Cybertronian Calendar 67th Cycle 04

I awoke to the sound of hospital machinery. That sound is never pleasant to hear upon one's awakening. I immediately became nervous. Beeps, clicks, and whirrs filled my ears with their sickening sounds. I felt needles wiggle in my arms as I twitched in discomfort, making me even more nauseous. I hate hospitals.

"She's coming around," a faint voice announced in the distance.

"Okay, let's help her out," I heard another voice command, "inject 30 standard units of concentrated energon. That should jolt her systems back to full working capacity."

I felt a burning liquid rush into my arm. It stung and burned as it dashed through my circulation. Every wire in my body tensed. My sensors blazed to life, overwhelming my brain with a deluge of information.

My eyes flew open and I bolted upright. Gentle hands caught my shoulders to steady me.

"Easy, Princess," Doctor Toudou reassured me.

Dr. Toudou was a rather portly looking gentleman. His build was wide and sturdy with a rather plain white and grey paint scheme and a simple black helmet to complete his simple looks. Yet, despite his rather dumpy and plain appearance, he had a friendly face. His yellow eyes sparkled with kindness that lit up his cherubic visage. He was the only doctor that Father entrusted with the lives of the Royal family. I had to agree. This jovial mech's sturdy digits supported me like I was a delicate flower. I could also discern that he was watching me closely for any signs of discomfort.

When I failed to make any disturbing motion, Dr. Toudou carefully removed his grip on my shoulders, and eased me back onto the pillows to support my head, neck, and back. Assured that I was recovering, he stood to his full height, towering over me as I lay bedridden.

"Princess," he addressed me by title, "I have some questions for you."

"Please," I nodded and gestured to a vacant chair by my hospital bed's nightstand, "by all means."

Dr. Toudou nodded gratefully, and quietly drew the chair beside my bed. He sat so that we remained eye-to-eye. And I noticed that he had lifted a notepad and pen that I had not noticed before. He was obviously preparing to ask some questions about my condition.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Princess," the good Doctor prefaced, "they're mostly about your symptoms before your collapse and how you are feeling now. So, do not be alarmed."

I was not.

"It's no problem at all, Doctor," I nodded.

Dr. Toudou smiled.

"Good," he adjusted his position so that he could comfortably write in his lap, "I'd like to first ask for your permission to be observed."

"Observed?"

My heart began to race.

"I have a new apprentice, you see," Dr. Toudou explained to calm my nerves, "He's about to complete his training. So, I thought that he could observe what I am doing to gain some more experience before he takes his Medic's Exam."

I blinked. I was not certain if I wanted a novice to see me in my current state. Dr. Toudou obviously saw my discomfort.

"He's an exceptional student," Dr. Toudou pressed on, "the best I've had. He works very hard. Also, extremely studious. Talented too."

"He can observe," I relented.

"Oh! Thank you, Princess!" Dr. Toudou gasped, he obviously had been nervous that I would reject his pupil, "He'll be thrilled to hear that! I'll let him in!"

Dr. Toudou rapidly crossed the room and stuck his head into the hallway. He turned to re- enter as another mech followed behind him.

From what Dr. Toudou had described, I had expected a reedy, bookish individual. The young man who entered behind Dr, Toudou was neither of those things. He was tall and handsome. He had a well-proportioned body and a paint job of snow white and crimson red. His body had bright accents of black and gold with a head crest that reminded me of a knight in shining armor.

I felt my heart race as he leveled his teal gaze upon my prone figure. He graciously bowed to me. He lifted my hand with one of his crimson ones. His body was warm and surprisingly unmarked for a lower-class citizen. I will not lie, I was glad at this moment that I had agreed to meet this young man.

"It is my pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Princess," he had a voice like ringing bells and a rich, deep choir. He then kissed the back of my hand.

I swooned.

"Princess," Dr. Toudou interrupted my thoughts, "may I introduce my number one student, Duke, Son of Regina of Daitei-Oh and Ganbaruger?"

The young gentleman shifted, obviously embarrassed at being pointed out with such high praise. I nodded to acknowledge his presence while I pondered if the young man before me was a nobleman. I doubted it, since he was a blend of two Guardian lines. Nobles tended to not mix bloodlines, however, due to our limited numbers, every Eldranian was some mix of all four Guardians. My own mother, for example, was a daughter of Daitei-Oh and Raijin-Oh. Father married her because she was one-fourth Raijin-Oh, which is a higher concentration than the average Eldranian, in an attempt to turn the Royal family into a "purer" line than the mix we had become. Father was a mix of mostly Raijin-Oh, with very little Ganbaruger, and Gosaurer bloodlines. If this young man was a noble, and not some commoner, I perhaps could meet my husband today. The thought made me blush.

Dr. Toudou broke me out of my thoughts as he moved to sit beside me again.

"Princess," he began, "can you tell me what you were doing before you fainted?"

"I had just woken up and was waiting for my chambermaids to help me get prepared for the day."

"Then?"

"I was walking to my desk to write in my journal, but the world started spinning. That's when I fainted."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Any other symptoms?"

"No."

"I see," Dr Toudou finished scribbling down his notes, "Princess, if you don't mind, I will excuse myself to check the computer for a minute. I will leave Duke with you to monitor your progress until I return. Rest well"

He stood and bowed before sweeping out of the room. The handsome Duke began to check the monitor beeping rhythmically over my bed's headboard.

We stood in silence for several moments.

"I thank you for your assistance," I blurted.

He looked down at me with faint surprise in his eyes.

"It is no problem, Princess," Duke smiled, "I must thank you again for allowing me the pleasure of aiding you."

"You are most welcome," I smiled back, "may I inquire why you are interested in the field of medical care?"

"Certainly. It is because I want to work for the Brave Police," Duke said as he checked my vitals, "They're in need of a Medic, so I intend to fill that role."

"I was under the impression that one must be a registered police unit before becoming a member of the Brave Police."

"That's true," Duke nodded, "But I've wanted to be a Brave Police Medic since I was very young. I'm taking the BPRE next month."

"The BPRE?"

"The Brave Police Registration Exam."

"I see. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, Princess."

Upon Dr. Toudou's return, I was told that I would remain in the hospital for another day. Apparently, they still have no clue what is wrong with me. I sincerely hoped that I would be cleared soon. However, there is a silver lining: I have more time to talk to Duke.

Left to my own bedridden devices, I decided to watch the news while I embroidered a silk cloth. When Eldranians still travelled the stars, we were renown traders. In exchange for our technology, we would often receive exotic, organic luxuries. Organic silk was something highly coveted in Eldranian society. However, only the wealthiest of nobles, like my family, could afford enough silk to make elegant capes and coverings like the one I was decorating.

Father insisted that he, Mother, and I always wear embroidered silk in public. This cape I was making now was for a Gala scheduled for the following week. I was using silk thread woven with silver and gold to weave small diamonds into intricate shapes of flowers and flames, symbols of Eldranian wealth and power respectively. I could have had my handmaidens carefully weave the threads and diamonds through the dark purple fabric, but sometimes I preferred to do the work myself.

I was broken out of my thoughts as the screen above me flashed. There was important breaking news. I stopped the careful movement of my fingers to cast my eyes to the screen. I saw the headline and my world shattered.

"Sovereign Proteus Encourages Cybertronian Senate to Turn Over Autobot Payroll to Talus."

I dropped my needle and thread.

I still do not know much about Cybertronian Government and Society, but I do know that the Autobots are the Cybertronian equivalent to the Brave Police. They are a police force. Now Father had the power to pay off any Cybertronian Police officer.

For some reason that thought did not still well with me. On the one hand, this was another method of necessary control over the Cybertronians. Now Eldran controlled both what the laws were and how they were enforced. So, that should be something I rejoiced. However, there was a nagging doubt that settled like a black mist over my spark. I have become more accustomed to this sensation of doubt and disgust. He may be my Father, but I was beginning to disagree with Proteus's methods for ruling.

It was several more hours before I was cleared to leave my hospital bed. The entire time, I felt the unease grow from a gentle mist to a dense fog. In times like these, where I am at my most vulnerable and uncertain, I needed to read.

I left for the Talus Library, but I found no solace there. I find much more solace in these pages. Writing of my family's injustice is far more cathartic than ignoring it. I am not like Mother. So, I returned home. I began to write in the Palace Library, but my angst turned quickly to boredom. I then stopped writing and began to explore the shelves to find a volume to read.

I've already read all the books and scrolls that the main Palace Library has to offer. I was not in the mood for re-reading anything. I needed more stimulation than that. So, I set off into one of the hidden antechambers. The Palace Library supposedly has approximately twenty of these hidden rooms, but I have not found them all yet, so I am not sure how much is truly hidden in the Library. Today I decided to find a new one, rather than go into a chamber I already knew.

I began my search by asking Kakikomi, the old librarian. She was the one who showed me the antechamber system when I was a youngling. Naturally, I asked if she had found any new secrets. Her yellow eyes sparkled as she said that she found some signs of a new chamber, but the door remained hidden. Thus, our adventure began!

She led me to a corner of the library that had a reading alcove. It was not large, barely enough to fit the small bookshelf and worn armchair within its walls. However, the rooms small size surprisingly helped to hide the trapdoor under the rug on the floor. Kakikomi and I felt rather foolish for spending two full hours trying to scour the alcove when the hidden door was beneath our feet all along!

We traveled down the trapdoor's steps and came upon an old locked, wooden door. Kakikomi picked the lock. I don't know why she knows how to do that, but she is always surprising me with some hidden skill. Perhaps it is her age that gave her the time to learn many tricks.

Within the tiny space beyond the door, I discovered a series of large scrolls on the only shelf which lined the far wall, written in High Eldranian. I guessed that this was a storage room and that the scrolls were invaluable lost information. To test my theory, I asked Punctilus, the Chief Manservant, to get a team of servants to find the Vivacus Tomes. The Vivacus Tomes are the only volumes written in both High and all four Middle Eldranian dialects. I can read Raijin, Saurer, and Daitei Middle Eldranian (my Ganbaruger is rather rusty) without much difficulty, but High Eldranian is long-dead and very infrequent to find. Therefore, it is exceptionally rare to be versed in the language. I needed a translation tool. It took many hours of digging with a team of five servants and myself all scouring the Palace Library to find them, but once I found the Vivacus Tomes, I holed myself up in a corner at an old desk and began my work.

The scrolls began with "All Hail, Behold, and Delight in the Might of our Beloved Queen Juna, for she holds the Soul of Eldran—the Guiding Light of New Dawn. Blessed be her daughters, the future Queens of Eldran, for they too shall be as gifted as our Beloved. All be transfixed by Queen Juna and her majestic histories. Glory be to Juna." Since that title is rather long and cumbersome, I personally call them the "Juna Scrolls."

The texts told the story of the First Queen of the Four Guardians, Juna. There are modern legends about her, of course, but they have been long twisted and forgotten by history. The legend goes that Juna was Raijin-Oh's first daughter. Soon after she was born, a Great Exodus was ordered to find the other clans who had separated long ago. After several centuries, she had gathered all the clans together and we have been living as one ever since. But the texts said so much more.

According to the translation, Juna was born as a daughter of the Raijn-Oh clan. She was not of any special birth, for she was merely a trader in her youth. As she reached her adult years, many oddities began to occur around her. She could accurately perceive the feelings of those around her; weird weather patterns occurred as she slept at night; creatures of all kinds would flock to her as she walked through the forests. The list went on and on, but the one that caught my eye was the stories of objects moving around without her touching them.

"Telekinesis," I whispered to myself.

I decided to test my internal, half-formed hypothesis. I looked at a scroll that had rolled out of arm's reach. It took several minutes of concentration, in hindsight I must have looked crazy, but eventually the scroll began to wiggle. It wavered momentarily, before skittering across the table and back into my hand. With my suspicions confirmed, I immediately I dived back into the scrolls and devoured their contents.

I read that as Juna grew older, her powers became more powerful and her control over them grew. She then had a vision of Raijn-Oh, who demanded she would lead Clan Raijin to the other Clans. Together, they would search the stars for the true Homeworld.

I was both elated and confused. I had been taught since I was little that we had always been from Eldran. So then why was Great Raijin-Oh commanding we find Homeworld? The Juna Scrolls never answered this mystery. I suspected that the answers to my many questions were once held on these pages, but the poor condition of the scrolls prevented me from deciphering their meaning. The fragile, ancient papyrus was riddled with holes and smeared, faded ink. Yet, regardless of the difficulty, I pressed on.

The story then went on to call her powers "The Soul of Eldran". I found the name to be rather poetic, even though I had never heard the term before. These secret scrolls divulged so many ancient secrets, but left so many questions unanswered. But then, two words appeared on the page at random, the other characters surrounding them had long been erased by time:

"Hamelin System."

I searched through the scrolls for their meaning, but nothing gave me further clarification. The words were mentioned several more times, always in conjunction with The Soul of Eldran. So, perhaps they are connected? I then was thrown further into confusion as suddenly, the story jumped from Juna trying to convince Clan Raijin to leave their planet to Juna with all the clans gathered together on Eldran.

I tried to find another scroll. Perhaps one was missing? But to no avail. No scroll that filled in the missing pieces appeared. In frustration, I placed the Juna Scrolls back in their hiding place and left with my mood dourer than when I had arrived.

I hope tomorrow is less confusing.

Present Day

The noise was deafening. Thousands of Autobots packed the arena to watch the spectacle. They clamored and hollered trying to scream their hatred for the defendant since they couldn't shoot him.

Yet.

The crowd began to chant as Optimus entered the arena and approached the bench:

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!"

The chant was reaching an ear-splitting pitch.

"Order in the Court!" Optimus hollered as he sat down.

The tumult died down from a thunderous roar to a hissing babble. Raskol Arena, the huge stadium on Luna 2, was packed to the gills and the whole place covered in a brightly-colored throng that extended skyward as far as the eye could see. The glowing ball of Cybertron hung overhead, ringed by the spires of the stadium. It hung there, framed by the crowd, as if it was passing judgement upon the throng below.

Optimus himself sat on a bench in the center of the field at the bottom of the stadium. to his right, Ironhide stood with his arms folded over his chest and his guns at his hips. To Optimus's left, Elita sat, ready to record the proceedings.

In front of him, Prowl sat at a desk to Optimus's right. Ultra Magnus sat at a desk to the left, an open seat beside the giant blue mech was where Megatron would soon sit. The two mechs sent venomous looks between them. Prowl being careful to also send looks of loathing to the Prime above him. Optimus felt his spark drop.

Prowl was never going to forgive him. This trial had cost him a good, longtime friend.

Ultra Magnus adjusted his repaired arm. Optimus guessed that it probably still hurt a little. Optimus grimaced.

This trial may have cost him two friends.

Optimus decided to distract himself from the heartbreak by adjusting the Crown of the Primes on his head. Behind his mask, he grimaced. This large, obnoxious circlet of gold felt stupid to wear. This trial was already going to be uncomfortable enough without this constant reminder of the burden of his responsibilities bearing down on his brow. But no time to dwell on that. He shook himself as Ironhide tapped his shoulder, indicating that the hour had arrived. It was time to begin.

Optimus steeled himself.

"Bring in the accused," he said.

The gate at the far end of the arena opened. Megatron emerged, handcuffed and flanked by several rows of Magnus-sized soldiers. Noone was taking any chances. As soon as Megatron stepped into the glare of the stadium lights, the watching crowd burst into bloodthirsty howls of rage.

"Monster!" Optimus heard some scream.

"Murderer!"

"Psychopath!"

Optimus saw the soldiers tense and raise their weapons. Tempers were rising and someone could snap at any moment, either Megatron or the crowd. At this point, Optimus didn't know which would be more dangerous. Optimus glowered at his approaching rival, intending on intimidating the former Decepticon leader into nonaction, but paused.

Megatron looked shockingly calm and subdued for a mech in his position. He looked somewhat morose. Almost depressed. He held his chin high, but his steps were heavy and languid. Optimus saw his terrifying rival cover his mouth and his shoulders hitched. The movement made the silver mech grimace, which Optimus knew from centuries of experience fighting the stubborn Decepticon meant that he was in extreme pain.

A cough.

Megatron was sick.

Optimus glanced down at Elita. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her stunningly blue eyes up to meet her husband's. She tilted her head inquisitively, clearly questing. Optimus darted his eyes between her and the approaching Megatron. She followed the movement. Optimus saw her eyes widen as she took stock of the approaching tyrant. She turned back to Optimus.

"Is he okay?" she mouthed, the corner of her mouth pulling downward to indicate her discomfort.

Optimus made a slight jerking motion with his shoulders. Elita's brow furrowed with worry. She clasped her wrist and squeezed it. A movement that spoke volumes to Optimus about her love and support. Even when she wasn't able to physically be there with him, she always had his back. Optimus smiled sadly at her.

Optimus tore his gaze away from Elita and back to the haggard Megatron. This time taking stock of the mech's subtle ticks. Through the years, he had learned to read Megatron almost as well as he could read his best friend, Ironhide. He guessed that Megatron didn't read him in the same way. The tyrant was too selfish to notice his opponent's finer emotions. It was a little skill that Optimus was glad he had. It was the one advantage that he had over the fearsome warrior and strategist. It had saved his life many times, taking advantage of Megatron's mood. Otherwise, Megatron surely would have added Optimus' head to his trophy collection of Prime Heads a long time ago.

Optimus watched.

Megatron's eyes were usually a bright shade of burning scarlet that darted quickly around, taking stock of everything. Nothing ever escaped the notice of those watchful eyes and the darting became more prominent when Megatron was deep in thought. Also, Optimus knew that when Megatron was feeling particularly emotional, they flashed even brighter like two red-hot fireballs. But there was nothing more terrifying than when those eyes stopped darting. When they focused on a target with the feeling of boring into the very spark like a twin laser. Optimus suppressed a shiver. He vividly remembered the overwhelming sense of fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm him every time those eyes honed in on him. It was like he could feel death itself breathing down his neck. Like he was going to be ripped apart and consumed by the jaws of an insatiable, violent predator. As if Megatron's very tenacity and wants were made manifest into a seething spear of hatred.

Today, Megatron's eyes had very little light behind them. They looked dim and cloudy. They barely moved, hardly moving from some vacant space in the distance. But there was no focus; no intense feeling of determination, desire and hatred. The eyes remained aloft only to please the crowd. They didn't care what they were looking at. The fire was extinguished.

Optimus switched his gaze to the corners of Megatron's mouth. Optimus knew Megatron well enough that he knew that he was a phenomenal actor. It was what made him a fantastic rhetorician and liar. Megatron's unparalleled ability to hide his real feelings by employing a carefully constructed veil of either total indifference or blind rage was a skill Optimus secretly yearned he had. Being both a leader and an open book could be extremely taxing, so Megatron had the luxury of mystique and mystery about him. But the corners of the silver tyrant's mouth were one of those subtle hints into the mech's inner workings.

Optimus remembered the few times that they had tried to work out their differences and sign a peace treaty. Those two instances were the most impactful for Optimus. Being in such close proximity to the Decepticon leader when he wasn't angry was a fun learning experience. The little twitches spoke more volumes than any conversation. For example, he asked during the first set of negotiations that the Decepticons repair damages caused to historical monuments. Optimus watched as the right corner of Megatron's mouth had twitched upward very slightly, almost the hint of a smile. But the Decepticon leader instead leapt into a roaring tirade about 'sentimental Autobots' and 'useless Functionist trash'. It took all of Optimus' mental and physical capabilities to not burst into laughter at that point.

Optimus suppressed a chuckle at the memory. He composed himself enough to continue his inspection of his feared enemy. Megatron's mouth was as stony and lifeless as his eyes. His lips didn't move, and were set in a neutral line on his face. Occasionally, they would grimace slightly, betraying the anguish that Megatron was experiencing, before immediately falling back to their neutral expression. It was such a stark contrast, the eyes and the lips, from the confident stride that Megatron was attempting to portray.

Attempting and failing, since Optimus could now see how hard the former tyrant was working to keep himself upright, and every step looked like it caused immense pain. The dull eyes and grimacing only served to break the spell of forced confidence further.

But Optimus could see that the crowd was buying it. They howled and screamed, not noticing the tyrant's pain. Nor was Megatron going to let them. This was simply another act for him. Playing the part of the unrepentant tyrant to satiate the hungry crowd's thirst for blood. If they were going to destroy Megatron, then he was going to let them think that they had terminated him in his prime. An ultimate vindication, since there was no satisfaction in killing a sickly mech, no matter how heinous the crimes he had committed.

Optimus realized that he had never appreciated how much his opponent cared about putting the desires of the masses over his personal comfort. His writings, his speeches, even Megatron's actions were all tailored to appeal to what the masses wanted. Optimus wondered how long someone could handle acting in the interests of others. Optimus briefly wondered in Megatron had played to the crowd for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to be himself. How long could someone last before selflessness burns them out? How long could one go on by ignoring their own wants and needs? Helping oneself was just as important as helping others. It keeps the heart and mind fresh and available. It never served anyone to, as the humans put it, burn the candle at both ends. And as Optimus stared at the approaching figurehead, he found the answer.

Megatron looked tired.

He looked old.

Optimus frowned, catching himself wringing his hands. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was not the time to get emotional. After all, the mech had insulted his intelligence a mere few hours ago. The image of a wild, wounded animal that lashed out in pain and fear bubbled up unbidden in his mind's eye. Optimus felt the guilt bubble up in his chest again.

"You are a complicated enigma, Megatron," Optimus thought.

He caught Prowl's eye. The small police car looked thunderous. Optimus guessed that Prowl had noticed his internal conflict. Optimus had no choice but to awkwardly break the contact and stare back up at Megatron, who finally drew up to Ultra Magnus' side.

The crowd continue to roar. It was now up to him to restore some semblance of order and civility. Optimus glanced once more at Elita. His wife gave him a single nod and an encouraging smile. Optimus Prime stood.

"The Court is now in session," he announced.

The crowd became a hushed murmur of baited anticipation.

"Prosecution," Optimus called to Prowl, "you may begin your opening statement."

Prowl stood. He walked to his podium, shuffling information on a datapad as he approached. The police car scanned the watching crowd. He had a serious, stern look that Optimus knew only too well. Prowl flared the wing-like doors on his back, and began.

"Cybertronians," he addressed the crowd, "I, Prowl, represent the Prosecution on behalf of the Greater Populace of Cybertron in this case. The defendant, Megatron of Tarn, is charged with crimes against the species, which denotes a broad category of crimes that includes, but is not limited to, a series of grade-1 atrocities.which resulted in the loss of 16 billion Cybertronian lives and a further 200 billion organic lives on sovereign worlds. Each charge will each be specified in more detail during the the Prosecution's case-in-chief. During the following proceedings, the Prosecution will call forth witnesses to explain the depth and severity of these heinous crimes. Such evidence that I will put forth against the defendant will conclusively prove beyond a reasonable doubt the defendant's guilt, and I urge the esteemed court to enter the most logical and just punishment to recompense Cybertron: public execution.

The crowd bayed at the final statement.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" they chanted.

Optimus swallowed.

This was going to get ugly.

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, he did what he had always done.

Watch.

Wait.

Protect.

The white orator was clearly hostile and would be treated as such. The blue one was hard to judge, so he would watch that one closely but presently take no aggressive action against. The red one could be an ally, thereby staying his hand for the time being. His eyes darted around the stadium, taking in every possible bit of data.

Hundreds of potential scenarios played in his mind. He selected the most likely occurrences to the forefront of his mental faculties. He began to narrow down his options to the most efficient and effective few. Then, he calculated plans to achieve the scenarios. Alternatives and hypotheticals to these scenarios played in his head, and counter-plans and adjustments were factored in. Variances were quantified and calibrated to the schema. He selected his tools and calculated his precise routes and vectors. Within a span of time faster than the blink of an eye, his mind was prepared for the task at hand.

Time to go to work.