Parallels - ch 1 Title: Parallels Series: G1 based original universe Rating: PG-13 contains mild language, non-graphic references to; abuse, death and mild adult themes Pairings: No explicit pairings, references to; Prime/Magnus, Springer/Blurr, Arcee/OC Summary: A group of Autobots prepare to embark on a trip to Cybertron from Earth. -- Chapter 1 -- author's note: this story takes place approx one year after the autobots arrive on earth, and many things have already happened leading up to this point. these events have been planned out and are in the process of being written. due to schedule conflicts with the co-writer, this story is ironically the first to be fully worked on. if you have any questions regarding any aspect of this original universe and this story's background feel free to ask me. i can be reached at , or you may ask in the comments for this chapter. all inquiries will be answered. With surprising speed and almost no effort, the burly green and tan robot quietly loaded large cubic cargo containers onto the cargo sled. One by one, he inspected them, marked them off of a checklist his internal computer provided him with, loaded them in and strapped them down. Inspect, Check off, load, strap. This went on for some time. Finally the sled could carry no more containers. He checked to make sure they were secured properly - he didn't need any accidents that would draw more attention to himself - then, slowly and with a slight stutter of old parts, shifted himself into his vehicular mode. Turning himself around to hook up to the trailer, he nearly slammed into a pair of tall, thick, blue metal legs. "You're in my way, Prime."
"My apologies, Brawn." With that, Optimus stepped aside with a graceful bow that belied his
hulking, ten-meter stature.
"How's it coming along?" he asked, his tone implying there was much more to his visit than a mere staus report.
"Don't worry," Brawn replied tiredly while hooking up to the sled, "The cargo'll be loaded and ready well before mornin'."
"Excellent, good work." There was a slight pause from Optimus. "Brawn, could I have a word with you about recent... events?"
Brawn didn't reply; instead, he began slowly hauling the sled, his wheels whining slightly from the strain. Optimus couldn't blame him for wanting to avoid the issue, but it needed to be discussed. "Brawn," he prodded.
"Fine," came the exasperated response. "But we talk and roll, 'cause I'm not fallin' behind schedule."
Fair enough, Optimus thought, striding to catch up with the minibot, who had already rolled out the door and was starting down the hall.
"So, is it gonna be lecture time now, 'cause I'd rather be thrown in the brig. No offense to yer speeches. I'm sure they're great to the 'right kind' of mechs."
Optimus couldn't help but smile inwardly despite himself. "No, no speech, you're aware of what you've done. No, you're not going to be 'thrown in the brig' either. But that's due to Gears refusing to press any charges, despite Ratchet's best efforts."
"Oh..." Brawn said quietly, almost disappointed. "How... how is he?"
"Medical assures me that he'll make a full recovery. Due to his age, he will have to spend a few days in a C.R. tank to assist his auto-repair systems."
"Good. That's good," came a meek reply.
"Unfortunately there's bad news as well." Optimus gave a brief pause, not entirely sure how his companion would take what he was about to be told. "Ratchet and Prowl have both requested that you be arrested, citing that you are a danger to yourself and others. Mostly others."
Brawn gave a grunt and accelerated slightly. Optimus sped up his steps and continued, "However, Ironhide and Magnus were quick to point out that your technical skills are always
in high demand. So we reached a compromise. Cliffjumper has been reassigned to assist Hound in a recon survey of the surrounding mountains, and Huffer will be joining the crew leaving for Cybertron. Until further notice you will be preforming your duties alone. With
workload reduction, of course. Anything you'd like to say?"
"On th' record?"
"Unfortunately."
"The time with Hound'll do Cliffy good, and Huffer's been whining about being stuck on this rock. As for me... I... I got no problems workin' alone. Yeah."
"Good, I've already informed both of them."
As they entered the newer hallways that lead up the mountain's interior and into the hangar bay, the only sounds were the whine of Brawn's wheels and soft thump of Optimus's footsteps. The hallway suddenly opened up into an enormous hangar that the Aerialbots called home. It
also housed Brawn's cargo's destination: Magnus' ship, the Sky Lynx.
Wordlessly the two went their seperate ways - Brawn to the cargo elevator on the low, flat ship's underbelly, and Optimus to the boarding ramp to see what condition his temporary quarters were in onboard, and also to stay out of everyone's way. They knew where he would be if they needed him.
Meanwhile, already aboard, Magnus ducked reflexively as he entered the cramped control center of the tiny ship he'd once called home. A single, large camo-green mech stood at the controls, running a pre-flight routine that had until recently been second nature.
"Springer," Magnus said as a greeting.
Without so much as a glance at the large blue and white truck, Springer gave a distracted response. "Yeah boss, what'ya need?"
Magnus winced mentally. He had been told that Springer's 'earth-voice' was fitting, but he personally thought his old friend should tone down the Jason Stathom impersonation. "Ship check out?" Magnus asked.
"Oh yeah." Springer stopped and turned towards him with a grin. "Sure you don't wanna come along for the ride?"
Magnus felt a pang. Yes, yes I would, he thought. "If I had my way," he said with wry grin "The Wreckers would be flying together again."
"But..."
"But this is Prime's mission, he's calling the shots... Look after him, will you?"
Springer chuckled loudly; all the Autobots guessed that the Convoys were an 'item', and all the Wreckers knew they were.
"Fine," Springer said, returning to his work. "I'll look after yours and you look after mine."
"Don't worry, Blurr's in good hands."
Springer spun around. "He had better not be," he said in mock anger. They both laughed for a
moment. "I meant it, Magnus. I don't wanna have to beat you up when I get back."
This reminded him of something he meant to tell Springer. "On that subject, don't start any trouble with the twins."
Springer winced, remembering the fallout they'd had. "I'd never so something like that... again."
"Just behave yourself."
A thick, uncomfortable silence filled the room; there was a question that they were both asking themselves. Finally the triplechanger said it aloud.
"What about Arcee, boss?"
Their diminutive co-Wrecker had fallen ill after her bondmate's death, several weeks before, and was now demanding to be included in the mission to Cybertron.
Magnus pondered the question for a moment before saying, "I honestly don't know. There's nothing in my experience to base this off of. For whatever reason, she thinks she needs to go back. I don't know, just keep an optic on her, and bring her back in one piece. Unless..." He
trailed off.
Unless what? Springer thought. Suddenly he remembered. "No. Magnus, no. Those stories... are just stories. No one get's 'called' back home to die. It's something else. Has to be."
Magnus nodded, helm almost scratching the ceiling. "I hope you're right, old friend. ...Well, you have your orders, carry on."
He turned and ducked as he exited. Behind him, Springer gave a slow, cocky salute before going back to work.
Optimus Prime took a glance around the captain's quarters of the Sky Lynx. Spartan, he thought, tiny and spartan. To accomodate its previous occupant, the original furnishings had been removed and new, more appropriately sized ones had been installed. A Convoy-sized silicone bunk ran the length of one wall, and ended up filling half the small room. On the other wall was just enough room for a computer terminal, a holo-display and a waste oil recepticle. There were no decorations of any sort, save for a large utility hook that he assumed Magnus had hung his hammer from when not in use. Optimus switched on the terminal and set it to sync his personal data from Teletraan One. The non-intelligent, yet very rude, ship's computer informed him that the process would take several minutes. "It's amazing how much faster T1 is, isn't it?" came a youthful rumble from the doorway. "And far more polite," Optimus replied. "Come to see me off, Magnus? We don't leave for another few hours, you know." The second semi entered the room, closing the door behind him. There was barely enough space for the two of them. "No, no. I was just checking in on Springer, and noticed the door was open. I thought I had left this locked." Optimus smiled down on him. "You did. I out rank you, remember?" "How could I forget? Anyway, I..." Magnus paused, and looked away from his commander, who narrowed his optics, trying to figure out what was catching in Magnus's vocoder. After a moment's hesitation he started again. "Prime, it's about this mission." "We've been through this. I have to go. I wish I knew why, but something is happening back home. And... as the Prime, I must see to it personally." Magnus nodded, showing his understanding of the unusual circumstances. However, the two had become very close in the last several months, and he didn't want to send his Prime off on a dangerous mission. At least not without protection. "The Dynobots," he blurted suddenly. Optimus shot him a puzzled look. "What about them?" Magnus began speaking unusually fast, for him. "We just got a message from Swoop, they'll be here in two days, max. If... if you could wait for them, I'm sure Grimlock would be more than happy to go with..." Optimus grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping Magnus mid-babble, and said in a low soft voice, "I know this is difficult for you. It's difficult for me as well. I don't want to leave, I have to. And I need you to understand that. I also need you to understand that I'm leaving with a fine crew onboard a fine ship, and I'm positive neither will disappoint. Okay?" The slightly smaller blue truck wrapped his arms almost weakly around Prime's torso. Releasing his grip, Optimus slid his arms down Magnus's back, embracing him as well. They stood silently for several moments, before they were startled by the door sliding open. "Prime," came Wheeljack's voice from the hallway. There wasn't enough space for him to enter the room with the two trucks (who were pretending that nothing was going on, both secretly grateful they were interrupted by Wheeljack, who would very likely notice nothing). "Excuse me," Magnus said, squeezing out of the room and past the much smaller carbot. "I'll go make sure the rest of the crew is on schedule. I'll see both of you later." "Take care," Optimus said, watching him leave. "So Wheeljack," Prime said, looking down on the resident mad scientist and part-time medic, "are you ready to go?" "Go? Go where? Oh Cybertron, right, right. Ratchet's preparing a medical to-go kit for me to take along. But other than that, ready to go." Prime was quite certain that there was more, but it seemed Wheeljack had forgotten that. Now that he wasn't talking, the Delorean's ears had gone dim and Optimus was able to pry his gaze away from their lightshow to notice a bundle in Wheeljack's hands. "What is that?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know. Wheeljack quickly became animated again, ears flashing with every word. "This? This is a beauty. It's the artifact that Seaspray found at the bottom of the Mediterranean. Took me ages to figure out how to power the little fella. It's got a energon transfer plate on the base - you set it in a basin of energon and it powers right up." Before ascending to Prime-hood, Optimus had done extensive research on his people's long forgotten past, but he had never heard of such a thing. "Wheeljack... there's no technology on Cybertron that functions like that. Where did this come from?" "Cybertron," he answered cheerfully. "No doubt about it. It's a recording device, you see: when you activate it, a little hologram pops up. The face in it is definitely Cybertronian." "What did it say?" Prime asked, staring at the artifact in wonder. "No idea, didn't recognize the dialect. But I was able to pick out two words from the first 'entry': Prime and Quintesson." Optimus's Spark filled with dread. The Quintessons had enslaved his people long ago, before he was created. Was this artifact from that time, or perhaps before? "Wheeljack," he said in a stunned voice, while holding his hand out, "Give it to me. I want to look it over, maybe I can decipher the language." "Sure, here ya go. I attached a powercell, so you don't have to give a bath to use it." He handed it over and turned to leave. Optimus barely registered the carbot's departure. He was tracing the outlines of this alabaster-like device Wheeljack had handed him. It seemed familiar, but he had no memory of anything like it. Carefully, he set it down next to the computer terminal. A raised ridge seemed be some sort of switch. Optimus pressed it gently, fearful of breaking this new wonder. As Wheeljack had promised, a small red hologram of a weathered Cybertronian face formed in the air above the device. As shocking as all this was, he was even more suprised by what the hologram had to say, in a language he had never heard... but strangely understood. "Journeymech's Log: 79.32 Stellar Orbit, Armos Prime Dynasty "This entry begins the log of the Nether's journey. Built in Kyber's orbit, she's a marvel of engineering - not just ours, but our new ally's as well. He calls himself a "Quintesson". Part organic, he claims to be from a race that has spread itself widely throughout the galaxy. And he has given us the means to do the same. "Long and rich as our history is, there is one step missing: our exodus to the Void. We all feel it in our Sparks - the call from that black Abyss. Now, with these "Portal generators", we can traverse it and discover what calls us... and, Prima willing, find the resources to heal our scarred Kyber."