AN: Thank you to anyone who reviewed, TimeLordBud who offered encouragement, and LadyAnatar who is one of the best proof readers I have ever had. Another chapter for you! Enjoy!
Chapter 6 :: Credō IV
I believe that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.
The Decepticons were closing in. Hordes of them. Thousands. Many of them living mechs, but there was a considerable number of drones among the forces.
They marched on the smaller force of Autobots; the slow, easy, unworried march of the invincible. The Decepticons knew they could not be beaten by this small contingent. They knew that Soundwave had blocked the Autobots' comms, so no help would be arriving. They knew that among these Autobots was the Prime. They knew that even with his strength, they, the Decepticons, would be victorious.
With over ten thousand against barely fifty, the odds were slightly in their favor, after all.
The Autobots knew this. Yet they would not stop resisting. They had managed to retreat into a small chasm, which allowed only two bots to pass abreast. This made it possible for the virtually infinitesimal force of 'bots to hold off the innumerable numbers of the 'cons.
Not without cost, however. No matter how many times they switched fighters, ensuring nobot got too tired, occasionally, someone would slip up, and weapons would find lethal strike-points, and a loyal Autobot soldier would fall.
"We're runnin' outta time, Prime," Ricochet snarled as he peeked around a bend in the canyon, peering out to where three of their soldiers were holding off the Decepticon troops. The three who were to relieve the fighters in a breem or so crouched behind boulders and shards of metal halfway down the bend.
"I know, Ricochet. But what can we do? Our numbers fall every orn, and the Decepticons have as many reinforcements as they need. If we retreat, they will follow and destroy us from behind. If we advance, they will still offline us all. If we stay, they will do the same."
The car-former frowned. "There's gotta be 'nother way. There al'ays is."
"I fear there is not this orn, my friend. We are trapped."
Ricochet snarled again. "Then if we're goin' down, Ah'm takin' as many'a them's Ah can with me!"
"A sentiment I return."
The Autobots held off the Decepticons successfully, with few losses, for another three orns. They would have been taken out sooner by the aerial forces if not for the steep, leaning walls of the canyon. No flying bot was able to get through. The edges of the crevasse above them curled in, creating a roof that had naught but a few small seams to let light through. They were essentially in a cave.
The Decepticons had suffered massive losses. The cold, deactivated frames of the offline warriors and drones created a series of large piles, set in the locations the Autobots had held them off. They had retreated farther into the canyons at numerous occasions. Optimus Prime and his Second, Ricochet, had decided that moving backwards, slowly, could be the only way to get them out with sparks still beating. It had been working. Occasionally, instead of sending the relief fighters up to those currently holding off the hordes, the fighters would fall back and the reliefs would set the new fighting ground. A sort of brutal, lethal, twisted game of leap-frog.
But it was not to last.
"Prime! They're rollin' in tanks, now! Ah think they're gonna try ta just blast th' roof out over us. Or behind us. Get us trapped, 'n then kill us all."
Optimus frowned at his Second's report. "This is... not promising."
"Ya can say that 'gain."
"What do you suggest, Ricochet?"
The blue bot was silent for a moment before he turned his visor on his pedes. "Ah know yer not gonna like this, Prime, but hear me out. Leave meh an' a small force a'hind t' keep 'em occupied while ya get out with th' majority'a our forces."
Optimus' sharp gaze bore into the car-former. "I cannot order my mechs to do that."
"Ah ain't askin' ya t' order it. Ah volunteer. As will a bunch'a other bots. Ah know they will."
"I cannot condone such an act!"
"Ya gotta, Prime! Or else th' 'cons'll get 'hold'a yer Matrix, th' Autobots will lose their leader, 'n th' war'll be lost!"
The two bots stared at each other for a long moment. A battle of wits, wills, and determination.
If anything rivaled the determination of the Prime, it was the determination that filled his bots, his soldiers, when he had to be protected. This determination proved stronger than the Prime's.
"Very well, Ricochet. But I will not order it, and neither will you."
"Alright, Prime."
As it turned out, no orders need be given. Ten Autobots, including Ricochet, were chosen to stay in the canyon while the others made their escape. And those ten had to fight for the position. Every Autobot in that dark, lonely cave wished to stay.
"Prime? Would'ja do somethin' for me? When ya get out?"
"Of course, Ricochet. What would you like done?"
With a long vent, the small blue bot disconnected his visor from his helm and handed it to the Prime. "Give that t' mah brother. Jazz. He's in SpecOps like meh, an' well on his way t' kickin' me outta th' position as Head, too. Tell 'im Ah knew what Ah was doin', an' t' remember me."
"Of course, Ricochet. I know Jazz. I was unaware he was your brother."
"Yeah, we thought it'd be better that way. Tell 'im Ah said bye."
"I will."
"It's been 'n honor servin' with ya, Prime."
"And you, Ricochet. Nobot could ask for more than you have given me and are willing to give me."
"Sure. Nobot should ever have t' ask, an' you ain't. Now get outta here. Lemme do my job."
"Goodbye, Ricochet."
"Bye, Prime. Good travels t' ya."
"May Primus light the way before you."
"Likewise."
Optimus Prime's contingent of thirty mechs traveled as fast as they could through the canyon, transforming and driving when possible, scrambling over boulders and metal shards in bipedal mode when not. It was an arduous journey, and they had not traveled far when a loud rumble shook the walls and ceiling of the cavern. The bots paused, looked back, and gave a wordless, quiet salute to the mechs who had stayed behind so that they might live.
"Come," Optimus called softly into the darkness. "Let us make sure that our companions' sacrifice is not in vain."
With that, the contingent continued on their way. Optimus walked on in silence, contemplating what he had done. What he had allowed. Had he given up too easily? Had he let Ricochet down by simply letting the ten soldiers stay behind to allow their escape?
With a painful throb of his spark, the Prime set his processors to getting out. He could worry and regret Ricochet's sacrifice later.
The contingent moved on, and, after three joor of travel, exited the tunnels.
It turned out that leaving had been a decision that would haunt the Prime forever. Ricochet had been a wonderful Second in Command and Head of Special Operations. Prowl, Prime's previous Third, and Jazz, Ricochet's younger brother, were just as good, if not better. However, Ricochet had been there from the start of the war. He had been Sentinel's Head of Special Operations since before the war, and Optimus' since Sentinel's deactivation.
An instant, Prime mused, vorns later. A decision in an instant that changed me for the rest of my life. Ric was not the first bot to sacrifice himself for me, but he was the first one I was close to. Ricochet, if you could see me now. I know what you would say. You would tell me to stop moping, to get over it, that it was your choice and you don't regret it. But I do. We could have done something so that you had lived. An instant I will regret my entire life.
