Disclaimer : Transformers is owned by HasTak, or whatever they're calling themselves these days.
Credits : In this story I will be referencing Bumblebee's origins as developed by Karategal in her stories, as well as the destruction of the Youth Sectors, coined as 'Floatila' by Lady Tecuma in 'Sparks and Plasma'. I will also be using the concept of 'carrying' as developed by Litahatchee in her story 'Night Fire', as well as referencing her depiction of the Floatilla Massacre. These ideas are used with permission. If you wish to use them, do not ask me. You must obtain permission from these authors. That said, I recommend that you read each and every story mentioned here, especially if you're a fan of Ironhide/Chromia, sparklings in general, or Bumblebee.
File Recovery
Chapter Twenty-One – Indirection
He regretted his decision to accompany his brother to Polyhex nearly the very same moment he stepped onto the tram. He'd felt a twist in his spark, a slight pulling sensation, a nagging for attention that became harder and harder to ignore every second that passed by. But ignore it he did, despite wanting so very much to do the opposite.
He wanted so very badly to turn away from the window.
He wanted to throw open their connection and tell Optimus everything.
He wanted the ability to ask all the questions swirling about his processor.
It was the last item that held him back, the questions. There were so many of them, but they always circled back to that one simple string now connecting him to Skyline. If such a link was discovered, she would be taken away. And Optimus, he did not guard the connections to his spark, letting them fluctuate in time to emotion. Without regulation, these links could be manipulated by outside forces.
And Sentinel was a master manipulator.
He hated it, that he let his distrust for their sire affect his brother in such a way. No, it was simple dislike for the situation, nor the busybody nature of their sire. His time spent as Protectorate had led him to develop a loathing for Sentinel that bubbled up with every mention of the elder mech. Gone were the days when he had strived to please their sire. There were very few whose opinions mattered to him now, and the fact that the former Prime stood as an effective roadblock to one of them was enough to set him on edge.
He fought to keep a neutral expression on his face, just barely managing. The tram was moving now and the insistent tug on their connection had died out, though he could feel Optimus looking his way.
"You've been...busy...as of late," his brother stated soon after they had cleared the station. It was clear by the tone of his voice that work was not the intended topic of conversation, but merely something to break the silence.
"It's the riots," he muttered, putting on a slightly exasperated tone and leaning back in his seat. "They generate so many reports. All in triplicate. Very detailed."
He heaved a sigh, pulling out several of those reports from subspace, having brought them along to serve as a distraction.
"The Elite Guard Commander enjoys details. It becomes rather tedious at times. Do I really need to know how much gravel was disturbed in minor every scuffle?"
This small amount of exaggeration garnered a small chuckle from his brother. Small, in that gravel had never been mentioned. Everything else was. From bystanders and their relatives, the effects of property damages on the already ravaged economy, and notes on the weather; line after line after line.
"He does like to be thorough," Optimus acknowledged. He saw out the corner of his optics his brother's head shaking from side to side in amusement. "But I think that's a good thing. You never know when a small detail may become a big one."
"True, but it becomes so very time consuming having to verify and sign off on every report."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing I've torn you away from the capital for awhile. Though I suppose this conference will spawn more reports."
"We'll be lucky if it doesn't spawn more than just that," he grumbled, setting his data pads on the tray table in front of him.
These were not some random ones he had plucked off of his desk, but reports concerning several incidents of transport ships from their off world mining colonies being attacked in orbit. The investigations were ongoing, but nearly all the leads indicated that those involved had launched from Halicon. The conference he and Optimus were en route to was meant to open a dialogue between Cybertron's main government and the current leadership of the former penitentiary turned prison colony.
It had taken some time to convince the Senate to even agree to a meeting. Most of the Senators had never spared a thought for the bots who somehow managed to eke out an existence on the surface of Cybertron's secondary moon. Those who were actually concerned about the situation spent most of their efforts pushing forth militant initiatives, most of which involved an eradication of what they saw as barely sentient protomatter. Adding in the High Council's influence and Sentinel Prime's insistence that those involved in the attacks be punished to the highest extent of the law, despite there being no injuries reported, did not help matters.
"Halicon isn't likely to stop raiding shipments unless some sort of agreement is reached, and I highly doubt the Senate is willing to compromise."
"I'm sure we can get them to see reason."
"The way they've been acting, the only reason they'll see will involve the barrel of a gun."
His comment was meant by silence, prompting him to glance over at his brother to see an expression of surprise.
"What?"
"I hope you're joking."
"And if I'm not?"
"I doubt that Halicon will react well to threats of violence."
"Who says I was talking about them?"
"So what are you suggesting?" his brother asked, face plates forming into a frown. "That we hold the senate hostage until they reach an agreement?"
"I'd rather not consult them at all."
"We can't simply leave them out of the matter."
"And why not?" he inquired, sitting up a bit straighter. Here was something he had longed to discuss, something that irritated him nearly as much as Sentinel's meddling. "All they do is bicker endlessly. And when they do manage to come to a conclusion about something it's nearly always counter to what we initially introduced. Time after time we have tried to reason with them, to change things for the better, yet because of their resistance we've made little to no headway on any of the major issues."
"Many of the senators are stubborn, I'll give you that. But we've always had counsel with the senate, to simply dismiss them—"
"I'm not saying to dismiss them," he cut in, raising a hand in the air. "But as you have stated, their existence is to counsel. To advise. They've been afforded far too much decision making power both in our terms and in the terms of our predecessors. The same can be said of the High Council. How many times have measures you've introduced been blocked by Sentinel's influence?"
"Are we not to respect the input of those who've held our very same positions? How can we make wise decisions if we do not consider as many angles as possible?"
"I am not suggesting we disregard outside advice, brother. But the final decision is supposed to be ours, not theirs. Must we be so afraid of offending them that we do nothing while the world around us falters?"
Optimus stared at him, surprise fading into a far more thoughtful expression.
"And what then do you suggest we do?" his brother inquired, leaning on the arm of the adjacent seat. "What decision would you hand out, regarding Halicon?"
He tapped a finger on the side of the small stack of reports sitting on the table, falling into thought. Less than a vorn ago, Halicon had been sending envoys to purchase energon direct from the refineries at Kalis. When the High Council had learned of this, they introduced a movement to enforce harsher regulations on the refineries and more restrictions on the current system of rationing. The first raid occurred a few orns after this measure went into effect, so it was pretty much guaranteed that Halicon was in dire need of energon.
"Introduce a rewrite into the current rationing system," he said after a moment, lifting his gaze. "Include a percentage of energon to be allotted to Halicon."
"That'll go over well."
"Yes, I'm sure the senate will be very happy."
"We can't just simply hand them a supply of energon and expect things to calm down," Optimus pointed out. "Halicon isn't exactly popular with...well, anyone. You'll have a dozen more reports of riots on your desk in less than a joor."
"Which is why, instead of accusing the Halicon representatives of permitting the raids, we ask them to supply escorts for the transports to ensure that these obviously rogue elements do not cause further damage."
"An exchange would go over better, though I doubt it will lessen the amount of reports on your desk."
He let out a weary sigh, picking up one of the data pads from the table at random
"I doubt anything we do will enable me to escape them any time soon."
"It's a good plan," Optimus told him with a nod, reaching across the aisle to pat his shoulder.
He glanced over, feeling a slight pain in his spark at the warm smile of approval on his brother's face. Turning his gaze back to the data pad, a sensation of guilt began to well up to the surface, overtaking every other thought in his processor.
He stared at the lines marking the screen of the report in his hand, the words refusing to translate. Out of the corner of his optic he saw his brother take out a few data pads as well, no doubt having brought along a few things to work on during their trip just as he had. A sudden certainty hit him then, the content of their discussion circulating back through his processor.
It was a turning point, he was sure of it.
They would change things, the both of them.