to do so either. He concentrated on his new clan bond with the Primes and found the one with Ultra Magnus.

::Where are you?::

::By the dry fountain on sub-level three. How can I get to you?::

::You cannot. Sub-level one is full of bots. We have them locked out, but that will not last for long. They are digging their way through the floor, they will be in the council chamber soon. There is no way out for us. Get out of here and try to find Sentinel.::

::I cannot leave you here!::

::It will do no good for you to die with us. This crowd is convinced that we have been hiding energon from them. They hold us responsible for their hunger. We have decided not to fight them when they break through. There are too many of them for us to hope to escape. Mass carnage would make no difference in the ultimate outcome.::

::Megatron is at the main gate with a small group of his followers. If I can clear the plaza for just a few moments, we can all escape into the sub-levels.::

::Optimus! I understand that you must try, but Megatron is a pit fighter and you are new to your upgrades. If this fight goes against you, I command you to try to escape.::

::Yes, Magnus,:: Optimus said, with unwilling obedience; but as Magnus the bot had the right to order all of the junior Primes so.

He backtracked and found a narrow upwardly-spiraling ramp that he commonly used to get down here, which opened into a guard house near a wall that surrounded the entire palace complex. But he found that the doorway was too small for him now. He broke out the wall to make room to squeeze into the small space and climbed as quickly as its claustrophobic dimensions would allow.

He had to kick out another door frame at the top to get out, and that resulted in his first fighting of the day. Three large, rusty bots with the dim, colorless optics of empties burst in and immediately attacked, heedless of the odds in their desperation for the energon in his tanks.

Optimus backstepped and ignited his energon daggers, his only suitable weapon in these confined quarters. The empties didn't even pause, since the only thing they were capable of processing was the presence of energon. Optimus activated the combat programming acquired in his many joor of training with Ironhide.

The three of them went down easily. They didn't even scream, just fell off-line. Optimus knew that most empties were beyond help, their memories so corrupted that nothing processed except the need to feed and survive. He knew that off-lining them was probably a mercy—especially if their sparks were at all aware of what they had become. Even so, he had never killed a mech before.

All he could do was shove the horror he felt into the back of his processor, because there was no time to deal with it. He stepped over the bodies and peeked out the door. Beyond the recessed doorway, a dozen empties shambled around the plaza, while Megatron and his cronies argued on the council hall steps at the other side of the square. From the gestures, he concluded that they were trying to determine the best way to bring the doors down. With Megatron was a silver-gray seeker and a large stocky mech with one optic. He recognized neither.

The seeker was potentially the most dangerous, but not in the confined area of the plaza where he didn't have room among the surrounding buildings to fly very well. Here, his lighter frame and armor put him at a disadvantage.

That left Megatron, and the one-eyed mech. Optimus had sparred with Megatron enough to know that they were probably fairly evenly matched now, even though his brother still had a bit of height and reach on him. Megatron's most important advantage was his experience in the arena.

The one-eyed mech might also be a gladiator. He was certainly a war-frame, very heavily armored, and the cannon he was carrying scanned as extremely powerful. He seemed to move more slowly than Megatron, though appearances could be deceiving. Like many large mecha, Ironhide too seemed to move slowly—when not in combat.

The three huge mechs had taken the worst possible position, from Optimus' point of view. The Council and their defenders had taken refuge in the council chambers, which were located just off the Council Hall itself, a large auditorium where the Primes held court. The council chambers were located straight down a long corridor, which would be a killing ground if Megatron got the huge outer doors open and held the corridor with that fusion cannon. Optimus doubted even Blastaar, Ultra Magnus' mighty Lord High Protector and sparkmate, could withstand enough direct hits from that weapon to reach Megatron.

Optimus certainly could not. He had no chance, either, unless he could close quickly enough to force a hand-to-hand battle. But crossing the plaza by surprise was not an option with hungry empties wandering the area. Optimus, despite the urgency of the situation, stopped to see with new eyes the area so familiar to him.

The hall was surrounded by a framework of decorative girders and buttresses—during the festivals of his childhood that latticework had shimmered like lace made of light. Now, perhaps, it offered him a pathway. He darted to the nearest building—the city administration center—and climbed its wall, taking advantage of his newly-greater strength and reach to haul himself to the roof. The entire time his spark threatened to pulse its way out of his chest plates. All he had to do was dislodge one brick, and if he were unfortunate enough to do that in an area where one of the crowd saw it fall, the mob of empties would be on him like turbofoxes after a cybercat.

Once he got to the roof, he ducked below the short wall surrounding it and touched on his cohort bonds again, searching for Sentinel. ::Where are you? Megatron has led a mob to storm the Council Hall! They're breaking through into the lower levels, and Megatron, a seeker and another huge mech are holding the main entrance.::

::I am nearly to the city gates, but it does not look as though there is a way in. They have created a barricade here that would take too much time to blast through. I am going to try to get into the city by way of the refuse tunnel. Stay where you are until I arrive.::

::Prime, I am sorry, but there is no time for that. I am about to start a fight with Megatron. At the very least, I hope to distract them from the main doors so that the rest of the Council can escape the building.::

::Understood. If I can get into the refuse tunnel, it should not take me long to reach the other side of the government complex.::

::Whatever you do, you must not go inside, sir. A mech saw some of those bots carrying a large number of energon cubes under there. I suspect that they plan to use it to blow up the building, just as they killed Zeta Prime.::

::I see. Assassination is not enough for them. They must destroy our reputations as well.::

::The only way to avoid making martyrs of us.::

::Indeed. Primus guard you, brother.::

::And you...brother," Optimus said, jarred by the realization that "brother" was the honorific he needed to be using now. Not "sir," which implied lower status on his part, but "brother." A Prime addressed another Prime so. He was now a Prime.

There was another tense moment when he jumped twenty feet from the roof to the beam. At least they were outdoors, where there was no atmosphere to carry the sound. Still, somebot might see his movement out of the corner of an optic, or the network of beams might carry the vibration: somebot near enough could feel it through the surface beneath their peds. He readied his ion cannon and waited for a few klicks, but no alarm was raised.

Optimus crawled across the beam, hoping that by keeping his frame close to it and scuttling across, he would be less noticeable than if he stood and maglocked his peds to it—as any intelligent bot would when crossing a metal beam over a long drop!

Speaking of that long drop...

He crossed to the facade of the Council Hall, and it was definitely a long way down.

The seeker was directly below him, and intent on Megatron.

Optimus let out a long exvent to steady his nerves, and jumped, firing his ion cannon at that huge one-eyed gladiator as fast as he could trigger the weapon.

His frame hit the seeker, who had the sense to fold up under him and ground the impact. Seekers, of course, were used to being tackled from any angle in the airborne servo-to-servo combat for which they were famous. Still, few seekers had Optimus' mass. Temporarily stunned, the seeker's first priority was to get out of the melee and protect his wings.

The big mech had been hit a few times and thoroughly startled, but not badly enough to stop him from using his cannon as a club to try to smash Optimus' helm in. The seeker filled the airwaves with curses as Optimus dodged and the blow fell directly between them. Optimus grabbed a surprised Megatron and threw him into the one-eyed mech as hard as he could, then launched himself at both of them, servos flying.

Megatron let out a furious bellow, and punched and kicked back.

Later, they would stop thinking with servos and peds, and make a much more serious effort to kill one another than they did here and now, attempting only to pound one another senseless. But they were young, and still, in spite of everything, innocent . It was more a schoolyard brawl than a battle.

Despite that, neither Prime nor warlord pulled any punches.

An empty bit into the big one-eyed mech's ankle. He let out a horrified yell and shot it, point blank. Pieces of it sprayed into the crowd. Some retreated, while others fell upon the remains in an energon frenzy.

The seeker shrieked, ::Shockwave, you fool, I thought you said you could control those fraggers!::

::There's no controlling them once they detect energon,:: the big grounder replied. ::Megatron, grab him! If we don't throw him to the mob, they'll turn on us as well!::

::I'm trying!::

Optimus kicked out, catching Shockwave in the chest plates, and staggered to his peds. He triggered his energon daggers and swiped at the mech, truly afraid they would throw him to the mob to be torn to pieces.

A blast into the center of the mob threw some of the empties around like stringless puppets, and disoriented the rest. Optimus made out a familiar black form wading through the confusion.

::Ironhide!::

::Didn't think I'd let ya keep all the fun for yourself, did ya? MAKE WAY, YOU SLAGGERS!::

From the shelter of the gate, Chromia sniped at stragglers, while Ratchet activated his surgical saws and followed in Ironhide's wake.

Ironhide squared off with Shockwave and the two big mechs traded a series of frame blows that would have broken a smaller, less heavily armored bot in half. That freed Optimus to deal with his wayward brother.

Optimus asked, ::Why, Megatron? What made you think this is the way?::

::It is the only way there will ever be any real change! Join me, my brother, fight for the people instead of these bloated parasites who care nothing for the suffering and death that they cause!::

::Every life has value, no matter the caste! You knew that once. Where there are abuses, let us fight them within the law, not create even more suffering and death!::

::You are a naive fool if you think you can change anything while you become part of the system! Those mecha in there will never allow you to change anything!::

::How will you ever know that if you refuse to so much as try?::

In the years to come, Optimus often wondered what would have happened had Sentinel delayed his arrival by just a few klicks. But Megatron never got the chance to answer that question.

Sentinel came over the wall, firing an ion cannon into the mob and nearly hitting Ironhide.

The armsmaster bashed two empties' helms together and glared at the Prime. Sentinel redeemed himself for the moment by stepping into the fray and cutting down a group of empties who thought to charge Ironhide while he was distracted.

Sentinel leapt to the plinth of a statue and, from there, launched himself over several empties to land on the steps. He slashed Shockwave and shoved him off the steps, where he fell near the seeker, who had taken little part in the fighting except for a shot now and then, usually to keep empties off the stairway.

Sentinel asked Optimus, ::Are you still bonded to this traitor?::

::Yes, Prime. He has blocked our bond, but it still exists.::

::Then it seems I must let him live for now. Guardian would have had my helm if I risked your life to avenge him. Mechling, surrender now, and I will reconsider removing your arms and legs.:: Sentinel held his double-ended Primax blade at the ready, prepared to make good on that threat.

An explosion from below them shook the courtyard.

A second blew all the windows out of the Council Hall, flame quickly evaporating in vacuum.

Ironhide yelled at them to get down, and tackled Optimus, bearing them both over the side of the stairway. Ratchet immediately obeyed, throwing himself flat and crossing his arms over his helm.

Sentinel hesitated an astroklick too long. The third explosion ripped the hall apart, flinging him far out into the plaza like a child's toy. Debris flew in all directions, blinding everyone. Every comms channel filled with pleas for help from those of Megatron's followers who had been caught in the blast, as well as incoherent cries of distress from the empties, nearly all going abruptly silent an instant later. The center of the plaza collapsed and a gout of flame shot straight up like fireworks, before dying for lack of oxygen.

The remains of the Hall fell next, hidden by the cloud of dust which had formed. Slowly those particles began to settle, revealing only jumbled wreckage where once the pride of Cybertron had stood, welcoming all comers, for uncounted generations.

Optimus screamed and clapped his hands to his helm. Probably only the fact that his cohort bonds to the other Primes were so new saved him from a very dangerous processor crash—that, and Ironhide was right there in the much stronger cohort bond that they had shared for vorn.

As Optimus fell into stasis lock, his last coherent thought was that they were at war.

End Part 1