Stories Tell Us

by Cyndi

We are not alone in how we feel. .o. (Danceverse, OptimusxMikaela, post TLK)

2. II In Media Res

Stories Tell Us

Part II: In Media Res

.o

.o

The ride back to the warehouse was interesting.

Crescent Cybertron's honeycombed surface and broken continents became visible to the naked eye. People stood in the streets with binoculars and their phones. Confusion spiced everyone's movements.

Somebody screamed, "It's Nibiru!"

"Shut up, you dumbass! Nibiru is red! Does that look red to you?"

"Whoa!" Ultra Magnus slammed on his brakes.

Mikaela caught the steering wheel and reflexively flung her right arm sideways to catch Elita.

Ultra Magnus' headlights illuminated the old man from Albertsons limping across the street towards MacDonald's. He carried a huge cardboard sign. JESUS IS NEAR was written across it in block letters formed via reflective tape.

"Be ready! Jesus is coming!"

"Thanks for the heads up!" Elita shouted through the open passenger's side window, "But be careful, mister! You'll get hit by cars doing that!"

The old man nodded. "I'll pray for you!"

Mikaela tapped Elita's arm. "El, enough."

Horns blared behind them. Ultra Magnus resumed their original path with a loud pop-hiss. People in the vehicle behind them cussed and hurled trash at the old man.

"Stupid jerks." Elita muttered.

Cybertron blocked out a quarter of the northwestern horizon by the time they sequestered themselves in the warehouse. They kept the lights off and watched through the open garage doors. The scintillating planet was a looming sideways grin slipping beyond view.

A perpetual high tide arrived early thanks to Cybertron's gravity bulging the oceans. Mikaela counted herself lucky she wasn't among the stargazers getting soaked on the beach, but she had no idea the rising water foretold something worse.

Huge chunks of the internet went down. Many GPS devices failed. Cell phones had spotty reception. The International Space Station and Hubble Space Telescope went dark. All of this happened thirty minutes after world leaders broadcast a prepare your butts, the world might be ending message to their respective countries.

People skipped town like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Troublemakers looted abandoned property and stores. Traffic clogged the exits. Tempers boiled over. Fights broke out. Sirens howled their discordant rage. Tranquility provided a micro-sample of the world at large.

Ultra Magnus accessed communication frequencies left behind by Sector Seven. The government didn't know about it, but the Autobots did. It wasn't perfect and he had to struggle through a lot of feedback noise, but he persisted in listening.

"Cybertron's advance has stopped. The planet is in pieces, and several of them are in contact with the Earth's surface. Europe and Asia took direct hits. Part of Africa may be hit, too. The reports are conflicting."

"Any in America?" asked Elita.

"No. That is definite. The North American continent is untouched. The areas impacted the hardest are experiencing extreme geological disturbances."

He paused, relaying more information as he heard it. "I can reassure you that Cybertron isn't going to rip the Earth apart, but its proximity is affecting the whole globe. It will take many hours for those effects to propagate all the way around to our location. You're already seeing one- the high tide."

"What effects are we looking at?" Mikaela asked, knowing she would regret it.

"Earthquakes, tsunamis, avalanches, volcanic eruptions, landslides, mudslides, glacier displacement- take your pick." Ultra Magnus lowered his gaze and pressed a hand over his chest. "Countless lives are already lost, and many more will follow."

That wasn't the most reassuring news Mikaela received in her lifetime. Still, given the circumstances, she considered 'Earth will not explode in three minutes' a good thing.

Cybertronian com-line chatter burst through. Ultra Magnus extended the antennae atop his ear finials to strengthen the signal. Distorted voices shouted at each other.

"Just a moment...I'm hearing-" His grim tone shifted to relief. "Confirmed. Optimus is alive."

Elita, who was pacing impatiently, almost dropped her phone.

"For sure?"

He nodded. "One-hundred percent confirmed. He was sighted entering Earth's atmosphere and diving into the ocean. Diving, not falling."

"Oh, my God," Mikaela exhaled properly for the first time in too many days. "Any info on how he's doing?"

Elita butted in, "Why did he dive in the ocean?"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't have those answers. Communications are extremely spotty. I suspect Optimus is the reason Cybertron isn't advancing any closer."

He peered down at them, his optics narrowed shrewdly. "A word of advice? Catch some sleep. We may have to abandon this location in the morning. Pack your belongings just in case an evacuation is ordered."

"It's barely ten o'clock!" Elita protested.

"Yes." Ultra Magnus regarded her, "And I understand excitement makes achieving sleep difficult. You will need all the rest you can get if tomorrow requires a lot of activity."

She sighed and relented. "You have a point."

Both Elita and Mikaela packed everything except tomorrow's clothing and retreated to the modular office.

Mikaela closed the door to muffle outside noises. The independent air conditioning unit kept the tiny space cold, so no waking up drenched with sweat. Elita was already half-buried inside her sleeping bag.

Sirens rang in the distance. Mikaela wriggled into her sleeping bag and sighed.

"I wonder what dad is doing," Elita whispered.

"Saving the world."

"I hope he's okay."

"Me, too."

Neither said anything more. Both slept in spurts while Ultra Magnus kept watch by the windows.

.o

Mikaela and Elita awoke before dawn. Neither slept well. Yawning almost became a competitive sport. They devoured two delicious strawberry Nutri-Grain bars and took turns using the shower.

Elita exited the bathroom wearing her studded jean shorts, a black tank top and a plaid blue, violet and black button down shirt tied around her waist. She brushed her wet hair in several quick swipes, separated it in half and styled it into two pigtails secured by clear hair bands. Then she sat on the floor and pulled on her silver sequined Converse sneakers with glittery multicolored laces. They were the tackiest shoes Mikaela ever laid eyes on, and she knew Elita bought them specifically to annoy her.

This is how karma gets me back for wearing booty shorts to piss off my mom, Mikaela thought as she closed the bathroom door.

Luxuriating in a hot shower chased her grogginess away. She was glad she brought her whole bag into the bathroom with her; Elita almost forgot to pack the deodorant.

Moments later, Mikaela wore a tight red halter strap top under a diaphanous red and pink rose print singlet. She zipped up her favorite faded skinny jeans, which had holes worn into the knees. Comfortable brown block heel ankle boots finished off her look.

The sky outside the windows turned pale. Mikaela watched it brighten while she brushed her teeth. She ran a hairbrush through her wet hair, tied it back with a red hair band and used three pink ones down the length to create a bubble ponytail. Lazier than braiding it, but just as effective.

Elita tapped the bathroom door. "Mom, are you decent?"

"Yeah."

She shoved her way in. Cooler air from the warehouse followed.

"Mags is recharging."

"And?"

"He's on pins and needles, mom. Let's be as quiet as we can for him."

Mikaela peeked over Elita's shoulder. Ultra Magnus slumped against the northwest wall next to the tow truck. His visor covered his optics, which gave him the appearance of wearing black Oakley Razor Blade sunglasses.

There went her plans to pick up their trash. Unlike Optimus, Ultra Magnus woke up if somebody made loud enough noise near him and he struggled to power back down after being disturbed. Having the widest hearing frequency range in the Autobot army had its downsides.

Mikaela hooked a finger through her belt loop and leaned on the bathroom doorframe. "Okay, so what are we going to do?"

Elita raised her eyebrows mischievously. She pointed up with her thumb. "Let's go up on the roof and laugh at the dorks stuck in their cars."

"This should be g-"

Ultra Magnus retracted his visor and jumped to his feet like a startled feline. Every inch of him tensed. His audio covers spun, locking on to something only he heard.

"Never mind," muttered Mikaela, "He's awake."

Elita pursed her lips. "Whoops. Mags, did we wake you up?"

"No."

He laid the vehicle lift system columns down one by one. No explanation, just action.

Shrugging, Mikaela went ahead and scooped up their trash. She dumped it in a plastic Albertson's bag and knotted the handles together to seal it. Elita playfully crackled a noisy cellophane candy wrapper. Ultra Magnus' left optic twitched.

"Elita, stop it!"

"Aw, what's wrong?" she teased.

"I'm performing very delicate calculations. I need to focus."

"Uh...sorry." She stopped crackling the wrapper. "What's going on?"

His brow ridges settled in a line. "Let me finish my calculations, first."

Elita turned away, rolling her eyes. Mikaela crossed her arms, waiting. Ultra Magnus wrung his hands and scanned warehouse with his optics. He tapped the metal shelf near the tow truck. The grating caved in. That vexed him. He approached the heavy duty wooden workbench and slapped it thrice with his palm. Pinging thuds resonated through the warehouse, but the workbench stayed undamaged.

Elita jumped at the noise. "Dude! What are you doing?"

"Locating adequate shelter." His expression remained inscrutable. Like Optimus, he had an excellent poker face. Sometimes, he wore it at the worst times.

Mikaela couldn't stand the weirdness any longer. "C'mon, Mags, stop the cryptic bullshit. What's going on?"

Ultra Magnus swung his optics to the left and squinted. "We are about to have a major earthquake. Gather your belongings and get under this workbench. The surface waves will arrive in two minutes and thirty seconds."

Nodding, Elita darted away. Mikaela tossed their trash bag into the bin behind the restroom door. Earthquakes weren't new to her. Hell, they were a staple of California.

"I got our stuff." Elita dragged their duffle bags beneath the workbench with her. "Mags, how do you hear an earthquake?"

"The same way you hear a crunch when somebody breaks a twig."

Ultra Magnus crouched on all fours next to the workbench. Mikaela bit back a rude laugh. Earthquake newbies were hilarious to watch.

She sensed motion and pressure, like an elevator settling at a chosen floor. The metal warehouse frame squeaked. Light fixtures wobbled.

"Ooh," Elita gasped. "Mom, do you feel that?"

"Yeah, El." Mikaela fixed her eyes on Ultra Magnus' optics. "Chill out, Mags. This is no big deal."

He scowled. "It is a very big deal!"

"It's California. It shakes. It'll jiggle and jolt for a few seconds and stop."

"No, not this one."

Low rumbling rolled from northwest to southeast. The floor swayed gently and swiftly. Vibrations creaked the warehouse walls. Light fixtures swung bigger arcs. Hung up hubcaps quivered on their hooks. The garage doors and windows shook as if a low-flying helicopter passed overhead.

"Oh, what?" Mikaela raised a brow. "Is the San Andreas fault slipping?"

Typical wimpy California tremors always petered out here. This one slowed and widened enough to rock the tow truck on its wheels.

"Worse." Ultra Magnus' mouth plates tightened. "This is the Cascadia subduction zone earthquake your country's northwest coast has feared for centuries. It is going to be at least, at least, a magnitude nine when the surface waves reach us."

Mikaela's flippant attitude evaporated. He wasn't overreacting after all.

"Shit!" She ducked past his forearm and scooted under the workbench with Elita. The chilly floor reminded her of the cabin basement.

Elita clutched a leg of the workbench. "Mom, I'm scared."

"We'll be okay, El," Mikaela faked a calm smile.

That used to work on eight year old Elita. Twelve year old Elita wised up to it.

"As if, mom!" She flicked her braids behind her shoulders. "That's the kind of 'we'll be okay' the internally freaking out adults say to stop kids from freaking out with them!"

Ultra Magnus hunched lower to peer under the workbench. His body wavered back and forth with the trembling floor. "Your safety is one hundred percent guaranteed if you stay under the workbench. Is that more reassuring?"

Elita wiped her nose and nodded.

He glanced to his left again. His optics were wide and shifty. "Surface waves in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Incoming!"

Loud booms slammed towards the warehouse. A dizzying buzz vibrated Mikaela's skull and her ears tightened from a sound too high pitched to perceive. Ultra Magnus' optics narrowed and brightened. He lifted both hands off the floor. Time suspended itself on a single dust mote illuminated by his pupils. Elita's eyes widened and she reached to her right, her fingers outstretched. Mikaela inhaled, watching the dust mote drift upward while inevitability struck the front of the warehouse.

Everything heaved sideways as if a nuclear bomb went off. The huge front windows crackled and shattered. Glass sprayed everywhere. Both garage doors rat-tat-tatted a deathly clamor. Ceiling tiles plunged in a dusty rain. Four light fixtures bashed themselves apart on the floor.

"Damn!" Mikaela exhaled and seized the leg of the workbench.

Ultra Magnus clutched his audios and tipped forward, his head clunking on the cement. "Argh!"

"Oh, my God!" Elita clung to her duffle bag as the earthquake whipped her to and fro.

Another ominous roar approached. The ground sank and lurched three feet in all directions. Mikaela no longer knew backwards from upwards or sideways. Down lost its meaning.

Two ceiling fans plunged. One crushed the tow truck's windshield, the other bounced at the workbench. Elita screamed. Ultra Magnus lunged and slapped the fan away at the last second. It whirled into the swaying spiral staircase instead. His efforts were rewarded by the cabinet spilling its contents on his head. A few hubcaps followed.

"Slag!" He snarled, throwing the hubcaps, tool belts and rags aside. "This is awful!"

A thin crack formed near his knees, and Mikaela remembered her childhood fear of quakes opening bottomless pits. She held the strap of her duffle bag in a white-knuckle grip while the world rocked and rolled around her. Don't let that crack grow, don't let that crack grow...

A strong jolt hurled the wall at her back. Her throat clutched. She yelped. For a heart-stopping second she thought she plummeted into the imagined pit. Something halted her tumble and shoved her backwards.

"Stay under the bench!" Ultra Magnus shouted at her.

"I fell!" She yelled back between gasps. "El! Are you okay?"

"No." Elita sobbed, pressing both hands over her ears.

The tow truck swayed and squeaked. Strained joints creaked. Anything hanging freely swung in violent circles. Dust formed a chalky, musty-smelling haze. The shelves across the room wobbled until they crumpled. Their occupants crashed to the floor.

"I can't, I can't...get me out of here!" Elita uncurled and bolted towards Ultra Magnus.

"No, El!" Mikaela grabbed the shirt tied around Elita's waist.

"Elita! Stay put!" Ultra Magnus blocked her in with his forearm.

"LET ME GO!" Elita pounded her fists against his armor. Her shouting dissolved to wordless bawling. Adrenaline had taken over. She was beyond rational thought or reason.

Something shattered on the bench. Elita shrieked and covered her head, which let Mikaela yank her backwards.

"Window fr- OOF!"

Ultra Magnus' optics went dark. His body convulsed and his left arm extended in a humanlike fencing response. The light fixture that struck his neck toppled across his back. He collapsed face-first on the fallen window frame with a sickening crunch.

"He's dead! No, no, no!" Elita wailed.

"No, he isn't! Hey!" Mikaela grabbed Elita's shoulders and forced calm into her voice. "Listen! A light fixture hit a neural cluster in his neck. He'll wake up in a minute."

"MAGS!"

"Shh, he's okay." Mikaela helped her counter-sway against the earthquake. "We're all okay. Shh, sweetie, we're okay..."

"No! Stop it! Stop it!" Elita screamed, her wild eyes unfocused. Words flew out of her mouth in ragged spurts. "Oh, my God, help me! Make it stop!"

The world roared again. Nothing else fell because everything doomed to fall already did. There was only the groaning warehouse frame, the clanging garage doors, various noises outside and the bucking floor. Ultra Magnus lay amidst it, insensate.

"MOMMY!"

Elita's pale face and terrified screams were heart-wrenching. Tears stung Mikaela's eyes. She pressed her knees onto the ground, trying with all her might to stop the earthquake causing Elita's fear. Illogical, but the overwhelming instinct to comfort her daughter took over.

"I've got you, El. I'm here, sweetie. We're fine. Shhh, we're fine."

They held onto each other through another rolling lurch. The surrounding cacophony lessened and the heaving shrank to a disorienting sway. Swaying gave way to tilting, then stillness.

Distant car alarms blared. Dogs barked. Confused crows cawed. Random creaks, squeaks and rustles sounded as shaken items settled. Hot metal smells emanated off the warehouse walls. Faint gasoline fumes and sawdust scents drifted on the breeze. Dust coated the ground.

Mikaela didn't know whether the swinging sensation came from the earth or her trembling muscles. Elita's fingernails dug into her shoulders. She cried so hard she wheezed and coughed.

"Everything- shook- so- hard- mom!"

"I know. It was scary. Shhh." Mikaela squeezed her daughter tight against her chest. Her pounding heart probably gave away how scared she was, but she stayed focused on mirroring the calm she wanted to impart. "We're okay, sweetie. Breathe. C'mon, deep breaths, real slow. That's it."

Ultra Magnus groaned and squirmed aimlessly like a turtle flipped on its back. Silver nanite fluid dribbled across his face. He butted his head against the floor and slumped onto his side.

"El, I need to check on Mags. Stay under the bench."

"Mom!"

Mikaela kissed Elita's quivering hands. "I promise I'll be right back. I need to make sure he's okay. You're a brave kid, you got this."

"O-okay." Elita nodded, her face wet with tears. She hugged herself and curled up around the duffle bags.

Ultra Magnus twitched. A six inch long glass shard wedged itself in the top of his left optic socket. His metal eyelids clamped shut around it, a protective reflex to keep it from damaging the delicate servomechanisms. Nanite goop gave it a silver sheen. Not something anybody wanted on their bare skin.

Mikaela frisked the fallen tool belts for pliers, but found none. She settled on covering her hands with the cotton dust rags instead.

"Sorry, Mags, this is going to suck for you."

Mikaela used her foot to force his upper eyelid open, grasped the shard and yanked. It came away easily. She stumbled back, dropping the shard and rags in a puddle of silver nanite goop. The grimy white cloth and the dirt smudges on the glass dissolved like cotton candy in water. Nanites didn't play around.

She leapt backwards when Ultra Magnus rolled onto his stomach. His left optic snapped shut. Scrape-clunks reverberated through the warehouse as he butted his head on the floor again.

"Mmh..." A shudder ran through him. He planted his hands flat on the cement.

"Mags?" Mikaela hedged, "You with me?"

"Yes. Ouch." Ultra Magnus sneered, covered his wounded optic with one hand and cupped the back of his neck in his other palm. "What hit me?"

"Light fixture. Are you okay?"

"Other than being shaken up and almost losing an optic? Fine."

Mikaela rejoined Elita, who hadn't budged from their hiding place. Elita latched onto her like a terrified koala. She sniffed, turned her head to look at Ultra Magnus and immediately buried her face in Mikaela's shoulder again.

"You made it through your first earthquake, kiddo." Mikaela rubbed her daughter's back.

"It sucked." Elita croaked. She dried her blotchy red face with the corner of the shirt tied around her waist. "How's your eye, Mags?"

Ultra Magnus bent closer to her. A hairline crack ran vertically across the glass covering his mechanical pupil. His wounded optic wasn't as bright as the other one.

"Scratched, but it functions."

"Ooh," Mikaela cringed. "I didn't see the scratch."

"I can. It hurts."

Pain rarely paralyzed Cybertronians unless the damage impeded movement. He stood upright and took two steps away before shaking himself like a sleepy bear. Glass, bits of ceiling tiles and other debris rattled to the floor.

Power lines zap-popped outside. One by one, the howling car alarms quieted. Dogs continued barking.

"My chronometer kept running while I was- wow. The earthquake shook for exactly five minutes and forty-six seconds."

And the disaster had more to come. Hell, this wasn't the worst part of it. Mikaela steeled herself for what lay ahead.

"We have to go." She rubbed Elita's back while she collected herself. "There's a tsunami on the way, same as Japan. Tranquility is barely above sea level."

"I think I- yes, I hear it. Incredible. It is still quite a ways to our northwest. We have thirty minutes to evacuate." Ultra Magnus backed towards the main garage doors. "I'm going to clear away the power lines. Remain here until I retrieve you."

He knelt to raise one of the metal doors and jogged through.

Mikaela opened her bag enough to pull out a water bottle. Ripples formed in the water because of her shaking hands. She drank generously and passed it to Elita, who also took a gulp.

Ultra Magnus returned after Mikaela put the bottle away. Glass crunched into powder beneath his feet. He bent and thrust his hand under the table. "Let's roll out."

Elita crawled onto his palm first. Mikaela was close behind with their bags. He deposited them on his shoulders and walked out slowly to avoid threatening their precarious equilibrium.

Knotted power lines were wrapped around the utility poles like tetherball strings. Mikaela chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"Did you get zapped doing that?"

"Four times." His left optic twitched shut in the sunlight. "It was tingly."

Elita gasped, "Mom, look at the warehouse."

The lighted signage frame attached to the warehouse lay in pieces on the asphalt. Ultra Magnus nudged the busted sign aside with his feet. His movements didn't do Mikaela's vertigo any favors.

Elita pursed her lips and looked around, her face going pale. Mikaela gazed downward at her feet. Cold emptiness cracked open inside her. Her hometown was in shambles. She didn't want to see the destruction, so she stared at the metal siding, dirt and dust littering the warehouse parking lot.

Ultra Magnus said, "I'm going to transform. Keep your arms and legs close to your bodies."

Clicks and clanks sounded as he transformed around them. His shoulders withdrew when his cab appeared. Mikaela and Elita ended up sitting on his sleeper mattress with their bags on their laps. They hurriedly stuffed their belongings into the compartment under the mattress.

Surrounding buildings were damaged, but structurally intact. Most of the debris was roof shingles, fallen signs, broken windows, loose items that fell, tipped-over trash cans and downed power lines.

"Get in your seat and buckle up," said Mikaela.

"Wow," Elita slid into the passenger's seat and pressed her nose to the window.

"El, buckle up!"

She did.

Mikaela got in the cushy driver's seat and snapped her seat belt into place. Ultra Magnus faced due west. The ocean's glimmering blue line stretched across the horizon. Why did something so captivatingly beautiful cause such chaos? She narrowed her eyes and looked away.

"Traffic is still backed up on the main highways. I discovered an old access road during my patrols. GPS doesn't list it. It will take us out of town."

"I know that road. It's higher ground. Go for it," said Mikaela.

Ultra Magnus' engine clattered to life. Glass crinkled under his tires. He circled behind the warehouse and used the east alleyway exit to access the main street.

Police helicopters buzzed by. They broadcast a tsunami warning over their loudspeakers.

"Attention, attention! A deadly tsunami is headed this way. Get to higher ground within the next thirty minutes! This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

Mikaela dared to peer out the window. Tranquility looked like a ghost town. Buildings were dark. A busted water main flooded the sidewalk on a residential street. Trash, glass, wooden boards, pieces of sheet metal and other unidentifiable detritus lay everywhere.

They crossed a bridge over the river. The normally full riverbed was a muddy trickle flowing the wrong way.

Straggling vehicles sparkled far in the distance. Ultra Magnus passed Albertsons. Its shattered front entrance and empty parking lot offered sad sights in the bright sunlight. Most of the storefronts were damaged, but intact.

Ultra Magnus hung a right through the intersection. Someone's clothes lay piled up in the gutter by the bus stop. A ratty brown coat, a pair of green sweatpants and scuffed army boots.

"That's a person!" Elita pointed. "Mags, we need to stop!"

"El! We can't afford to stop here!"

"Yes, we can," Ultra Magnus interjected. "You have three minutes to spare. No more than that."

"Okay."

Elita unbuckled and jumped out as soon as Ultra Magnus stopped.

Mikaela recognized the old man from Albertsons the moment she saw the wispy white hair. The upper half of his body rested supine on the sidewalk and his splayed legs resembled a ballet dancer mid-leap. He was sickly pale, almost gray. His wrinkled mouth and brown eyes were wide open.

Elita knelt by the man's head and touched his neck with two fingers. Her lower lip quivered.

"He's dead, but he's still warm!" She slapped the sidewalk. "Somebody hit him with their car and left him here to die! What kind of person does that?"

"A shitty one." Mikaela bowed her head and sighed.

"Two minutes," said Ultra Magnus.

"Hold your horses!" Elita snapped as she patted the old man's pockets. She found a small leather coin purse in his left coat pocket. It held a wooden rosary, a yellowed newspaper clipping and two dog tags.

Elita placed the rosary gingerly in the old man's hand and broke one of his dog tags off the chain. The remaining dog tag got placed back inside the coin purse, which she tucked into his coat pocket. She kept the newspaper clipping and dog tag when she straightened.

"Sorry, mister."

Mikaela didn't know what to say, so she stepped back towards Ultra Magnus. "C'mon, El...let's go."

They hurried into the truck and buckled their seat belts. Air brakes hissed as Ultra Magnus lurched away from the curb. He accelerated unnaturally fast. Mikaela's vertigo spun in protest.

"His name was Seth Taggart." Elita wiped her eyes. "He was in the Army and he was Catholic."

She skimmed the newspaper clipping.

"He came back from the Vietnam war to find three men robbing his home. They shot his wife, his three year old son and tried to shoot him. He scared them away. The paramedics didn't get there in time to save his family. He watched his best friend die bleeding in a trench in Vietnam, and he came home to watch his family die bleeding on his kitchen floor."

"How awful." Ultra Magnus bumped over railroad tracks.

Elita chewed on her thumbnail.

"Jesus took him home to them." She crumpled the newspaper clipping in her hand and turned her head away, sniffling. "He was sick, and society threw him away. He fought for our country, he came home with PTSD, he watched his support system die and I'm the only person who cares enough to cry about him! I hate people!"

She slammed her fist against the passenger side door, gasped and immediately recoiled, "Sorry, Mags."

He chuckled. "A human fist can't hurt me."

"Do either of you care about what happened to Seth?"

"Of course I do! But I didn't know the guy." Mikaela sighed. "It sucks that he's dead."

Ultra Magnus avoided an abandoned bicycle lying in the street.

"Elita, this is something soldiers understand. Seth was a soldier. Soldiers endure the horrors of war so the generations after don't have to. Death is one of those horrors. It is sad, it is terrible and it is painful." His voice softened into somberness, "But you learn to harden yourself to the sight of death."

Elita sniffed contemptuously. "Even when it's family or a friend?"

"Especially when it's family or a friend." He swerved around an oil slick. "War ends for those who die, and war continues for those who live. Those who live fight to prevent more deaths. We charge onward into battle, and we let our actions be judged accordingly by history. The rest is silence."

For a minute, the only sound was a faint engine rumble and air swooshing past the windows. They passed a church surrounded by cypress trees. Its bell lay atop debris piled in the parking lot. The cross topping the steeple pointed East.

Elita closed her fist around Seth's dog tag. She stuffed it into her pocket along with the crumpled bit of newspaper.

"It's not fair."

"War never is."

"Tch! You can say that again, Mags."

They fell silent after that.

Mikaela noticed a salty beach smell on the wind. Sunlight shifted across her arms. Many freeway overpasses were cracked and precarious due to gridlock traffic.

Ultra Magnus headed due south underneath the only undamaged overpass.

Straight ahead, the town's twelve foot deep drainage ditch. Mikaela remembered how skaters hung around there to perfect their skateboard tricks, but nobody used it for travel. An old urban legend claimed the town's "crazy religious army vet" lived there and turned people into human sacrifices. Some said he used their skin for his bed.

"Time to go off-road," said Ultra Magnus.

Mikaela's blood froze. She squirmed in her seat for want of being anywhere but there.

"You're taking the ditch?"

"Trust me."

"But-"

"An urban legend is not a tsunami. This is the only way to reach the access road without using surface streets."

"There's an urban legend about this place?" Elita shot Mikaela a skeptical look.

"It's really stupid, and this is not the time!" Mikaela said back, her face going red. Somebody probably made it up about Seth anyway.

Ultra Magnus eased diagonally along the steep cement incline. He folded his side mirrors against his doors long enough to clear the narrow space under a footbridge.

The north wall of the ditch became a gentle waterfall. Beach smells filled the cab.

"Oh no!" Elita cried.

Mikaela grabbed the steering wheel. "Shit! It's early!"

"By one minute," Ultra Magnus kept his voice calm.

If that wasn't bad enough, mud filled the bottom of the ditch ahead. Ultra Magnus tried to accelerate over it, but he weighed too much to get across. He made it a good twenty feet before his tires stuck and spun fruitlessly.

"Slag! The mud is deeper than I calculated!"

White froth appeared in his rear view mirrors.

Elita shrieked frantically, "Go, Mags!"

His engine revved. He tried reverse. Nothing.

"I'm lodged! The mud is sucking my tires down."

A wall of oceanic fury surged towards them. Mikaela clenched her jaw. The brunt of the flood slammed against his rear tires and enveloped them. Seawater rose almost to his side windows. Trash bins, pieces of Styrofoam, somebody's mailbox and a yellow picnic table from the park spilled into the ditch. It looked like the parted Red Sea crashing back together in The Ten Commandments.

"Transforming is the only way I can get you out of here safely."

A helicopter's shadow crossed his shiny white hood.

"But the helicopters," Elita gestured upward.

"But your lives!" Ultra Magnus answered. He rolled both passenger windows down, which brought in the roar of the tsunami and wind from the helicopters circling above. "Climb onto the roof of my sleeper. Do it before the water gets to my windows!"

Apprehension tightened the back of Mikaela's neck. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out first. Her face came inches from the waterfall pouring into the ditch. Goosebumps broke out on her skin despite the muggy morning air. She grabbed onto Ultra Magnus' smokestack and hauled herself up to his roof.

"Mom?" Elita yelled.

"Here!" Mikaela crawled for the passenger side window. The water hovered dangerously close to flooding into it. "Face in and grab the top of the window. Now sit on the bottom and grab my hand!"

She pulled Elita onto Ultra Magnus' roof. They separated, each clinging to his exhaust pipes.

Ultra Magnus' body clanked, vibrated and shifted. In moments he stood thighs-deep in the surging tsunami, and Mikaela had an unwanted panoramic view of her hometown being destroyed by it.

Torn-apart houses, vehicles, peoples' belongings and trash dotted the murk. Only sturdy concrete structures like the mall stayed intact against the onslaught.

Fire ignited an island of debris. Hungry orange flames found the leaking gasoline within seconds. Gasoline floated on water, so there was no controlling the fiery feeding frenzy. Foul-smelling smoke choked the northeastern sky and turned the sun cherry red. The inferno spread like an unchecked disease as the tsunami carried everything southeast.

"Wow. It's gone," whispered Elita. "It's just...it's gone."

People were trapped in their vehicles. Their plaintive screams tore across the carnage. Crying babies hurt the worst.

"Hang on," said Ultra Magnus.

He waded inexorably towards the far end of the ditch. Mud tried to trap his feet, but he shook himself free each time.

Two helicopters crossed overhead. One hovered, the other circled. Their propellers spun smoke everywhere and their chop-chop engines drowned out everything else.

Ultra Magnus ignored them in favor of reaching safety. Elita and Mikaela clung onto his smokestacks as he clawed his way out of the rapidly-filling ditch and followed the dirt road uphill. Walking, much smoother than rolling in a vehicle. A row of four Cyprus trees at the top offered cover from the punishing morning sun.

Only then did he look up towards the helicopters.

"I didn't want witnesses," he grumbled.

"What'cha mean by that?" asked Elita.

Ultra Magnus waved her question off and offered his hands. He knelt to deposit Mikaela and Elita on the grass by the road.

"I'll be back. Stay here." His voice sounded grim, yet determined.

"What are you doing?" Elita hugged herself.

Ultra Magnus faced the mayhem. "The right thing."

He hopped down the hill, slid into the water and waded towards the family huddled on top of their sinking SUV. The parents placed their twin babies on his left palm before climbing onto his right. He carried them to the flat rooftop of the mall.

Next, he went for the three college students trapped in a red van. Two women and a man. Mikaela realized they were Native Americans when she saw Navajo Strong emblazoned on the man's white T-shirt.

The man curled up on his side and his limbs moved in uncoordinated writhing jerks. Ultra Magnus transferred the ladies to his shoulder and retrieved a heavy duty electric wheelchair from the sinking van. He eased the man to sit in it, beckoned the women onto his palm and stood there with the chair cradled on his other hand while they teamed up to strap the young man in.

One woman helped the man control his limbs while the other secured them with soft blue straps. Two thicker gray straps crisscrossed his chest and one more went across his waist.

Once secured, the man gazed at a screen mounted on the right arm of his wheelchair. Ultra Magnus' tense expression softened. He said something inaudible and carried the group to safety. Their bobbing van disappeared under the murk.

Another tsunami wave arrived. Surging water rose to Ultra Magnus' lower chest. He battled debris and strong currents to rescue every living person or pet he could grab. The mall rooftop was crowded by the time he finished.

The two copters above the hill veered away. Hissing, surging water once again dominated Mikaela's ears.

Ultra Magnus broke the rectangular signage off the mall's exterior and used it like a paddle to herd the flames past the building.

Half a dozen rescue helicopters zoomed over Mikaela's and Elita's heads. They circled the area, taking turns dropping down to collect people off the rooftop using ropes, ladders and a huge metal basket for the guy in the wheelchair. News helicopters congregated at a higher altitude to follow the rescue effort.

Ultra Magnus squinted while their combined wind blasted his face, yet he remained steadfast. The water rose to his shoulders and flames encroached on his position. He struggled against the elements until the helicopters took the last three people away.

Then he disappeared under the murky inferno. Froth poured around the empty mall rooftop like an enraged river rapid. The signage he used for a paddle drifted away with the rest of the debris.

Mikaela coughed and cupped her hands over her nose and mouth. A lump burned in her throat. Ultra Magnus did what she wanted to and couldn't. And Elita recorded the whole thing on her phone.

Traffic cleared fast as people further east went off-road to get away from the fire and tsunami. The overpasses sprang into motion. Flames and smoke totally obscured the northern horizon.

Ultra Magnus' head appeared above water several yards west of the hilltop. He executed three perfect breast strokes to reach what remained of the dirt road. Filthy seawater poured off his armor as he scaled the hill where Mikaela and Elita waited. He transformed into vehicle mode under the smoke's cover.

"Let's go."

Elita pocketed her phone. Mikaela followed her lead. She was surprised to find the truck interior perfectly dry. His armor and windows were covered in murky water spots and he had that fresh-off-the-beach smell.

"That was awesome!" Elita patted his dashboard.

"I saved everyone I could reach," said Ultra Magnus. He turned left to get on the main highway and fell in with the traffic fleeing town.

Mikaela swallowed past the lump in her throat. Adrenaline stopped surging through her blood, leaving her tired and trembling. Everything outside the vehicle she sat in seemed unreal.

Ultra Magnus' smooth voice cut across her growing inner storm.

"My condolences for your loss."

Mikaela snorted derisively. "It's a small town and you saved lives. You lost your planet, and you couldn't save your own people."

"The scale of my people's loss doesn't invalidate the pain of yours."

She clenched her fists until her nails dented her palms. Emotion rose towards her throat like magma.

He continued, "I understand your distress, and I sympathize."

Mikaela thought about the sadness in Optimus' optics on her prom night. She looked outside again. The losses didn't feel comparable at all.

"I'm fine," Mikaela murmured. A lie she told herself and everybody else to stay above her own turmoil.

"Mom-"

"Elita," Ultra Magnus hushed her.

Tranquility's flooded, burning remains faded into the distance and was gone. Mikaela comforted herself with the knowledge that they weren't the only survivors.

.o

Early morning gave way to midmorning. Traffic spread out along the highway headed east. Mikaela's eyes were peeled for black jeeps or any vehicles with people wearing military gear. She never saw any. The most logical explanation was TRF members got deployed to Europe.

Ultra Magnus broke away from the sparse traffic by heading south through Nevada. Open road let him put the pedal to the metal. He cruised along at over a hundred miles per hour. Everything outside his windows was a blur.

Mikaela half-listened to him explaining lesser-known facts about earthquakes to Elita.

"...seismologists call this boundary between the mantle and the crust 'the Moho', but its actual name is the Mohorovicic discontinuity. Discontinuities are areas where seismic waves change velocity or bounce off. It is approximately ten to sixty miles under the continental crust and three to six miles underneath the oceanic crust. Earthquakes ring it like a huge bell."

Elita finished carefully re-braiding her twin pigtails. "So you heard a huge ding when you heard today's earthquake coming?"

"Technically speaking, yes. The place where the hammer strikes the bell is the hypocenter. You want a deeper quake, because depth adds distance. You can stand on the epicenter and still be six miles away from a fault rupture six miles below the surface. Unfortunately, the one we had today was shallow, and the whole length of it ruptured. You don't have enough nuclear weapons to equate the energy release. It was incredible and terrible."

"So what's the verdict on how big it was?" Mikaela asked, more to disrupt their conversation than to get an answer.

But Ultra Magnus had one. "Nine point five."

"You're making that up!" Elita gasped.

He cruised around a bend. "Nope, but I used the Richter scale and may have estimated too high by a decimal point or two."

Mikaela wrinkled her nose at him picking up where he left off.

"Anyway, sitting on the epicenter isn't the only way to experience a strong earthquake. Seismic waves are enormous sound waves. Sound echoes and reverberates. In our case, many of the body waves bounced off the Moho and hit Tranquility."

His left blinker clicked. The steering wheel under Mikaela's hands moved accordingly.

"Being unlucky enough to live on a point where reflected seismic waves concentrate guarantees more shaking. The different resonance frequencies of the ground you live on and how tall the buildings are is another factor in how destructive quakes can be, but you said you already know about that."

"Yup. Covered it in school." Elita checked her phone and shut it off again. "Loose sediment amplifies everything. Bedrock is better. I guess Tranquility got the worst of both worlds."

Mikaela stared out at the brown desert landscape and hoped they dropped the subject. Their earthquake jabber carried on another few minutes before it finally piddled out.

"Is she all right?" Ultra Magnus murmured.

Elita smirked. "She's hangry."

"Hangry?"

"Hungry and angry."

"I can hear you," Mikaela snapped.

But they were right. Neither she nor Elita had eaten anything since before sunrise. Adrenaline comedowns could only hold off an appetite for so long.

It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon when Ultra Magnus entered the small town of Rachel. He dropped Elita and Mikaela off at a tiny motel called Little A'Le'Inn.

Nothing was as middle of nowhere as the tiny collection of trailers dead ahead. Roads and mountains were their sole company.

The cute alien-themed place had a "crashed UFO" suspended from the crane of a white mining truck outside. Its identifying sign also boasted an interesting weather station that listed the temperature at one hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit.

Being mummified in heavy wool blankets seemed more comfortable than the desert's oppressive heat and anhydrous air. Mikaela swore it sucked the moisture straight out of her mouth. She instinctively grabbed the Blistex lip balm in her pocket and rubbed it on her lips.

Elita snapped a selfie next to the flying saucer and examined the ID4 time capsule buried in 1996.

"They're gonna open it in twenty-fifty," she remarked.

The motel's much cooler diner interior had little green alien themed everything. A row of blue stools lined a clean bar counter. Tables and chairs were arranged here and there. A pool table marked the center.

It seemed totally weird to eat a cold tuna sandwich like a major earthquake and tsunami never happened. Mikaela focused on satiating her ravenous hunger because it helped wipe out the horrendous images plaguing her thoughts.

Elita had a little more finesse about inhaling her World Famous Alien Burger, which was oblong-shaped instead of round, but she slurped loudly on her iced tea.

In the background, Fox News blathered about the earthquake and tsunami damage to coasts of Alaska, Washington, Oregon and California's coastlines. Vancouver Island, the Queen Charlotte islands and bits of British Columbia, Canada almost got wiped off the map.

Ultra Magnus guessed the earthquake right. The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen stated, 9.5 earthquake strikes coast of North America.

A Fox News Alert broke over that report to mention an estimated seven point eight earthquake just struck Southern California. The Cascadia earthquake woke up the San Andreas fault.

And that was just the North American continent's problems. The destruction carried on southward into Mexico and beyond.

"Well, crap," Elita grumbled. "Mags was right. What a mess."

"Yeah." Mikaela finished destroying her food. She washed it down with pink lemonade and slammed the empty cup onto the tabletop.

Elita wiped her mouth after her last bite of Alien Burger.

"Mom, is it stupid to pretend it's not real and not want to think about it?"

"Probably not."

It felt too unreal to be happening. Mikaela never anticipated a disaster like this striking in her lifetime, and she especially didn't consider having to account for another human life while dealing with it. Street smarts only got her so far. Where was she supposed to go from here?

They used the restroom and perused the gift shop to kill some time. Elita bought a cheap plastic flying saucer keychain and clipped it to her duffle bag zipper.

A text from Ultra Magnus sent them scampering into his cab.

"What's up?" asked Elita.

"Something important," he replied. "This is time delayed due to Cybertron's presence. Listen."

Rather than explain, he piped the signal through the radio speakers.

Optimus' soothing baritone voice sounded like salvation.

"At the heart of every legend, there is truth: a few brave souls unite to save the world. We can be heroes in our own lives, every one of us, if we only have the courage to try. Our fates were always intertwined, but now our worlds are joined as one.

"We need to repair our planets, work together, if we wish to survive. A dangerous secret is buried deep inside the Earth. There is more to this planet than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime. Calling all Autobots... it is time to come home."

The message ended.

Mikaela's spirits lifted marginally. Finally, she had confirmation that Optimus was all right.

"I'm being pinged." Ultra Magnus' voice inched up. "It's earlier than I expected. We're going live."

The new voice was smoother with a noticeable Japanese accent.

"Autobots, transmit your coordinates if you are not able to reach ours, and we will arrive in a ship to collect you."

Elita leaned over to Mikaela, "That bot sounds just like Ishiro Serizawa in Godzilla."

"His name is Drift," said Ultra Magnus, "And you'll recognize which one he is as soon as you see him."

"Oh yeah? What's he look like?"

"Heh, heh, you have to wait and see. Does anyone need a bathroom break before we go?"

"Nope," Elita replied jovially.

"So, Mags, where to?" Mikaela asked.

Ultra Magnus amused tone indicated deliberate obtuseness. "A place to get picked up without a hassle. Entering will cause a small ruckus, but I can settle it."

His tires crackled on the gravel as he pulled away from the Little A'Le'Inn and turned south onto Highway 375, also known as Extraterrestrial Highway. Angry clouds hugged the mountainous horizon like sea foam clinging to rocks.

He gunned it along the highway and slowed to veer west onto an unmarked dirt road. Dust clouds trailed in his wake. The loose rockiness forced him to cut his speed in half.

Desolate brown vastness filled Mikaela's view. Civilization became a distant memory. Ruts and tire tracks in the dirt were the only clues to a human presence so far from everything.

Nobody spoke during the long trek. The ride smoothed out when Ultra Magnus' tires found pavement again. It blended right in with the dirt roads. He accelerated, letting their dust cloud fade away behind him.

Elita opened her mouth, slapped her hands together and grinned. "I know where we're going!"

Gravel joined the dirty asphalt under Ultra Magnus' tires. Mikaela saw human civilization again at last. Guard shacks, wooden poles, security cameras, lights and a chain link fence grew closer. Signs warned people away from crossing the striped black and white gate arms, which had reflective stop signs denoting their centers.

Area 51. Mikaela thought to herself. Of course it's gonna be Area 51. It's everybody's favorite place to hatch alien conspiracies.

New black poles sprouted above ground along the road. Ultra Magnus slowed his speed. Silver flaps opened on the sides of the poles. Energon sensors.

His air brakes hissed. He parked so close to the gate that his hood nearly touched the outermost stop sign. Kicked-up dust settled as he switched off his engine. It had to be close to a hundred degrees out. Cutting the air conditioning turned the truck interior into an oven.

"This is very risky, so listen," he said, his voice deadly serious. "I will be told to let you out and transform. Make sure your phones are off and put away. Keep your hands visible at all times and do not reach for your pockets unless you are told to. Do exactly what the guards say and let me do the talking. The officers about to approach us are not going to be pleased with your presence. Compliance will ensure your safety. This is a military installation and they don't play around. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah." Elita wiped her nose.

"Definitely," Mikaela replied.

Sweat prickled on her forehead. She glanced at Elita, who sat with her fists bunched on her knees. Their eyes met. Elita's were puckish and fearless.

The door of the closest shack opened. Two men wearing desert camouflage fatigues stepped out. One was tall and pale, the other tan and muscular. Sunglasses and hats concealed most of their features.

"It's the Camo Dudes," whispered Elita.

They had their pistols drawn and their lips pressed tight together. Just like cops.

The tall guy shouted, "Release your passengers and transform!"

"Out you go," said Ultra Magnus.

Mikaela emerged first, ensuring her hands stayed visible to the men while she did so. The passenger door bumped shut behind her. She almost slipped hopping off the metal step onto the gravel.

Billowy clouds obscured the sun. A cool breeze offered faint relief from the scorching desert heat.

The muscular man spoke in a calm, low voice, "Put your hands up and walk backwards towards me."

"Okay." She did exactly as instructed. Off to the side, Elita followed suit.

Ultra Magnus transformed into robot mode once everyone backed safely away. He stood at rigid attention, a perfect soldier sculpted out of shiny truck parts. His left optic shone brightly again and didn't screw itself shut against the punishing sun.

"My name is Ultra Magnus. I am an Autobot under command of Optimus Prime." He kept his tone carefully neutral. "The humans are traveling with me to meet with Optimus. We mean you no harm. The Autobots are sending a ship to pick us up and this is strategically the safest place for such an operation."

"Yeah? You're not here to blow us up?" The muscular soldier inched closer, "Say the greeting and prove it."

Ultra Magnus smiled and knelt down. He presented his open hands to show he was unarmed. Beams from his optics projected brilliant white dots onto the dusty ground.

"Bah weep gragnah wheep nini bong," he said.

"Whoa," murmured Elita.

"They're good, Mojica!" said the tall man.

"Yup," replied the man known as Mojica. "Call it in, Myers."

Both men lowered their guns and faced Elita and Mikaela.

Mojica gave quiet, but firm instructions, "Stay with Ultra Magnus at all times, and don't tell anyone what you see past this gate. This facility is top secret. No photography, no recording video and no outbound phone calls. Your phones are to stay in your pocket unless you take a call from the Autobots. Your cell phone signals will be monitored until you leave. Is that clear?"

"As crystal," Mikaela nodded. She dropped her hands to her sides, taking care to keep them out of her pockets.

He focused Elita next. She made a zipping gesture over her lips and saluted him.

Both men holstered their pistols and returned to the shack without a goodbye.

Ultra Magnus rolled his optics. "And now we wait for them to contact HQ."

Mikaela squinted up at him. "What did you say to those guys?"

"I said the universal greeting in Rustian."

Elita raised both eyebrows. "What's the universal greeting in English?"

He squinted back at her. "The best approximation is, 'I arrive at your presence peacefully and harbor no ill intent towards you.'"

She smirked. "That's poetic."

Their conversation cut off when the black and white gate flipped up to grant them passage. There was another open gate behind it with two arms. The soldiers waved at them through.

Ultra Magnus tucked himself into vehicle mode. Mikaela and Elita climbed back in. Blessed air conditioning blasted their sweating faces. He rolled forward after they buckled their seatbelts. It wasn't long before the guard shacks were specks in the distance.

Strong wind blew dust across the road. Clouds billowed past the mountains, which loomed larger than ever. Mikaela exhaled, unwilling to admit how unnerving it was to have guns pointed at her face.

"This is gonna sound really redundant, but..." Elita leaned back and slapped her palms together, "Oh, my God, aliens!"

Mikaela wanted to sink through the upholstery in her seat. "El, really? We're sitting in one!"

"I know, but...c'mon, this is Area 51! It's the Bermuda Triangle of alien conspiracy theories!"

"HAH!" Ultra Magnus barked with laughter as he sped across the long road ahead.

.o

Twilight arrived on the coattails of a storm. Clouds burst open overhead. Brutal rain lashed everything silly enough to walk beneath it.

Ultra Magnus ushered Mikaela and Elita into an empty air conditioned hangar. Mikaela found herself a tad disappointed at not seeing flying saucers anywhere. Elita looked similarly miffed.

They pulled canned food from their bug-out supplies. Ultra Magnus helpfully supplied his hand as a burner because campfires weren't a good idea.

Area 51 was like a town hidden in a giant bowl of mountains. Except towns didn't have several hangars sitting off to the side. Nellis Air Force Base and its test range stretched out across a massive white salt flat. Everything reminded Mikaela of Diego Garcia, albeit it was spread out more and lacked the ocean views.

Abundant energon sensors watched the sky, cameras capable of seeing infrared and ultraviolet light watched the ground, and motion sensors accounted for everything in between.

"So, are you ready for the big secret?" Ultra Magnus said as he watched them eat their canned beans.

"They won't shoot you for telling us?" Mikaela wiped her mouth.

"You hardly pose a threat to national security. Keep what I say here between us and everyone will be fine."

She snorted at that. "Nobody besides us knows I'm married to a giant robot. They'll never believe me if I told them the truth about being here. Spill it, Mags."

"Gimme," Elita made grabby hands.

"It's not as earth-shattering anymore since humans know about Cybertronians now."

"Mags, c'mon," Elita whined, "Don't tease!"

Ultra Magnus shifted from kneeling to sitting on the ground next to them. He bent one knee and clasped his hands around it.

"Three things happened here related to Cybertronians. First, humans tried to synthesize protomatter- you call it Transformium- for pairing Cybertronian technology with aircraft and ground weaponry."

Raising his index finger stopped a slew of premature questions.

"Second, one of the pillars from the moon was brought here for study. Nobody was able to crack the technology or figure out how it worked, so it was passed to Sector Seven, then NEST.

"Third, and perhaps the most famous of all-"

Elita's eyes lit up. "The crash at Roswell?"

"Yes. That was a piece of the Ark's engines, which looks saucer-like. I suspect it was in a decaying orbit around the Earth for decades before it finally crashed. The glyphs helped humans figure out it was made of the same material as Megatron, but they erroneously classified it as an unknown piece of his body. And here's where people get the conspiracy wrong. The recovered piece of the Ark isn't kept here. It was smuggled into the Hoover Dam to reside with Megatron and the AllSpark. The floor in some areas is actually the engine part, and nobody except the military knows."

Darker clouds rushed across the sky. Wind howled around the metal hangar. Torrential rain clattered on the roof and created a pale mist near the ground outside. Petrichor permeated the air. Ultra Magnus frowned at the ceiling.

"Keeping the information about the tests in a remote location prevents it from spreading to unwanted eyes and ears. Documentation never leaves Area 51 in any form, not even digital. I choose not to store the data in my memory banks or talk about what I know about this place outside of its walls in order to respect its secrecy.

"So the urban legends and conspiracy theories about this place have a grain of truth. 'Alien' things are being concealed here. Just...no flying saucers or bug-eyed gray people."

"Awesome!" Elita beamed and stuck her plastic spoon into the bean can. "But what about Chicago? Does that make this place worthless?"

"No. The information protected here poses a threat to humanity. It's safer to keep it hidden in plain sight behind urban legends and conspiracy theories."

Hearing that erased Mikaela's disappointment at not seeing any flying saucers. The truth sounded much, much cooler anyway. She almost reached for her phone to check for missed calls. Remembering the warning she received stayed her hand.

Cold air whistled into the hangar. Amazing, it was sweltering outside a short time ago. She crossed her arms and sighed.

Elita untied the plaid purple flannel shirt wrapped around her waist and shoved her arms through the sleeves.

Ultra Magnus squinted at Mikaela, moved his chest plate and produced her duffle bag. She gratefully dug through it.

"Ugh. How the hell is it so cold in Nevada? Egypt wasn't anything like this."

Mikaela removed her floral-print singlet, leaving her in just the red halter-strap top and jeans. The only remotely warm item that matched her current attire was the lightweight Pink Ranger zip up hoodie. A gag gift from 'Santa' last Christmas- neither Elita nor Optimus admitted to who bought it.

It's morphin' time, pterodactyl, Mikaela thought amusedly to herself. She kept the hoodie unzipped, stashed her singlet in the bag and passed it back to Ultra Magnus. He tucked it away like a sneaky convict hiding contraband.

"Thanks. When's the ship going to show up?"

"The current E.T.A. is two hours from now."

"I hope we can breathe in it," Elita mused.

Ultra Magnus regarded her with a raised brow ridge. "Creating an artificial atmosphere won't be a problem."

Thunder ripped through the mountains all around.

"Damn, my head hurts," Mikaela muttered to herself.

"Would you like Neosporin for that?"

"Aspirin, Mags. Aspirin is for headaches." She snickered at his flub. "Neosporin is ointment for cuts and scrapes."

"Oh. Hm." But he resumed his questioning look.

"I'm fine. It's tension. Aspirin never helps my tension headaches." Mikaela yawned and rubbed her temples. "It'll go away on its own. Maybe I'll take a nap."

Elita buttoned the sleeves of her shirt and turned the collar down. "C'mon, Mags. Let's get out of mom's hair for awhile."

Chuckling, Ultra Magnus uncurled from his sitting position and headed for the back of the hangar. Elita bent over Mikaela, giggling in her ear.

"I found his fifth wheel hitch."

"Eh?" Mikaela crinkled her nose, "Where?"

"His butt!"

Now Mikaela had to look. There it was, separated into two equal halves. They were metal butt cheeks half-concealed by the mud flap covering his rear. She grinned and swatted Elita's arm.

"I'm raising a perv."

Elita wiped her pigtails off her shoulders. "You look at dad's butt all the time."

"That's because he's my husband," Mikaela mirrored Elita's tone right back at her.

"Is there something wrong with my backside?" Ultra Magnus spoke across the hangar.

Super hearing. Of course.

Elita's face flushed brilliant red. She burst out laughing and walked right up to him, pointing, "You have a butt cape like Alphonse Elric, Mags!"

He sat down on the cement floor, crossed his arms and fake-glared at her. "I have no idea who Alphonse Elric is."

"Look up Fullmetal Alchemist. Al is the suit of armor." She climbed onto his shoulder and poked his audio, which made the antenna on that side momentarily retract. "That, Mags, is a butt cape. Guess how you wear your mud flaps?"

"Oh. I see. His is larger than mine." His stoic face softened when he laughed.

Elita's eyes widened. She giggled, covering her mouth. "That sounded so wrong."

He scrunched his face up. "I will never understand why the human race is so amused by phallic imagery."

Mikaela looked away, letting them laugh and talk among themselves.

Watching water stream into a grate reminded her of seeing Tranquility disappear underwater. Not an image she wanted lingering in her thoughts.

Get past it, Mikaela, she told herself, You made it out alive.

Ironically, she never said that to Optimus. It would be cruel if she did.

Rainfall provided distracting white noise with bonus aromatherapy. Mikaela sat against the wall by the door and shut her eyes. Escaping into slumber silenced her unwelcome inner critic.

.o

"Mom!"

"What?" Mikaela jolted awake to tenebrous skies and rain still beating the ground.

Elita gripped the edges of her flannel shirt. "The Autobots are here."

Ultra Magnus waited on the paved runway running along the salt flat. Rain formed sheets so thick that his optics illuminated the drops as they fell.

Mikaela uncurled off the uncomfortable hangar floor. Cool wind blew against her face. The deluge outside stopped. Not because the clouds finished dropping water- something inhumanly enormous came between the rain and the ground. Beyond that, nothing revealed the spaceship's presence.

Thrumming engine noises broke through the storm. Lightning flashed continuously, striking and silhouetting the giant real-life UFO hovering above Area 51. The vessel brushed the lightning off like nothing while crackling thunder bounded around the mountains. The spacecraft looked like someone tried to turn the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars into a fat spider and gave up halfway through because they attached the legs backwards. Thick rain and clouds obscured it completely from view beyond the mountains.

Rainfall gradually reappeared as the giant vessel took up most of the salt flat it landed on. Blinding floodlights trained upward on the ship. Droplets glistened across its gunmetal gray hull. A hatch at the front descended as a ramp next to Ultra Magnus.

The only figure to step out sported bright yellow armor and a cute, friendly face.

"Bumblebee!" Mikaela forgot all about being intimidated by the spaceship. She sprinted through the storm and halted at the Autobot's feet.

Bumblebee knelt and squinted his optics in a smile. It wasn't his radio that spoke to her, but a soft, warm voice she barely remembered. "Hi, Mikaela."

She patted his cheek, beaming. "Got your voice working, huh?"

"That's an affirmative. I had a new vocal unit installed, so it shouldn't glitch out on me."

"Cutie-Bee!" Elita shouted the nickname she gave Bumblebee when she was two. She jumped over puddles and almost slipped on the wet ground to reach him. "Holy crap, it's been forever!"

He scooped her up like a kitten and set her upon his shoulder. "Elita! You grew up! How old are you now?"

"I'm twelve!" She wrapped her arms around the support frame in his neck. "Bee! You can talk! Is that your real voice or a replacement?"

"This is my voice. It took my new vocal unit longer than expected to code to my voice-print, but here we are."

Mikaela almost forgot Elita never heard Bumblebee speak before. She turned to smile up at Ultra Magnus when he joined them at the end of the ramp.

"Mags," Elita waved, "Bumblebee's voice works!"

"Does it now?" Ultra Magnus placed his hands on his hips. "Then say something interesting."

"Something interesting." Bumblebee retorted snottily and rolled his optics.

"Mmhmm, that's his voice all right."

Mikaela coughed to cover up a rude snicker. Elita looked up into the ship's interior, but shadows obscured what lay inside.

An unfamiliar Autobot emerged at the top of the ramp. His bright green armor fell along his body like a long duster and his helm gave the appearance of old aviator's goggles pushed up off his optics. Golden-hued plating decorated his silver face like a scruffy five o'clock shadow. A metal toothpick protruded from the corner of his mouth.

"Nobody's getting any younger in here, Bumblebee." The Autobot's gruff voice cut over the rain. "Grab our comrade and let's go!"

Ultra Magnus' expression changed from humor to open-mouthed surprise. He craned his neck and stared at the other mech.

"Crosshairs?"

Crosshairs wiped at his optics and blinked. "Maggie?"

Elita and Mikaela exchanged a curious glance.

Ultra Magnus let his hands fall to his sides and approached the foot of the ramp. "Who else did you expect?"

Crosshairs stuck his toothpick to the side of his head- of course it would be magnetic. He bolted down the ramp, lifted Ultra Magnus off the ground with a bear hug and spun him around. Quite a feat, since he was only chin-high to the taller bot. Floodlights outlined their shiny metal silhouettes against the shimmering rain.

"Ahhh, Maggie! You stuck-up old slagger! Where were you hidin'?"

"I was assigned guard dut- oof! Hey! Put me down, you uncouth aft!"

"I like your new one." Crosshairs let Ultra Magnus' feet hit the ground and suggestively groped his rear end with both hands.

"You would." Ultra Magnus squinted. "You still can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

Crosshairs glowered back. "Nope."

Ultra Magnus rested his hands on Crosshairs' upper back. His smooth voice dropped to a salacious rumble. "You're fortunate that I like it that way."

Their expressions softened and their optics dimmed. Mikaela saw that look on Optimus' face numerous times, so she knew what came next.

Both mechs tilted their heads to opposite sides and kissed. Bright sparks flew when their lip plates touched. There was a bit of rubbing and biting.

Mikaela grinned in delight at the exchange. Elita folded her arms and quietly watched.

Bumblebee rolled his eyes. "Don't mind them. Their relationship isn't legendary like Ratchet and Ironhide, but they're just as volatile."

The smooching Autobots separated long enough to slow blink at each other. They embraced, uncaring of the lightening rain or onlookers.

Servos whirred in Bumblebee's leg. "Is something wrong, Elita?"

"No." Elita brushed him off.

His raised brow ridge suggested he didn't believe her. Mikaela swore she was offended. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to inquire about it.

Ultra Magnus scooped Crosshairs over his shoulder like a metal sack of potatoes and ascended the ramp. His optics shone jovially, like someone wide awake after being groggy for hours. He had Crosshairs' toothpick in his mouth.

"I apologize for this ruffian's terrible manners."

"Hello, squishies!" Crosshairs waved to them in passing. Floodlight beams briefly illuminated his features. Mikaela spotted a Rustian dot glyph on his chin. She smiled to herself.

Elita sighed when both bots vanished into the ship.

"Bee, are they bonded?"

"No. They talked about it," Bumblebee replied.

He welcomed Mikaela into his hand after she slipped twice trying to walk up the wet ramp. Definitely a bad day to wear ankle boots.

Petrichor gave way to an oily metallic smell like an auto repair shop. The atmosphere inside the ship was unusual in its somberness. Ultra Magnus and Crosshairs conversed quietly with another green bot who sported a metal beard and a helm worthy of old war movies. The dark green Autobot puffed on a metal cigar that didn't emit any smoke or scent.

Bumblebee gestured to the rotund green mech. "That's Hound."

"What's he smoking?" whispered Elita.

"A fumeless cy-gar, of course."

One more bot appeared through a corridor. He looked like he walked off The Last Samurai's set wearing the famous red armor. His golden-hued face bore a seriousness that rivaled Optimus' most grim expressions.

"That's gotta be Drift," Elita said to Mikaela.

"Yup."

Something about the way Drift surveyed the activity before entering was way too familiar. He approached Bumblebee for a closer look at Mikaela and Elita.

"You must be Prime's human family."

"Yeah, we are. I'm Elita." Elita waved happily at him. "You're Drift. You made the pickup call."

"Mm." Drift nodded once, slowly.

Mikaela fought an urge to shrink back from Drift's keen gaze. Maybe his optics always looked intense.

"Hi. I'm Mikaela."

"I know." Half his mouth quirked in a smile that marginally softened his optics. "Optimus speaks fondly of you."

Well, that sent her heart fluttering.

Hound approached after Crosshairs and Ultra Magnus walked away. Mikaela waited until Elita focused on him to whisper at Drift.

"Where's Optimus?"

Drift noticed she wanted an escape. He gently gathered her up off Bumblebee, carried her to the ornate corridor he came through and set her down on the uneven floor.

"Continue straight ahead and you will come upon a closed door. I wish you luck in convincing him to open it."

Asking why didn't sound like a great idea, so Mikaela kept her questions to herself.

"Thanks, Drift."

In reply, Drift touched a hand to his chest and departed. His footsteps barely caused any noise or vibrations.

The dimly lit corridor looked like something out of a horror movie. Mikaela kept close to the wall, ever-conscious that she walked in spaceship made for giants. She picked her way along the floor until she came to an immense door.

"Good luck," said a man's voice, "I tried to talk Optimus out of there for an hour and a half. He's not budging."

Startled, Mikaela spun towards the source. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. A muscular, attractive man emerged from the shadows. Chin-length brown hair hung in straight wisps around his ears and neck. His slightly tanned skin was clean, but his ragged white shirt looked like he showered and re-dressed in it. She could tell he hadn't shaved in a few days.

Wary, she hedged, "And you are...?"

"Sorry." He smiled boyishly, extending a hand, "Cade Yeager. Nice to make your acquaintance, ma'am."

Now Mikaela recognized his voice. He called from China to let her know Optimus was returning. A trustworthy person. She accepted his handshake and gave it one strong pump.

"Hi, I'm Mikaela. Mikaela Banes-Prime."

"Yeah, uh, I know. Optimus told me all about you."

Again, a thrill leapt through her pulse, but her concern cut it short. "He did, did he?"

"Mmhmm." Cade rested his hands on his hips.

"So what's his problem?"

He looked upward at the titanic door. "Dunno. He charged in, locked the door and had a breakdown. Lots of yelling and throwing things around. Now he's not talking to anybody."

Mikaela's heart squeezed in on itself. Taking a deep breath calmed her nerves. Optimus usually took his rage out on bits of wood behind the cabin. But that was his human-sized hologram, and he only chopped up trees that already fell. He often feared the sort of damage he could do at his full size.

While he never, ever felt any desire to strike out at Mikaela or Elita, he constantly worried about them accidentally getting caught in the crossfire. All it took was someone opening a door or rushing to console him at the wrong moment to bring disaster.

"I'll try to talk to him. He usually listens to me," said Mikaela. She regarded Cade kindly. "Thanks."

"Worth a shot." Cade nodded politely and departed up the hallway she just came through.

Once alone, Mikaela dialed Optimus' number on her phone. She listened to it ring and ring and ring until the thump of a pickup. Talking to a bot's commline wasn't much different than chatting up someone else using a phone. Background noises and a bot's bodily sounds often transmitted unless they switched to a private line.

Optimus didn't say anything, but Mikaela heard his eyelids clicking.

"Hey, boss bot." She touched the door. "It's me."

No response other than a faint whirring.

Mikaela pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. She switched her phone to speaker so she could hold it like a walkie talkie. "Your buddies dropped by Area 51 to pick me, Elita and Mags up. I'm here for you. Can you open the door?"

Wheezing and grinding noises crackled through the phone. Silent treatments from Optimus were never malicious or manipulative. He clammed up like this whenever he feared losing his cool.

But he needed to remember who spoke to him that very minute.

She bristled. "Don't shut me out! I don't care if you cuss at me or throw things. Just open this damn door and let me in so we can talk ab-"

"They know."

No context needed. Those booming words engulfed everything.

Sweat beaded on Mikaela's forehead. She took another deep breath to keep her mind clear. Neither said anything for a timeless time. The pause weighed more than neutron stars.

Murmured voices spoke at the far end of the ship. No shadows darkened the corridor.

"Optimus, please. Open the door." Mikaela touched the impassible obstacle between them. "I don't care what it looks like in there and I don't care what you look like. It's just me out here, okay? Nobody else."

Silence.

Click.

Rapid busy signal.

"Oh, no you don't." Mikaela redialed.

The door whirred open a fraction of a degree before she connected the call. She bolted through, pocketing her phone on the way.

Swords as big as Optimus' lay scattered about. She climbed over the pommel of one inside the door and examined the cold airplane hangar-sized space. Immense silver statues framed all four walls and a dais marked the room's center.

Optimus sat against the opposite wall, his form shadowed under the dim lights. Dirt and dents marred his frame. Dried seawater scents wafted off his armor. He leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees and held his head in his hands, unable to look at her.

Mikaela sat on the floor next to him. Ridiculous, considering the size difference between them. Being around his human-sized hologram so much almost made her forget he was enormous.

He covered his optics with his left hand and rested his right hand flat on the floor. She rubbed his knuckles as if warming them. The appendage flipped over, delicately grasping her hand between thumb and forefinger. She curled her fingers around his fingertip. He slid the palm obscuring his optics downward over his mouth.

"This..." Optimus rubbed his forehead against his hand as though brushing imaginary hair out of his face. "I-I don't know where to begin."

Mikaela patted his fingertip. "Start where you need to."

He clapped his hand over his mouth like someone about to vomit. His optics opened wide, and at last he blurted it out.

"I wanted to die. I was supposed to die. I deserved to die for what I- Cade prevented my execution by the Knights. But, afterward, I almost... I almost..." He mimed tearing his own Spark chamber out. His intakes wheezed, "I thought of you and Elita and all the possibilities... I couldn't do it. As much as I wanted to...I couldn't."

Hot heaviness clenched Mikaela's throat. "Do you think you'll try again?"

"No." A shiver ran through him. "I was weak. I was a fool. I let everyone down. You, Elita, this planet, the Autobots...everyone."

Mikaela stood up and squinted at the familiarity in his misery. "Everybody fucks up, Optimus. How bad can it be?"

Optimus barked a cold, bitter laugh that didn't dance in his optics or alight his face.

"To put it in your most eloquent terms, Mikaela, this is the fuck-up to rule all fuck-ups."

Her eyes stung. Prodding him to tell her exactly what happened wasn't going to work anymore. She had to brave his storm until he unveiled its center. Still, hints for where to navigate never hurt.

"You said your men know about the stasis trauma."

"Mmhmm. It came up when Drift ran a CPU scan to make sure Quintessa didn't leave any malware behind."

He grimaced and simulated a sigh.

"No malware showed up, but the stasis trauma signature was there for everyone to see. The room fell as silent as a vacuum, and I felt everyone start to pity me. I have never felt so humiliated in my life! That...that is not how I wanted them to find out."

"I'm sorry." Mikaela relaxed her shoulders.

"For what? It isn't your fault."

She rubbed his calf armor since it was in her immediate reach. "Maybe it's time to talk to the Autobots. Tell them your story. Demystify everything they're so afraid of about mental illness."

His facial plating scrunched, the robot equivalent of a whiskey face. "I hate to shoot down your idea like this, but what difference will telling my story make to them?"

Mikaela balked at him. She knew that was the depression talking. Depressive episodes followed his emotional outbursts like thunder after a lightning flash.

It hurt, seeing Optimus Prime, the eons-old Autobot leader who always had a pep talk or words of hope, sink deeper into himself. Everybody looked up to Optimus and sought him for help with their problems. Optimus looked up and saw stars.

But Mikaela was among those stars. The universe brought them into each others' lives. Fate tried to tear them apart, and it failed miserably because love held them together like gravity.

And sometimes, love had to be tough. Mikaela squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and let Optimus have it.

"What difference will your story make? Really?" She started ticking items off on her fingers, "What difference did the Bible make, huh? What about Anne Frank's diary? Fairy tales? Arthurian legends? Godzilla movies, Doctor Who and Star Trek? What about them?"

He scowled at the floor. "Hmph, what about them?"

But he was listening. He walked away when he didn't want to hear something, and he hadn't moved to stand. Mikaela noticed that and lowered her voice to its normal volume.

"The stories we tell challenge how people think about a situation. They make us take a walk in someone else's shoes and show us a new point of view. Stories make us believe in magic and give us hope. Most of all, Optimus, stories tell us we aren't alone in how we feel."

He grimaced and covered his face with both hands. She watched his audio covers perform a quarter turn as he digested what she said, so she kept talking.

"Your men might be hiding something just like you were. You said it yourself- Cybertronians keep mental illnesses hush-hush because they're afraid of them. You're their leader, so lead them."

A metallic growl escaped Optimus' throat. He slid his hands off his face and snapped, "And what if they shun me further, or see me as unfit to lead?"

Anguish boiled off him like stormy seas. Good. Anger was better than blank nothing. Mikaela grabbed it and hung on.

"That's why you need to talk to them, Optimus! Look, what good is staying quiet going to do? Everybody knows. Everybody looks at you when there's a problem, right?"

"That may not be the case soon," he grumbled, "Mikaela-"

"No." Mikaela karate-chopped the air to cut him off. She utilized her 'I'm-your-mom-now-listen' tone when she said, "You're their leader, and you're damn good at leading by example. Now lead! Be the example! Tell them what it's like to have stasis trauma. Answer their questions. Show them how you live, fight and cope with it. Show them that it's okay to talk about mental illness by talking about it."

"What if they don't listen?"

She arched an eyebrow. "What if they do?"

Hints of a smile cracked through the tension in Optimus' face plates. Mikaela knew that look.

Gotcha, boss bot, she thought.

Servos whirred when he clenched his fists. Sadness took over again, clouding him behind unknowns. He was a hurricane of emotions. Still, stirred-up feelings were light years better than apathy.

Mikaela eased out of her authoritative stance to take the pressure off him. The next rain band arrived in its own time.

"Your world went from being caught in the crossfire to becoming part of my world's war. Every death weighs on my Spark, and I caused many today. Far too many. Many more will follow in the future." Optimus met her gaze again. "When does it end, Mikaela?"

The desperation and agony in his optics buffeted her. Having no clear-cut answer felt like a roof losing shingles to the storm.

Their relationship built itself on a moment like this. Struggle provided the raw materials. Communication did the building. Listening became the framework. Love was the foundation.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Optimus shuddered and covered his face again. He was gripped in a silence so agonizing that Mikaela heard his body creak.

Someone, or something, had destroyed him in a different way than all his other experiences.

"Quintessa is the Great Deceiver Elita was talking about." Optimus's voice barely crossed the distance. "I fell for her trickery. I fell right into it. I believed her lies. I-I allowed this-" He gestured upward at the imagined sky, "-to happen to Earth."

Aha. A path to his storm's center. Bots with stasis trauma were prone to suggestibility because their minds already struggled at distinguishing flashbacks from reality. But that only happened when somebody messed with a mentally ill bot's software.

"There's no way to know that for sure," Mikaela protested. A reflexive response meant to break through a torrent of intrusive thoughts.

Optimus jerked his head up, his optics narrowing into slits. He jabbed his pointer finger towards his chest, snarling, "I know that for sure! I have always known exactly who I am!"

The sudden loudness of his voice sent her leaping back half a foot. He closed his fist and stared at it like a traitor. His glowing pupils became pinpoints that flared with his words.

"I have questioned the decisions I made." He raised his fingers and thumb to count off his declarations as he stated them. "I have questioned the outcomes of battles I fought. I have questioned how many deaths I could have prevented. I have questioned the example I set for the Autobots. I have questioned my honor."

Then he punched the floor, sending a vibration rippling up her legs. His voice rose into an enraged roar, "I never questioned myself! I never questioned who I am! Never!"

Rage reverberated around the room, an echo painting his pain on every surface it touched.

Time stood still for a beat. Mikaela licked her dry lips and relaxed. His fury didn't frighten her nearly as much as not knowing what happened to evoke it.

Optimus' expression cooled from rage to horror and finally settled on neutral.

"My behavior was extremely inappropriate. You did nothing to deserve that. I'm sorry." He pressed a hand over his optics and slouched forward. Shame colored his movements in all shades of shadows and darkness.

There he went again, worrying about her when he was flying apart at the seams.

"Shh, honey."

Mikaela stepped into the roar of his storm and caressed his left pinkie finger. Optimus tightened his joints like he wanted to contain something too massive to experience all at once.

"I don't know what to do," he murmured, his voice strained, "I don't know what to feel. This is all so confusing."

Mikaela swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Talk to me. I don't care how long it takes."

Servos whirred. Optimus offered the hand previously covering his optics. She stepped on. He held her against his chest. His hands surrounded her in tender safety. She grasped the V-shaped strips of metal that dove down between his chest plates and leaned her forehead against his chin. It became so quiet she heard the ringing pulse of his Spark.

"I love you," Mikaela whispered.

"I love you, too," Optimus rumbled back.

A moment later, he set her gently on the dais, wiped his face with one hand and began gathering up the swords. Episodes like this urged him to curl up, shut the world away and not move for days at a time. Menial tasks like putting a messy space in order occupied his mind just enough to keep moving.

Getting busy also broke his voice loose. He told Mikaela everything while he worked. Even when his voice shook, he gave her the full, ugly truth.

About Quintessa. Earth being Unicron. The Relic that turned out to be Excalibur. The Witwiccans. The Staff. Merlin. King Arthur. The Knights. Stonehenge. Cybertron.

About what Quintessa did. Chains. Energy blasts. Beaten. Brutalized. Fed lies. Sweet-talked. Suggested to. Confused. Helpless. Afraid. Beaten again. Angry. Beaten again. Pain. Rage. Reprogramming. Losing his identity. Losing his sense of self. Losing sight of his goals. Shutting down mentally. Believing he had Cybertron's best interests at Spark. Beating the tar out of Bumblebee.

Bumblebee's voice bringing his senses back. Submitting himself to die at the hands of the Knights. Cade interfering. Megatron taking the Staff. Suicidal thoughts. Doubts. Cade's speech. Pushing himself to stand up and fight. The battle in the Ignition Chamber. Seeing the damage done to Earth.

His story horrified Mikaela. Her blood ran cold in her veins, yet she maintained a schooled expression and listened. He needed to get this off his chest and process it without being questioned.

The disaster zone of a room slowly regained order. Optimus knelt by the dais, which brought them face to face.

"Enough energy was gained to begin rebuilding Cybertron, but there is no way of knowing the harm done to Earth. Even if I corrected my mistake, the fact remains that my actions led to the state of your planet." He simulated a sigh and let his shoulders slump. "I may have destroyed any faith or trust your people had in mine."

Mikaela shook her head. "Elita still believes in you. I still believe in you. Cade sounds like he believes in you."

"And the seven billion out there? The ones who continue to hunt and destroy us?" He pointed in the general direction of outside. "What about them?"

Mikaela guiltily recalled wondering whether Cybertronians were truly living beings. Optimus gazed at her with all the pain of his Spark reflected in his blue optics.

"The people out there?" She gathered her own guilt and squished it into anger. "They're bigoted sheep who won't think for themselves. To hell with them!"

Why couldn't the human race look Optimus in the eye and see what she saw? Why did human arrogance prevent people from realizing the sole difference between them and Cybertronians was the makeup of their bodies?

"But I believed Quintessa's lies. I chose to believe them. Then I took the Staff from Vivian's hands myself. And Bumblebee..."

"Sounds like Bumblebee and Cade knew that wasn't the real you," Mikaela interjected. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. "You said Cade tried to talk sense into you."

"Yes."

"And it worked, didn't it?"

"No... Bumblebee's voice broke through the reprogramming."

"That means a part of you knew you were doing the wrong thing."

Optimus squeezed his optics shut and angrily hung his head. When he straightened up again, he snapped, "I believed I was right!"

"Do you still believe you were?"

"No! Mikaela, you're missing the point!"

Mikaela scowled at him. He kept shifting course in the conversation, and it was as frustrating as cruising behind an erratic driver who never signaled before changing lanes.

She threw her hands up in the air and did the equivalent to honking her horn.

"Optimus, you're all over the place. I can't keep up!"

The dais vibrated when he stood up. He linked his hands together behind his head and paced a lap around the room.

"Humans want a reason to distrust me, and I gave them one. Cybertronians fear mental illness, and my actions perpetuated that fear. Everyone has reasons to doubt and fear me."

Aha.

Mikaela's frustration cooled. Now she saw the raging eye wall of his hurricane, and she hated that she couldn't shield him from it.

"I don't." She allowed herself a small smile.

"I know you don't."

Optimus separated his linked hands, slid them forward and clutched both sides of his head. He ground his lip plates together. The squeak of metal on metal wasn't loud when he did it in his bot hologram. At full size, it sounded like his jaw hinges were about to snap.

Whole-body tremors stopped him in his tracks. He dropped his right hand at his side and pressed his left palm against his forehead. His pacing resumed. Air whooshed violently through the vents in the nape of his neck and steam escaped his nose. He resembled a caged dragon warming up to breathe fire.

The long columns of steam became short, irregular bursts. His audio covers spun wildly and his inner and outer pupils dilated to their widest aperture. He rubbed his hands together and glanced around like he expected something horrible to happen.

"All I see... Death...chaos...destruction...failure...and unknowns. It's all so difficult. I just- I-I just..."

They sailed through the eye of his hurricane and into the other eye-wall. Now the wind raged in the opposite direction.

Mikaela took a deep, cleansing breath and focused on making herself calm. She relaxed her posture before guessing at his train of thought.

"You don't know where to go from here?"

He nodded, grinding his mouth plates. Steam wisped from his nose again.

"I hate this," he grumbled.

Sometimes, Mikaela longed for the days when brief conversations perked him back up before her eyes. He used to see the good in everything and everyone until Cemetery Wind entered the picture. Out of all the betrayals he endured, a careless act by a human named Maxwell Pagonis hurt the most.

"Me, too." She beckoned towards herself with both hands. "C'mon. Sit down before the shakes knock you over."

Optimus shuddered, slapping his palm against his brow as if trying to beat away the tremors. He knelt next to the dais and grasped the handle of a sword.

"Please avoid contact with my head. I-I don't want to burn you."

Mikaela daringly swung off two cross guards to land hard on his left shoulder. She held onto his collar armor for added security.

"I'll be fine."

Another shiver hit him. Tremors were the most physically debilitating part of his panic attacks. They disrupted his fine motor skills, causing him to drop things or lose his balance, and they happened because his fight-or-flight programming kept kicking online. Useful in battle- he didn't have to think about using his weapons if they were already armed- but detrimental during a panic attack. He did something like using a desktop computer's task manager to shut it off. Motor function disturbances were the side effect of him literally turning a slice of his brain off and on again.

"Think about our first dance," said Mikaela, "Do you remember what a beautiful night that was?"

His vents whooshed and the metallic ozone smell was almost overpowering.

"The skies were clear...a typical spring night for that geographical location." He quivered, his voice strained, "And you were distressed about your spoiled night. I remember- I searched Google for the significance of a prom because I was curious about your attire."

The heat coming off him dwindled, though he still emitted steam. Mikaela gazed straight ahead at the matte metal door across the room and let him talk.

"...I must admit, I experienced some trepidation immediately before I asked you to dance."

The decision responsible for everything sprang up in her mind.

"May I have this dance, Mikaela?"

She had no notion of what lay in his outstretched hand. All she knew was she had no fear when she took it and felt his fingers close around hers.

"Okay, I'll dive in."

And they started a dance that never ceased.

Optimus grimaced and pressed his fingertips to the sides of his head like it hurt. "The best part of that night was you doing exactly what you are doing right now."

Mikaela smiled up at him, "Is it working?"

He eyed her through the corner of his optic. His pupil was still disproportionately huge, almost like he had two rings of blue LEDs instead of one.

"Yeah, a little."

Steam followed his response. A long, healthy exhale instead of tiny bursts. She noticed it getting thinner, which meant less heat. His audios weren't spinning as much and optics contracted the right aperture for the ambient light.

"Mikaela... I'm sorry."

"Why?"

He looked away. "I am not the bot who danced with you on your prom night. I can't be that bot anymore."

She wiped her bubble ponytail off her shoulders. "I'm not the girl who danced with you on my prom night. I can't be that girl anymore, either."

Optimus peered at her. "Mikaela- I-"

"Optimus, it's okay." She touched his cheek. It was still hot from his panic attack, but not painfully so. "I needed a hero on my prom night. I don't need one right now."

"I do." He flashed a shaky half-smile and eyed her hoodie. "And you have never let me down."

"I'll be your hero any time you need one." Mikaela's heart swelled at the compliment. The irony of her Pink Ranger hoodie wasn't lost on her. She smiled back at him with tears in her eyes. "You can be your own hero, too, you know. Just be brave and try. Talk to your men, okay?"

The tremors finally ceased. He cupped his hand against her back and released a soft mechanical-sounding sigh.

"I-"

A racket in the corridor sent Optimus sprinting to the door faster than Mikaela could process that he moved. He opened it and peeked out.

"It's all right," he said, "It's just Elita causing a ruckus."

Mikaela's heart sank. Her positioning didn't let her see much out the door. "Uh oh. Gimme a hand?"

Optimus helped her to the floor. She hurried down the hall and into the main cargo area. There, she spotted Elita climbing up a huge- and thankfully stable- crate pile. The other Autobots milled around, more or less ignoring her as they chatted among themselves.

Hearing Optimus' name being murmured stopped Mikaela in her tracks. Just long enough for Elita to stand up straight, cup her hands around her mouth and holler at the top of her lungs.

"Hey!"

When the bots didn't respond fast enough, she took her necklace off and held it up. The Matrix of Leadership transformed to its full size in her hand.

"Autobots, I said hey!"

She stomped on the crate. Its rattling clang rang around the room, silencing everyone.

"I'm a Prime and I'm holding the Matrix! That means you have to listen! Stop talking about my dad like that! Stop it right now! I mean it, stop!"

Crosshairs inclined his head to regard her. "Hey, sugar, what gives?"

"Don't 'sugar' me, Crosshairs. You guys, you're all being stupid! Do you think I don't notice what you're doing because I'm a kid? You're talking about my dad like he's got the plague! I heard what happens to bots when people find out they're sick, and you're doing it. You're doing exactly what he said you were gonna do! He-"

"It is a highly uncomfortable issue," said Drift, who languidly spread his hands to gesture at the gathering. "A grave disturbance in one may unsettle many."

"What's so bad about that?" Elita challenged him. "Huh? What's so bad about that?"

Cade emerged from behind a bulkhead and edged over next to Mikaela. He looked as shocked as she felt.

Hound puffed his cy-gar. "Some scrap is better off on the down-low."

"Why?"

Nobody had an answer.

Elita pointed at Ultra Magnus. "You said you suspected it, and you kept it to yourself."

"Yes, because it was none of my business. Mental illness is a private matter." Ultra Magnus side-eyed the other bots accusingly.

Bumblebee's optics brightened, yet his voice carried a note of worry. "I'm more than willing to help him."

"I know you will, 'Bee." She pointed rudely at the others, "I'm more upset at them!"

"Watch it, kid!" Hound's face plates bristled. He narrowed his optics at her and the cy-gar in his mouth bounced with his words. "It's our business to know when it's our leader."

"Who's compromised," muttered Crosshairs.

"Stasis trauma is one of the worst ways to frag a bot up," Hound went on, "They're ticking time bombs, and it's a countdown 'til their grip on reality slips for good. Then-"

"Shut up!" Elita shrieked at him, "It's not like that at all! You don't know anything!"

Mikaela heard movement in the corridor. She looked back. Optimus leaned on the wall with his arms crossed and his head bowed, listening to every word.

Crosshairs nudged past Drift to regard Elita. "Darlin', a bot with stasis trauma is damaged goods. They break down over the centuries if they don't get treatment. That's the sad truth."

"Fool." Drift clenched his fists and moved away from Crosshairs to stand by Bumblebee. Bumblebee's optics narrowed in a cold scowl at Crosshairs.

"Okay, have you personally met a bot with stasis trauma?" Elita challenged Crosshairs and Hound. "Do you know a bot with it? Have you talked to a bot with it? Have you listened to a bot with it tell you what it's like?"

"Teachers showed us data tracks at the Academy," said Hound. "Bots yelling and acting like they're in a fight with hallucinations. I saw enough. It's sad n' scary stuff."

Crosshairs shrugged his shoulders and guiltily examined his knuckles. He side-eyed Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus squinted back at him.

"That's the problem!" Elita set the Matrix between her feet. "You all got this twisted image of what it is, and you don't question it!"

"Just a nanosec-"

"Shush! I'm talking!" She cut Crosshairs off.

"Dad was sick when he sent his hologram back to live with us after he flew away in space. He kept it secret from us for a year because he was scared. He was scared of what mom and me were gonna think of him, and he was scared of what you were gonna think of him. And when he couldn't hide it anymore, we talked about it. Mom and I told him he didn't have to hide anything from us, and do you know what happened? Can you jerks guess?"

Silence. Dead silence with a lot of curious, blinking optics.

Elita planted her hands on her hips.

"It made things easier for him. I asked him what stasis trauma felt like, and he told me everything. I learned about it from him, somebody who actually has it, not a stupid textbook or a video. I told him he didn't have to pretend he's fine around me anymore. I got to see how brave he is. You guys talk about how brave my dad is, and you're right. But he's way braver than you think!

"He gets really depressed. He gets really mad. He has nightmares and he has flashbacks. He gets hyper vigilant and paces around checking windows and doors. He thinks horrible thoughts that he can't control. He's scared a lot. That's just some of it!

"My dad is fighting a war inside his head every second of every day, and he has to pretend he's okay because he's your leader and he knows you look up to him. Pretending he's fine when he's not uses a lot of his energy, but he does it because that's how much he cares about you!

"You all run to him with your problems. He runs to my mom and me with his because we're all he's got. He doesn't have to be a Prime with us."

Anguish rose in her like a physical force that reddened the skin on her face. She clenched her fists and shifted her weight, trying to contain it without screaming at them.

"What kind of friends are you if you ditch my dad the minute you find out he's mentally ill? Huh? You look up to him all your lives, only to run away when he stops being perfect?"

Tears gleamed on Elita's cheeks. She sniffed and pointed towards the corridor. "That's my dad you're talking about. He's my hero and I love him, and I'm not gonna stand here and let you jerks talk like that about him!"

In the corridor, Optimus tensed and looked straight up at the ceiling.

"Aw, don't cry." Crosshairs reached for the crate Elita stood on.

"No! I'm not done talking!" Elita snapped. She grimaced and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"You get scared of mental illness because you like to pretend it can't happen to you, but it can. It can happen to anybody. Good people, bad people, anybody! Nobody chooses it and it's not the person's fault if they get sick, so why do you treat them like it is? Is my dad less of a person because he's sick? Do you think it makes him weak? I've got news for you, it doesn't! Not a bit!"

Now the amused looks being exchanged ceased. The only sounds were Elita's voice and occasional whirring servomechanisms.

"Mentally ill people aren't broken, but their supporters are when they throw them away. That's why mentally ill people feel broken! How're you going to learn about it if you keep it a secret and shut mentally people out of society?"

She jumped up and down, her sneakers banging on the metal crate. "How- will- you- learn?"

Mikaela squared her shoulders, impressed. Elita had her audience captivated. And she kept talking, her smooth voice somehow booming like her father's.

"Stop being all hush-hush! Just stop it! Sit down and talk about it! There's two ways to stop being afraid of something! Face it and understand it, or destroy it. You're not gonna understand stasis trauma if you ignore people who have it instead of talking to them! Do you know what helps destroy them? Not talking! Ignoring! Dismissing! Minimizing! Downplaying! I can keep going! Are you buttheads listening?"

Elita picked up the Matrix and it transformed back into its miniature form. She put it on without tucking the charm under her shirt.

"It's hard to see my dad have a nightmare or a flashback. It's hard to watch him get depressed, shake all over or hear him yell at his horrible thoughts, but I can walk away and not be affected by it. You can walk away and not be affected by it." Her voice dropped low as she jabbed her finger at every bot in the room before gesturing at the corridor, "But my dad is the one going through it, and he can't walk away."

Dead quiet. Everybody was too much in shock to say a word. Nobody moved until Elita sat on the crate and climbed down the metal slats. She hid behind the lowest crate to blow her nose on a wadded tissue from her pocket.

"Did we just get schooled by a kid?" Crosshairs whispered.

"Yup," Hound answered.

Ultra Magnus rubbed the back of his head. "I warned you that she is explosive."

Bumblebee's expression tilted in a smile. He climbed onto the crate Elita hid behind. "Hey."

Her response was too quiet to hear.

Cade ducked his head and slid his hands into his pockets. He looked surprised, too, which made Mikaela even more proud.

Drift didn't say anything. He sat still, resting the point of his sword on the floor and twirling it slowly by the handle.

Mikaela looked up at Optimus in the corridor. Only his optics and hints of his outline were visible in the dark. He quirked a faint smile, and she knew he was proud, too.

The moment broke when Hound slipped behind Drift and cooed in his ear, "So, no haiku for the occasion?"

Drift's optics flashed and his expression went absolutely glacial. He spun his blade once more, hurled Hound to the floor, caught his sword before it stopped spinning and pressed it to the green Autobot's nose.

Snickering, Hound swatted the sword aside. "You're too easy to rile up."

"You seem eager to lose an optic. Fortunately for you, I am not inclined to remove it this time." Drift spat back at him. He withdrew his sword and stormed into the corridor, pausing only to offer Optimus a brief salute.

Vibrations rumbled through the ship moments later. A faint downward pull was the only indication of liftoff.

Mikaela glanced at Cade, whose eyes drooped. The man looked about ready to pass out from exhaustion.

"C'mon. I've got camping supplies. Go tell Elita I'm gonna ask Optimus where we can set up camp."

"There's air mattresses," Cade said. "Should we blow 'em up?"

Thirty minutes later, everyone curled up in the crate Optimus turned on its side for them. He placed it in the corner adjacent to the door of armory he'd taken over as his quarters. Nobody risked tripping over anything in that corner, the engine noise was minimal, and the crate's bottom blocked out the lights.

Mikaela and Elita shared an air mattress. Cade got the other one. Optimus peeked in on them as they finished designating their sleeping spots.

"Is Viviane securing the Staff?"

"Mmhmm," Cade yawned. "Drift said we're stopping over England again, so I'll meet up with her in a couple days. Bumblebee is gonna take Elita up to the top of the Tor tomorrow. I might join them unless you guys need me here."

"That's fine. The Tor is one of Elita's 'lifetime bucket list' destinations," said Optimus, his tone light.

"I can't wait," Elita chirped excitedly.

"Are you hoping you'll find Avalon?" he teased.

"A girl can wish, can't she?" She undid her pigtails before she clambered into her sleeping bag and laid down.

Optimus leaned further into the crate. Size differences be-damned, he and Elita gently bumped foreheads, touched noses and exchanged a good night kiss.

"Good night, sweet-Spark. I love you."

"G'night, dad. Love you, too."

Those kind optics fixed on Mikaela next. Uncertainty lurked within their blue glow. She thumbed the corner of his mouth.

"Doing okay?"

"Yes." Optimus nodded solemnly. He tucked his lower lip plate behind the upper one and vented a mechanical sigh. "Just...feeling my age, I suppose."

She crinkled her nose as his 'breath' wafted across her face. "Well, don't worry, you don't look old."

"How fortunate." His tired expression morphed into a smile that softened his metal features. "I love you."

Mikaela kissed his bottom lip plate. "I love you, too, boss bot."

Cade fiddled with his sleeping bag zipper. He offered a wordless salute that was swiftly returned. Optimus' hydraulics hissed as he backed away from the crate.

"What?" Mikaela confronted Cade's stare.

"Wow." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"What?"

"You guys are so normal together."

"Normal is a relative concept." Mikaela stretched out on her stomach. She bunched her travel pillow up with her arms and laid her head on top of it.

He rustled his sleeping bag. "I know. It's giving me the urge to ask questions with 'none of your business' answers."

"Lemme answer the three biggest ones." Elita snorted at both of them, "Yeah, my parents bang like a screen door in a hurricane. Yeah, dad can get off. No, he doesn't have a penis like the fish guy in The Shape of Water. Bonus answer, he uses the hologram."

"Shut up, El!" Mikaela's cheeks burned. She wished for every molecule of her being to denature and sink between the metal floor seams. "Oh, my God!"

"Whoa! TMI!" Cade laughed and laid on his back with his hands folded behind his head.

"I saved you from wondering. You're welcome." Elita shot back.

"Geez, kid..."

"Ugh." Mikaela closed her eyes and tried to pretend the previous five minutes didn't happen.

.o

Sleep proved elusive. An hour of Elita's and Cade's quiet breathing finally drove Mikaela off the air mattress. No sense waking them up by wriggling around. She smelled yesterday's clothes to see if they were wearable again. The jeans were okay, but armpits of the halter top and hoodie stank like a gym locker room. Gross.

Mikaela kept her back to Cade while she removed her oversized Disneyland logo nightshirt, sniffed herself and applied fresh deodorant. Not as good as a shower, but better than stinking. She donned an I-don't-care outfit consisting of yesterday's ripped jeans, a tight low-cut charcoal gray T-shirt and a brown fleece hoodie left unzipped. The cold metal floor seared her feet, so she put on black socks and black high-top tennis shoes. Finally, she undid her bubble ponytail, brushed her hair and left it loose after she worked out the tangles.

"Tch, sleeping like babies," Mikaela mused at her slumbering companions.

She stepped outside the crate. A yawn reminded her of the sleep she wasn't getting. She tilted her head back, stretching. The Knight statues caught her eye. All four had ear finials similar to Optimus, and they held their swords blades-down like museum pieces.

Speaking of Optimus, he wasn't anywhere in sight. Mikaela left the armory and padded into the long corridor until she reached the other end. She photographed her path with her phone as a safeguard against getting lost.

The expansive room everybody gathered in earlier was empty. No Autobots anywhere.

Mikaela followed the back wall to the second corridor she saw Drift use. It appeared to circle back to the armory, but that wasn't the case. She discovered steps constructed of rough bar grating leading up towards another platform.

Using the grating like short ladders took a lot of stamina. Mikaela's shoulders and arms burned with the effort, and she almost kissed the solid floor at the top. She rounded the corner to find a ramp. Smooth, perforated metal this time. The holes were hexagon shaped, like mouths hungry for careless human feet. She used the perforations as handholds and footholds and scaled the ramp on all fours. Keeping her eyes on the top prevented her from noticing how terrifyingly high she climbed.

Her exhausting effort rewarded her with an enormous empty chair situated on a distant platform. Its size reminded her of a grand throne fit for kings. The floors consisted of solid panels. No more grates. Whew.

"Can't sleep?" Optimus' voice broke the silence.

Startled, Mikaela spun to face him. He stood at the front end of the platform, which lay opposite to the immense chair. Behind him, a broad opening revealed endless blackness. Jointed strips of metal interrupted the circular hole and its rim. The whole thing appeared able to contract shut like an iris at a moment's notice.

"Yeah." She held her chest while taking a calming breath.

Optimus transformed into vehicle mode. His hologram shimmered into being near his front grill, an invitation to join him. Mikaela avoided the narrow gap in the middle of the platform when she approached him.

"The ship is using your sun's radiation to recharge its fuel cells. It works faster if Earth's atmosphere isn't in the way." Optimus took Mikaela's hand like a gentleman and brought her right up to the opening in the wall. "You're perfectly safe here. The force fields will block the solar radiation."

Earth's glistening blue crescent stretched as far as her eyes saw. Its outer edge blurred where the sky and universe met. Mikaela studied what little she could see and picked out Australia among the clouds.

She asked, "Will Unicron wake up?"

Optimus' deep voice rumbled in her ear, "It is extremely unlikely."

"So where is he? Is he the Earth or just inside it?"

"I don't know. Earth's magnetic field makes it impossible to scan it properly. That may be why human instruments haven't been able to detect him, too."

Her fingers curled. Rage clenched her stomach.

"What if the tectonic plates are his transformation seams?" She huddled against his side and buried her face against his shoulder. "What if he twitched?"

Optimus shifted her back enough to see her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Mikaela sighed, tapping on his shoulder armor. "Optimus, don't. My problems are tiny compared to the crap you're dealing with right now."

"No issue you face is too inconsequential for me."

"You'll blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. I don't want to make you feel worse." She sniffed.

"Mikaela..." He cupped the back of her head and his optics pleaded with her. "You look how I must have looked on your prom night. I was a hollow shell around a crumbling interior. You offered me refuge. Now, here, I offer you the same."

Pain clutched at her throat as he spoke the truth. Her eyes stung. She blinked quickly, trying to contain a brewing avalanche.

The pleading look in his optics softened into compassion. "Whatever you went through, Mikaela, it pains you enough to matter. If it matters to you, it matters to me, too."

Mikaela turned away. No comfort came from the view of Earth or the stars. Tears skittered free like the little tattletales they were. She cursed under her breath. Spending over a decade with Optimus taught her how to put on a brave face while everything inside was wet tissue paper facing atomic explosions. No wonder he had trouble turning it off. Stiff upper lips were notoriously habitual.

"It's hard." The words tasted heavy on her tongue. She gazed outside, trembling. "You get used to looking tough. You make a habit out of not cracking and convince yourself you're fine because somebody needs you."

"The worst kind of loneliness." His low voice came from behind her.

Nodding, she hugged herself tighter and watched the Earth spin outside. Tears blurred her vision. Her heart was heavy like a neutron star. All the pain in her throat collapsed inward and threatened to pull the rest of her with it.

The grief she saw in Optimus' optics on her prom night foretold this moment. She never imagined experiencing such a visceral understanding of the loss he endured.

Mikaela closed her eyes and thrust one hand out, a blind reach of faith. Optimus' metal fingers interlocked with hers before her arm finished extending.

She let herself remember Elita wailing in terror during the awful earthquake. She let herself see debris-leaden seawater fill the streets of Tranquility. She let herself experience losing the safety her hometown represented.

The grip she had on his hand whitened her knuckles. Her veneer broke down and fell away. She didn't remember starting to cry because it felt like she'd been crying since before time began.

"How did you stand it?" Mikaela choked. "How did you stand this?"

Optimus' hand tightened protectively around hers. "The same way you did."

She surrendered and curled into him. His arms encircled her like armor, giving her the strength to spill out everything between him going into stasis and right now. He didn't interrupt to ask questions or interject his thoughts. Instead, he kissed the top of her head, held her tight and listened.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mikaela." Optimus said after she finished talking.

He didn't hang useless platitudes on her tears. She was grateful for that. Not even his superior physical strength could remove the weight on her heart, so he bore it with her. She cried on his shoulder like he cried on hers nearly fifteen years ago, and in doing so she understood how that night made him stronger.

.o

Fog blanketed everything in soft, dreamlike mystery. Mikaela resisted the urge to shiver while Optimus drove across the wet, fragrant grass. He came to a stop when the mist-blurred slope of a hill appeared amid the predawn darkness. Dew sparkled on the grass like treasure.

"This is the base of the Tor," said Optimus.

Damp earth scents surrounded Mikaela as she hopped down onto the spongy grass. Optimus wasn't more than six feet away from her, yet the clanks, whirrs and clicks of his transformation into robot mode sounded light years distant. He straightened like a mythical titan, his glistening form half-obscured by fog and dark.

Elita's enthusiasm for Arthurian legend was contagious. Mikaela's fingertips tingled.

"My tires are likely to damage this landscape." His optics were blue stars floating in the mist. "It's better to walk. The path is exactly the width of my foot."

Mikaela didn't doubt Optimus' abilities. It was the path she worried about.

"Won't your feet make as much of a mess?"

"Not if I tread lightly. That is why I chose the less steep path. It is paved with concrete to protect the hill."

"Okay." She shrugged. "Let's go."

His descending silver face swirled the mist when he knelt to offer his hand. She smiled at him, climbed onto his palm and seated herself.

The trek up the hill took longer than she expected. Optimus stepped lightly, making every effort to put one foot in front of the other on the narrow cement walkway. Partway up, the path narrowed precariously. Darkness and dense fog complicated the journey.

But they made it.

At the top, Optimus set Mikaela down and they walked the rest of the way towards the west face of St. Michael's tower. The stone structure wasn't as huge as pictures made it out to be. Optimus was twenty-eight feet tall, and the tower's topmost parapets extended six feet higher than his ear finials.

Mikaela glanced around. The rest of the world didn't exist here. Space and time seemed damped, unreal.

"How eerie," said Optimus. His expression quirked in a half-smile, "Perhaps we've stumbled onto the fabled Avalon that Elita reads so much about."

Mikaela observed a relief of a woman milking a cow etched in the stone near the large archway. Saint Brigid, was it? She couldn't recall. Some jackass tourist had carved their initials into the rock above it, an intrusive, unwelcome anachronism.

"I betcha El's having a heyday up here," she remarked.

"Mmhmm."

Cold wind whooshed around the tower and through its archways. The fog thickened like ancient breath, leading Mikaela to wonder if Elita's talk about this place wasn't full of chimerical fluff. Didn't Avalon vanish into the mist because people stopped believing in magic?

What if? Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck at the thought.

She hugged herself as she passed through the tower and leaned on the frame of the east archway. Bumblebee sprawled out in the grass beyond the path's end. His headlights lit the immediate area.

Elita wore the same clothes as yesterday, save she traded her shorts for her black stirrup sweatpants and buttoned her plaid flannel shirt to keep out the cold. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Cade didn't have anything else to change into, so he still had on his grimy once-white long-sleeved shirt and a brown jumpsuit. He tied the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist to make it into pants.

They stood side by side where the paved path ended.

"...so here it is." Cade laid something disk-shaped atop the compass rose.

The disk transfigured into something else, but Cade blocked the view. Elita's eyes widened like saucers.

"That's the real thing?" Her voice resonated through the tower. "Are you totally serious?"

Cade replied at a considerably lower volume. "One hundred percent serious."

"Holy crap." She clasped her hands together behind her back. The Matrix of Leadership necklace glistened on her chest. "Um...can I hold it?"

At Cade's pleased go-ahead gesture, Elita bent over and stiffened with effort. She stepped back and turned halfway. In her hands, a beautiful silver sword almost as long as she was tall. The cross guard bore an ornate wheel cross. Such a weapon could never be forged by mere human hands.

"Oh, my God," Elita's voice cracked. "It's real. That means he was real."

"What's real, sweet-Spark?" Optimus emerged from beside the tower and knelt to regard Elita and Cade.

Bumblebee rolled over to better see the goings-on. Cade noticed Mikaela. She put a finger to her mouth to shush him because she didn't want to interrupt her daughter's moment.

Elita peered upward at Optimus. She aimed the blade straight up at the sky. "This is Excalibur. The Excalibur! I-I'm holding Excalibur! I'm holding something King Arthur held!" She sniffled, overcome. "He was real. If King Arthur was real, and if the Staff proves Merlin was real, that means magic is real, too! It's real, dad!"

Bumblebee twitched his door-wings. Cade raised his eyebrows. Elita lowered the sword and squinted at Optimus. The blade twinkled, and it wasn't a reflection. Her necklace glimmered. That wasn't a reflection, either. The same sparkle flashed in her eyes. Also not a reflection.

"Magic can make anything happen, dad. It made me happen."

Cade wiped a hand through his hair. "'Magic' is technology too advanced for our understanding. Show an iPhone to a medieval guy and he'll think it's witchcraft or sorcery because it lights up without a fire."

"You sound like such an adult, Cade." Elita turned Excalibur over in her hands, watching it shimmer. "I'm talking about the magic people stop believing in because they grew up being told it's all pretend stories about things that can't happen. You grow up, you have kids and tell yourself it's time to live in the real world. You go on teaching your kids that, and they teach it to their kids."

She stared him down, determined. "If it's all pretend, why do we keep telling stories about magic, huh? Why do we love Arthurian legends? Why do we make cartoons like Gargoyles? Why do we write books and make movies like Lord of the Rings or The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? Is it all escapism, or is there something more in it?"

Cade stood there, one hand on the back of his head and the other on his hip. His eyes shifted towards Mikaela. She smirked, her raised eyebrows daring him to challenge the argument.

He didn't, because he couldn't.

"We're standing on the most magical spot on Earth. Two things can happen here- something or nothing." Elita faced roughly east and pointed the blade at the horizon. "Dad, what's something you want? Don't say what it is, just believe."

"Why?" asked Optimus.

Sunrise shone dimly in the fog.

"What if Avalon is still in the mist? What if we forgot how to reach it? What if we found it? Guys, throw away the crap you got told about it not being real for one second in your lives! Try it, just once."

Elita grunted and lifted Excalibur vertical again. "Make a wish, dad. I'll wish for it with you!"

Mikaela joined the group when Optimus straightened. He shut his optics and bowed his head. Concentration tightened his metal features. She found herself wishing for whatever he wanted to come true. When Cade inched beside them and closed his eyes, she sensed him doing the same. Bumblebee bent his arms to show his crossed fingers.

Wind gusted across the Tor. Elita stubbornly held Excalibur aloft, waiting.

I'm bailing if my kid turns into She-Ra, Mikaela humored herself.

Eerie silence fell. Deep within it came echoed shouts, thunderous drumming, wooden clicking and a handmade woodwind instrument twittering a lively tune. Goosebumps broke out on her arms from the power of it.

Dawn's first rays pierced the mist and struck Excalibur's relucent blade. Fog this thick should've obscured the sun, yet it blazed like a fireball climbing towards Excalibur's sharp point. Against it, the silhouettes of several people skipped circles around a dazzling bonfire while waving sticks in the air. Each wore clothes that flowed and bounced with their movements. They shouted as one and paired off to strike their sticks against each other in rhythm. After another shout, they gamboled off in complex yet organized patterns to repeat the gesture with new partners.

The sun ascended beyond Excalibur's scintillating blade. Mikaela noticed the fog swirling. Elita gave a shout that echoed the dancers and swung downward, ending the vision and music in a dazzling streak of brilliance.

Grayness parted as if cleaved down the middle. Pale blue sky appeared overhead. Below, the fog moved off a chunk of Cybertron no bigger than an American city block. Its sole structure, a tall trapezoidal building, rose off the uneven slab. Gleaming silver surfaces were surreally alien against Somerset's verdant background. Was that sitting on Moneybox field the whole time?

Spooked, Bumblebee bolted behind St. Michael's tower. Optimus shielded his optics from the sun's glare. His jaw dropped.

"Does anyone else see that?"

"That big chunk of Cybertron?" Cade pointed down the hill.

"With a building," Mikaela added.

Elita said, "It's beautiful."

"How did it get there?" asked Bumblebee.

Before anyone else said anything, Optimus fired up his ankle rockets and took off. Bumblebee scooted past the tower and transformed. Cade, Elita and Mikaela climbed into the Camaro and endured the bumpiest, most precarious downhill trip in history. Mikaela, who never had trouble with motion sickness, almost lost a year's worth of meals in the back seat. Elita happened to get in the driver's seat for once. She put all her effort into keeping Excalibur's blade from bouncing and nicking Cade. He noticed where the sword was and kept his hands clasped firmly over his crotch. It might've been funny if the ride wasn't so wild.

Reaching the bottom of the Tor took two minutes that seemed like hours. Bumblebee used debris for a ramp to drive onto the alien landscape.

Optimus loitered by the building, motionless. It was the same height as Saint Michael's tower and ten times broader. There were no visible windows, just metal fit together like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle of hexagon shaped pieces. Double doors formed a crescent seam along the narrow south side.

"What is it?" Mikaela asked as she climbed out with the others close behind. She had a feeling she knew, but she wanted to hear Optimus say it.

"I wished to see my home." Optimus' expression shifted between hope, sadness and confusion. "In human terms, this is the home where I grew up."

Bumblebee shifted into robot mode. His footsteps hardly made a sound in the mist still hanging around.

"This is crazy," whispered Cade. He squinted and bared his teeth at the morning glare.

"No." Elita met his eyes as she handed him Excalibur. "It's magic." She giggled and jogged towards Optimus. Her long shadow merged into his longer one.

Double doors hissed open when Optimus tapped on two glyphs. He paused at the entrance, inadvertently forcing Mikaela, Elita and Cade to shuffle past his calves.

The interior's size rivaled school gymnasiums. Mikaela found herself on a platform with six triangular steps descending into the trapezoid-shaped living space. The matte silver ceiling was five feet higher than the smooth, thick round beams extending around a central column like umbrella stretchers. Mirrored hexagonal tiles constructed the walls and floor, some outlined by glyphs.

"Classic Simfur architecture." Bumblebee knocked on the doorframe. "I can't remember the last time I saw a classic like th-"

"I'm home." Optimus' voice rose in pitch. Eons dropped off his shoulders in the span of a heartbeat. He slapped his palms together and crouched low. "I'm really home!"

Vibrations shook the platform as he leapt, caught the beam above him with both hands and slid forward. He thrust his legs straight out to catch himself on the column. The square tile under his feet lit up white and a convex ring illuminated the column's topmost point. Reflected light bathed the room in a soft white glow.

He swung along the beams like monkey bars, executed a pull-up and hopped down. His heavy landing rattled the platform.

Mikaela giggled at him reenacting his youth without thinking.

"Nice place, but where's the furniture?" she teased.

"Here." Optimus winked at her, crossed his arms and let himself fall into a sideways 'cool guy' lean against another spot on the central column. His shoulder pushed a triangular tile. Gears clunk-clacked like a pumping shotgun and silver cubes arose from the floor tiles encrusted with glyphs.

Cade peered over the platform's edge. "Mikaela, did he just fl- whoa!" He darted backwards when a cube extended past the space he just occupied.

Mikaela slow-blinked at Optimus, flirting back. "Yup."

Each cube shifted backwards from its position, followed the contours of the room and transformed into chairs, a table and a footstool.

Bumblebee hopped off the platform without using the steps. "Modern stuff comes out of the walls."

"Orion was old fashioned," said Optimus.

Cade inhaled through his nose and gestured at their surroundings. "Wow. This is...wow!"

"Cool!" Elita leaped onto the newly-formed chair beside the platform. The glyph encrusted arm was as big as the fluffy red sofa back in the cabin.

"Elita, that is the chair Orion sat in whenever he furthered our education or told his wonderful stories." Optimus nudged the table and the two seats behind it with his knee. "Megatron and I sat here and listened. It's also where we had a lot of arguments."

Bumblebee curled up in a golden egg-shaped chair by the far corner. It rested atop a fat, coiled red spring similar to a doorstop. Optimus approached an identical chair situated in the opposite corner. He laid his hand on top, his optics soft with remembering.

"And these chairs are where Orion told Megatron and I to sit when our arguments became far too heated to remain civil."

Optimus seated himself, crossed his arms and put his feet on the wall. Straightening his legs caused the chair to tilt precariously backwards without actually falling. He looked 'up' at Mikaela, Elita and Cade.

"We had to spend ten minutes without speaking to each other, and the wait time restarted if either of us spoke prematurely." A mischievous smile squinted his optics as he creaked his chair by pushing his feet harder against the wall. "So we annoyed each other by creaking our chairs like this."

The chair Bumblebee commandeered emitted a loud, whining squeal. He fluttered his door-wings. "Auditory warfare."

"Exactly."

"Mags would hate that," Elita snickered.

"Oh, yeah." Mikaela said back.

"Mags?" Cade arched a brow at them.

Mikaela clued him in. "Ultra Magnus."

He nodded. "Ah, the guy you showed up with. Okay. Got it."

"Great."

Mikaela sat on the entrance platform, dangled her legs and slid onto the next steps until she reached the bottom. She looked around, studying the Cybertronian glyphs on some of the wall tiles. They had patterns similar to framed pictures people hung up in their houses. Bumblebee tapped the largest one and it pulled vertically apart, revealing a window. Daylight flooded in, making everything shinier.

Cade descended the steps behind Mikaela. He turned a circle, trying to examine everything at once. A look of boyish glee sparkled in his eyes. He jerked his head to whip his hair away from his eyes and grinned.

"I'm an engineer. This is...wow. Brings a whole new meaning to modular homes, doesn't it?"

She followed the ceiling beams all the way to the far wall, where they ended at a panel rather than the wall itself.

"Yeah, sure does."

Elita shimmied off the large chair and clambered towards Optimus. "Where did grandpa Orion put you to bed and kiss you good night?"

Grandpa Orion, Mikaela barely smothered her amusement.

"I'll show you." Optimus scooped Elita into his hands and hip-checked a white panel on the wall behind him.

Ticking noises shook the floor. Mikaela saw why the ceiling had a seam when half the far wall pulled away from the main room like a drawer. A giant piece of furniture resembling exam tables in doctors' offices unfolded as the ceiling attained a hexagon shape. The top was transparent, letting more light into the otherwise dim space. Walls descended, sectioning the rooms off. One more clunk sounded before the noise and movement ceased.

"Damn," whispered Cade, "Makes our tech look primitive."

"It's a glorified drawer." Mikaela said back, only half-serious.

Optimus set Elita down on the contoured table. Nascent daylight bathed it in whiteness. He perched on its edge the same way he sat on her bed every night. She laid back, testing out the huge table.

"This was where I recharged." His optics softened as he rested his hands flat on either side of her and leaned forward. "And every single night..."

They gently bumped foreheads, touched noses and gave each other a kiss.

"Then he went into the room next door and bid Megatron good night, too." Optimus cocked his head. "We got into too much mischief when we shared a room. Separating us was the only way Orion got any recharge." He straightened and looked up at the sky, simulating a sigh. "Life was so much simpler then."

"It always is when you're a kid," Elita said. "That's why I'm not in a big hurry to grow up."

Sadness tinged the smile he flashed her. "Good. Cherish your youth, Elita. Don't look back on it and wish you did while you had the chance."

She giggled, sitting up and tightening her ponytail. "Don't worry, dad. I've got it covered." Then she pointed to a seam on the wall at the foot of the table. "What's that?"

Optimus swiped the metal strip aside, revealing various objects. One was a colorful abstract sculpture with blocks shaped like Tetris pieces. He placed it next to Elita.

"My old bang puzzle. The pieces lock together when you arrange them properly. It's a sphere when you solve it. Young bots had races to see who solved theirs the fastest."

"Like my Rubik's cube?"

"Exactly." Optimus linked his fingers together and stretched them as if popping his knuckles. "Let's see if I still remember how to do it. I'll go slowly."

Mikaela pressed a hand over her mouth to contain an excited squeal. Hearing him talk about his youth and seeing him relive it were polar opposites. Elita was so much like him in ways she didn't realize.

"Sort the top and bottom rows first. That is the most important strategy for solving this quickly."

Optimus prodded the pieces into two neat rows at the top and bottom, which left several more floating in the middle.

"Kinda reminds me of Tetris," mused Elita.

"The principle is the same. Aha!" Optimus positioned the final piece to achieve a beach ball sized rainbow sphere. He broke it up into a new abstract shape. "Shall I repeat the process at full speed?"

"Heck yeah!"

"All right, sweet-Spark. Don't blink."

To Mikaela's eyes, Optimus grabbed the puzzle and crumpled it like paper. He set the rainbow sphere down and banged his fists on the table to signal its completion, leaving no questions about why they were called bang puzzles.

"Cool!" Elita swatted the puzzle, but it stuck to the table and she couldn't move it by herself.

Cade looked up at Bumblebee. "How are you at those things?"

Optimus lobbed the puzzle at Bumblebee. "Bumblebee, think fast!"

"They are an exercise in frustration," Bumblebee scoffed back. He caught the sphere without turning his head, twirled it on his finger like a basketball and stuck it to the wall. Afterward, he walked away into the main room again, granting Optimus some privacy.

Elita rolled onto her stomach and peered over the table's edge. "What else is in there?"

Optimus ducked beyond sight to look. Metal rattled and clanked while he rummaged about.

"Let me see." Emotion suffused his voice. "Oh. Oh, wow. He's still here!"

He popped up again holding a brown motherboard with six wiry legs, two round clamps near the narrowest end and a tiny blue LED framed by twin springs. It size and shape reminded Mikaela of a pintail skateboard.

His optics softened at the strange knick knack. Whatever it was, it meant a great deal to him.

"Please," Optimus whispered, clutching the item between his hands as if in fervent prayer. He stroked the top with his thumb. The LED flickered. "Come on..."

Suddenly, the motherboard scurried up his arm like a loyal pet.

Optimus' wide-eyed worry became relaxed relief. He chuckled, plucking the critter off his chest plate and setting it on the table. Its LED flashed blue as it skittered circles around Elita.

"Elita...this is Buggy."

"Buggy?" Mikaela arched a brow.

He eyed her, scratching at the back of his neck. "I was younger than Elita when I built and named him."

Cade glanced upward at the bang puzzle still on the wall. "How young?"

"In terms of mentality? Two years old."

"That's a pretty advanced toddler. So you guys don't...?" Cade raised his hand from the floor to his head.

"Only mentally." Amusement twinkled in his optics. "I was physically a month old at the time. Buggy is my oldest personal possession."

"That's so cool, dad! Is he alive?" Elita prodded Buggy's antennae, and they twitched away from her fingers.

"Not like we are, no, but it's easy to imagine that he is. Think of an RC car that is smart enough to drive itself and obey voice commands. Buggy works the same way. He is drawn to light sources...that is why he keeps circling. Light powers him, so he 'prefers' to stay where it's bright. He only breaks the pattern if I command him to come or stay."

Optimus said something in Cybertronian and Buggy zoomed right into his hand. He smiled without trying to disguise his nostalgia and rubbed its back with his thumb. One more Cybertronian word darkened the LED. He opened his chest plate and tucked Buggy inside.

Cade's curious frown relaxed to contentment. "So how old do you peg yourself as right now? In human years, I mean."

"Hm..." Optimus rapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Mid-forties, I suppose. Not quite old, but not quite young, either. I have lived for over ten billion years, and I'll live ten billion more if I'm lucky."

"Wow," Cade mouthed. He looked at Mikaela and gestured at Optimus, awestruck.

She nodded. "Yup. Now scoot over. I want to check this out."

Elita might've inherited Optimus' mannerisms, but she didn't get her nosiness from him.

"Coming through, boss bot. Watch your feet."

"Is it your intention to snoop?" Optimus teased.

Mikaela crossed the room and planted herself squarely between his feet. "You bet."

He chuckled and opened the sliding cabinet door further. "I don't have anything to hide here."

The space held nothing but data tablets, writing styluses, a concave handheld video game device and colored glass bottles of what appeared to be nail polish. She twisted the gold one to see the label better and found a picture of an optic.

Ah, the famous Cybertronian eyelid paint. Optimus' colorful collection rivaled hers!

Behind the bottles was a clear box of applicator wands with sponges on the tips. They came in varying shapes and sizes, like makeup brushes.

She envisioned a very young Optimus dolling himself up to go out and couldn't suppress a snicker. Did he experience an embarrassing what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-when-I-wore-that phase? Because there was a reason she kept all photos of her first attempts at makeup hidden from everyone's sight.

"What's so funny?" Optimus leaned over.

"N-nothing, just..." Mikaela nodded her head towards the colorful bottles, "...wondering if you have any regrets."

He frowned and simulated clearing his throat. "I wore red and white stripes once. Never again. I looked ridiculous. And you?"

Heat rushed into her face. "Green eyeliner and red lipstick. I was eleven. It looked awful."

"Well," He imitated a priest making the sign of the Cross in the air, "I absolve you of your makeup sins."

"Shaddup!" Mikaela playfully swiped at his foot.

"Makeup?" Cade nudged in next to her. "I thought Optimus was, ah, a guy like me."

"Nope. He's not a girl, either. Cybertronians pretty much adopt whatever gender they present as on other planets." She was so used to it now that Cade's confusion seemed foreign. "So if he lands on a planet where qualities we see as masculine are feminine instead, he'll get called a she and it won't change anything." She shrugged. "Keep calling him a he. You're fine."

"Whew!" Cade wiped his forehead and grinned boyishly. "Had me worried there. Thanks for clearing that up."

"No problem. Oops, we're on the move."

"...one more thing I want to show you." Optimus' voice reverberated pleasantly around the room. He gathered Elita into his hands and set her on the floor.

Bumblebee managed to dump himself out of the egg-chair when everyone emerged in the main room. Optimus face-palmed at his silly friend's mishap.

"I never thought it possible to fall out of those."

"I'm pleased to prove you wrong." Bumblebee gleefully offered an emphatic (and upside-down) thumbs up.

Secondhand embarrassment splashed heat in Mikaela's face. Elita laughed and tugged on the bottom of her plaid shirt.

"Geez, 'Bee! Are you okay?" Cade barely contained a rude snort.

"Yes." Bumblebee righted himself.

Optimus typed on the green touch-screen hidden underneath a tile on the central column. Smaragdine light glimmered off his sharpest edges. The furniture transformed back into cubes and folded away as something whirred at the other end of the room.

A mirrored silver pole emerged through an unseen gap in the floor and contacted the ceiling between two decorative beams. The tiles below flipped over, revealing brick red undersides, and rearranged themselves as a large Autobot sigil.

Elita's expression sobered. She gazed at the pole, squinting. "This is the pole where Orion died, isn't it?"

Optimus stepped past the central column, his visage a grim mask. The pole wasn't much wider than the handle of his sword.

"Yes. This is it."

Somberness filled the room, making Mikaela's throat clutch. Optimus didn't talk about the bombing much. From what she gathered through his occasional mutterings or fragments of nightmares, Orion had gripped the pole and revealed Optimus' Prime heritage to him when everything exploded. The shock wave punched the roof downward, crushing and killing him instantly. Optimus survived because he was knocked backwards against the only standing wall, so the main shock wave missed him.

A bomb bigger than the Tsar Bomba flattened three quarters of Simfur that day. Optimus got to watch violet-hot deflagration consume everything around him. Half-melted survivors stumbled and dropped dead among the debris. Bodies piled up everywhere. Energon, coolant, oil, Spark plasma and nanite fluid slicked the streets. All the horror of Hiroshima without the fallout and radiation sickness.

Optimus dug Orion out of their ruined home and bawled over his dead body for days.

Mikaela envisioned Tranquility disappearing under surging ocean froth, remembered Ultra Magnus plucking up survivors and thought of how she tried to stop a magnitude nine earthquake with her knees for her daughter's sake.

Now I know how helpless Optimus felt, she thought glumly. Elita and Mags got out in one piece. He was all alone.

"Mikaela, are you all right?" Optimus' voice nudged her pensiveness.

"Sorry?" She shook herself free. "You say something?"

"Yes. Step onto the red tiles."

Everyone else already did. They waited for her with worried faces.

"Right." Embarrassed, Mikaela joined them. "I'm fine, guys."

Optimus felt the pole until his fingers contacted a barely-visible glyph engraved on its shiny surface. His fist closed and he twisted the entire pole a half-turn to his right. The platform descended. It was a quick, smooth ride underground.

Recessed concave fixtures illumed the square space via the four corners. Unlike the level above, the lights here were harsh. Mikaela knew exactly where they were when she saw the marble-like walls, floor and ceiling.

"You sure like red." Mikaela said. She took out a red halter top styled much like the bodice of her prom dress and held it up in front of her for Optimus to see. It was the one thing she didn't tell him she was buying, and she did not miss the way he looked twice.

"It reminds me of the night we shared. The color suits you." He turned fully towards her, their faces only a few inches apart. "It also reminds me of the first few moments of my life. I came to consciousness in a red room."

Twin bulging cylinders took up an entire wall. Optimus approached the one on the left and lightly ran his fingertips along the glass.

"This is where I was born. I'm standing where I fell when the energon drained from my chamber." Then he pointed to the wall, "And Megatron landed over there. His feet were pressed against the wall, which put his head right next to mine. We knew nothing beyond each other for the first two minutes of our lives."

Optimus froze at his birthing pod. Mikaela saw his optics focusing on something reflected in the corner behind her. He whipped around, wide-eyed, and rushed towards the oblong structure. Two Cybertronian glyphs and an ultramarine gem adorned the gunmetal gray top.

"No, no...please, no..." Optimus murmured as he pushed the gem. Like the other rooms one level up, the contents of the container emerged from the side.

The bot lying inside reclined on his back and had his hands clasped on his stomach. Mikaela identified closed optics, blue brow ridges, triangular silver plates forming a rudimentary nose and cheeks, and a delicate mouth hanging ajar.

Orion Pax resembled a sculpture painstakingly assembled by a loving creator. Pale blue coloring limned his helm and lower legs. His chest consisted of two ornate red plates held together by a silver piece sculpted into an Autobot symbol, and his dark blue hands had long, rounded fingers. They were gentle, loving hands, and looking beyond them explained their permanent stillness. Everything except his upper chest, left leg and right foot were flat like a hot press stamped his body.

Wiper fluid tears welled on Optimus' eyelids. He placed his shaking hand on the bot's chest and gently lifted the triangular piece of armor up.

Darkness. No Spark.

The tears spilled onto Orion's cheeks as if he cried them.

"No!" Optimus' face contorted. He grabbed his forehead and squeezed his optics shut. "No, no, no...this isn't fair!"

A lump clutched Mikaela's throat. For his sake, she hoped Orion would wake up, too.

But he didn't.

Cade soberly nodded towards the opposite end of the room. His eyes stayed downcast.

"C'mon. Let's give Optimus a minute."

The manner in how he said it suggested painful personal experience. He padded towards the pods, pointedly not looking at Optimus.

Mikaela and Bumblebee followed. Bumblebee's door wings sagged sadly. But Elita broke away from them, her sparkly sneakers squeaking on the floor.

"Dad! Wait! The Matrix!" She tugged at her necklace. "You can-"

Optimus held his hand palm-out.

"No." He grimaced, turning towards the coffin again. "I won't. I can't."

"But you miss him."

"Yes, with all my Spark."

Elita rubbed her eyes, ignoring Mikaela hissing at her to back off.

"That's a good enough reason, isn't it?" She gestured wildly. "C'mon, dad!"

Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose and simulated a sigh. The tears clinging to his eyelids dribbled onto his face, their journey highlighted by the harsh light beside him. He wiped them off in two quick swipes and clenched his fists. Elita's ill-timed posturing angered him, yet, as always, he maintained his patience.

"Elita, it won't be fair to him. The Matrix does not heal wounds. His Spark chamber is crushed, it can't sustain a Spark. And even if it could, I will revive him to his worst fear- our dead world and another world caught in the war against the Decepticons. As much as I want to hear his voice again...as much as I need his wisdom...I can't. I can't hurt him that way."

"But, dad-"

"No." The word boomed through the room like thunder. "To revive Orion is to violate everything Primes stand for."

She faltered, lips quivering. "You said Primes stand for freedom, justice and peace."

"I know, sweet-Spark." His expression quirked in a brief, sad smile. The cold edge left his voice, replaced by forgiving warmth. "But I will be taking freedom, justice and peace away from Orion if I revive him now. The hardest part about being a Prime is the decisions we must make."

"Like launching the Cube?"

Optimus nodded slowly, his optics downcast.

Now Elita understood his reasoning. She relaxed, the indignant sneer leaving her young face.

"Sorry, dad."

"You're a Prime. It's understandable." He fixed her in his gaze, his features softened by tenderness. "Never be afraid to speak up in the face of injustice, Elita, but make sure you allow others to share their perspectives, too."

Elita nodded without a word. She backed away from him and headed towards Bumblebee.

Mikaela didn't mean to watch Optimus' reflection in the birthing pod, yet she couldn't ignore it. He leaned into the coffin, murmuring in Cybertronian as he went through the same good night motions he did with Elita. She dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Some of what he said included phrases she recognized- things like thank you, and I'm sorry.

And then, abruptly, he clenched his fists and surrendered. His screechy, wheezy groans had a rhythm like breathing that emerged from a deep maelstrom of grief.

"Dad," Elita whispered.

"Let him be," Mikaela said. "He needs to get this out."

"I didn't know they could cry." Cade swiped his sleeve across his eyes, cleared his throat and sniffed. His voice stayed unobtrusively quiet. "I never thought I'd see him cry."

Bumblebee rested a hand on Optimus' shoulder, but didn't look at him. The gesture respected his privacy without leaving him lonely. Optimus cupped his hand over Bumblebee's. They exchanged an understanding glance.

Like all storms, his tears peaked and slowed until there were no more to shed.

"We are in the only room that survived the bombing. Orion might have lived if I waited until we came down here to ask questions about my heritage."

"Whoa, Optimus," Cade's brow furrowed. "Nobody saw that bomb coming. Your daddy's death wasn't your fault. It was bad luck with bad timing."

Optimus hung his head. Wiper fluid ran along the undersides of his face plates and emerged through his nose vents, giving the impression of a runny nose. A sideways swipe with his finger wiped it away.

"I was kneeling over Orion like this when a voice spoke to me in the language of the Primes. I understood it. It was intrinsic, I never had to learn it. The voice asked me if I knew who I was."

He gazed upward at the corner above Orion's head. "And when I looked up, just like this...there stood Sentinel Prime. I told Sentinel that I didn't know who I was or who he was."

His optics dimmed when he blinked. "I will never forget Sentinel's words. 'Fortunately for you, I can answer both. This is the past, you don't live here anymore. Here is your future.' He offered me his hand when he said that. I remember staring at it for ages. I was still processing the end of the life I knew, and I didn't know where to go from there."

"And...?" Elita beckoned him to keep talking.

"I laid Orion's body down and grasped Sentinel's hand in both of mine. He pulled me to my feet, and I threw my arms around him. I was...I was distraught. He held me against his chest and walked me away from my ruined home. The rest, as you say, is history."

Optimus squared his shoulders. He kissed Orions brow, closed the coffin and laid his hand flat on top. "Sentinel was right. This is the past. I don't live here anymore. It's time to move forward."

Cybertron covered the sun when everybody emerged outside again. Bumblebee offered to take Elita, Mikaela and Cade back to the ship. Cade accepted, but Elita and Mikaela declined.

"We'll come back with Optimus," Mikaela said.

"Okay. See you later." Cade offered a salute and climbed into Bumblebee without preamble. The Camaro zoomed off the Cybertronian ground and vanished in the patchy fog still hanging around the base of the Tor.

"Dad?" Elita hedged.

Optimus faced the building that used to be his home. "Feel free to explore the area. I will join you in a few minutes."

He wanted one more look at his old home. A feeling Mikaela understood too well. She nudged Elita towards the north half of the giant hill. Patchy fog blurred and concealed its summit.

They picked their way through grassy farmland. Cybertronian debris littered the landscape like anachronisms. Someone nestled a black military jeep between a fallen metal pillar and the foliage.

Mikaela's senses jumped to alert. She completely forgot about watching for TRF in all the chaos!

The jeep's owner stood with his back to them while he peed in the grass. He wore black military gear, wraparound Oakley sunglasses and had a Bushmaster ACR rifle strapped to his back. A triangular TRF patch shone prominently on his jacket sleeve.

"Shit," Mikaela hissed, "El, let's head back to Optimus."

Elita spotted the man, too. "Oh, crap."

They spun away and ran for it. He noticed them.

"...positive visual on civilians. Moving to intercept and rescue."

Static crackled.

"Copy that, Lennox out."

"Stop! I'm human, I'm friendly!" The man shouted.

Like hell you are. Mikaela's feet pounded the grass harder. Beside her, Elita tilted her upper body forward and pulled slightly ahead.

But the man ran faster. His footsteps plodded up behind them. Strong, callused hands seized Mikaela and Elita by the arms.

"What the hell are you ladies doing here? This ain't a tourist attraction! It's infested with- oh! What the hell? It's you guys. Well, well, well...this got interesting."

Now the voice and square cleft chin registered.

"Max!" Mikaela gasped. "Just who I didn't need right now."

"You're TRF?" Elita tensed her bicep. "Get off me! TRF sucks!"

"Nice to see you, too!" Max yanked Mikaela close again and dragged Elita when she tried to plant her feet. "What's you and your kid's story, Mikaela Banes-Prime? How come you turn up with your Transformer sympathizer stuff whenever they trash something else? What do you know about 'em?"

Mikaela slapped the sunglasses off his face.

"Nothing!" She lied, "Let go of my kid! Get your fucking hands off me!"

"Nothing? What's with the necklace?"

Glittering silver caught Mikaela's eye. Elita hadn't tucked the Matrix of Leadership pendant under her shirt. It was there, swinging and obvious.

Snarling, Mikaela twisted and punched him. The uncoordinated blow struck his collarbone instead of his face like she hoped.

"Tch, you can't throw a punch, lady!" Max's eyes hardened. They were brown, like coffee. "There's something fishy here, and I'm going get answers." He tugged Elita's arm. "I don't want to have to hurt you to get results, so how about you cooperate?"

"No!" Elita wrenched his thumb backwards with all her might. She broke his hold and wriggled free.

"Run, El!" Mikaela raised her arm higher in attempt to force his hand open.

"Damn it!" Max lunged and caught her from behind. Both his arms pinned hers at her sides. Her own elbows dug into her ribs. She shrieked involuntarily.

"You're coming with me!" He turned her towards the jeep.

"Mom!" Elita yelled.

Mikaela threw her weight to the left, swung her right forearm backwards past her hip and grasped Max's crotch. She clamped her fingers around his testicles and pulled forward like she intended to tear them through his fatigues.

Max yelped a curse. His arms faltered to grab his crotch. Mikaela spun free. She telegraphed him with a haymaker. The blow twisted his head to the side. He stumbled onto his knees, his gasping mouth hanging open. She threw an uppercut. Her fist slammed his mouth shut. His teeth crashed together. Crimson blood stained his stubbly cleft chin. He spat a molar onto his palm stared at it in shock.

"I can't throw a punch, huh?" Mikaela snapped, rubbing her knuckles. That actually hurt. She seized Elita's hand and they dashed beyond his reach. "El, I told you to run!"

Elita clung to her hand. She'd tucked the Matrix pendant under her shirt again. "You kicked his butt!"

Rage gave Max the strength to rise on shaking legs and hobble forward. He wiped his mouth, which smeared the blood on his chin.

"You're kidding, right?" Max coughed and spat. He stopped holding his crotch and straightened. "They're controlling your brain! They did it to that 'Wickety' guy you went to school with, too! He was in Mission City, Egypt and Chicago, and Transformers showed up wherever he was! He disappeared after Chicago, only to turn up in a hospital in Hong Kong where- you guessed it- Transformers were tearing everything up! They're getting in peoples' brains!"

The amount of knowledge Max had was terrifying.

Mikaela pushed Elita to keep running and rounded on him, breathless. "Nobody's mind controlling anybody! You've got some twisted views on Cybertronians, Max!"

Rather than answer, Max snatched a large rock and threw it in Elita's path. She tripped and fell hard. He galloped after her.

"No, you don't!" Mikaela grabbed his rifle to drag him off his feet as he passed.

Instead, he whirled and swung his arm. Sharp pain lashed the left side of her head. She hit the grass shoulder-first. He was a southpaw. Damn.

"Hey!" Elita yelled, "Ow! You jerk! Stop it! Ow!"

Mikaela pushed her hair off her face and rolled onto her stomach. Max had Elita pinned under his body. His hands clamped onto her shoulders, his knees pressed her wrists against the grass and his shins held her thighs down. He outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds.

"Don't-" She coughed when his hands went for her throat.

"Max!" Mikaela staggered towards him.

"Stay back, lady! I'll snap this brat's neck!"

Elita pulled in a breath and screamed, "DAD!"

The mist swirled.

"I'm coming, Elita!" Optimus shouted from far off.

Seconds later, a red, silver and blue Western Star burst through the fog. Max sat halfway up when he saw the truck. He kept one hand latched on Elita's throat. Contempt twisted his lips.

The truck halted several feet away and shifted its form. Optimus loomed like a glimmering shadow. St. Michael's tower drifted in and out of the gray gloom above him.

"I was right! I was fucking right!" Max wrapped both hands around Elita's neck again. "You're mind controlling people to make them think you're humanity's friend! Nobody in their right mind is gonna sympathize with you overgrown tinker toys!"

Optimus' face assumed a glacial expression. Mikaela felt rather than heard his deep, metallic growl.

Elita utilized the distraction to slam her palms straight into Max's face. He rocked backwards, holding his right eye. She backhanded the left side of his throat. Right over his carotid artery. That made him falter. She squirmed out from under him. He recovered and caught her ankle before she fully extricated herself.

Mikaela's stomach knotted. She clenched her teeth and took a running step forward, every cell in her body ready to rip Maxwell Pagonis apart. Optimus halted her by holding out his hand.

Max laughed when he saw that. "What? Don't speak English? Figures!"

"I speak English fine." Optimus planted his feet beside Max, scowling. "You have ten seconds to let go of my daughter, or I will make you release her."

Elita kicked her captured leg. Max twisted her ankle as a warning.

"You don't have the balls, robot!"

The corners of Optimus' mouth curled downward. He stepped on Max's outstretched arm, snapping it like a twig. Mikaela almost gagged at the sound.

Max howled with a bloodstained mouth. Elita escaped his limp fingers and stumbled towards Mikaela.

"AAAH! Y-You broke my arm!" Max's voice rose in pitch as the pain hit full blast. "You b-broke my fuckin' arm!"

"I said I would." Optimus said. He ignored Max's confused expression and focused on Elita. "Elita, did he injure you?"

"Nothing major." Elita patted herself down and tested all her joints.

His gaze shifted to Mikaela. "Mikaela, are you injured?"

Mikaela rubbed her sore head. She sneered hatefully at Max. "Just a bruise. He backhanded me."

Elita rubbed her throat and choked back tears. Her ponytail was a tangled, grassy mess. Mikaela hugged her close, ignoring the throb of her own head.

Optimus narrowed his optics and nodded. He shifted his weight off Max's ruined arm. The broken limb resembled an empty sleeve.

Everybody was safe now. Optimus pinched the back of Max's TRF uniform jacket and dangled him at optic level.

"How dare you lay hands on my family, human!"

"How dare you trash my planet, Transformer!" Max snapped. He clutched his broken arm. Tremors in his voice gave away his trepidation. "So, w-what's it going to be? Eye lasers? Death ray from the mouth? Squishing me in your fist? Go on, crazy robot. Do it. Prove what you are!"

The barbs hit home, but Optimus didn't bite the bait. Instead, he sneered and dropped Max butt-first on a cowpat.

"Human, you have a very incorrect idea of who I am and what I do."

Disgust twisted Max's handsome features. He licked at the blood crusted on his lower lip and winced as he got back to his feet. Cow dung coated his entire lower half.

"I have a question for you, Max. Yeah, I know what your name is." Optimus remained in a kneeling position. "Do you recognize my voice?"

Mikaela saw Max glance over at her and Elita. His eyes widened when he connected the dots.

"Shit! The picnic! How-"

"Human holograms are easy."

Max blinked, his gaze flicking to Elita and Mikaela again. "So they're holograms, too?"

"No. Leave them out of this." Optimus pressed his hands flat on either side of Max. Sunlight pierced the mist and gleamed off his blue helm. "The picnic wasn't our first meeting, Max. Do you know where else I was?"

Confusion knit Max's brow. "Huh?"

"Think about it."

"No...I- don't-"

"Think harder."

"I am! I-I don't know!"

Wrong answer. A very wrong answer. Optimus' fists clenched, his fingertips digging muddy brown trenches in the green grass. His optics blazed, yet his voice remained controlled and cool.

"Here is a hint- the movie theater. Here is another hint- the crowbar."

That clicked.

"Th-that was you?" Max gasped, his mouth flopping open. His already pale face grew paler. "Look, um- I-I-I... didn't mean any- anything personal! I was doing my job!"

"By jamming a crowbar into my Spark chamber? By putting your filthy hands on it?" Shadows crossed Optimus' face. "If it wasn't personal, why did you say I had to pay? Why did you laugh? Why did you hope it hurt? How is that doing your job?"

Mikaela curled her toes inside her shoes. Optimus never mentioned those details before. Elita rounded on her, wide-eyed, and received a nod in response.

"You asshole!" She almost launched herself at Max, her fists swinging. Mikaela had to bodily haul her back.

"No, El! Optimus is handling this!"

Elita flailed, her face flushing. "He hurt dad! He's gotta pay!"

"Let Optimus deal with it!"

"Mom!"

"Hush!"

Max didn't register Elita's yelling. He gulped and stared up at Optimus. His bravery might have been believable if his voice didn't sound so strained.

"Fine! You bastard...I had family in Chicago! They're dead because of you and your kind! You're a menace!"

"The loss of your family is unfortunate. It isn't what I wanted. Has it occurred to you yet that my people are embroiled in a war longer than your lifetime? I came here to prevent-"

"Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! You call this prevention?" Max nodded his head at the Cybertronian debris by his jeep. Anger gave his bravado a second wind. "I should've killed you when I had the ch- ow!"

He held tighter to his broken arm. "I changed my mind! I'm sorry that I didn't off you when I had the chance! I had your sparkler chamber, or whatever the hell you called it- I had it right there in my hands!"

Optimus' outer pupils dilated to their widest aperture. Steam escaped his nose. There was a lot because of the cold morning air.

"Yes, you did. You violated me." He snarled, his deep voice rising to a thunderous roar. "You took my peace of mind from me! You put me through hell!"

"Good!" Max shouted, "You deserve it!"

Rage tensed the back of Mikaela's neck. She swallowed, gritting her teeth. Elita didn't bother holding her thoughts back.

"You ASSHOLE!" she screamed.

Optimus tucked his top lip plate behind the bottom one and bent closer. Max had to look straight up at him to maintain eye contact.

"Nobody deserves sexual assault, you insufferable human! Nobody deserves such a violation to their soul!"

"I didn't-"

"This," Optimus banged his fist against his chest, "is the same as that." He gestured vaguely between Max's legs. "And you mutilated it." His voice dropped to an icy whisper, "So I will say it again. You violated me while I was injured and unable to fight back."

Max's bravery faltered again once the implication sank in. He retched and staggered backwards into the cowpat. Manure coated his boots along with his pants. Did it stain his pride? Mikaela hoped so.

Optimus dug his fingers in the grass again. "Then you assaulted my wife and my daughter."

He narrowed his optics as steam once again wafted through his nose vents. "I find it fascinating that you're happy to dominate when circumstances allow it, yet you tremble in fear when addressed by someone capable of overpowering you. You're passing that on to your son. Why?"

Max ignored the question. "I can't stop you from squashing me. W-what's stopping you from killing me right now?"

"My ability to crush you without effort is exactly the reason why I don't want to." Optimus scowled at him. "I don't enjoy abusing power."

Piece by piece, he dismantled Maxwell Pagonis' supercilious personality to reveal the scared person hidden inside. Max grimaced, his lips trembling. Removing his ability to dominate the situation took all his power away. He was just a man, small and helpless.

Max looked at Elita and Mikaela for sympathy. His brown eyes were saucers, pleading.

Mikaela bristled when she recalled the pain she saw Optimus endure. Every nightmare, every panic attack, every rage attack, every flashback, every episode of depression, every notebook contradicting intrusive thoughts and every bout of anxiousness ripped across her mind.

It all was caused by the man standing ankle-deep in cow shit. She didn't think he deserved the mercy Optimus intended to grant him, so she showed none of her own.

"Oh, now you want us to feel sorry for you?" She jabbed an accusing finger at Max like a sword stabbing her words into his flesh. "You ruined his life, and you think you're the victim? That's bullshit, Max! Bullshit!"

The knot twisting her stomach contracted further. Her face heated and her voice reached a crescendo as years of pent-up rage spilled free.

"You're a piece of shit! Do you hear me? Yeah! You're trash! You're shit! You're less than shit, Max! You're nothing! I hate you! I fucking hate you! Fuck you, Max!" She screamed, "FUCK YOU!"

"You hurt my dad, you choked me out and now I'm supposed to feel bad for you?" Elita curled her lip and raised both her middle fingers at him. "As if! Suck it, douchebag!"

Defeated, Max hung his head and clung to his broken arm.

The sun passed behind Cybertron's shadow. Thinning fog swept across the Tor.

Optimus relaxed his clenched fists. "TRF will no doubt disband after today. It's over, and I hope you remember this moment for the rest of your life."

He pointed west. Grass and mud dripped off his fingers. Steam billowed from his nose vents when he spoke. "Go home to your family, Maxwell Pagonis, and never come near my family again."

Max nodded like a kid caught shoplifting, and shoplifting kids weren't that threatening. He held himself perfectly still, his eyes riveted on his feet.

Optimus backed off. A shudder ran through his frame when he wiped his muddy hands clean on the wet grass. Thick white vapor curled out of his throat in short puffs. He ran his palm over the top of his head and ground his mouth plates together. That was harder on him than he let on.

Mikaela gave him a thumbs up for handling that like a boss. Exhaustion dimmed his optics. He nodded and flashed a faint smile.

"I hate you!" Elita yelled at Max. She stomped several feet away to calm herself down.

Optimus faced the Tor to collect himself. Puffs of steam continued to rise intermittently from his vents.

Movement in the periphery! Mikaela swung her head leftward to see Max heft his rifle one-handed.

"You're not getting the last word!" He roared, his eyes wild. "Say goodbye to your bratty kid!"

"NO!" Elita let out a blood curdling shriek.

Mikaela's ears rang with adrenaline. Her sight tunneled. The universe slowed down around her. Blood thundered against her skull in time with her heartbeat. Every muscle coiled. Strength surged down her spine. There was no thought or reason. All regard for her own safety vanished. She screamed as she sprinted forward.

The bang turned her vision white. Her arms caught something solid. She fell through time and space. Sounds muffled, like plunging underwater. Reality stood still. Purple phosphenes clouded her vision. Her tingling skin went numb.

"Mom!" Hands shook her shoulders. A girl's voice shouted, "Mom, mom!"

Breath whooshed through Mikaela's nostrils. Breath! Her breath! The air smelled coppery. Heat dissipated against her skin. Shivers wracked her sweaty body. There was no pain.

The blood stopped roaring in her ears. Her vision crystallized into fog, green grass, Optimus' huge feet and Elita's stricken expression. She was laying on top of her. Grass clung to her hoodie sleeves.

Nothing felt real. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Her breathing slowed when she touched her chest, sides and stomach. No blood or bullet wounds. Her eyes moved to Elita. No bleeding holes on her, either.

"I'm okay, mom," said Elita. She smiled, teary-eyed. "You tackle like a linebacker."

"Sorry, sweetie." Mikaela croaked past the brewing lump in her throat. She hugged Elita tight, kissed her cheek and sobbed in relief.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God..." Every muscle inside her body quivered like gelatin.

She looked up at Optimus, who stood protectively over them with his still-glowing blaster at his side. Near his feet, Max's headless body twitched until it lay still in a puddle of lumpy blood.

"No..." Optimus' narrowed optics widened. "I didn't intend to-"

"He wanted to shoot me!" Elita called out, "You gave him a chance! He wasted it!"

"No, no, I-I told him! I told him I would not-"

Thicker steam poured through Optimus' vents, even the tiny ones by his ankles. He staggered several steps away. Tremors bowed his legs out from under him. Elita jogged towards him as he caught himself on his hands and knees. He grimaced, holding his head in one hand. Steam washed backwards into his vents like a back draft. His outer pupils closed to their smallest aperture and flashed nearly white. A mechanical groan rasped in his throat.

"Optimus!" Mikaela hurried forward alongside Elita. "What's wrong?"

Optimus threw his gun aside. He slammed his palms against the side of his head and bellowed something about pain in Cybertronian. The awful metallic sound stopped Mikaela in her tracks. Elita sped up, panting.

"Dad! How can we help? Dad!"

Terror contorted Optimus' expression. He covered his face and tumbled onto his side. Bright green coolant sprayed out of his mouth. Violent tensor contractions bent him into a fetal position. He stopped moving, a frozen event horizon afterimage showing its last glimmer.

Elita caught herself on Optimus' ear finials and yelled directly in his audio, "Dad! Say something!" She pushed ineffectively at his head. "Dad! Dad!"

Mikaela skidded to a stop by Optimus' knees. He smelled strongly of ozone. Shouting at him wasn't going to solve this.

"Hang in there, Optimus, I'm calling for help."

She whipped out her cell phone and dialed Ultra Magnus' frequency with shaking fingers.

"Not the best timing, Mikaela." Static laced Ultra Magnus' tired voice.

"Hi, yeah, not sorry. This can't wait. Optimus just had some kind of seizure." She coughed because of her scratchy throat. "I think it's the stasis trauma. He's not responding to anything."

Ultra Magnus' huskiness vanished. "Oh, slag! I'll have Drift call you immediately. He knows more about the condition than I do. Crosshairs, you- oof!"

Crosshairs' voice cut in from close by. "Ahh, Maggie, what's the problem?"

"It's-"

Ultra Magnus hung up before he finished his answer.

Mikaela bit her tongue to bring moisture back to her mouth. She stuck her fingers into her hair and rubbed at her scalp. There was a sore bump where Max punched her.

Behind her, Elita tried in vain to pull one of Optimus' hands off his face. Her effortful grunts broke off into quiet panting. She leaned against his knuckles instead. A light breeze ruffled her messy ponytail.

"Daddy," she sniffled. "I'm here, dad. I love you. Mom's getting help. You'll be okay."

Finally, Drift called! Mikaela picked up and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Drift!"

"Tell me what happened," Drift replied without preamble.

She kept her voice calm enough to relay the information. "Optimus collapsed. He was having a panic attack. He spit up coolant. Now he's unresponsive. This isn't the usual."

"Is he emitting steam?"

"He was, but he inhaled it and hasn't let it back out."

"Hm. Noted. Do you have a clear view of his optics?"

"No. He covered his face when he fell. Elita can't get his hands to move."

"Wait for me. I will come to your location. Maintain a safe distance of at least six feet. You will sustain severe burns if he ex-vents."

Click. Just like that.

"El, come here."

"Mom, I can't leave him like this!"

"You're too close to his neck vents. Drift said you'll get burned if he exhales. Back up."

Elita slid off Optimus and reluctantly joined Mikaela. Bits of muddy grass clung to her sparkly sneakers. She wiped them off.

Bumblebee arrived first. Drift must have contacted him. The yellow Camaro zoomed past the Tor like a bat out of hell. He narrowly missed running over Max's corpse.

Cade took a tumble when Bumblebee transformed mid-skid and came up kneeling by Optimus' head.

"Whoa!" Cade scrambled towards Mikaela and Elita. "What's going on?"

Elita filled him in on Optimus' and Max's encounter while Mikaela watched the activity by the Tor.

Bumblebee pried Optimus' hands an inch away from his face. Optimus' optics twitched side to side and flickered at a speed Mikaela hadn't seen before.

"Positive for flicker and rapid optic movement," said Bumblebee. His attempts to straighten Optimus' limbs failed. He added, "He is locked up and rigid."

"What's happening?" Mikaela demanded, "Bee, talk to me!"

"Drift won't speculate until he sees Optimus for himself."

Fortunately, Mikaela didn't have to wait any longer. A red and black Mercedes AMG GT R emerged into the sunlight followed by a white International Lonestar hauling a silver flatbed trailer.

Ultra Magnus stayed in vehicle mode. Drift transformed and knelt beside Optimus. He ran the same checks Bumblebee did, save for placing his audio near Optimus' head. His stoic expression revealed nothing.

"Mom, is dad okay?" Elita's quivering voice cut through the madness.

"I don't know, sweetie." Mikaela licked her dry lips. "Drift?"

Drift turned to her. "What transpired before he entered this state?"

"We had a scuffle with the man who caused his stasis trauma. His name was Max, and-"

Elita butted in, "I saw the whole thing! Max pulled his rifle on us and was gonna shoot me. Mom tackled me. Dad got between Max and us and his blaster went off. He didn't aim, it looked like a reflex, and Max was in the line of fire. It wasn't on purpose! Dad was going into a panic attack after giving Max a chance to walk away, and it got worse after he realized he killed him. Now he's like this. What's wrong with him?"

Drift's eyelids fell half shut. "Stasis catatonia. A panic episode at its most extreme."

"What does that mean?" asked Mikaela. "Can he hear us? Is he aware? Is he in pain?"

"He is conscious. Aware is not the word I would use." Drift frowned, evidenced by a change in the shape of his optics.

"To borrow terminology you use for computing, his CPU is thrashing between a series of flashbacks, and the thrashing is utilizing resources normally allotted to perception and awareness. He is currently incapable of processing anything taking place around him. This condition is reversible, but I am unable to do so here. He must be transported back to the ship."

"He's putting off a lot of heat." Cade noted with a frown. "This won't kill him, will it?"

Drift averted his gaze, and in that moment it was clear he cared deeply about the well-being of his leader. "No."

Elita turned away, her eyes puffy and red. Drift touched a switch on the flatbed behind Ultra Magnus. It unfolded into a silver hovering stretcher.

I'm getting real tired of your shit, universe, Mikaela thought as she hugged Elita close.

Bumblebee and Drift gingerly lifted Optimus onto the stretcher. He was stiff like a statue. Blue LED's lit up around the stretcher's edge, causing his body to stick.

Black smoke shot from Optimus' neck vents when he was moved. Mikaela felt the heat from ten feet away. The smoke turned white before ceasing.

"Damn," Cade wiped at his eyes. "First time he woke up in my barn, he was screaming and scared. He thought I was the guy who tried to kill him. I talked him down, but...wow, he was scared." He faced Mikaela, "What's stasis trauma? Is it robot PTSD or something?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it is," said Mikaela. She sighed and hung her head.

Bumblebee and Drift transformed. Drift followed Ultra Magnus away. Elita started to cry in earnest. The kind of crying comforting words couldn't resolve.

Mikaela stroked her frightened daughter's hair as she headed towards Bumblebee. She nudged Elita into his back seat, got in next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Cade took the front seat. He twisted around to regard Elita and Mikaela.

"Hey, Autobots are tough. They'll have Optimus up and running again in no time."

"I hope so," Elita sniffled.

Cade's nostrils flared and he lowered his eyes. Bumblebee's engine vibrated. He fell in line behind the other Autobots. Mikaela smoothed Elita's messy hair and looked out the rear window. The eerie mist surrounding the Glastonbury Tor finished clearing away.

Moneybox field was green, dewy, and empty.