Optimus had never experienced this much anxiety in a millenia, not even when the war over Cybertron had nearly destroyed all of his people. His spark ached with it, a never-ending pulse of sheer agony resounding within that had to be shut down before it completely corrupted his systems. Stop acting so recklessly, he urged himself, willing his few logical processors that were still in working order to slow his harshly venting body down. They scrambled to comply, but he could tell that their influence was quickly wearing thin. Nobody needed to tell him that he should be running in top form if he was going to save the comrade who sent that distress signal. Doing his best wouldn't have to be good enough if Ratchet were around...
No. Absolutely no room for distractions, just like every other battle. He was a Prime, the holder of the Matrix of Leadership. Surely he could head into a rescue mission without abandoning rationality altogether.
Try explaining that to his surging spark.
Keeping his composure had been the last thing on his processors when he heard the miniscule ping weakly alerting him to the victim's location. Hardly the tiniest blip on his radar, but a sudden jolt had shuddered through his frame when he'd picked up on it nonetheless. Under ideal circumstances, it should have been simple to discern the identity of the mech; however the signal's strength was far more fragile than he would have liked, so fragile that he honestly couldn't tell who was asking him to come to their aid. It was a loud testament to the fact that whoever this was found themselves near the end of their rope. All Optimus knew was that one of his Autobots was alive, for now; but he needed to arrive in the most focused state of mind as possible for any of his efforts to be a success, and this couldn't be called that. Not in the least.
Not when he was constantly thinking about the overwhelming loss that might be if he showed up a nanoclick too late. It had been devastating to watch helplessly as his friends were shot down, slashed into pieces, or otherwise disassembled by the Decepticon army. The blow had staggered him that much more when he later discovered that their savior, Sentinel Prime, had defected to ally himself with Megatron. Those two actually believed that Cybertronians were divine gods worthy of no less than the complete enslavement of the universe. It was this same haughty vanity that drove the wedge between Autobots and Decepticons in the first place. If only he had reacted sooner. If only he had taken notice of what was happening, of what could happen...
A resigned blast of air leaked from his vents. No matter how much Optimus wished otherwise, he knew there was nothing he could do to change the past. Guilt may live in his spark forevermore, but he was forced to acknowledge that their planet was lost. Unrecoverable. Everything that they had known, everything that they had been... It was gone, except for a handful of 'bots who somehow managed to escape from the chaos. Those scarce numbers were all that remained of a once noble civilization. Extinction was on their doorstep, and the hand knocking was getting louder and louder.
Not just anyone could prevent this outcome from spreading like the plague it was; it had to be him. Optimus was their leader now, not Sentinel. They trusted him with their lives and he'd be damned to the Pit if he stood by and did nothing to stop Cybertron's survivors from sharing the same fate as Cybertron itself. He would not allow himself to show up too late for them. He would not allow himself to betray them. It was out of the question to even consider it.
They trusted him, and he was not letting them down.
Please, Optimus pleaded in a silent prayer as he barreled down the highway, I don't want any of them to suffer a minute longer. Please Primus, grant me the strength I require...
A sharp corner popped up at the end of the straight stretch and Optimus didn't bother to slow down, slamming hard on his emergency brake to drift in a wide arc around the curve. Smoke drifted up from all six wheels, a long black line of rubber burning hotly behind him before he straightened out and released the brake. Instantly he flattened the gas pedal to the floor of his cab. Not many humans, if any, could drift a semi around a shoulder that tight, but of course he was no human; his precisional instruments offered a special brand of control over his alternate form that allowed for quite miraculous stunts to be pulled. He wouldn't be Optimus if he couldn't find a way to do the impossible.
Driving by moonlight wasn't safe either, but it was a risk that had to be taken. At least he could lessen said risk by utilizing his night vision optics, but they only activated when he was in his mech form. No doubt the humans would be skulking around in the shadows if they'd discovered the same massive heat signature as he just had, and he didn't want them to notice anything else out of the ordinary before he was ready to stage his rescue. What he desperately needed was time to act, further explaining his great hurry.
Running the scan again revealed the same heat signature as before, and when the mech's head turned so he could see the details of his face, Optimus's spark stuttered in his chassis.
Could that be who he thought it was?
.::Can you hear me?::. he tried, hurriedly sending the transmission out over his most secure private comm link. A tense few minutes passed by until a shocked response floated through the line.
.::Optimus...? Is that you?::.
He let out a deep vent of air that he hadn't realized he'd been suppressing. .::It is. How are you holding up so far?::.
Scathing sarcasm bled through the comm link, just as Prime had expected. .::Terribly! I would've thought that much was obvious! Although I can't say that I'm doing worse than some others on this godforsaken rock.::.
The tone softened at the end of his statement, shifted to one of utter grief. Something that all of them had experienced many a time over the war. But only briefly was it present, and then the irritation had taken hold again. .::Took you long enough to come out of hiding, didn't it?::.
.::I cannot express how much of a relief it is to hear your blatant ire again, Ratchet.::.
He meant it right from the bottom of his spark. Ratchet was the one Autobot that Optimus had felt closest to out of all his troops. Their friendship went way back to the beginning of Cybertron's disputes, before things had actually escalated into a full-blown civil war. It was reassuring to know with certainty that his only Chief Medical Officer was intact and currently unharmed.
Ratchet seemed even more heated in his response this time. .::Good, because you're about to hear more of it. Those humans... There is something seriously amiss with them. We can't stay here any longer! If we do, they will kill us all!::.
Optimus considered that carefully. .::I understand your anger, but we cannot simply leave earth.::.
.::And why the frag not!? We've done our duty, Megatron is dead! There is no reason for us to remain on a planet where we're no longer wanted!::.
.::Where would you have me take you?::. Optimus asked, sending a wave of calm through the line in the hopes that he could make Ratchet see reason. .::Cybertron is in ruins. We have no supplies nor a ship that could sustain us until we find another planet; and even if we had, what if there is life on that new world? Would you honestly have us take it over just so that we could make a home for ourselves? Ratchet, could you let yourself stoop as low as a Decepticon would?::.
.::Of course not!::. he snarled back, offended, but Optimus could feel the rage lessening fractionally.
.::I mourn our fallen brothers just as much as you do. I am furious with the humans for their actions, but I refuse to let my pain deviate me from who I am. This species may be prone to violence, but so are we. I cannot give in and have our mistakes repeat themselves here. Optimus Prime can never become Megatron.::.
There was a slight hesitancy on the opposite end, the vaguest hint of a strange emotion filtering through before Ratchet strengthened his firewalls. .::You will never be him, Optimus. Never.::.
.::Neither will you, old friend. Now, I need details and I need them fast. Are your systems running at full capacity?::.
.::I'm fine. Being a medic has its perks, after all.::.
Optimus was a little taken aback. .::Then why were you sending out such a worrying distress beacon? I assumed you were severely injured by the feebleness of it.::.
.::That was the plan.::. Ratchet answered dryly. .::If any Decepticons in the area sensed such a terribly poor-quality cry for help, they would either come to finish me off - which was a low probability - or they would simply leave me to go offline. Plus, the humans' equipment isn't quite as high end as ours. It was less likely that they might notice the signal if it was that weak.::.
.::Impressive.::. Ratchet always had been intelligent.
.::Yes, that's why I did it. I wanted to earn a few more points of respect.::. he said irritably. There was the short temper he had missed for so long. .::To be honest, I had few options left to choose from. It was either send out a distress signal or run for it, and I didn't want to run while the humans were surveilling my hiding spot. I'm trapped, Prime; and if you or any other Autobot comes for me, you'll be trapped too.::.
The frustration was evident in his words, and Optimus finally regained enough control over his logic processors to skid his tires to an abrupt halt. He transformed as quietly as possible, kneeling in the cool grass behind a large cluster of trees and switched on his night vision so that he could take in his surroundings from a strategic viewpoint.
.::Give me a moment. I'll think of something.::. he sent, before severing their comm link with a soft snap-click.
Two or three black vans were parked on a dirt road beside what looked like a large, decrepit ferry. The white paint was peeling badly, and the green trim was faded from a lifetime of harsh sunlight. That was where he'd ran the scan that revealed Ratchet's heat signature. The medic was crouching behind the long pipe of a smokestack, peering cautiously around the edge every few minutes. The people filing out of the vehicles were opening up the back doors of the one closest to the ferry. Optimus's optics narrowed as he zoomed in.
Monitors lined the rear of the van in long, glowing rows and he could see that they had already gained a visual on Ratchet. The fluorescent orange color of his heat signature lit up every screen, and a couple of the agents (Prime assumed that was who they were from their black bulletproof vests and large guns) were observing the images, talking into their earpieces occasionally. The rest of the men were checking on their weapons, reloading them and sighting them in. They were preparing to head in after their target.
He cursed in Cybertronian, reopening the comm link. .::I have good and bad news.::.
.::I don't believe in good news.::. came the snappy reply. .::There's only bad news, and worse news.::.
.::I have a plan - a hasty one, but I just ran it through my probability calculators and they assured me it has a 65% success rate. You probably won't like it.::.
Ratchet's exasperation was palpable. .::That sounds wonderful. And the worse news?::.
Optimus vented a sigh. .::The humans are going to be coming in after you any minute.::. His optics caught sight of something small and fast flitting across the calmly lapping ripples of the river, and he did a quick scan. Robotic faces couldn't express a wince very well, but he gave it his best shot. .::Also, they have drones flying in. They are scanning you even as I'm scanning them.::.
There was a staticky silence while Ratchet let those words sink in. .::Slag. This is complete and utter slag.::. he muttered frostily. But then, just as Optimus expected Ratchet to demand he get his aft in gear and pull him out of there, the medic said something that surprised him. .::Abort the operation, Optimus. Get out while you still can.::.
.::What was that?::.
.::Damn it Prime, you heard me! I said get the hell out!::.
Optimus couldn't accept that. He just couldn't. .::I am not leaving you here to be dismantled at the hands of the humans! Just hold on!::.
The men were gradually making their way into the boat, shuffling up the stairs in single file. They would reach Ratchet in a matter of moments. .::And I'm not going to be the one responsible for getting our Prime captured! This is what they want, Optimus! They're hunting us down to get you to reveal yourself! If they find you, Primus knows what they'll do!::. His vocals lowered to a scratchy rumble through the line, thick with that unusual emotion again. .::When I sent that beacon out, it didn't even occur to me that you would answer the call. My own probability calculators told me that the odds of you coming was 0.0001% and that was the single reason why I did it! I had scarcely hoped that anyone would come, let alone you! I won't put you in harm's way, not even to save myself!::.
Optimus shook his head, moving slowly towards the riverbank until he caught a clear glimpse of Ratchet's brilliant green paint. .::Will you not give me a chance to assist you?::.
.::No. My... my spark can't take that kind of pressure.::.
Suddenly, it all became obvious. So perfectly, dreadfully obvious.
.::You love me.::.
The way Prime said it was soft, gentle. It was by no means how he felt on the inside but outwardly he controlled it. That urge to rush up to Ratchet and pry him free from those agent's grasps flowed through him like an endless energon leak; he didn't want to see this, didn't want to feel that helpless ever again in his tireless existence. But here he was, unable to do anything. Letting his kind down, once more.
Where normally Ratchet would be pissed right off and deny it, in that instant it was different. .::Yes. I do. I'm sorry if it upsets you.::.
Optimus shuttered his optics closed as Ratchet began to run, bullets flying through the still night air. .::The only thing that upsets me is that I have to watch my sparkmate being ripped away from me.::.