Title: Orga (prelude)
Universe: Armada
Characters: Scavenger, Optimus
Pairings: None yet
Rating: T for this chapter, M overall
Summary: The Autobots are crunched for numbers after their loss on planet Duke. Two mechs, mentor and apprentice, are left to hold a major base on planet Orga. If the Decepticons find it, the Autobots shall certainly fall. It's guerilla warfare at its best--or worst.


A prickling sensation tingled at the back of his neck, warm and itchy. Optimus turned on his side, rubbing his face into the soft metallo-mesh pillow, trying to shake the feeling from his CPU. Eventually his gold optics flickered on and he gasped, a shiver running down his backstrut. White steam rushed from his lips as he slowly exhaled, reaching an arm around to the back of his helm. His forefinger and thumb clasped around the tiny insecticon sucking the life blood from him, and he tightened his hold, crushing it, wincing. Slowly he removed it from his neck tubing, pulling the tiny needle out that connected the little thing to him. Optimus tossed it to the floor, then collapsed back down on the berth, too tired to bother cleaning up the mess of energon that was coating the area.

A light cast over the floor, a door opening. Optimus didn't look up. Scavenger stood there, his armor thick and insulating against the cold, but also for battle. A veritable fortress. Optimus's form was slicker and more streamline, still, overall, Optimus was bigger.

"Another one of those buggers, eh?" the green and black mech muttered, casting a dark glare around the room. "I don't know where they're getting in from. Fraggin' insecticons."

"Yes," Optimus said tiredly, his lips twitching upwards in a fond smile. There was a brief, awkward pause between them. "Is it that time already?" the blue and red mech asked, shifting over on his back, the thermal blanket becoming tangled in his legs.

"Unfortunately," Scavenger replied, rubbing the back of his helm with one of his large hands.

Giving a sigh, Optimus touched at the back of his neck, picking off the crusted energon. "Remind me again why we decided on shifts so close together? I feel like I was just up."

"Heh, youngling, it's better if we do shorter shifts then longer ones. You'd never be able to wake up otherwise," the mech said, taking another step inside the room. The heater in the corner cast a warm orange glow on both of them, contrasting their features with a softer, kinder looking image.

"Ah, that's right," Optimus replied, resetting his optics, detangling himself from the blanket. He drew his legs over the side and stood up with a hiss of hydraulics and popping joints. Scavenger passed him a concerned look, but Optimus choose not to look into it that far.

"It's still warm for you," Optimus chuckled, tilting his helm to the berth behind him as he pushed the ancient hinged door open. He shut it before his mentor had time to think up a smart reply.

Shaking off his tiredness, Optimus trekked slowly down the hallway, cold sinking into his plating, all the way to his protoform. He passed by a window and was hit with another draft, the blindingly white snow outside making his optics whir to compensate. The big mech stopped, crossing his arms over his chassis. Miles and miles of landscape was displayed before him, snowy white mountains, along with endless plains of frozen ice. It was sad what the Autobots had been forced to. Pursing his lips under his mask, the mech continued on, hunching his shoulders when a door he passed through took him outside.

Planet Orga. The Autobot's last stand, surely. And with only two mechs to guard the massive base, he held no high hopes for the future.


Short, I know. But it's supposed to be. :D