The Journal of Amaithea: Cybertronian Calendar 74th Cycle 03.
Today is the day of the most-holy of Eldranian festivals. The Festival of the Four Guardians of Eldran celebrates the story of our creator, the Goddess of the Light Eosha Novy—Queen of the New Dawn, and her sons, The Four Guardians of Eldran: Raijin-Oh, Ganbaruger, Gosaurer, and Daitei-Oh.
The story goes that Eosha Novy was created by a young race of scientists. The young race was finally braving their way into intergalactic travel when they came upon a great and ancient Stellar Empire. The older races in the Empire welcomed the new race with open arms and taught them many wonders. Gratefully, the young race returned home with incredible riches and knowledge. To express their gratitude, the young race built their greatest creation as a tribute to the Empress: a dancing robot in her likeness.
The Empress loved the gift. In her joy, she began to dance with the mechanical doll. It is said that they danced together for 100 years and a day, robot and organic tangled as one in a beautiful reverie. Such a dance was never danced before nor since. They moved like water over the ground and flew through the skies like the air itself. With such purity that exuded from the Empress' heart, the robot sparked consciousness. That life-force is still with us today. Each one of our sparks is a tiny sliver of that first dance, of that moment where new life was born from the purest of joy.
As the first robot ever armed with the power of sentience, the robot renamed herself Eosha Novy, The New Dawn. She intended to spread her newfound joy to the rest of machine-kind and work in unison with the organic beings. And so, with the blessing of the Empress—her friend and mentor—, she began her work.
She split her soul and placed it into her first son, Raijin-Oh: Son of the Sky, and Guardian of Wisdom—the Patron of the Royal Family. The second was Ganbaruger: Son of the Earth, the Guardian of Balance. The third was Gosaurer: Son of Fire, and Guardian of Courage. The last was Daitei-Oh: Son of Water, the Guardian of Compassion.
Each brother fought tirelessly to protect their mother until the day she passed. In sorrow, the brothers parted ways and continued their mother's legacy by splitting their own sparks and placing the fragments into their children.
All Eldranians, no matter of what lineage, celebrate this day as the one where the families reunited for the first time since the Guardians parted ways. The day when the first Queen of the Four Guardians, Juna, gathered all Eldranians together again. We gather, young and old, large and small, noble and common, to tell stories of our fallen family members and give thanks to their memories. We remember the legacy of our race and pray for a long, happy future for our kind. It is a happy day. For we are never lost without our family. We are never lost when we are together.
Since I became an Eldranian adult only a few weeks ago, I was excited to truly interact and celebrate with my people for the first time without being relegated to the sidelines like the minors. But something went horribly wrong today. I was caught up listening to the stories of an Elder Cousin, when my father returned home from the Cybertronian Senate to join the festivities. We gathered around my father, for he seemed in great distress, and it was at that moment when my heart quailed. My father's eyes were filled with hate. Filled with such disgust that I was repelled. I had never seen such an expression upon my father's features before. His lips curled as he spat venomous words from his mouth:
"Be they damned! Be they damned for those heathens know not of this most holy day! They immerse themselves gratefully in squalor and hate. Black as the eye of a black hole be their sparkles shells. They are walking corpses! They glory in their grime! Savages! They deserve everything that I will dispense upon them! They deserve nothing but scorn! We will use the slag from their melted husks to power our ships and fly far from this sty of a planet!"
Then my world collapsed as I saw my people explode with rage. Such vileness my ears have never heard from the mouths of my gentle people! As I write I weep. I cannot bear to write all that I heard, but I will not forget the poisonous words, the unspeakable acts my people—My Cousins! - wished to inflict upon the Cybertronian race. I am consumed by misery and woe. Daitei-Oh would be so reviled by us now. Surely, he would reject us as his children. And I fear for the Cybertronians. They know not of the seething giant at their feet that is slowly eating them away.
I took Father aside. I needed to know what happened for him to react so crudely and cruelly. Father told me that nothing bad had happened at all. The speech was for mere political grandstanding! Horror enveloped me.
"You must learn to keep our Cousins happy, daughter," he said, "they have great hate of the Inferiors. You must cultivate that hate. Preen it. Nurture it. For it is within hate that there is power."
I do not want power.
"Fear not dearest one," he continued, "Our family will soon have all we need. The Senate is full of weak fools, thanks to Sovereign Neron."
"Maybe Grandfather was wrong!" said I.
Father's face darkened.
"They are not like you and me, young one. You have not seen them. I have. They are dirty, heinous things. Terrifying and hungry. Baseless. Everything I said and worse. What we are doing is for our own protection."
"But what of them?"
Father laughed.
"Do not fret over them. They are nothing. Inferiors. What we do to them is for their own good. Could you imagine what would happen if they left his planet? What damage they would cause? No. Better to let them rot here. Everyone is safer this way."
"But-!"
"No more contradictions! You will understand what they are like when you stand in my place, but for now, trust me, daughter! Trust me!"
I do not.
Not anymore.
Present Day: 36th Cycle 24366.
"Why, Megatron?" Optimus stood outside of the glowing energon bars, looking in at the silver mech hunched over in his cell.
"That's a rather broad question, Prime," Megatron snorted, looking at his palms.
"Why did you turn yourself in?"
Megatron sighed and glanced at Optimus Prime out of the corner of his eye. However, he remained unusually still and calm for the violent mech Optimus knew. Such behavior usually indicated some sort of plan that was being presently executed, a habit that Optimus didn't appreciate in the slightest.
"I refuse to talk to you Prime, not without my legal representative."
"You know that if I wanted the information bad enough, I could always call in a mnemosurgeon. I'm sure someone would be willing to get into your skull as revenge for what you've done."
Megatron turned his full attention on Optimus. His optics blazed with a primal fury that would quell any other mech besides Optimus.
"Do that, and both you and the surgeon won't live to see tomorrow."
Optimus folded his arms over his chest, unimpressed by the threat. He'd heard that line a million times before. It hardly fazed him now.
"Besides, Prime," Megatron snarled, "isn't there some law about fair treatment of prisoners and willing cooperation of defendants somewhere? You wouldn't dare flaunt the law so openly before my trial. Somebody might get the wrong impression about you Autobots."
"Wordy bastard, aren't you?" Optimus growled, unable to deny what Megatron said.
Megatron did not respond. Optimus snorted.
"Whatever the reason, Megatron, it will come to light. There is nothing I won't find out at this trial. I will probe. I will prod. I will crack you so wide open that you won't be able to ever hide again. Nothing is sacred. No stone will be left unturned. You will be left as a cold, soft, shell-less mass of spare parts. Everyone will know the cowardly, neurotic spark that I know you've tried to hide for so long. You worthless, insecure-!"
"If you're trying to insult me, Prime, I suggest you vary your repertoire of profanity. Your slanderous accusations repudiate your assumption that the aforementioned subcategory of declarations will incite my aggravation since my aggression has not been impelled."
The slew of eloquent statements threw Optimus for a loop. He quickly recovered by blinking and sorting through the gibberish that Megatron spouted, but all the Prime could say in response was an intelligent:
"What?"
"Prime," Megatron sighed as if he was exasperated by the antics of an annoying child, "Stop trying to indict me of executing some grand scheme. I have none."
"Then why did you turn yourself in if you don't have some greater purpose? Don't tell me that you actually feel guilty about what you've done?" Optimus crossed his armed across his chest and snorted in disbelief.
"My reasoning is for me to know and for me alone to know."
Optimus narrowed his optics in annoyance. He had hoped his little verbal spar would have presented the perfect opportunity for Megatron to explain himself. Megatron could be more perceptive than Optimus gave him credit for. He had dodged Optimus's verbal punch, and left Optimus open for a blow instead. So, Optimus decided to switch tactics.
"Astute observation, Megatron," Optimus praised his nemesis, "you caught me red-handed trying to make you spill your secrets. You're shrewder than I ever expected."
"Your mistake, Optimus, is that you believe you are of the same mental caliber as me. As the humans say: 'you shouldn't swim with sharks if you are a minnow.'"
The insult stung. Optimus felt himself involuntarily wince from its impact. Megatron noticed the movement and grinned with the primal pleasure of a predator that had cornered its prey.
"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Prime."
"You like to think that you're so special, Megatron. You think that nobody is like you. You're too great to ever be in the same category as the rest of us 'common mechanisms'," Optimus let bitterness slide into his tone involuntarily.
Megatron shrugged.
"I can't help that I was built to be a superior paragon of perfection."
"You were an energon miner," Optimus deadpanned, hardly believing the depth of his nemesis's narcissism, "An energon miner who was constructed cold in a facility along with several hundred others who were all built exactly like you."
"I was different from the others."
Optimus shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't take this anymore. It was time to cut his losses and leave before he did something he was going to regret later.
"You know what, Megatron, forget it. This whole game, it's over. There is nothing more I can get from you. This is pointless to continue."
"I appreciate your brief contact with wisdom, Prime," Megatron sniffed, "Care to do it more often?"
Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose and turned on his heel. He began to march up the long, dark hallway of the Metroplex Penal Facility. His footsteps echoed angrily throughout the metal walls. He had to leave now.
"I will be presiding over the proceedings, Megatron," he called over his shoulder, "your hearing begins tomorrow. Don't think I won't get what I want in the end. You're in prison and I have the last laugh no matter what you say or do in the meantime. I have the last laugh!" He bellowed the last line out of frustration.
The door at the far end of the hall that led to the cells opened as Optimus swiped his keycard over the wall panel. Bright light illuminated the cells, covering Megatron in stripes of light and shadow from the bars. Optimus caught a flare of red from Megatron's eyes out of the corner of his eye, before he passed through the doorway. The heavy metal door sealed shut and locked again with a loud thud, plunging Megatron into the lonely dim lights that hung above the cell doors.
Optimus stormed up the brightly lit, almost sterile white halls. Autobots that came into proximity of him practically jumped out of his way. Fear lit up their faces as he passed. He was seething from his fruitless encounter with the former Decepticon leader but was failing to hide his rage. But they didn't know that. Optimus felt a wave of guilt wash over him, before it was again replaced by rage.
He proceeded up the hall, aimlessly wandering about the titan's halls as his rage consumed him. With every step his frustration built. He felt his body heat up with rage. Cooling fans snapped on to prevent his body from entering critical meltdown.
His rage was palpable now. Any transformer that could hear his approach turned and fled. Optimus was left unbothered to seethe in his roiling emotions. Optimus saw Bumblebee and Bluestreak flee. Sunstreaker dived into a random door that he clearly did not intend to enter before he caught sight of his raging leader. Prowl flattened himself against the wall, clutching his datapads to his chest as if they were talismans that granted him invisibility.
Optimus growled. His anger overcame him. With primal fury, he brandished his fist and swung with all his might. His fist pummeled the wall, rending a deep hole in its smooth surface. Metal split and twisted under the force of the blow. Optimus tried to pull his hand away for another blow, but his fist refused to budge.
Optimus snarled again. He was trapped like a tiger in a cage. He pulled and tugged, snarled and roared, but to no avail. His fist stayed resolutely jammed into the wall.
The mighty leader of the Autobots paused, looking hard at his fist. Maybe staring could remove his hand from the metal wall.
Footsteps rounded the corner.
"Well aren't you a sorry sight for sore eyes!" Ironhide said cheerfully as he quickly surveyed the situation.
Ironhide moved next to his leader and reached out to help Optimus extract his hand from the wall. With herculean effort, Optimus wrenched his hand free with a strained groan before Ironhide could reach him. He leered at the other red mech.
"Out of my way Ironhide. I'm busy."
Ironhide snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked miffed.
"Not busy enough to not stop and punch a hole in the wall," Ironhide sulked.
"Go away," Optimus elegantly responded with a sneer.
"Why? So that you can continue to scare the troops witless?"
"I don't have time for this."
Optimus turned to continue his lonesome storming. Ironhide jogged to keep up with the rapid footfalls of his angry superior. Lagging, the slightly shorter mech called out to his friend.
"Wait up!"
Optimus paid the call no mind as the two continued to stride down the hall. Ironhide continued to dog Optimus's footsteps, much to the Autobot leader's irritation.
"Go away Ironhide!"
Tracks bolted away from Optimus at the sound of his leader's bellow. Ironhide remained unruffled by the tone but frowned with concern.
"Optimus, can we talk? In my office?"
"Later. Leave me alone."
Ironhide looked skeptical. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Optimus, who turned to stomp away. Ironhide caught his shoulder before he could run off again. Optimus responded by punching Ironhide in the mouth. Ironhide stumbled back, more in shock than pain, clutching his bleeding mouth. Optimus stared in horror at the resulting carnage for a solid second. He rapidly shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed Ironhide's arm before the swaying mech could fall.
"Ironhide—." Optimus began to apologize as both mechs sunk to their knees, but it was Ironhide's turn to interrupt.
"My office! Now!" Ironhide's bellow was enough to break Optimus out of his stupor.
The stout mech stood up to his full height. Even though Ironhide's eyes were barely level with Optimus's chin, Optimus began to feel like he was three feet tall under the shorter mechs menacing glare.
Optimus, abashed, meekly followed his friend down the hall. Two left turns later, the two reached a simple metal door with a sign marking the interior as Ironhide's office. Ironhide forced the door open, none too gently. He pushed Optimus gruffly inside. Optimus slunk to the single, circular window at the far end of the small, undecorated office. He stared out the window, trying not to wince as Ironhide slammed the door shut behind them and marched to his desk chair. Ironhide fell with a heavy thud into his chair, as Optimus felt the other mech's blue optics bore holes into the back of his head.
"What the hell has gotten into you?" Ironhide roared.
"Sorry Ironhide." Optimus apologized softly while shaking his head, "I don't know what's gotten into me."
"Sure, you do Optimus. And I know too. You're always on edge when you talk to him."
Ironhide's face darkened at the implied mention of Megatron. He snarled and pulled a cube of energon onto his desk, yanked the top off and delicately sponged the life-giving liquid onto his wounded lower lip. Ironhide was a staunch believer that this sped up the healing process, even though Ratchet firmly warned against it. Optimus wasn't about to criticize, however, since he was the one who gave Ironhide the injury. Instead Optimus continued his apology.
"I shouldn't let him get to me. That's my fault. I'm sorry Ironhide."
"Not your fault," Ironhide shrugged as he moved the dabbing to his chin, "He knows how to get under your skin. I understand."
"Thanks, Ironhide," Optimus sadly, yet gratefully, smiled.
"What did he say this time?" Ironhide asked as he closed the cube and placed it back into his desk.
"Nothing. He won't talk."
"That's not like him." Ironhide leaned back in his chair, focusing fully on Optimus.
"I tried to worm it out of him, but Megatron is more astute than I often give him credit for. He is a genius after all, but that's often hard to remember given his track record."
"So, he's avoiding your questions?"
"Exactly," Optimus nodded once.
Ironhide paused for a moment. He swung his chair from side to side as he thought for a moment. He turned his gaze back on Optimus, questions lighting up his eyes like fireflies.
"But what could you possibly want to know from him?"
"Ironhide, don't you think it's suspicious that he turned himself in so easily? He didn't resist. He wanted to be taken in. Why?"
Ironhide shrugged.
"Optimus, quite frankly I don't care why he turned himself in. Neither should you."
"I care about why."
Ironhide rounded on his friend.
"Why? What does it matter what that narcissist intended by turning himself in? Maybe he felt like genocide wasn't getting him enough attention anymore and that the trial would put him back in the spotlight! What if that's his reason? Do you want him to confirm the worst? Does that help Cybertron? Does that help you?"
Optimus didn't answer.
"The bastard is caught. We've won. Nothing else matters," Ironhide crossed his arms over his chest.
Optimus looked at his hands and shook his head.
"But I want to do justice, Ironhide."
Ironhide straightened in his chair to meet Optimus's gaze.
"Justice will be properly served whether he answers why he surrendered. The outcome of the trial does not hinge on his reasoning. It never did."
Optimus bit his lip and broke eye contact. He stared at a spot on the floor by the corner of Ironhide's desk.
"But it matters to me."
"Why?" Ironhide threw up his hands, clearly exasperated, "Why do you care so much?"
"Because if he feels guilty why should we punish him harder than he deserves? If he is truly guilty, then he's going through massive internal trauma. It's not right to exacerbate it."
"Optimus, that's mighty kind of you," Ironhide smiled sadly at Optimus, "but I highly doubt he feels guilty about anything. It's Megatron. He doesn't feel. Unless you count rage and pride.
"Ironhide!" Optimus admonished.
"Optimus, you're turning yourself into an emotional wreck over some made-up idea that Megatron wants redemption! I get that you want to help by giving him that key! But not at the expense of your health! As your friend, I can't watch you tear yourself apart over that monster!"
"Ironhide," Optimus began, but fell silent at the murderous glint in Ironhide's eye. Ironhide clearly wasn't finished.
"Besides, what if what I said earlier was true? That he wants the trial for attention? Or is using it for some grand scheme? How would that make you feel? You work extremely hard; tear yourself apart; lose faith from your troops and civilians alike; and get your hopes dashed by him again. What's the point?"
"But we don't know his reasoning. I don't know if he wants help or not."
"Optimus, Megatron never wants help."
"Are we sure? Should we condemn someone who is passionate about their beliefs without listening to them?"
"Look around you, Prime!" Ironhide snapped, gesturing out the window, "Everyone down there has beliefs. Everyone is passionate about them in their own way. But not all beliefs should be allowed to flourish. Some beliefs are dangerous. Megatron's beliefs are the worst of the worst! The most harmful to the most amount of people!"
"But utility should not determine what beliefs stay and go. If we do that, we're no better than the Functionists. You said that the determining factor was most harmful to most amount? What is 'most'? What is 'harmful'? Who gets to choose what that means? Utility can be perceived in a myriad of ways that can be abused depending on who's controlling it. If we want to build a better future, isn't it better to hear everyone out and come to a logical compromise?"
Ironhide shrugged. His anger had deflated.
"Perhaps, Prime, we may never know. The end of the war brought up more questions than answers, I think. Personally, I'm just happy that it will all be over. We have him in custody. He's on trial tomorrow. He'll be dead by the day after. Shouldn't we celebrate that?"
Optimus shrugged. He turned away from his friend and strode to the window. He gazed forlornly outside. Transformers of all shapes and sizes bustled about in the city below. They looked from that height for all the universe like ants repairing a colony. They bustled about, carrying their heavy loads and burdens. The scrambled back and forth in the city lights. They worked tirelessly below, blissfully unaware of Optimus's crisis.
Optimus reached out and touched the glass. He traced the lines on his reflection's face. He looked so old and worn out now. He held the weight of the world for too many centuries and now wanted nothing more than to toss them aside and let another fool take up the mantle instead.
"I guess, Ironhide. But there is a part of me that needs to know 'why?'."
"Suit yourself, Optimus," Ironhide shrugged and moved to the door so that he could take his leave, "suit yourself."
The door closed behind his longtime friend. Optimus was left alone to stare out the window and ponder.
"Why, Megatron?" he whispered into thin air, "Why?"
Now alone in the dark, Megatron slumped forward. The blessed silence filled the cell. The damp air was thick, warm, and almost comforting save for the smell of dried energon in the air from countless previous prison fights.
Megatron felt his emotions begin to strangle him again. His optics burned, His neck tightened, constricting his airflow. His hands shook as he lifted them to his face. He buried his head in his hands in a futile attempt to stifle the overwhelming waves of guilt and sadness. Pain and grief overcame the once mighty mech. He dug his fingers hard into his face and temples in a futile attempt to silence the thunderous screaming voices berating him in his mind. He gasped as his world came crashing down around him.
Megatron began to cry.
