A/N: This story is the lengthened version of my one-shot "Deliver Us." Read that before you read this - it will make more sense. I own a signed copy of a Transformer comic book and an Optimus Prime toy; I do not own the Transformers. :(
Solus Prime was sitting at her forge when a sudden pain in her chest made her keen as she hunched over in pain. Luckily she was alone; otherwise, someone would have surely heard her. No one could help her, though; her sparkmate Sentinel Prime made sure that everyone knew she was his. No one could touch her without fear of death. Her vents whirled in stress and she commed a medic that she knew she could count on.
Ratchet was at the medical center in Iacon when she commed him. :What is it, Prime?:
:I'm in spark labor, Ratchet. It's urgent. I know they're coming.:
The medic dropped a wrench on his foot at the message. :I'll be there immediately.: He picked up the wrench and walked out of the medical center. He ran through the streets, ignoring the exhausted slaves carrying various building materials and the dead Cybertronians in the street. He sighed as he thought of them. The heat from the twin suns beat down upon his metal, scorching him, yet he didn't waver. He quickly reached the alleyway where Solus had agreed to meet him. He saw her hunched form and immediately scanned her for any injuries. Her body had already begun the spark separation process: good.
"Solus," the medic whispered.
The femme looked into Ratchet's optics with pain. "Hello," she said as he squatted beside her. "Oh Primus, this hurts..."
"I know it does," he soothed as he opened her carrying hold. "The good news is that it's almost over."
"Already?" she asked, a delicate optic ridge raised.
Ratchet smiled. "They're feisty little mechs," he said. "I can tell they're going to be a servo-full." She grimaced and fought back a groan of pain as the tiny sparks separated from her own only to fall in their first delicate frames. The medic rubbed her back to soothe her. "The worst is over, Prime. Here, let me take them out for you."
He gently took out the first and handed the large mech to her. The second, smaller mech cooed at him and he gazed at him in surprise. In that dark alley, hardly a place to deliver a sparkling, the brightest light shone upon them. "Primus," Ratchet said, hushed in reverence. His thumb unconsciously rubbed the sign of the Primes on his cheek. The medic turned to Solus. "Do you know what this means?"
"Yes," Solus said with a resigned sigh. "He's the Chosen One, marked by Primus himself to deliver us from these dark days of Cybertron." She reached out for the small being and Ratchet handed him to her. "He has a long, violent life ahead of him, Ratchet. I pray he can make it. I think I'll name him...Optimus. Optimus Prime."
Solus had already given Ultra Magnus to Ironhide, whom she knew could protect the mech, after reformatting him into a femme. Solus looked at the tiny mech in her arms and sighed. "Optimus, you know how much I love you," she said. Her optics filled with coolant as she wrapped him in a blanket and set him in a small basket that she had found in one of the palace gardens. She placed the lid on the basket and set it in her carrying hold, closing the door. She sighed and walked out the door with a cool smile to one of the palace guards in an attempt to look normal. He returned the smile as he kicked a slave beside him. She sighed and turned forward as she passed the construction site, where hundreds of slaves and working-class Cybertronians worked to build a temple to Primus. The overseers' words carried over the light breeze: "Faster! Lift up!"
She stole away to the river, where she removed the basket from her carrying hold. "I pray we'll meet again, Optimus," she said to him with a small smile. "I love you so much, dear..." The sparkling raised his tiny arms in a stretch and yawned, turning over in the cocoon of a basket. "I'll be with you, always, when you dream." She placed the basket in the river after replacing the lid and gave it a gentle push, allowing the buoyant waves of metal to carry the young Prime to a new life. Solus waited there until she could no longer see the basket, and walked away towards the palace.
Meanwhile, Ratchet's overseer had him working as a medic at the construction site. The mech sighed as he patched up Ironhide, who had melted several of the components in his arm when molten metal spilled over him, and glanced upwards at the scene across from him. The only thing shielding him from the searing heat of the twin suns burning down upon the face of the metal planet was the thin layer of cloth making up the tent. Coolant drenched the backs of the lower, working class and slaves as they lifted building materials. Overseers stood nearby with readied whips at their sides, watching with squinted optics for the tiniest sign of sluggishness or failure. The unlucky Cybertronians who met the criteria were rewarded with several blows of the whip. Between the heat and the effort and the punishments, it was no wonder many had been off-lined from the conditions. As a medic, Ratchet tended to those who had fallen unconscious. He had lost count by now. Behind him lay a pile of offline Cybertronians in a shallow grave.
Needless to say, most of the Cybertronians working in these conditions had given up all hope.
Ratchet knew better.
An orn ago, a temple guardian foretold the birth of a mech strong enough to overturn the slavery forced upon the Cybertronian people. The guardian said that soon Sentinel would be dead, killed. As a result, the Prime ordered all mech sparklings born in the next orn killed upon birth. Ratchet shook his bowed helm in sadness as he remembered this. Sentinel was the one to order that, but in the end, it was Ratchet who had to deal with all of those poor carriers and their families. He couldn't remember how many sobbing carriers and sires he held in his arms as their sparklings, sometimes their only sparklings, were killed before their very eyes. There was one poor youngling femme who asked the medic why the murder had been committed. Ratchet couldn't answer her. A lump appeared as he remembered her puzzled, dejected expression.
It would haunt him for the rest of his life.
After his overseer let him off work, the mech found himself by the river, magnetized to the riverbanks. He was drawn in somehow, like he was meant to be there as he walked towards Iacon. He paused as his sensors picked up a small life signal against the riverbank. A feeble cry attracted his attention and his medic programming kicked in, causing him to pick up the small basket. The medic peered inside only to see a tiny sparkling with the symbol of the Primes on his cheek. "Solus, you've outdone yourself this time," the medic murmured. "What were you thinking?" The little mech cooed at the sound of the voice. "I can't blame her, but still...you're so young, little Optimus. You'll truly be great someday. She chose the right name for you."
Ratchet replaced the lid of the basket and walked at a brisk pace towards his quarters. He had made his decision. He would take care of the young Prime until he reached adulthood. Now he just had to find a way to keep the mech quiet and out of trouble. He never noticed the Prime's older brother Megatron hiding in the bushes around the riverbank. The young mech, who had heard of the prophecy, hoped that his brother would save them.
Ratchet reached his home and set the basket with the babe on the table. He then drew all of the shades in front of the windows and plucked the sparkling from the basket. Optimus cooed in Ratchet's arms as the medic gave him a bottle of energon and held it for him. The mech was only two solar cycles old - two human days. He was needy, hungry, and tired, yet when he was in Ratchet's arms he felt a strange sense of comfort and security. He sucked the bottle dry and turned, snuggling closer into Ratchet's chest plates. The older mech chuckled and covered Optimus with the soft blanket before stroking his cheek.
"Optimus," he said reverently, "I promise with all of my spark, I will always protect you. No matter what. I'll always be there for you."