Why hello. I decided to continue this story, on account there were several of you that quite liked it. I do hope it is worth the wait.
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro.
Lennox thought, in the twelve years since that fateful night in Qatar that changed his life forever, that he'd seen it all. Vehicles that turned into sentient, humanoid robots. Three plans, each thousands of years in the making, designed to end all life on Earth. A planet almost teleported next to his own.
Cybertron transforming itself was a new one.
It was near seven hours post-impact. 20:50, local time. Cybertron had totally encompassed the Earth in that time. Pillars of biblical size extended out from Unicron's Horns, visible for hundreds of miles in any direction. Cybertron's superstructure prevented the sun from hitting parts of Earth's surface, but the superstructure's intricate design ensured this only robbed those locations an average of seventy-seven minutes of sunlight per twenty-four hours.
Of course, that was according to the same scientists who said knocking the Incubator off its platform was the right call. Lennox was waiting on actual information first.
Still, he thought, the view's unrivaled.
The superstructure caught rays of sunlight the ground did not, lighting it up in a dazzling display of red, orange, and yellow. Wisp-like clouds formed around the pillars beneath them, so massive and alien they changed not just the horizon but the weather itself. The tops of those clouds, near sixty thousand feet in the air, caught the same sunlight as the superstructure above, further lighting up what would normally be a darkening sky. It was beautiful.
Without the context that it nearly killed everything on Earth, of course.
Lennox turned and went back into the tent behind him. Scientists and their equipment took up roughly 90% of available space inside. The rest was taken up by the scientists themselves, and the two soldiers Lennox had guarding them. The gesture likely unnecessary, but it couldn't hurt to keep highly-trained soldiers on stand-by.
The scientist in charge, Jeremy something, didn't look away from his screens when Lennox approached him. "What do you have?"
"Dreadfully little," Jeremy said, a wiry man three inches taller than Lennox but probably a good twenty pounds lighter. "And that's what makes no damned sense about it."
"What do you mean?"
"You're seeing sky out there, right? According to this, that sky shouldn't be there. Sensors say the magnetosphere's gone, yet we're still here. Talking. Living. You and I should be radioactive goo right now, fried to a crisp by our own sun. I can't make sense of it."
Welcome to the club, Lennox thought. "What about our core?"
"Strange thing is, it's hot again, hotter than before. Way hotter. Hot enough that it's like we're back before the age of life on land."
"That can't be good."
"It won't be, yet volcanic activity's normal for now. No earthquakes. No boiling lakes. No change in atmosphere above or below the surface. It won't last, though. My bet's on the ocean warming up without us causing it. Storms doubling or tripling in intensity over the next year or so. Won't be fun. But considering that's the biggest change we'll have to deal with by taking on 1.2 EM, I'd say we're doing well."
"EM?"
"Earth mass. That planet that just enveloped us? It's heavier than Earth, despite originally being only fifteen percent larger than Luna. Having that much mass so close together should have torn us all apart. Instead, we've merged into a super-earth with no change in gravity and only minor damage to either of us."
Lennox gritted his teeth at that. He'd hardly call fifty-six cities and nearly a quarter billion dead as minor. To say that with a straight face… Lennox didn't get it. "Anything else before I report to HQ?"
"That other energy reading that appeared, right as our core went cold? Analysis says it's similar to the energy signature of the aliens," Jeremy said.
"That so?"
"Yes. It's different, though. 90% match; remaining 10%'s an unknown. It's stronger than their stuff, too. Like orders of magnitude stronger. And it keeps getting even more powerful. Another wave appears once an hour, every hour, since Cybertron parked on us. Our sensors pick it up there, too."
That was something new. Lennox had no idea what it meant, but it was new. "Can you tell what it is?" The question was more of a threat analysis than anything else. If this energy was everywhere, what damage could it do? Would it make people sick? Kill them? Change them on some molecular level?
And why was it on a timer?
Jeremy suddenly raised up a hand, intently focused on the screens in front of him. Other scientists did the same, dropping whatever they were doing to look at the nearest display. Lennox was lost on the importance of the various lines moving up and down.
"It's coming again," Jeremy said at last, his voice quiet and distracted. Like Lennox was barely a thought on his mind.
"The reading?" Lennox asked.
"Yeah. Right on time, too." The scientist looked to another. "Mary, how much radiation this time?"
"423 Gray and climbing fast," said the older, red-headed woman, monitoring a device Lennox had no idea how to work.
But Lennox did know enough about radiation that 400 Gray was more than ten times a lethal dose. All that was really needed to kill someone was 30 Gray, but the more you got hit with, the faster it killed you. Even then, 30 would kill within an hour. "423 Gray? How are we not dead yet?"
"The same way we're alive after the 100 Gray from the initial burst, and 200 from the second, and so on." The scientist, Mary, gave him a serious look. "We've been hit with more than 2,000 Gray since the first burst, Colonel."
"What's 'we' mean in this context?"
"Everyone. Every child at home. Every farmer in the field. Every head of state in a bunker. Everyone on Earth has been hit with this radiation."
"And we're alive."
"And we're alive."
Even after everything that happened in the last 24 hours, even after fighting a goddess, Lennox was shocked. Nothing obeyed the laws of the universe anymore.
He turned from the scientists and made his way out of the tent. Above and one kilometer away, the ancient Cybertronian ship crackled with blue energy, sending one beam up into Cybertron and another into Stonehenge beneath it. The crackling grew louder and louder, the energy brighter and brighter. They both reached a crescendo.
Then they spread out.
The energy ran across the ground in the blink of an eye, passing Lennox before he realized it had moved. Its touch left a lingering tingle and a faint smell of ozone. Like standing outside after a huge thunderstorm. At the same time, the crackling turned into a deep hum that reached all the way to the tent, and certainly beyond.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. The ship above returned to its silent hovering. Stonehenge went back to being a simple monument.
And they were alive, after being bombarded by however many Gray units. None of this made sense.
The radio on his vest beeped. A day ago, it would have been a sat phone, but not now. Not with more than 80% of all satellite orbits disrupted by Cybertron's presence. Lennox sighed, then took out the radio to answer the barrage of questions he knew he was about to be hit with.
Earth may have been saved, but hell if things weren't more complicated.
Cybertron was different than he remembered it.
No longer were there towering spires reaching for the stars. No longer were wondrous transportation systems taking tens of millions to and from historical sites and lucrative jobs.
No longer was the planet even whole.
Still, Optimus thought, the view is beautiful.
They flew over on a section of Cybertron's superstructure. Above them, more of the superstructure arched elegantly across the sky, lit up from Earth's sun. And below, thousands of kilometers away, loomed Earth in its brilliant glory, shining from the sun on one side and the light of many cities from the other.
He could not help but notice dark spots where there should have been cities.
"Approaching target location," Hound said, piloting the Knight's Temple with superior skill. The others poked fun at Hound's body shape, but Optimus knew there were few alive who could be as precise as Hound. He had been an engineer once, before the War. Perhaps he could one day return to the profession.
"Are there signs of life?" Optimus asked.
Hound grunted. "Just our friend outside."
Friends, Optimus mentally corrected, looking out one of the viewports of the Knight's Temple bridge. The combined form of the First Knights of Iacon, Dragonstorm, flew alongside the Temple, its mighty three-headed profile both inspiring and frightening. He had heard the legends of the first generation of the Knights, left behind by the very people who now flew with them. Of the wars they fought and won. The lives they saved. The worlds they saw.
But none of those legends spoke of Quintessa. Nor had they spoke of why the First Knights left. They were supposed to be brothers, bonded together by their commitment to protect the weak and guide the lost. Why had they not warned the generation after them?
Why had they left in the first place?
"Destination's on the left," Crosshairs said from his position at one of the bridge workstations.
Optimus looked out one of the viewports on that side of the bridge. On the superstructure below, a building rose from the surface. It was more than three kilometers tall, yet was less than half as tall as it should have been. Its design was more artistic than practical, with walls and spires in the shape of waves, and long, winding walkways that flowed their way toward one of the building's many entrances like rivers into a lake. This resulted in the building's appearance to resemble one of Earth's—or, in ages long gone before even his time, Cybertron's—flowers.
Long had it been since he had laid optics on the Hall of Records. How poorly time had treated it.
"Hound—find a landing zone. Or, if possible, a location we can drop," Optimus said.
"Working on it," said Hound, using one hand to fly the Temple while he used the other to operate a sensor. "But we got a big ass ship, and there ain't a lot of open space down there."
"Do what you can." Optimus left the bridge and made for one of the hundreds of cells inside the Temple. The damage Lockdown had done to the ship was irreparable, but at least one change he made was useful, in their present situation.
He reached the only cell currently in use aboard the ship. It was larger than the others and fitted with cold plasma bindings—and while not as secure or heavily armored as the Temenos, it had more security measures than the other cells. And they needed everything they could get with Quintessa involved.
The Mad Goddess hung from the cold plasma bindings, wrapped around the torso and lower body, with her arms secured at her sides. She was motionless in her bindings, having not awoken since she collapsed. Optimus was thankful for that. The bindings would likely not hold long if she was awake.
He looked to Hot Rod and Bumblebee, stationed at either side of the cell, watching intently for movement. "Status," he said.
"Nothing," Hot Rod said, his voice unaccented. Since his assignment to aid the Allies in the humans' World War II, his voice box had been set to speak English with a French accent. No one was sure why, but Optimus suspected Jazz had been involved. But ever since Cybertron and Earth had merged, the mysterious setting had been reversed. And again, no one was sure why. "Quintessa has been nearly lifeless since she fell. If we weren't looking, I'd have thought she was already dead."
"She just... hangs there, not moving," Bumblebee agreed, his own voice fully returned. "It's creepy."
"She's a lot more than that, 'Bee."
"Security systems?" Optimus asked.
"Turrets are active and honed in on her," Bumblebee said, pointing to the three automated Combustion Cannons around the room, positioned for a wide angle of fire without accidentally damaging the other turrets. "She wakes up and tries to escape, those will open up."
For what little they will do, Optimus knew the young scout thought. "We will be landing soon," Prime said. "Drift will be joining you when we do."
"Yes, Prime," Hot Rod and Bumblebee both said, nearly synchronized. Any complaint they might have had at having the former Decepticon join them in guard duty was nowhere to be found in their obedient tones.
What had he done to gain such loyalty, even after he betrayed them?
"Notify me of any change," he said, and left the brig. He heard them acknowledge the order, again, without complaint. He needed to repay their loyalty. Their faith in him. Somehow.
The Temple had just begun to land when he reached the bridge again. Hound had chosen to land the ship at the edge of the walkways, upon ground that had been torn apart by bombings long ago. Optimus had been there when it had.
"Not ideal, Optimus," Hound said, carefully guiding the Temple down to the ground. It landed with a great rumble that, in reality, had been a soft landing. "But any closer to the Hall of Records and we'll start breaking the walkways."
"Was an air drop also not an option?"
"Scanners say most of the roof's about to crumble. Not sure about you, Prime, but I ain't the lightest mech around."
"Then we will make do, Hound. Crosshairs—remain here. If we need to leave with haste, your piloting skills will be needed."
"And still you give the fat guy the stick," Crosshairs scoffed, folding his arms.
"Hey, now," Hound said. "I'm chubby. Not fat. Note the difference."
"Enough," Optimus said. And that was that. "Drift—reinforce Hot Rod and Bumblebee."
"As you command, Prime." Drift stood from the weapons station he had been operating, offered a slight bow, then turned and left the room.
"Hound—with me."
"Got it, Boss."
They left the bridge, then navigated their way through the Temple's corridors and down to the shattered surface of Cybertron. It appeared even more desolate and barren while up close. It pained him, seeing his planet like this. And even then, he saw only the portion that survived; the rest had been torn asunder by Sentinel and Megatron's failed plot to enslave Earth.
What would their worlds look like, had the Decepticons and Autobots never gone to war?
Optimus felt something crack under his foot. He looked down, and saw that he had stepped on a stal'nit—a hexagonal toy that had been popular with hatchlings and sparklings. It was burned on one side.
He looked away from the toy and up into the sky, where Dragonstorm flew overhead and continued on. They would be going to their own destination: the Infinite Spire. The ancient home of the Knights. "Atmosphere?" Optimus asked Hound.
Hound grunted, mixing with the sound of digits tapping against a touch screen. "Scanner reads a perfect match for Earth."
Just as before, on a lower portion of the superstructure. "Are you certain?"
Hound ran the scan again. Another grunt. "Same result."
"Radiation levels?"
Before Hound could respond, a wave of arcing blue energy ran across the ground. Optimus felt a jolt at its passing. Smelled ozone. That made seven bursts since Cybertron's arrival. All exactly one hour apart. Not a coincidence.
"Hound?" He asked, watching the blue energy pass across the superstructure above and below them. It would have already done the same on Earth.
"212.1 Units, as we measure 'em, Prime," Hound said. "Before that, radiation levels were the same as sea level on Earth."
"Negative effects of the burst?"
Optimus heard the scanner activate behind him again, then Hound said, "Nothing that sticks out. Stuff's harmless."
So it would seem. Yet, it kept getting stronger. Kept coming back. And while it was harmless to them—Cybertronians—was it harmless to the humans? Were they being hurt? Killed? Was Earth's population doomed to diminish even further, while he watched?
They needed answers.
"Come," he said, and began the long trek ahead. "We must begin our search."
Getting to the Hall of Records proved to be a difficult task.
Despite technically being safe for travel, the walkways were too damaged for using alt modes. They were restricted to walking, or, if it was required, jumping across a fragile section. Optimus could have flown, but after serving Quintessa, he felt it would be wrong of him to abandon Hound to walk while he went ahead.
The wave of light had come again by the time they at last reached the Hall of Records and found an entryway. It had been greatly damaged in the War, with its many murals and artistic carvings lost to bullets, blade, and explosives. It was one of the few entrances that had remained passable after the War.
The inside of the Hall of Records was of little improvement. Many of the building's high ceilings and walls were greatly damaged or barely holding together. Rows and rows of desks and shelves and chairs laid in ruins. Statues and displays that once showcased or held ancient knowledge had been looted or stripped for parts long ago. Countless stains leftover from the dead littered the battle-scared floor.
Even so, it was nostalgic for Optimus. He stood within the place where some of the fondest memories of his life had come to pass. Stepping foot inside for the first time as a hatchling, and discovering the wonder of knowledge. Meeting the many wonderful mechs and femmes who worked in and cared for the Hall. Long nights of reading data pads, and longer nights of conversation with the Head Archivist.
Meeting Jazz for the first time within its walls. In the same gathering, meeting Ironhide. Ratchet. Prowl. Hound. Wheeljack. Mirage. Megatron. And… And…
Optimus stopped that last thought.
"Place has seen better days," Hound remarked. Optimus detected a faint hint of grief in his voice. Grief for the time when the Hall of Records was whole—when the friends they'd lost were still among them.
Optimus looked up as they passed a statue, the only one in the immense room that remained standing. It was of an unnamed Knight, standing with his sword embedded into the ground. Time had claimed one arm and part of the sword, but its regal face was as brave and clear as it had been when he first stepped foot in the Hall.
"And it will see them again," he said, turning away from the statue and moving to a nearby desk. "Start searching."
"Whadda we lookin' for?" Hound asked, walking to a row of ruined data pads.
"A copy of the Covenant."
Optimus felt Hound's optics turn to him.
"I sense what you are thinking."
"Yeah? Rhymes with nuts. The remnants of our planet merged with Earth, Prime. There are a lot of bad things we need to figure out; and instead of doing that, you want to find a religious text?"
"The first copy of the Covenant dates from before the War. Before your time. Before mine. Before Sentinel. In a tome as old as it, there are bound to be some truths within it. Truths that we did not understand before this day." Optimus found a copy of the Covenant within the desk he searched, but it was labeled as a modern translation. Useless for what he needed. He laid it back where he found it, then moved to the next desk. "But we will need an original translation."
"The older it is, more likely it dates from before any of us were around. On it, Prime."
They spent the next half hour in silence, searching decrepit desks, destroyed shelves, and debris-filled rooms. They found little. Optimus found a poorly-preserved data chip cataloging the opening of a long-destroyed super skyscraper; Hound found a hard copy of a long-forgotten vid. Their remaining discoveries were far less noteworthy. Until they entered the office of a supervisor.
It was a simple square room. Not richly decorated, but certainly above the common Cataloger. There was a desk in the middle of the room, designed in the same, flowing way as the Hall itself.
Resting on top of it was the oldest copy of the Covenant Optimus had ever seen.
Optimus rounded the desk and examined the book. Its cover was worn, and its metallic pages greyed, but it was intact—and, judging by the archaic language of the first page he turned to, it was beyond ancient.
"That what you're lookin' for?" Hound asked, dropping a data pad he'd taken from a shelf.
"So it appears." Optimus flipped to another page, what appeared to be a list of casualties from a battle he had not read about before. "However, finding the Covenant represents only half our objective."
"And the other half?"
"Reading it."
"Staus update, Colonel." Morshower's voice sounded strange through the radio. Lennox's voice probably sounded just as strange on the other end.
"Don't have much for you, sir," he said, stepping outside so he could hear Morshower more clearly. The tent didn't block radio waves, but some of the equipment of the scientists made noise. "None of these eggheads have any ideas."
"And the radiation?"
"From the burst or the nuke?"
"Either or, Colonel."
"The bursts keep increasing in intensity, and we keep taking it without a problem. Sensors read fallout from our tactical strike as being more harmful."
Morshowser hummed, the sound coming more as a grunt. "What I wouldn't give for an Autobot mind working on this."
Lennox wanted the same. Maybe they'd have a team of them on it right now, had the CIA not screwed it all up years ago. "Still no luck making contact?"
"NASA's still got a working telescope they're using to track the Autobot ship."
Lennox looked up into the dark English sky, toward the outline of Cybertron. Toward the Autobots. It was a clear night, and the moon was full. The superstructure looked both menacing and captivating in the light. "But we haven't tried establishing communications?"
"We're still trying to find a comm satellite that'll work down here. President's putting off reestablishing talks with the Autobots until we can. He thinks it'll be a long process just to get an answer out of them."
Lennox feared the same. The Autobots would be right to be cautious, too. After all, after five years of running from, and being hunted by, the CIA, they decided to save Earth regardless. And what was humanity's answer? A multinational task force dedicated to continuing the CIA's work. A perverted form of the very group Morshower and Lennox headed with Prime, so long ago.
If he were one of the Autobots, he wouldn't want to talk, either. Not to them, at least. Certainly to Cade Yager and Viviane Wembly, since it was Cade that told Lennox the Autobots had left in the first place. But if either he or Viviane had a way to talk to the Autobots, they weren't sharing, and Lennox wasn't going to force them to.
"Anything else, sir?" Lennox asked.
"Negative. Keep us informed, Lennox. Top out."
Lennox returned the radio to his vest and returned to the inside of the tent. He noticed immediately that there was a light in Jeremy's eyes that hadn't been there when Lennox stepped out. "Got something?"
"Something's a word for it. Not sure what it means. Come take a look. See for yourself."
Lennox moved next to Jeremy and looked at the screen. It displayed a number of data feeds from the instruments around them. Just as before, he had no idea what he was looking at. "Looks like data."
Jeremy huffed and began working on his keyboard. "Damn Yanks. Always wanting simple answers."
"Today, of all days, is not the time for jokes like that," Lennox said, his voice dull and tired.
Jeremy caught onto that quickly. "Oh… Right. I'm really sorry, mate. Truly. It's easy for me to get caught up in this work. Forget the chaos. Or how bad things are outside England. I'm so, so—"
"It's okay," Lennox said, and that was that.
Jeremy finished what he was was working on and pressed enter. A map appeared next to the data feeds. "So, what do we know about the bursts?"
"They're powerful, appear every hour, and are similar to the readings of Cybertronians," Lennox said.
"Right. But have you noticed anything else about them?"
"Been a little too busy to notice much."
"Okay, that's fair. To be honest, I have, too. But right after the last burst, I saw something." He picked up a pen from the desk in front of him. "This fell from my station, nevermind how. When I went to pick it up after the burst died down, it arced with the same energy the bursts send out."
Lennox frowned.
"My exact reaction. Then I realized something. If there was a residual charge in a pen, what about the equipment around us? Sure enough, everything metal is holding a charge. And it manifests as an electrical spark."
"That dangerous?"
"No. Painful, believe me, but not dangerous. Nothing we have around here has enough metal to hold more than a small battery's worth of energy. But if any metal holds a charge, and these bursts travel everywhere…"
Lennox caught onto what he was saying. "Can you get readings from Cybertron?"
"Way ahead of you." Jeremy brought up a crude map of Cybertron and overlapped it with Earth. He then highlighted Cybertron blue. "I've been studying our sensor data. It suggests Cybertron's entire surface is holding in an alarming energy from each burst, but that's not all." He highlighted portions of Earth. "So are areas of Earth. Mines. Dense mineral deposits. Buildings. They're retaining the energy, and I have no idea why."
"It's coming again!"
Jeremy shifted his attention to the incoming burst, but Lennox was frozen by what the scientist had found. Metal was retaining a charge. How? Why?
And why did pondering the answer to that question bring him dread?
He felt the tingle of a burst wave passing by. He didn't pay it any mind. He took out his radio to report this new development to Morshower, only to stop.
The radio didn't click on.
The lights in the tent went out. The instruments went dead. The air suddenly became electric again. More so than any wave had. More than any of them combined.
Lennox's dread spread to more than just theoretical questions.
The bursts had come twice more as they returned to the Temple, and once more since he began reading.
He had found discovered nothing of significance in that time.
He sat in a chair in a small room he's chosen as his office. It was of simple design, and offered a view of the space outside the Knight's Temple. It currently gave him an unobstructed view Cybertron, with the dark side of Earth beyond, looming like the titan it was. The view was not a help in his search.
Optimus sighed to himself and turned to another page, taking his time to read every word carefully. He was acutely aware that the same word could carry many meanings, depending on context. And context changed constantly within the narrative of the Covenant. Accounts of wars, empires, rulers, gods, Primes. Stories—fictional, figurative, factual—were written in gross and intricate detail, and commonly never in order. And that was the modern translation; the ancient copy he held was ten-fold as densely-packed with information.
The Prime believed he now understood why much of it had been cut out in later editions.
He found his current page contained no clues to recent events, and turned to the next. It was a log naming those involved in the signing of a treaty millennia before Optimus' birth. The next page was equally unremarkable. And the next. And the next.
The next was not.
It was a passage. A story of thirteen waves lapping against the shore of an alien sea.
"The First Wave was a surprise," the passage read. "It came at a time of great importance, and great change. None were sure what to make of the Wave, for it came in a time where Waves did not form or lap or were even thought of.
"The Second Wave created even more confusion, for just one Wave was puzzling—what were people to make of two?
"The Third and Fourth and Fifth Waves interested them, but less than the first two, for the other struggles and questions of the Day drew their attention.
"The Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth Waves were given even less attention, for if other Waves had come, why were the new ones worthy of being scrutinized?
"The Tenth and Eleventh Waves were ignored, but a select few took great note of the Twelfth, for a Discovery had been made. An important piece of Knowledge reclaimed. They realized their foolishness in ignoring them.
"Now, the Thirteenth Wave was different than those before it. While the Twelve obeyed rules set for them, the Thirteenth was greater, and wilder, and mischievous. When the Twelfth lapped against the shore, the Thirteenth came right after, its power causing panic and alarm even before it arrived. And with Thirteenth's passing, came the Change."
Optimus felt the jolt of a passing wave of energy. He thought back, counting how many that made. The answer came to him within a millionth of a second.
Twelve.
The lights of the Temple suddenly went out, followed closely by the ship's artificial gravity, then the power to even the door to the room. The air around him was torn away as the atmospheric shielding surrounding the ship disappeared.
Optimus floated up into the still air, the words of the Covenant running through the back of his mind.
The Thirteenth came right after, its power causing panic and alarm even before it arrived.
On Earth—far, dark orb of billions of souls—a speck of blue light appeared. It expanded rapidly, growing to the size of the continent from which it originated, then larger still. It raced up the Pillars, arcing and lashing out like the lightning of a thousand, thousand storms. Those great bolts went from Pillar to Pillar, growing stronger and larger still.
The light passed over the Temple.
Optimus felt the shock of every previous wave pass through him all at once. No, he felt it them three-fold. Five-fold. Ten-fold, and more. It was agony, and it was calm. Peace. Soothing. It was something different.
Then it was over.
Optimus shook his head, looking out again in time to see the last of the wave pass over Cybertron's surface and continue into space, where it eventually dissipated. He felt… He was not sure what he felt. Stronger? More determined? More… Him?
The lights came back on. The atmospheric shielding returned. Gravity was restored. He landed easily on the floor, still trying to determine how he felt.
Crosshairs opened a comm with him. "Prime… Something's happening."
"I believe it has already."
"The Temple's sensors are lighting up," Crosshairs went on, as if Optimus had saod nothing. "I'm detecting signatures in the hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands. On Earth and Cynertron."
The Matrix stired within his chest, directing him to the window. He did as it said. "Signatures of what, Crosshairs?" He reached the window and looked outside, to Cybertron's surface.
He was so stunned he nearly missed Crosshair's answer: "... Us, Prime."
There, just beginning to stand up, Cybertronians. Autobot and Decepticon and Neutral. Mech and femme and sparkling. They all appeared confused. Disoriented. But alive. Intact. Peaceful, even upon looking at those who had been mortal enemies. Autobot and Deception. Decepticon and Autobot. Neutral to both. And there were thousands of them.
In the back of his head, another piece of the passage sprang forth.
And with Thirteenth's passing, came the Change.
Chapter 2 is done.
I had a lot of fun with this. I love fantasy, and I love science-fiction. Combining the two is a dream come true for me. I know I kind of focused solely on Lennox and Prime here, but I found their stories more important to tell than the others I tried to write into this in another draft. The way Lennox and Prime parallel at times was also an intentional device on my part.
The song that most inspired me for the ending of this chapter was this one "The Secession - The Untold" It has a steady, intensely mysterious tone to it, and I find it fits perfectly with the ending scene. My own opinion, of course. Still, I recommend a listen.
Thank you all for reading. If you enjoyed reading, please share or recommend this to a friend or friends. And if you really enjoyed reading, please leave a comment. They are the lifeblood of all writers, and they do not take long to leave.
See you soon.