a tag to 'Dark Awakening'
by Birgit Staebler
The ship seemed to crawl through space, its flight vector leading it directly into the large asteroid several thousand kilometers away. But it wasn't crawling. In fact, it was quite fast, but you could never really judge this in space. The incredible blackness, combined with the numberless silver spots gave space the appearance of infinity. And in such a vast infinity speed and distance was best measured by computers.
Ultra Magnus was looking at such a computer right now, his face expressionless as he watched the numbers shown on it decline. The flag ship of the Autobot fleet was rapidly falling toward the asteroid and there was nothing anyone could do. Their own, much smaller ship wasn't built to withstand the heat radiated by the near-by star, so they couldn't pull the other ship away. And even if they had such heat shields, they would never reach the doomed ship in time.
He looked up and discovered the lonely figure standing at the observation window. Rodimus Prime's shoulders were rigid, his whole posture telling everyone to stay clear of him, to keep away. He appeared more like a statue than anything else. On one side Ultra Magnus wanted to know what the young Autobot leader was thinking about in those last seconds of the doomed ship, on the other side, better not.
And then the ship plunged into the asteroid. For a fleeting moment there was nothing, then a mighty explosion rose out of the rock, bright and visible for a long distance. Explosion after explosion ripped through it, shattering the large rock into tiny pieces, catapulting them away from its origin at a speed much faster than any ship could gain in such a short time. Gaseous clouds roared through the silence of space, spreading out, then curling back to welcome another explosion.
"Good bye, old friend," Kup said softly and Ultra Magnus heard the pain in the old warrior's voice.
Daniel Witwicky brushed away some tears, expressing what Ultra Magnus felt himself. Robots couldn't cry and their display of emotions was very limited by the fact that their faces had no muscles to shift their features, but Autobots could grief and they could show pain. It was just a matter of knowing what to look for.
When the flares quieted down, only a few tiny explosions still lighting the night, Ultra Magnus nodded at Kup to change course now. They were going home.
As the ship turned, Ultra Magnus looked at Rodimus Prime again. He knew he had to talk to his leader, especially to convince him to let someone treat his injuries, which were minor enough, but still needed attention. He hesitated one more second, then squared his shoulders and walked slowly over to the observation window. He knew it wouldn't be an easy task, but someone had to do it.
Rodimus Prime watched the incredible display of fire power
in front of him with expressionless, blue optics and mask-like features.
The explosions reflected on his red and yellow/orange skin, the two factors
combined giving him the appearance of being enveloped by the same fire
as well. On the outside he appeared indifferent to what was happening just
a few thousand kilometers away, but on the inside -- it was a different
matter. Inside he felt torn apart by the same explosion that also tore
apart the ship, that killed Optimus Prime forever.
Forever.
It was a long time.
Rodimus sighed, noticing that the ship was changing course,
moving away from the eternal grave yard of their former leader. The yellow
and orange glow cast by the sun of this system and the short burst of explosions
moved to the right and finally disappeared completely, leaving nothing
but the stars to hold his attention. But it was enough.
A slight twinge in his chest made him aware of his injury,
an injury he had sustained against the one Autobot he had never wanted
to fight: Optimus Prime. The battle had taken a lot out of him, tearing
some tubes and rupturing his skin, but worst of all were the emotional
wounds. Physical injuries could be mended, but emotions? He hadn't wanted
to fight Optimus, he had wanted him to be back, to be the Autobot leader
again, but in the end....
Yes, in the end everything had just grown worse. Prime
had turned out to be a zombie-like creature, revived by the Quintessons
to destroy all Autobots, mindless, an automaton. Rodimus had given him
back the Matrix, even though he should have seen through the facade, the
partly decayed metal skin, around the corpse.
>>I've been keeping this warm for you
The words echoed through him again. 'Was I really this
desperate? Apparently. It made me blind and it made me a trusty fool!'
Why hadn't he noticed how Optimus had recoiled from the
Matrix? Because he had explained it away that Prime was still too confused
about his own situation. Because he had been dead for too long, comatose,
like Daniel had put it.
And this had resulted in the near-death of the Autobots
who had trusted in him to make the right decision. Optimus had shot them,
nearly killing Spike and Daniel, who were not as resistant to heavy objects
falling down on them as the Autobots. But even after the attack, had he
really begun to be suspicious? In a way, he had to confess, though his
Hot Rod personality, in a last attempt to deny the inevitable, had told
the others that Prime must have had a plan.
A plan to kill them, he had later seen.
'Why?' he asked the stars.
'Because he had been programmed to do it,' was the silent
answer.
>> I don't wanna fight you!
>> Then stop me!
>> How?
But Optimus had overcome the programming, by and by.
Even though he had fought Hot Rod, he had not fought to kill. He had fought
to be killed. But with the strength gained from the Matrix, Optimus Prime
had never been a match for Hot Rod, who had also been hampered by his caution.
He had not wanted to hurt Optimus. He had wanted him back as leader.
>> Matrix makes me too strong!
>> Now there's a unique complaint.
He remembered the horror coursing through him when Optimus
had aimed at him with his gun. The sight of that barrel in front of his
face, the half-decayed facade of Optimus Prime, all that would forever
be etched into his memory banks -- and the rage he felt toward the Quintessons
for doing this to him. Optimus had suffered as much as anyone, maybe even
more, because he had been aware that his body was acting against what his
mind told him was right or wrong. He had fought against the foreign programming,
but he hadn't been strong enough to stop himself from injuring his successor.
He had tried to aid Rodimus in his defeat, but, true to his words, the
Matrix had made him too strong.
>> If you lose ... Autobots ... all ... destroyed!
Hot Rod had battled valiantly, but he had only succeeded
in getting free for a short time. The badly damaged Optimus Prime had come
back for more.
>> You should have finished me
>> Believe me, I tried!
He had blacked out then for just a second, his memory
of the next moment nothing but a blur, unfocused and fleeting.
Rodimus touched the torn chest plate and felt the soft,
warm pulse of the strange device inside of him. He had the Matrix back,
given to him by Optimus Prime himself.
>> And you will save them .... Rodimus Prime
Those words had brought him back out of his semi-conscious
state and he had seen Optimus towering above him, looking down on him with
maybe the first spark of his returning self. Rodimus had then felt the
Matrix inside, telling him what Optimus had done. He had wanted to protest,
wanted to tell the former Autobot leader that they could help him, repair
him, give him his life back. But he had been too weak.
And Optimus Prime had chosen oblivion to life, ending
his undead state.
He rubbed the sore spot covered with greenish liquids,
his fingers brushing over the ragged edges of the tear.
'I've to accept what I am and what will come. Optimus
Prime told me so himself. I am the Autobot leader. Nothing more, nothing
less. I am Rodimus Prime, not Optimus.'
He sighed silently. Yes, he knew that, but did the others
know? Of course they saw the bodily difference, but they also thought that
with the Matrix came the second Optimus Prime, which he wasn't and would
never be.
His chest twinged again, this time more violently. He
was hurt, yes. And it felt like only now did his pain receptors react to
the damage done inside of him.
"Rodimus?"
The voice of Ultra Magnus snapped him out of his thoughts,
but he didn't exactly feel like answering. He continued to stare at the
stars rushing by outside, telling him he was moving further and further
away from the last resting place of maybe the greatest Autobot leader --
his only hope of ever going back to being just one of the crowd, being
Hot Rod.
"Rodimus, you need to get those injuries treated," the
commander said softly.
"I'm all right," Rodimus muttered, hoping he could get
rid of Magnus. Not because he was a bother; he just didn't feel like talking
right now. He felt like being moody and depressed.
Another sharp pain, searing along his pain receptors,
told him he wasn't all right. He clenched his lips shut and didn't move
a muscle.
"You are not," his friend answered and put a hand on
his shoulder.
Rodimus wondered if his state of mind was so obvious
because Ultra Magnus' voice implied more than just physical injury. Apparently
it was. And to add to the emotional side came the bodily pain.
"Those torn tubes could clot further than they already
have and then you are in serious trouble," Ultra Magnus went on. "Just
let Arcee take a look at you. She can at least clean away some of the worst."
Rodimus continued staring through the observation window.
He didn't want to face the others and he didn't want to hear Arcee's soft
and sympathetic voice telling him everything was going to be all right.
Nothing would ever be all right as long as he blundered through this job
as Autobot leader the way he had done.
Ultra Magnus let his hand fall away from Rodimus' shoulder
and Rodimus heard him mutter something under his breath, which sounded
suspiciously like 'Stubborn' and 'Have it your way'. Then he walked away,
leaving his leader brood silently.
Rodimus only smiled humorlessly, going back to regarding
the emptiness of space in silence again. He needed this time alone because
the moment they got back to Earth he had to be leader again, with no time
for himself, no privacy to ponder the events of the past days. Whoever
said being leader was so great? You had no personal life, no time for your
own, no one to talk to on the same level. Everyone regarded you as above
you, someone who didn't want to mingle with the 'common folks'; but that
was exactly what he wanted the most sometimes.
'Well, you are back to being the Numero Uno again. Face
it.'
And he did.
Kup looked up when Ultra Magnus entered the aft section
of the ship. "Well?"
"He's as talkative as a stone," Magnus said darkly.
"Can you blame him?" Arcee asked. "With all what happened,
I can understand him only too
well."
"He needs medical treatment, Arcee, and he needs some
friendly support," Ultra Magnus told her.
"Yes, but maybe not right now," Spike said. "He might
need repairs when we get back home, but as long as he functions and as
long as he isn't really in for talking about the events, I'd say leave
him alone. Forcing it will only result in further separation."
Kup nodded in agreement. "Let the lad brood, and decide
when to come for help."
Ultra Magnus didn't like it, but he yielded to the others'
words. He walked over to the door to the observation room and watched the
silent figure standing in front of the window, appearing lost and alone.
Alone with himself and the knowledge that whatever he would try, the memories
of Optimus Prime would always be there.
