AN: LGTracy, this one's for you. My apologies for the delay.
Nano-second/astrosecond - .498 seconds
Nano-klik - 1 second
Klik - 1.2 minutes
Breem - 8.3 minutes
Cycle - 1 hour and 15 minutes
Joor - 6.5 hours
Mega-cycle - 1 day
Orn - 13 days
Deca-cycle - 3 weeks
Meta-cycle - 13 months
Vorn - 83 years
Degavorn - 1,900,000 years
AN: Bold writing means Altor is speaking English.
Sam hurried through the twisting streets with ease, being familiar with this particular route. Gammas crept out of the shadows and straightened, or nodded at him depending on which bot, flaring signatures and fields in silent greetings. He pulsed his own energy signature back, brushing plates with a few as he ducked around corners. It had taken him a while to get used to their version of "waving hello", although he still occasionally slipped and waved to a few mechs and younglings. They seemed to ignore his mistakes-or else take them for granted.
Finally he ducked under an open doorway and ended up in a dim little cellar-like structure. A group of Gammas were in the center playing a game with fifty-six sided "dice". He still had no idea what they were doing, but all the bots on the outskirts were cheering or jeering them on. Mock slid out of the group to visit him with a pleased wave-pulse across his field.
"Altor! Y' don' usually come this time a orn."
Sam scraped together his scattered thoughts and ducked his head awkwardly. "Well, I'm...I'm going to Praxus, so I thought I'd stop by and say...um, goodbye."
"...Y' leavin'?"
He scratched the back of his helm. "It's a long story?"
"Are y' comin' back then?"
"If I can. You guys are..."
Kin, the Allspark writing supplied.
"Kin. Kind of, so if I get the chance I'll definitely come back and visit, but I have stuff I need to do in Praxus. I'm leaving pretty much this cycle, actually."
Mock seemed to restart from his shock. "Praxus? Are y' goin' like that? Sparklin' an' tha' femme-bot y' drag in y're track?"
Now it was Sam's turn to be thrown for a loop. He glanced over at Soundwave, then back down at the mech. "Something wrong with Soundwave and Magnesia?"
"Y'll never g' through th' Section with those two."
"...Why?" He dragged the sound out nice and long, utterly bewildered.
"Because I'm Affiliated."
Sam shrieked in surprise and spun around to see Magnesia leaning against the doorway frowning at them. "How in the cheese of great glorious pizza did you get here?"
"It's something I didn't think about. My spark signature is imprinted, so any scanner that knows anything will be looking for that and find it. We'd be shot down in a nano-klik."
"Wait, wait, waitwaitWAIT." Sam pressed his fingers to his olfactory sensor in frustration, waving one ha-servo wildly in the air. "Back up, explain. What's the Section, what's Affiliated mean, and what on earth does "imprinted spark signature" mean?"
"I'm surprise yea denno." Grinder, one of the oldest bots in the Sector, spoke up, spitting out a gear she kept clamped in her denta. Her vocalizer ground out words harsh and fritzing, like Bumblebee's attempts at speaking before- "Be Alpha 'nall. But mebb yea'ntainted like ussa rest."
"Praxus' Gamma-Delta Sector is run by the Engentine Pax," Magnesia cut in wearily. "A pretty name for a brutal organization. They have a border that runs on the outskirts of the city, guarded by hidden automated turrets. Any Alpha or Beta, or any non-Affiliated bot, can pass unmolested. Anyone else is...driven off. They have a strict policy-No Mercy to the Scum. That's the Section. To be Affiliated, like I am, means to have your spark signature burned by a code identifying that you belong to a certain organization. An imprint. It's possible to remove the code, but requires deep-energy plate surgery. I'm Affiliated with an organization at odds with the Engentine Pax. Their turrets would sense it and open fire the nano-klik I crossed into their range. You and the sparkling might make it-I would not. I'm sorry, Altor. I failed you."
Grinder hacked out a laugh. "Fail? Bot'tsa Guardian. Shielder. Protector. Whassa bot likeyea do, shieldin' 'im?"
Welcome to the Ranks of the Primes, Altor, Protector of Cybertron.
Sam froze, visor snapping up to stare optic to optic with the wreck of bolts. Her dull purple gaze gleamed back with something ethereal.
"Wahcht? Yea think a denno whatche yea'r, yunglin'? Awass there, when they first left."
He breathed it out in complete certainty, knowing with every bolt in his body that he'd seen her before, had watched her in the beginning of Cybertron, gleaming purple armor and savage roars, fighting alongside the Primes, one of the first bots after the Fallen to build the cities again-
"Wrecker."
"Thasright, Spark." A Wrecker, until Sentinel removed us.
He jolted at the sudden slam of silent words, brushing through his mind like the ocean waves on the sands, sliding to his knees.
I can sense you, the Allspark, I know you. From the first time you followed Mock down here I heard the Old Ones whisper. You are Prime. I saw when the first Thirteen fell, we all felt it. The Wreckers, the first line of defense behind the Primes. I know what a Prime feels like, Spark, so do the Others. You are here to save us.
One rusted claw gripped his face, suddenly so much closer. Grinder laughed again, resting her helm against his.
I will tell you how to get past the Section. My Prime.
Designation: complete. I serve the Prime.
Magnesia knew Grinder. She'd seen the heap of rusted screws before many times on her trips following Altor through the Sector. No one knew how old she was, she hardly ever moved or spoke, and only the purest respect for her stubbornness kept her supplied with Energon, which she mostly passed off to the younglings who hung around her in curiosity for her many layers of rust. From what anyone could tell, she was waiting for something. A swift shot to the helm, some whispered.
'Or,' Magnesia contemplated, watching Altor on his knees listening intently to whatever strange conversation they were having, 'for Altor to walk in and call her a Wrecker.'
Whatever that was.
In the meantime, she would wait and see if the mech needed rescuing from the glitch. She had a lot of confidence that Altor could take the elder any joor, so the watching was rather boring. She kept Soundwave entertained as they waited.
Almost a whole cycle had passed before there was any sign of movement from the two, and that was heralded by Mock shouting in alarm as Grinder's chassis glowed white. It was glowing white, she realized in dim horror, because her spark chamber was fracturing.
'No. Not fracturing. It's-' "Disintegrating."
Altor's glanced up and met her gaze, a twisted expression of pain flaring across his energy field before Grinder shuddered once and serenely collapsed into dust as the rust ate through the last of her processes. One moment she was there, solid, real, and the next there was nothing left but flakes and a few larger pieces of armor already breaking down. Like she'd been erased.
"Altor?"
His entire frame was radiating grief. It was the most expressive she'd ever witnessed him being.
"Altor?"
"Stupid stubborn-" he surged to his peds, shedding rust, and stalked toward the door. "We're going to Praxus."
Was he entirely glitched? "Did the hardline affect you more than I thought, Altor? I can't go with-"
She stopped like she'd been hit, optics constricting in shock.
He'd thrown spark energy at her like tossing aside a cleaning rag. It wrapped around her own energy signature, driving into her spark field like little hooks and needles, weaving over her core. She couldn't even sense her own imprint anymore.
He was shielding her.
Why didn't you ever tell me before?
I wasn't needed before.
Yeah, well I only have you for a few seconds and now you're here and I have to leave.
I have one last request. I know I have not served you as well as the other Primes-
Hogwash. You waited for forever. I mean, I probably would've given up after being kicked to the curb like that but you-
My Prime.
Sorry. I'm listening.
I only ask one thing of my Prime, before you leave.
Anything.
Release me.