VARIETY FAMILIAR, INTRODUCTION.
2:36 AM on October 3rd.
Temporary Autobot Headquarters in Bluff, Utah.
And so the time has come, it's here.
The silence ends, change is near.
–Welcome to the Universe, 30 Seconds to Mars.
Optimus' expression gave very little away, much to Jolt's dismay. The Prime just stood there before the wall mounted screen with its flashing orange surface, Cybertronian characters blinking excitedly and illuminating the dimly lit room. Jolt wished he would say something, anything. He also wished that Ratchet was here, because this sort of responsibility wasn't one that the Medic's apprentice had signed up for, at least not yet. It would take a long time for the ex-Decepticon to grow comfortable being this trusted or relied upon by Optimus fragging Prime of all bots. And even then, this wasn't in either of their job descriptions. Security, observation, border patrol…whatever it was. Jolt stopped himself from vocalizing the question again, Prime wasn't deaf. He was processing, hopefully.
Whirring and clicking disturbed the prolonged silence, as Optimus rolled his head on his shoulders, humming thoughtfully. The leader's piercing blue optics fell on the younger Autobot, mouthplates parted to speak, "You are sure there is no other way to identify the passenger?" his voice was deep and surprisingly rich, the gravelly mechanical undertones hard to miss. He might never get used to being consulted by a Prime, Jolt reasoned. "No, I'm afraid not. We could send a transmission, but given that the pod hasn't been activated despite arrival approximately less than a joor* ago…I think we need to send a team to check it out."
The Autobot leader's audio-receptors adjusted at his subordinate's hesitant tone, he brought up a servo to rub at the bridge of his nose in mild frustration. Letting air pass over his vents, he relaxed on his pedes causing a soft hissing sound in the action as he turned his chassis to leave the ground bridge's operating deck. "You have my thanks, Jolt. I will gather a few volunteers immediately." A pause, it looked as if the red flame painted blue Mech wanted to say more, but instead a data-burst file of sincere appreciation and consolation was sent to Jolt as Optimus exited through the automatic parting panels of the metal doors.
It was unexpected, though not unwanted. Jolt knew he wasn't as good at these tasks as Prowl used to be, or Ratchet, when he was here. It was stressful at times, wondering if Prime thought he was worth it as an ex-Decepticon that could barely do the whole job. If he was Prime, he would have already offlined him and drained him of his energon. The acknowledgement was nice to say the least, and Jolt wasn't going to say one word more than that. Some things were better left to passing data-burst files. The blue medic apprentice went back to surveying the screens by the ground bridge, he had little to do outside of watching, some nights he thought his optics would fail before the rest of him and that he would have no way to replace them but fumble in blindness until Ratchet came back. Truthfully, confiding in himself, Jolt didn't believe that Ratchet was ever going to return to Earth after leaving Cybertron on the Lost Light with Rodimus and his crew. He looked tired, the kind of tired a recharge couldn't fix. Jolt's red optics flickered to the door across the deck, considering the berths that lay beyond, somewhere down the hallway. If he didn't take care of himself he knew he could end up the same way. Worn down and exhausted, but he wanted to know who Prime was going to send to investigate the Cybertronian pod that had made contact with the surface sixty four miles from their current location only recently. The craft might still be warm to the touch when the team found it. Sideswipe would want to go; three black clawed digits grasped the edge of the table the screens were mounted above, Jolt's white painted browplates came together in concern. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to see the other twin from Kaon again.
Optimus Prime stood on the smooth concrete foundation of the basement floor, watching as the red sand blew in from under the large hangar doors and dusted over the stark white and yellow lines. He had contacted several Autobots in base over the open com line, briefly touching on the situation before telling them to gather here in the underground exit. There was no need to waste their dwindling power supplies on starting up the ground bridge when the distance to the pod was, comparatively, a short drive away. He knew tensions were high, between the recent loss of Ratchet and the lack of energon sources. Ratchet leaving hit the Autobots hard, they may have won their war for Cybertron and freed the NAILs* and themselves from the caste system, but somehow, it felt like a hollow victory. Prime never dreamed that freedom and right of choice would come at such high costs. As Orion Pax, the Cybertron he envisioned, the vision he thought Megatron shared with him, was never quite as depressing as this. Shortly after going home he had left, for the greater good. If a more cliché reason couldn't be found, that was fine with the Mech. It was true; he left because the NAILs didn't want him on Cybertron, the war was over, who needed warriors anymore? He could understand that, he had played an important and significant role in starting and continuing the war. Cybertronians were famous for their millions of years of infighting, another unpredictable side effect. It wasn't supposed to come to a close like this, it was supposed to be peaceful and simple and…relieving. Megatron had called him naïve once, back when he was called Orion Pax, and he couldn't argue with such a statement now. The Decepticon was right; Orion Pax was naïve and he still dwelled within the hardened leader Optimus Pime. War was inevitable at the time, but he could easily imagine Alpha Trion at his desk in the Hall of Records at Iacon after all of this time, scratching away in his great book with that stylus of his. Recording all he had learned in the Covenant of Primus, the detailed history of Cybertron. Longing filled Optimus Prime at that old memory, longing for his home and for the friends he had lost and those that had left. But Earth needed him now with the Decepticons hanging on to the idea of forging a new home here, at the decimation and enslavement of the Humans. It was something Prime could never allow, welcomed back to Cybertron or not, he refused to abandon this race and surrender them to a ruthless enemy he helped create.
The Mech looked up towards the sound of an engine roaring down the lit tunnel way, headlights flashing into the cavern where Optimus Prime waited patiently. The bright red Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 drifted to a stop, tires smoking and leaving bold black tracks on the floor, spreading the sand that had gathered in a cloud with the gust of air it brought with it. Prime saw this coming, he just wished there was another way to face it. "Those tires won't last long if abused." He reprimanded lightly, a frown on his mouthplates.
The supercar lurched and lowered on its wheels with a hiss from the engine pistons, the suicide doors popping open and raising; a strange sound then filled the cavern, echoing off the smooth red stone walls with an eerily mechanical clicking that wove in with a tone not unlike that of a zipper. The car's paneling came apart at the seams, separating and sliding, shifting into a bipedal humanoid form in seconds. The bot that appeared in the vehicles place was shorter than the Prime, his chassis more rounded than squared. His optics were glowing the same intelligent blue shade as the other, but his pedes had wheels at their support base, his own weight the only thing keeping them from rolling. His voice was shockingly smooth and sharp, though at this moment young and persistent sounding, when he spoke it wavered with desperation, "Optimus you have to let me go, it could be him. With a proximity this close? It has to be him."
Three more vehicles rumbled into the cavern just as Sideswipe swiveled on his wheels to stand next to Prime, they transformed partway across from the pair, still in motion. A yellow and black painted Autobot was among them, his radio broadcasting a grainy clip, "Oh baby oh, you don't knooow!" the singer's chorus rang out, too crisp to be an actual vocal from any of the bots in the room. His door wings wavered tensely, apologetically.
"Bumblebee is right Sides; there are thousands of Cybertronians out there looking for asylum. There is no way of knowing if it's him or a Decepticon." a primarily white Mech defended the mute scout. Thin stripes of orange and deep blue running down the left side of his chestplate identified him as Smokescreen. Behind him, Arcee stood quietly, observing. She looked sympathetic, which irritated Sideswipe more than the skepticism of his other two teammates. "If it is a Decepticon, I'll make sure the slaghead doesn't get too far." He growled back menacingly, his words a promise. Smokescreen fell silent, unnerved by the sudden display of aggression. It wasn't a secret that as long as his twin was apart from him, Sideswipe was unpredictable and unstable, eager for a clash of any kind. Whether this was his best coping method from his past in the pits of Kaon it was hard to say, but not many Autobots on base wanted to engage with the Lamborghini when he was this revved up. Bee whistled lowly through his damaged vocals, another broadcast echoed around them and bounced off the walls, "Your thoughts, Captain?"
Optimus Prime had more than enough thoughts on the situation to keep them here for the rest of the night, but they would have to remain unspoken. He understood the emotions Sideswipe was fighting; he understood why the bot was determined to believe this newcomer was his twin brother, Sunstreaker. However, it pained Prime to see how deluded one of his finest became under desperation. Sunstreaker left with Ratchet aboard the Lost Light five Earth years ago, if he wanted to return, why was there no signal? Why didn't he contact them first? More importantly, if this were Sideswipe's twin, why didn't he open their bond as soon as he entered the planet's atmosphere? The pod's passenger could be anybody, an Autobot or a Decepticon, possibly a NAIL, but it was not Sunstreaker. He was certain, though it didn't matter outside of this moment because someone was in that pod and they needed to get them out before sunrise. The metal in his joints groaned when he shifted his weight, "Arcee, Smokescreen, and Sideswipe. You three will investigate the pod roughly sixty four miles from here, outside a small Human population called Cortez." He ignored the sound of Sides' engine revving triumphantly, projecting a blue map from his optics, "If we are dealing with an allied Autobot or a NAIL, bring them back here for assist."
Arcee stepped forward with her arms crossed and expression firm, feminine voice strong as she looked up at Optimus who closed out the map, "And if we find ourselves uncovering a 'Con?"
Bumblebee answered for him, the radio static crackling sharply as it rebounded all around the cavern, slamming his face shield over his optics at the same time, Bee never looked more like the insect he was named after, "Another one bites the dust."
*about 6.5 Earth hours.
*one of Prowl's acronyms, meaning "Non-Affiliated Indigenous Life-Form."