Thief
Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!
Optimus sighed and leaned back into his chair in his office at the HQ. It had been a tiring few days since the new Dinobots were sparked and he had to go deal with it with Galvatron on his hip and Prowl as his backup. He still felt responsible for Prowl's injury but he was glad to have had the other there that day. Fourteen human lives had been spared due to Prowl's injury when he had jumped in front of the stomping Slag to get them out of the way. Slag's tail had hit him square in the chassis but it wasn't too deep of a wound. Nothing had been punctured or crushed beyond a competent medic's skill to fix, though Optimus didn't envy Prowl with Ratchet as his primary physician in the least. He should have probably asked for Hound. The big green field medic may not have as much experience or as much of a reputation as Ratchet does, but he was a good enough medic and wasn't nearly as grumpy. Or maybe Ambulon. Ambulon was a former Autobot who had defected from the Decepticons, so he's pretty understanding and has a mild temperament. Still, it was Prowl's choice and judging from the conversation he and Megatron overheard in passing, Prowl had used it to inform his team of his decision. How they reacted wasn't Optimus business, so he had left them to it.
What was Prime's business were the Dinobots in general. Swoop and Snarl were smaller than Grimlock and accepted his leadership and all three bots had a crush the size of Luna 1 on Elita. She could keep them in line pretty well and they had pretty much established a form of hierarchy between them in their simpler processors and ways of life. Dinobots couldn't give a slag about power struggles or political play, even if there were ones in the Republic, and humans didn't interest them, either. A good thing they were just territorial and not downright aggressive and that they couldn't care less for the humans' petty conflicts that always threatened to break out had the threat of the Cybertronian Republic packing up all that was theirs by rights of law and leaving them to their own devices not been there to loom over them. It was kins of like blackmail and manipulation, but Optimus wasn't exactly above a little dirty play to keep his people safe.
Slag and Sludge were newly sparked and were still learning about the world and what it meant to be a Cybertronian, but they had the same mindset as Grimlock, Snarl and Swoop. They needed some guidance and they needed a lot of space, so they didn't exactly have a choice but to integrate them with the already existing Dinobots on Dinobot Island. Optimus, Elita, Hook, Crosshairs, Hound, Drift, Dominus, Ambulon, Strongarm, Smokescreen, Blaster and Soundwave all gathered to oversee the five beastformers meeting and were at first suspicious by how neither Sludge nor Slag tried to challenge Grimlock for dominance and leadership. Grimlock looked suspicious, too, but it would appear that Slag and Sludge were the more peaceful type, much like Swoop and Snarl. Grimlock was the only one with ambition and a sense of leadership. Elita and Blaster were still watching them, just in case something happens. Elita at least had her venom to put them into stasis lock, should the need arise, and Blaster can contact them in a matter of nanoseconds if there is an incident. So far so good on that front.
The Orion was coming along nicely. He still couldn't believe he was standing in the presence of such a legendary ship and he longed to go through the captain's log and read the reports. It would be like reading stilted history. Even a thousand and fifty stellar cycles of running his own state and saving thousands upon thousands of mechs hadn't managed to quell his old passion. And both the Orion and Megatron really weren't helping the situation.
Megatron ... He was better behaved than any of their previous temporary Decepticon guests. He seemed to have taken Optimus' words to spark and never even hinted at breaking a rule. He didn't bother any of his soldiers that had defected nor did he try to start an uprising with the ones still determined to continue fighting in the war as Decepticons in order ti get the AllSpark. He stayed well behaved and kept out of places he was told only the Republic's mechs can go into. He seemed to be quite content to marvel at Metroplex and its people and he had purchased tickets for the play last night instead for the premiere. Sari had told him the warlord had flagged her down when she was leaving the hospital, a few hours after he had left him with Dominus Ambus. She said he appeared rather confused by the plot and it made Optimus wonder what the play had been about. He hadn't bothered to read the plot, Drift had recommended it. As long as it wasn't that tragi-comedy they've made out of Shakespear's Romeo and Juliet and the legend of Megatronus Prime and Solus Prime, it should be good enough. He still wasn't sure if the human director for that one had been smoking that weed humans use as syk or if whoever had helped him thought it would be hilarious. In truth, Optimus probably found it cringe-worthy mostly because of his own personal situation. The rest seemed to mostly like it well enough. Still not a play he'd want Megatron watching. He had his hopes that Drift hadn't decided to pull his former commander's stabilizerstruts, though he had no idea Optimus would tell Megatron to watch it ...
Then again, his innermost circle knew him well enough to be able to make an educated guess that, yes, he would recommend it to the warlord. Optimus shook his head, sighed and looked back to the pile of datapads on his desk that he still had to go through. It wasn't too big of a pile and it was the last one for today but he still had quite a bit of work in front of him. Prime often times wondered if his officers were trying to kill him with the reports he had to look through every day. Or maybe intimidate him to leave his office more often than just to greet guests and go about his business? They sure did treat Galvatron like a gift from Primus since it ensured he had some actual down time he will get to use for relaxation instead of a stroll to check up on everyone. Not that he minded spending time with the sparkling but he still wasn't sure he was the best for him. He needed a flier like him to help him control his flight systems. But he had chosen Optimus, which meant they'll have to do as best as they can when they start from scratch. At least Galvatron will be mature enough to let up a little by the time his weapon systems come online so he can get proper training from warframes. Until then, Optimus had to nurture him. Thank the AllSpark they had a youth center. At least Galvatron was busy most of the time there, playing with other sparklings and learning under Arcee's watchful optic. She was a Primus-sent, he swears.
He looked to the pictures on his desk, all of which were of his closest friends and officers, then looked back at his workload and sighed. What he wouldn't give for at least one of them to be a history datapad. He gave a soft, resigned groan and reached for the next item on today's work list. He was deeply focused on Soundwave's report about the ground bridge monthly maintenance check-up, wondering how to get the wearing-down part they needed to replace for save travel, when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up, reset his optics in confusion - people tended to let him do his work undisturbed so he can finish as soon as possible and rest a little - and called for whoever was in front of his office to come in. You can imagine his surprise when in came Megatron with a datapad, actually looking somewhere between his usual confident almost arrogant self and sheepish of all things.
Optimus automatically went into disaster mode.
"Oh my Primus, what did you do?" Sheepishness was never a good thing on Earth. Every single time someone had come to him, especially in his office, with an air of sheepishness around them, it meant they had done something that they really shouldn't have. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe come to him like that once a week, every week, like clockwork. He knows better than to ignore a possible disaster waiting to happen or one that probably already had happened. Metroplex might have peace but it was actually far from being the true meaning of peaceful. There was always something going on. Though how Megatron could have gotten into trouble without Optimus first being informed about it was something he'd like an answer to. No way either or both Soundwave and Blaster, workaholics extraordinaire, weren't doing their job ...
On second thought, maybe it is possible, if Soundwave finally told the former Autobot how he felt. It would be about damn time. He was cute in his floundering like only newly sparked Cybertronians can be, even if he had an adult body, but enough was enough. They all just wanted those two to either get together or for Soundwave to be put out of his misery.
Megatron reset his optics at him in confusion and faltered just inside his door. "I don't think borrowing a datapad from your archives is so bad. At least the bot there didn't seem to think so. Especially not given the fact that I contributed to your - very impressive, might I add. I'm surprised by the amount of datapads and data chips you have for such a young community - collection."
"Contributed? How so?" It wasn't really all that rare. The original collection had consisted of two thousand three hundred seventy eight datapads and seven hundred fifty two data chips as well as some rather primitive data storing methods that were far older than anyone currently living in Metroplex. Optimus would know, as he had read them all in the first stellar cycle. But with every bot that came, even those who stayed only temporarily, their Archives got bigger and fuller. They had to start investing in datapads and chips if they wanted to store all those stories and records. Fortunately, they had where to get new datapads until they started making them themselves, about half a millennia ago. There used to be plenty of raiders of both Autobot and Decepticon ships or any other merchant vessels, for that matter. And since the Independent Cybertronian Republic had more than enough energon to spare and then got Swerve and his concoctions, they could get plenty of datapads. Every independent or under the table merchant loved a customer with a stable economy to pay them their credits or, in the Republic's case, their energon. Energon was rather high in demand these days. The mines on Cybertron were practically dry, in Intelligence reports are to be believed - and they are. Soundwave was too good at his job. Arcee and Blaster had taught him well - and the field crops are failing little by little every stellar cycle. The Independent Cybertronian Republic had more than enough both energon and oil to sell it at a standard, reasonable price and it was only putting more credits in their public account. It helps when they need to barter or trade with other species that don't want energon. It also maintains their ships and Metroplex and everything in between. There's a reason no one needs to pay for medical care.
A country led and ran good is a country that can take care of all of its people, not just the privileged ones.
"I believe your friend Ariel insinuated you might be interested in this," Megatron said with an expectant smile as he extended the datapad towards the confused civilianframe. Curious, Optimus took it, warily watching Megatron as he did so. Anything Elita suggested had the potential to embarrass or exasperate him and he still had quite a few datapads to go through before tonight's conclave. Megatron must have seen the suspicion because he continued talking. "Age- Dominus Ambus confirmed it and I checked your collection's inventory and it seems you indeed do not have one. I downloaded a copy for the archives and one for you. I think you deserve a gift, as small as it may be, of gratitude for what you have done for all of my soldiers and people here, former or not. I don't think you need it as you've more than dressed any issues I've found in our own society, but if you are interested ... Here, just take the blasted thing."
And so the datapad was unceremoniously thrust into his outstretched servo, making him scramble for it in order to prevent it from falling to the floor. He gave the warlord a reprimanding look for that but turned on the datapad and waited a short moment for the contents to upload. He couldn't help but reset his optics in rapid succession a few times, not sure what he was seeing was what he thought he was seeing. He rubbed at them and when the words on the first page didn't change, he felt them widen as they turned to stare up at the Decepticon, who looked expectant and a bit uncomfortable. Optimus looked back to the datapad and scrolled to the second page, even more surprised to see a personal dedication and an autograph.
To Optimus,
The one bot who had managed to make this manuscript obsolete. Best wishes and a long function,
Sincerely,
Lord Megatron
He scrolled down a little more and further down to the last page, recognizing the final lines as the famous ending of this particular text and he looked back up at Megatron as the datapad automatically scrolled back up to the first page. The words Towards Peace made him wish for a second that he was a human so he can pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but the brush of Megatron's EM field against his own was more than real enough. He opened his intake to say something, only to find his vocalizer had betrayed him. Not that he was sure there were any words he could have said. This was beyond any expectations he could have had.
A thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago, he had found an uncensored copy but never got a chance to read it. No one that came, Autobot, Decepticon or neutral, had a copy or they hadn't read it or they didn't save it on their memory drives for them to transfer it to a datapad. And now the author of the text was standing in front of him and had personalized a copy just for him out of simple gratitude. For what? He only did what was right.
He will finally have a chance to read it. After all these years, he'll finally read about the exact circumstances that had led to Megatron's rebellion. He will finally understand why it all started, why this was needed, why he was needed.
A tingling warmth spread from his chest and he looked up gratefully at Megatron, unable to repress his excitement or the smile on his face. "Thank you. I've been searching for this for stellar cycles. I appreciate it."
The gray mech nodded, hands folded behind his back in a move of natural confidence. "The data clerk that helped me upload it said you are trying to teach us all about our shared history, a view from both sides. My later speeches wouldn't be a good example, but I think that," he nodded towards the datapad Optimus held almost reverently in his blue servos. "Would help explain my reasons and why so many were willing to follow me. I also fear you might have to deal with a civil war on Cybertron. The last reports I got from my Intelligence agents suggest that there is energon shortage and that they're pushing the colony mines too hard. A rebellion is bound to occur soon enough. And with rebellion comes refugees. Political dissents. I think you'll get yourself some more civilians here."
"That your personal or professional opinion?" Optimus couldn't help but ask in a jesting tone before he went back to staring at the little unexpected miracle in his servos. He knew most people wouldn't be this excited over a datapad containing out of date, obsolete texts, but this was the one thing he truly regretted not doing before he had left Cybertron all those stellar cycles ago. It was a gift he will treasure greatly, especially as Megatron himself had went out of his way to make him a copy with a personal message and his signature. He looked over to his workload, back to Towards Peace and the other datapads again and groaned in dismay. "You're evil. You did this to torture me. I want to read it immediately so bad but I can't. I still have so much work to do before the conclave and now you've brought me this ... temptation and I won't be able to focus at all." He was pouting, it was undignified and he knew his innermost circle would either tease or scold him for acting like a sparkling but this was so unfair! You don't just go presenting a history bot with the one text they've been searching for for well over a thousand stellar cycles! He'd been trying to find this since he was in boot camp!
Megatron frowned a little, throwing a look over a shoulder pauldron at the door, as though he could see through them. "Your ... secretary told me that now would be the opportune moment for a visit. If I had known you were busy, I would have come later."
Optimus groaned again. Ramjet had been watching the Pirates of the Caribbean again, hadn't he. He had hoped people would stop indulging him, he was starting to sound like Jack Sparrow and was even picking up his penchant to lie when he saw fit. True, Ramjet was just one of themany, many mechs that are trying to ensure 'Optimus' processor doesn't rot right out of his helm' from so much work, but this was the first time he did something that might keep Prime longer in his office. On that thought ... "How did you even get in? Visiting and consulting hours are over." Otherwise, there would be too many people always loitering around HQ and no one would be getting anything done. Red Alert - while he had still been the Head of Security before Hound took him off duty since he was getting too paranoid and anxious and it was becoming Pit for his always fluttering spark before it led him to an early offlining; he was still stressing, but not nearly as much, when working as the head nurse for Ambulon in the hospital - had, Primus bless him, organized later morning hours for citizens to come make suggestions, complaints, consultations and/or state problems that someone in the administration might have overlooked. It saved them all.a lot of trouble and additional work and kept up the freedom and equality in their society.
Megatron shrugged, looking back at the Prime. "I asked a bright orange seeker and he showered me in praise before he all but dragged me here, complimenting everything we passed. It was a bit disturbing, to be honest."
That had to be Sunstorm. Optimus looked at him in sympathy. One of Slipstream's brothers was enough but two in the same joor? "I apologize if their behavior unsettled you. They are young and can get ... a little over excited or mischievous."
"How many of your officers are young, Optimus Prime?" The gray mech asked in curiosity but their conversation was interrupted when the door swished open and Ramjet stuck his dark, cone-shaped helm from the side.
"I'm not sorry at all to interrupt your conversation but CMO Hook is most definitely not requiring a confirmation that you will be making your appointment at the agreed time before tonight."
"Tell him I'll be there," Optimus answered his secretary - Elita had placed him because he was such a good liar so he can convincingly tell people to leave because Optimus wasn't there when said mech might as well be standing beside him but was a good mech and a hard worker; if only he didn't like lying so much and didn't make a fictional, mischievous, tricky, at times liar and annoyance of a pirate captain his role model in life - and rubbed his nasal ridge when all Ramjet said was "I will do no such thing," while already pinging Hook to follow the orders and leaving him with his guest. Megatron looked even more disturbed by Ramjet than he had Sunstorm. He wasn't sure whether it was funny or sad that this was the reality of his most competent seeker's trine-mates. "Sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. If I'm late or don't show up, Hook will drag me out of here and to his medbay himself."
Megatron nodded and turned towards the door. "Then I shall leave you to your work. When and where is this meeting taking place?"
"Oh, sorry, but ... It's only for permanent residents of the Republic." It had to be. "We all gather once every three months and ... discuss ... some things." Optimus winced at his poor explanation, but he never did try to make a better one when people had bothered to ask in the past. Megatron was shooting him a suspicious look but decided to let it go and gave him a farewell before he left his office, leaving Prime alone. He looked at the gift still in his servo and his spark fluttered in excitement.
He went back to work, barely being able to wait to read it.