A Year in the Life of Optimus Prime: Three

By Buckeye Belle and Vivienne Grainger

Part 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 fifth story in The Sidhe Chronicles series. Previous stories are "Swords and Jewels," "The Sidhe Chronicles 2: Dark of the Moon," "A Year in the Life of Optimus Prime: One," and "A Year in the Life of Optimus Prime: Two." 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-

This story contains a direct transcription of Optimus Prime's call to the Cybertronian people at the end of the 2007 movie. This paragraph, set in bold, is not my work. I do not know who wrote the script.

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

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Incident Report

Beaverton Police Department

Beaverton, Oregon

Narrative

Report Date: 8/8/2011 09:28

Reporting officer: Mendoza, Hernando

Clearance: O Open

On 8/8/2011, at approximately 0920 hours, reporting officer was dispatched to 1408 Silicon Circle, Suite 101, Beaverton, OR 97004, in reference to a complaint of an abandoned property and and unlocked door. While en route, dispatch stated that there was a report of multiple dead bodies at the location.

Upon arrival at the location, reporting officer encountered US Mail Carrier Philip J. Esterbrook outside the west entrance to 1408 Silicon Circle. Esterbrook reported that he had entered the property through the unlocked west entrance and discovered multiple dead bodies inside. He said he then obeyed dispatch orders to exit the structure and await the arrival of officers.

Officer Karen Jones and reporting officer then entered the building through the west entrance, which was unlocked. Both officers immediately recognized the odor of decomposition. Reporting officer cleared the employee break room, as well as an adjoining supply closet. The door to the supply closet was open.

Reporting officer then cleared a large room containing computers and related equipment. There were eight victims in this room, all at or near their desks. After ascertaining that there were no signs of life, reporting officer did not disturb the scene any further.

At this point, Officer Jones reported that the rest of the premises were clear, and that she had discovered two more victims. Beaverton Fire and Rescue arrived on scene and pronounced all victims deceased at 0945 hours.

The scene was then secured with crime tape by Officer Jones.

Lt. Mayfair arrived on scene and notified dispatch to have Homicide respond to the scene.

The scene was turned over to BPD Homicide upon their arrival at 0957 hours.

Witness Interview

Beaverton Police Department

Beaverton, Oregon

Report Date: 8/8/2011 11:20

Interviewer: Detective Lejuan C. Lincoln

Witness: Philip J. Esterbrook

L: Please state your full name, sir.

E: Philip John Esterbrook.

L: What is your occupation?

E: I'm a letter carrier with the U.S. Postal Service.

L: You made a 911 call this morning, is that correct?

E: Yes, sir.

L: Please describe the circumstances of that call.

E: I was delivering mail in the industrial park. Now, last Saturday, I brought the mail there, but the business was closed. I put it in the slot.

L: Is it uncommon for the business to be closed on Saturday?

E: No sir. They usually are closed Saturdays so I didn't think anything of it. Last Saturday, I didn't see anybody.

L: OK, sir, what happened next?

E: When I got there this morning, they still were closed. I noticed that the same cars were in the parking lot—they hadn't been moved.

L: And you noted this as significant why, sir?

E: I did two tours in Iraq. US Marine Corps. Abandoned cars were, ah, possibly IEDs. It isn't something you stop noticing.

L: Understood.

E: The lights were off and the doors were locked. I looked through the mail slot, and the delivery from last Saturday was still there. I knocked and yelled, but nobody answered. Then I went around to the side door. It's a fire door, supposed to be locked from the outside but employees often smoke out there so I've seen it left unlocked on several occasions. It was this morning. I opened the door and yelled again. I could hear computers running—you know, they usually hibernate them when they aren't in there to save electricity. And I could smell something dead in there. That's when I called 911.

L: That was at 9:19, is that correct?

E: I didn't look at my watch, but it was around then. Within five minutes or so.

L: Then what did you do?

E: I got to thinking, somebody could be hurt in there. I went in to see if anybody needed help. I know the dispatcher told me not to, but—I'm sorry, I did it anyway.

L: What did you see, Mr. Esterbrook?

E: I found them in the computer room—eight people, all dead, they'd been that way for at least a day or more. I told the dispatcher, and she ordered me to get back outside and wait for you because there might still be suspects in there. Since there was nothing I could do, I went back outside, called my own dispatcher to let them know what was going on, and waited until the officers got there.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox watched his team line up for inspection. He was pleased with their progress. In the eight weeks since the Battle of Chicago, they had come together very well. He had washed out only four men who could not adapt to working with the bots, and sent them back to their Ranger units. The rest were everything he could have hoped for.

Today, Mearing was bringing in personnel from Sectors Five, Eight, Eleven and Thirteen for cross-training. He wasn't concerned about S13, having worked with them shortly before in Indiana. The rest, he wasn't so sure about. S8 were medical personnel, specializing in epidemiology. Lennox thought Ratchet and Dr. Parker would have more to do with them than he would. But S5 and S11...rather than speculate, he decided to wait until they got here.

Optimus, Ironhide, and Ratchet came out when they got word from the gate that the bus bringing their visitors was on its way.

First off the bus was Mearing, followed by a slender, bespectacled man in a tweed jacket, a tall redhead wearing a brown dress suit, a middle-aged black man in khakis and a plaid shirt, a sixtyish blonde wearing a silk blouse and black slacks that showcased a runner's thinness, an older black man in glasses wearing a suit and tie with a caduceus tie tack, and finally a short, muscular man in black slacks and a blue shirt with the collar open. These people waited while an equally varied group of people also got off the bus. Apparently the first ones off were the sector directors, because the rest of the passengers split up to join them. Some of the groups formed up in credible military fashion, others just got quiet and paid attention when Mearing spoke up.

Mearing said, "Welcome to Mission City Base, the home of NEST and the Autobots. We will be spending one week here, during which you will be learning about the Autobots and their enemies, and our own, the Decepticons. As well, each of the sector directors will conduct a briefing explaining your teams' specialties, with the objective of determining how best to integrate your skills into the greater NEST unit, and how to complement other teams in the completion of their various missions. Unless told otherwise, consider everything that you learn here to be classified. I don't believe I need to tell you who Optimus Prime is. Prime."

"Thank you, Director. I would like to join Director Mearing in welcoming everyone to Mission City. I will keep this brief, as I am sure you have had a long trip. This is Ironhide, my second in command and our weapons specialist, and Ratchet, our chief medical officer." Each bot stepped forward as he was introduced. "You need not be concerned about walking around in our common areas, we maintain proximity sensors and are aware of everyone in our area at all times. But I would like to ask all of you not to dart out or stop suddenly in front of us when we are moving as that could be quite dangerous. Please keep in mind that we cannot stop or change directions as easily as you can. Also, we have three small sparklings, or children, on the base. Undoubtedly they will be as curious about you as you are about them, but I ask you to treat them as you would children of any species. Their caretakers will advise you about specific situations. May I introduce Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox, the commander of NEST and of this base."

Lennox stepped forward. "Thank you, Prime. My second in command, Major Alistair Graham, and the men and women of NEST."

To everybody's surprise, the civilian visitors' reaction to the Autobots and NEST was a loud, spontaneous round of applause, whistles and cheers—and few "oorahs" from veterans in the crowd. One of a pair of twin teenage girls shouted, "Thank you!"

The warm hello broke the ice. Lennox found himself smiling, saw Graham doing the same, and said, "All right! Thank you. Let's get out of the sun, and we'll begin the briefing."

They all moved inside the main building to the commons, where coffee and snacks were available, and rows of folding chairs had been set up. On each chair was an information packet, a legal pad, and a pen.

Many of the civilians had no military experience, and were a little unsure how to behave while on base, but they all knew what to do at a conference. The visitors collected refreshments and found seats. Some of the soldiers had duties, others filed into place with a little more organization and less extraneous chatter than their guests. Those Autobots who were not otherwise busy formed up on their side of the commons.

Lennox made his way to the catwalk and watched while the guests filled out paperwork. Flareup collected the papers and took them to Ops to scan. While Graham went over the agenda for the rest of the day and gave them more general information about the base, Lennox watched the new people to see who paid attention, who looked around to study their surroundings, and who was too fascinated by the bots to absorb anything else. He also looked for anyone who seemed to be overly frightened or creeped out by the Cybertronians—those people would need to be managed carefully while they were on the base.

Mearing came up beside him and rested a hand lightly on the railing, as casual as she tended to get. Lennox asked, "Anything I should know, Director?"

"Not especially," she said. "I didn't notice anything on the trip out here that raised any red flags."

Graham finished his presentation, then said, "Now, I'd like to ask the sector directors to stand up and introduce your teams, and give us a brief description of the type of missions that you usually are assigned. Let's go in order of sector numbers, shall we? Director Treadwell, of Sector 5."

The New Yorker in the blue shirt stood. "I'm Joe Treadwell, this is Isaac Darlington, Randy Pritchart, Larina Baker and Alan Winters." A tall black man, a fellow in a NASCAR cap, a tough-looking blond woman, and a short, thin man in coke-bottle glasses nodded as he introduced them. "I could go into a lot of things, but basically, you've heard of the Scoobies—the ones who follow the short blond around, not the ones with the dog. That's essentially what we get. Only our big bads don't wait till May to cause trouble."

Some of the other humans furrowed their brows in puzzlement; the bots, of course, got the Buffy reference. Sideswipe, who liked the show a lot, grinned.

All of them except Winters looked capable, Lennox thought, but he pegged Winters for research and data analysis, one of the guys who could do more damage than a dozen frontliners. He said, "If it still existed, Sector 7 would be next. It was rolled into what became NEST after Mission City. Our mandate incorporates anything involving the Cybertronians."

The older black man in the suit stood. "I'm James Collins, most folks call me Doc, and this is Dr. Serena Steele. We're epidemiologists, that's the study of diseases and how they spread. This is Dr. Terence Young, formerly the Atlanta medical examiner; next is our chief investigator Alvin Castle; and last but not least, Major Diana Skyler, formerly of the United States Army. S8's job is to stop outbreaks. We work closely with the military and the CDC to accomplish that."

The fellow in what Lennox thought of as the universal nerd uniform—khakis and a plaid shirt—stood next. "I'm Lucius Millhouse, Director of S9. My specialty is automotive engineering. Melissa Stansfield, petrochemical engineering. Mark Emory, geology, and Alison Wilcox, alternative energy engineering. On the end there is Konrad Schuster, master mechanic. I can't begin to tell you how excited we are to be here."

There was a round of laughter from the Autobots, and Bee and Arcee waved at him.

"S9's area of expertise is energy. Since 9/11, our missions have mostly involved investigating threats to our energy infrastructure."

Next, the redhead in the brown suit took her turn. "My name is Olivia Hunt. My second, Jarrell Rhodes, Dana and Diana Ellsworth, Ryan Webster, and Sheree Delano. S11 studies psychic abilities and ways to strengthen them, as well as using our talents to assist other agencies."

Hunt was middle-aged, around fifty. The twins looked to be still in their late teens. Rhodes and Webster, on the other hand, had the confident air of men who could take care of themselves - and others. Delano looked new to all of this.

Finally the man in the tweed suit introduced himself. "I am Quinn Braithwaite, and we are Sector 13. Our field leader and my second in command, Tyler LeGrand, Eric Brown, and Adele Hempstead. Nathan, show yourself, please." The ghost became visible, causing quite a stir. "Nathan Stoughton, formerly of the Continental Army.

"Sector 13's job remains what it has been since the beginning of this nation: to protect ordinary people from the paranormal, and to protect the paranormal from them."

From his vantage point, Lennox observed black looks exchanged between S5 and S13. Glancing at Mearing, he saw that it hadn't slipped past her either.

If that kept up, one unit or the other would have to go. Lennox couldn't have a house divided.

He asked Mearing, "Is he suggesting that S13 has been around since the Revolutionary War?"

"That's what it sounds like," Mearing said. "It looks like there's some history between S5 and S13, as well. I wonder if they haven't been working at cross-purposes. Until we can look into it, let's keep them separated as much as we can."

"Sir."

-Sidhe Chronicles-

After the orientation meeting in the commons broke up, Sector 8 went to Medbay, where they were met by Jolt, the blue apprentice healer whose alt form was a Chevy Volt. He said, "Ratchet's with a patient right now, so I'll show you around the receiving area here. This common area handles intake for both the human and Cybertronian sides of medbay. It also would serve as a triage area in an emergency situation. Sgt. Meadows is the ward clerk."

Meadows stood and gave a short description of her responsibilities, then Jolt handed them over to Dr. Parker for a tour of the human side.

Jolt went through the large bot-sized door into their side, and found Ratchet just finishing Skysong's daily systems check. The healer gave the seekerlet a rust stick and transferred her to Barricade. He assured her guardian, "She's doing fine. Her weight is only a little below average for her height, and considering her lighter frame type, I'm not concerned about that. If we have just a little more self-healing on her wing struts, we may be able to go with some internal bracing instead of the external cage. She'll be a lot more comfortable if we can do that, but the remaining strut will have to be strong enough to withstand the stress at the attachment points. It's not quite there yet."

Barricade looked down at her sitting on his hip, one little servo gripping his waist assembly while the other held her rust stick, which she was happily crunching. His fuel pump revolved in his chest, which it did every time he had a sparkling on his hip. "Thanks, Ratchet," he said, making optic contact with the medic.

"Welcome. See you later, sweetie." (This comment was addressed to Skysong.)

Barricade took her outside, where Sarah Lennox was minding the mechlings along with her own little girl. The three small ones were playing in the sand; the "boys," as Sarah thought of them, had long become accustomed to Skysong's intermittent and sometimes lengthy absences. But they always perked up, as they did now, when she was returned to them, opened their wings and took her under them, and small Annabelle as well. At that age, the only difference they knew between children and sparklings involved what they were and were not allowed to do while playing together.

The most recent addition to the "Do Not" list involved forbidding mechlings to give children piggyback rides any higher above the ground than Sarah Lennox was tall. Barricade had been astounded to find out that Skimmer could get airborne with a forty-five pound girl, but with a jet assist, he had—all the way to the top of Building A, some twenty feet up. Sarah had performed the human equivalent of blowing a gasket, and Cade had been able to do that little thing without compromise. Lennox had whipped out his phone, taken pictures, then had Hide lift him up to get the little hooligans.

That had been an interesting day, from Annabelle's point of view, and she wanted to go flying again. And again, and again. Why couldn't they go up high? Again.

Two days later, the demands for "Fly!" somewhat under control, Cade handed Song over to Sarah, then transformed to his alt form and popped up a child seat for Annabelle. The child played an interspecies version of pat-a-cake with Skysong as they went from med bay to the children's play area, with the idea of showing the kids where it would be.

Jolt turned back to prep the exam berth for the next patient, while Ratchet cleaned and put away the equipment he'd used.

Jolt realized Ratchet was quieter than usual. After nearly a quarter vorn as his apprentice, Jolt could read his craftmaster's moods fairly well. An angry, irritated, or frustrated Ratchet was loud. A worried Ratchet was quiet. But Skysong was their only worrisome patient right now, and she seemed to be improving greatly. "Ratchet, is something wrong?"

"No. Yes. Maybe."

"I understand if it's confidential," Jolt said, tossing the rag he had used to wipe down the berth into the hamper.

"No, it isn't a medical matter. It's that pit-be-damned Sidhe. It would simplify things greatly if she decided to stay in Ireland—five thousand miles away!"

"What could she have done now? She's been gone for over a week."

"She'd might as well not be, the way Optimus ties up the phone lines with her!" Ratchet groused. "You'd think they were two younglings."

"I don't think this is really any of our business."

"It's going to be everybody's business if she seduces him into—Primus only knows what."

Jolt had no idea what Ratchet was talking about. "Whatever you think is going on, you know Prime can take care of himself. I think you should stay out of it unless there really is a problem."

"I am staying out of it! But I can't help worrying. Now I've got Chromia yelling at me and Mirage watching me like he thinks I'll explode or something."

"Mirage? What does he have to do with it?"

"Pit if I know."

Jolt shrugged and said, "We don't have anyone else in here except for those doctors from Sector 8. Do you want me to give them the tour?"

"No, go ahead and take your break, get your energon. Ironhide's coming in later to get that ankle assembly looked at—again—and I want you to observe. It's a good example of how self-healing is affected by multiple trauma to a load-bearing joint."

"Yes, Craftmaster."

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Flareup got an energon cube, judging by the color which had been started with a fuel base and which were pure solar energy—she preferred those, had never liked the taste of fossil fuels. She would happily scrub sand out of her transformation seams in trade for being able to enjoy pure, plentiful energon.

Jolt selected a cube of his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to be showing Sector 9 around."

"They're the ones who've been stopping the terrorists from bombing the oil fields, right?"

"Yes. They're also very curious about us. But not in a mean way, you know?"

He nodded. "They don't get all huffy when we tell them we aren't allowed to talk about something, the way Galloway did."

"I hope we never see him again," the cycleformer replied. "Outside of through a sight, with certified permission not to miss. What have you been doing?"

"Not much, I took S8 to medbay and introduced them to the humans there, then prepped an exam bay. Exciting stuff," he grinned. But then he looked pensive.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really. It's just that Ratchet used an English word and I'm not exactly sure how he meant to translate it."

"What word was it?"

"'Seduce.'"

Flareup ex-vented, and popped her servo over her mouth to keep from spraying energon. "What was the context? Remember with English, you have to know that."

Jolt sent her a clip of Ratchet's sentence, "It's going to be everybody's business if she seduces him into—Primus only knows what."

"Well...to answer your question, it sounds like he thinks some femme is trying to get a mech to interface with her, to make him more likely to do what she wants."

"Oh. Oh! Well, that makes even less sense."

"Who was he talking about?"

"Prime, and Lady Diarwen."

Flareup stifled a giggle and said, "Lady Diarwen is the last person I'd ever describe as a seductress. Don't repeat that around her, she'd be insulted. Don't repeat what I said, either. It isn't exactly an honorable thing to accuse someone of doing, you know, at least among humans."

"So Ratchet has it all wrong?"

"I'm sure he has that part wrong," Flareup replied thoughtfully. She had seen the Prime and the Sidhe together at all hours of the day and night, after all.

She didn't know whether to be miffed that there was news around and Jolt of all people knew before she did, or miffed that it might be true.

Who to ask for the details? Ironhide was the closest, as Prime's 2iC, but people could interface right under his nasal ridge and he wouldn't pay any attention to it.

Then she spotted Sideswipe, and her focus sharpened. He would know what was going on; he always did. She finished her energon, and put the cube in the bin to be cleaned and set out in the sun again. Then she went across the commons to corner Sideswipe.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

The silver swordsmech was looking at pictures of the new Lamborghini line. His alt was a Corvette—upon arrival, there hadn't been a lot of time to choose something. But that model was showing its age, and besides that, he and Sunstreaker always had the same alt. Always. They were both going to get new ones, and they had decided on Lamborghinis, but they were still back and forth between the Murcielago and the Gallardo Superleggera. Whatever they chose had to be suitable for both Sides' close-combat style and Sunstreaker's preference for his guns.

Flareup rolled to a graceful stop beside him, sending her usual greeting glyph. He replied with a quick one-armed hug and a "Hello, beautiful": not, as both of them knew, to be interpreted as anything other than twinspeak, their greatest mutual commonality.

"Ooh, new alt?"

Sideswipe turned the datapad so she could see it better. "One of these two."

"I like that one," she said, pointing to the Superleggera.

"Both of them will be at a car show in Vegas pretty soon. I doubt we'll make up our minds until we have a chance to compare the transscans. I love the looks of that one, though. And, the original has the highest power-to-weight ratio of any Lambo. But the Murcielago is high-end, all the way."

"They're both hot," she said.

"Wouldn't have to be ashamed to transform to either of them," he agreed.

"Still...I wonder if this assembly here will change your transformation sequence too much."

"No way to tell that for sure until I can compare a transscan, but I don't think so."

"So why doesn't each of you scan a different one, see if that one presents any problems, and then you can swap and do the same."

"That would work." He turned off the data pad and subspaced it. "What's going on with you today?"

"Playing hostess to S9 later. Aaand...I heard something very interesting, and I was wondering what you might know about it."

"Someone scooped you on the news?"

"As improbable as that sounds, it is apparently so."

"Well, what is it?"

"Prime, and Diarwen."

"What do you mean, and? And as in 'and' and?"

"Yes! Have you ever seen him with anyone as much?"

"Well, no. But...'and'? Is that even physically possible?"

"When has that ever stopped anyone?"

"Well, I know, but...'anyone' has never meant a squ—ah, I mean an organic—before. I didn't mean to call 'em that, I really didn't, it's just a bad habit I got into before I knew how much they hate it. My point being, they are organic. And they are very small. That being so, what in the name of Primus could they possibly do together?"

"I have no idea, but if I fell in love with one, I'm sure we would think of something," Flareup replied. "That would be the easy part. Can you imagine, never hardlining?"

Sideswipe thought about it. "Actually, no, but that's me, not anybot else."

Flareup nodded. "Personally, I don't care. I mean, Primus knows, if anyone deserves to be happy—!"

"Isn't that the truth!" Sides said.

"There are my visitors! See you, Sides."

"See you, Flare," he smiled, and lost no time whatever in comming his twin. ::Hey, Sunny, what have you heard about Optimus and Diarwen?::

Sunstreaker paused whatever he was doing. A moment later, he sent, ::?:: Then ::?.?.?:: Then, ::Do you mean 'and' and?::

End Part 1