Chapter Forty Four
There was a level of exhaustion obvious in the optics of all those mechs and femmes who stood wearily in the dim afternoon sky, listening to the firmly toned, strongly spoken words that Prime was dead. There was no use of euphemism, no soft syntax, no wriggle room for hope or the possibility that he'd just suddenly roll up, transform, and say "oh, hey guys and gals, sorry, I'm not really dead, here I am, let's get too it".
Optimus Prime was gone and he wasn't coming back. Plenty of Transformers had gone to the other side and returned, Prime had done it twice himself, well, perhaps once and a half if one wanted to be technical. So it was unlikely now that he'd… they'd be lucky to get him back.
Magnus waited for a few moments as the foul wind blew amongst them, it didn't seem so harsh that day, its movements didn't seem so insulting, the stench of death didn't seem so potent, the cries of anguish of the humans near by not so poignant.
"But life goes on, and Optimus Prime would be the first to tell us this. Perceptor has crunched the numbers; some of you may have heard the results and are now working to those numbers. The Journeymech is the only shuttle capable of repair within the allotted time frame of exit. Repair has already begun and we have six earth days to complete this. If we do not have the Journeymech flight ready in this time span, we will not make it to Cybertron. There will only be enough energon for five mechs to maintain the shuttle in flight, these five have already been selected".
There were no real grumbles, no shocked gasps or any statement that betrayed any concern or even grief. Just tired faces with tired optics.
He continued:
"Under any other circumstance I would allow time for us to grieve our fallen Leader, our friend, but time is one of the many things we don't have. Once we have returned home Prime will be given the service befitting of his life and position".
There were no more words for him to say, and those same weary eyes just stared at him, slumped shoulders, a few sighs and depressed body movements.
"What about the Matrix?"
Someone yelled from the back. Magnus' optics scanned the crowed but were unable to find Hot Rod, the only mech he would imagine would bring up such a subject. As it was, he was unable to identify the owner of the comment.
"What about the Matrix?"
Magnus replied, sternly.
"We need to get it back".
"Why?"
Someone else yelled, someone in the middle of the throng.
"Its just an empty shell now!"
The same voice cried.
"Its not! Its our history! Our future! We need it!"
"And who will return to Washington for it? Who will risk their life for an empty piece of crystal?"
Another voice growled.
"Yeah! We have to focus on getting out of here!"
"I'm not going to die on this stinkin' rock because a few of you sparklings a nostalgic about a piece of glass!"
Another screamed, an older femme whom Magnus could see.
Suddenly those weary optics weren't so weary; those tired forced movements became intentioned and angry.
"ENOUGH!"
Magnus roared, deciding to step in before things got out of control.
"The Matrix is with Prime. We know where Prime is. When we return to Cybertron we can select a rescue team to return to earth and retrieve our fallen friends and family, and yes, our fallen Leader, but we do not have time to suffer such desires! This is the end of the this meeting, and the end of this discussion, else people want to find their heads making company with our previous go getter".
The crowd went silent.
"Now return to your duties and there will be no more of this… nonsense".
There were grumbles now, but the grumbles were back expressing exhaustion as opposed to some kind of higher moral outrage. The crowd began to disperse. Weary Autobots, mechs and femmes a like, heads down, optics drawn, limbs limp at sides, they trotted off like animals to the slaughter, sad and lowly and now in no mood for arguments or debacle, back to their chores that may or may not have any meaning for them.
"This is getting dangerous".
Magnus grunted as he stepped down from the makeshift podium, his optics staring ahead, locked on one of the mechs he knew was known to cause problems, and was causing a few of late.
"They're tired, Magnus, sick of this mess, they want to go home, and you can't blame those who want the Matrix back, it's a link to Prime, it's a link to the past and a hope for the future".
"I have no problem with such desires, Kup, what I won't allow is Autobots to rush off to their deaths to find an empty crystal ball that in the long term is nothing more then an emotional band aide. Its empty, yes, we can refill it and that was Optimus' desire, but it wouldn't be his desire for mechs to risk their sparks heading off into that mess to pry it from his chassis!"
"Just try to have a little empathy for them, son".
"Kup, I don't have time for empathy".
"On other matters how is Tracks, is he online yet?"
"No sir".
Prowl stated firmly, having stood there the whole time, quiet, reserved and calculating the odds that the mob would or wouldn't attack.
"And the humans? Raoul is it?"
"The only surviving human medic working on site at the time of the blasts is a nurse, there are bound to be perhaps others more knowledgeable out in the camp, but for the time being 'our' nurse stated his injuries are serious, but without correct equipment she can't give us a more detailed report. And we believe Perceptor is too busy to be bothered with scanning one human. As for the General and his family, his parents seem to be in the final phases of their life cycle, and their injuries are stressing their systems. They do not seem capable of coherent cognition at this stage regardless. The General is offering no further information other than various profanities. Given the current state of things it seems asinine to bother Perceptor with examining the General and the hypno chip".
"But the General is secure?"
Magnus asked.
"Yes sir, in a small makeshift brig that Red Alert has been working on".
"How is he?"
Kup asked.
"Red Alert?"
"Yeah, lad".
"From what I have been told of his previous behaviour before my return I would say he has calmed, but more to the point he is not raging around the remains of the base trying to get the security grid back online using sticks and stones".
Magnus pivoted on his heel and stood sternly, looking towards Look Out Mountain. Its once beautiful peak obscured by the heavy dark mist made up of smoke and sorrow, the plant life had been flattened against the cliff face, the fires that had rolled over the geography had long burnt out, having exhausted their green fuel source. The look out platform had essentially collapsed and had slid down the edge in three different pieces, leaving in its wake a foreboding and violent gash in the mountainside.
"Do not bother Perceptor with the chip. If its safe to do so, remove it, and send the General and his family out into the camp, let them be with their own species. Its unlikely they will turn on him, they can't know who he was".
The commander said softly.
"Sir?"
Prowl asked.
"You of all mechs should ask yourself, where's the logic in pushing the issue? In solving this? What's the point in pointing fingers? The damage has been done, and there is no reason to bother with the why and how".
Magnus stated.
"Understood sir".
"Continue with your duties, gentlemechs".
The red, white and blue Autobot waved his hand, dismissing them as he headed off on his own errand.
ooOOoo
It was a beautiful spot, or rather it had been. It had been a source of great comfort after some very dark days, quiet, peaceful and out of the way. He loved it most when the breeze came across the lake, carrying with it the smells of the forest on the other side, and that amazingly fresh aroma of water. The grass that grew around the lake was always soft, lush and teaming with life. Flowers of all wild description came sprouting up out amongst the emerald coverings. He'd sit there, leaning against a massive tree, its trunk solid enough to take his weight. Its dark chocolate brown a restful contrast against the blackness of the hidden woodland as it stood out from it. It was a lonely tree, he thought, standing away from the others, but given its size, most probably it had killed the others with its ability to take from the soil more then the others could suffer. There was a withered stump near by to it.
Of course, it was all conjecture.
Or had been…
Was. Had been. Has been. Back in the day…
Primus, he was starting to sound like Kup, or at least his inner monologue was.
He had often wondered as he ventured to this place, what others would think of him if they knew he found such fondness of silence here. Would they view him any differently knowing that he would sometimes bring a little loaf of bread to feed the small birds that made their homes in the trees he admired? At the end of it, he never really cared for what others' thought.
Of course now, none of that mattered. The trees were dead. The trunks moist with sap and brown with life now black with death and bearing the scars of fire. Their leaves all gone, either torn away from their branches violently in the shockwaves, or reduced to ash in the firestorms that ravaged across the canopy. The birds, their songs no longer heard here, and perhaps never again. The other animals, their lives cut short by human stupidity. The dead fish washing up on the shore, some lying in large clumps of rotting, stinking flesh, mixed through with deceased plant life and objects he held no desire to consider.
The grass no longer green, no longer soft, and instead of the occasional drip of drew that would smear against his armour, leaving a sensation that relaxed him even further, now as grey dust and soot, reminding him of the horror of war.
Depressing really, and this was one place he had gone to avoid the melancholy.
Crossed legged he sat, his blue optics dim to save power, a small collection of digipads resting on his right knee. He did not have the luxury of moping, not after the many conversations and rousing sermons he'd given of late. The numbers were more grim the sight he sat within.
He'd long since offlined his olfactory senses to continue amongst all this – and it did save power. He lifted one of the reports and gave it a quick skim. It was Perceptor's final findings on the whole "nuclear war" business. It was morbid and it was telling, and what it told was that something catastrophic had happened, whether by some conspiracy, fault of computers or out and out stupidity, all countries with nuclear ability had launched their payloads against countries both friend and foe alike, irregardless of their own nuclear defence. Of course, now with the knowledge that the General had a hypno chip it stood to reason that perhaps the Decepticons had a hand in all of this.
He flung the pad into the lake. It sat on the top for a moment, almost debating with itself if it wanted to sink, but that was impossible for such objects have no awareness of self or surrounds, and what it could not be aware of was the body of the small child floating just beneath the surface, its rotting flesh preventing the small panel sinking, but she would yield, her body too diminished by force, fire and nature. And slowly, that information slipped through her form and down into the darkness below.
The next pad detailed more construction materials, or rather, what construction materials they did not have but needed. The suggestion at the conclusion was to head out into the neighbouring human areas and take what they needed. The remaining vehicles in the carparks did not belong to them and they didn't seem to have many qualms utilising them for their own ends, so morally, there should be no further consideration to materials outside of their zone of operation.
It was written by Huffer. It was good to hear, or rather read, that Huffer was up and running enough to at least write a report.
The next was a list that was a lot more depressing, it detailed the dead, wounded and missing, and it was a rather long list. Very few Autobots had survived without some form of injury. He was one of those few, though the scrapes and gorges in his armour would say otherwise.
He sub-spaced that one. Determining at the very least it could be used when constructing the inevitable memorial on Cybertron. Now there was a bleak thought process.
"Ah, Ultra Magnus, such an unusual place to dwell alone… or perhaps I mean dangerous?"
The Autobot neither bothered to look around or stand. He simply continued with his reviews, the next detailed the conditions out there, written by Prowl, Ironhide and Skids.
"I'm sure you have your own reports to read, Megatron".
"Indeed I do, but I'd always make time to dispatch an enemy that would seek my destruction".
"There's been enough destruction, wouldn't you say? Or did you fly here with your optics offline".
"Heh".
"Amused, Megatron? By your own handiwork, perhaps?"
"Amused? I can't say I am, Magnus. But I must own up and take some iota of the blame".
"We found one of your hypno chips, on a human general".
Magnus stood after that comment and turned to face his adversary.
"Megatron".
He stated bluntly.
"I really have no time for you or anything you want to discuss".
He suddenly noticed the warlord was minus a fusion cannon. Megatron realised he noticed it, and Magnus quickly continued to express his lack of notice over it.
"The Autobots have suffered rather significant losses, as I would imagine you have too, both in mechs and in materials. We are not going to remain on Earth, and I would imagine nor are you, given your own scientists would have evaluated the situation to be untenable, seeing as the radiation has polluted all fuel sources to the point that we cannot use them".
"Indeed".
"So why are you here? What do you want?"
"I wish to have words with Optimus, but I saw you on my flight over and decided to drop in and say hi… to not do so, well, that would be most rude on my part, don't you think?"
"Optimus Prime is dead. He was offlined in the Washington blast".
Megatron said nothing for a few moments, his optics drawn down to a small object on the ground, a burnt out snail shell.
"Then the mantle of leadership has fallen on your shoulders, old adversary?"
"Indeed".
"The Matrix?"
"Is of no concern of yours".
"I only inquire as to its fate so I can ascertain the current emotional state of the Autobots".
"Why? So you can further inflict violence and horror upon them? Destroy their morale so you can walk into the smouldering remains of our home and take it as we weep over our dead?"
"Of course not. Magnus, as much as I enjoy such word games – games Prime would hardly play, I have come with information and an offer".
"Then state your business quickly, I have my own to attend".
"Information: the Decepticons were responsible for this. It came to my attention not that long after the blasts that hypno chips with time programmed were placed on various humans, and that those chips pushed those humans into career pathways that would lead them to the actions we are living the consequences of. Galvatron was not aware of such information, as it was pushed from his memory banks, and on my return that information was also incomplete – I did not know of this date. There were others who were aware, one an Autobot, who I cannot name for I do not know".
Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and seemed unmoved.
"Offer: It would not be unreasonable to surmise that you and your fellows would be unable to make a decent attempt at a home return. Your base is above ground, and from the information my scanners relay, the blasts in this region would have significantly diminished both your energon reserves and raw materials to craft a vessel, or repair it, for a sufficiently safe return flight. So, I will offer both fuel and material to assist in your escape".
"And in return, you get what? Because honestly, Megatron, there is not too much left on this planet for you".
"A peace treaty".
"Excuse me?"
"The complete destruction of this society has shown me what we have done to our own. Consider, our war has lasted millions of years, and over such time the devastation was so gradual we would hardly notice, bar a massive strike, which neither side had rations to make a constant occurrence. But these humans were living happy lives in functioning, peaceful cities one day, and now look…"
He lifted his arms, holding his hands out open palmed, a quiet moment and a sadly intentioned look etched on his usually stern features.
"Yes, I played a role in this, or at least, a different version of myself, but what's done is done. There are billions dead, billions injured, billions homeless, many more will expire from injuries, from starvation, from the temperature drops and the temperature rises, from many, many circumstances my lack of knowledge of their anatomy keeps me from expressing".
Magnus looked away from the Decepticon for a moment, looking out and up towards the mountains, darkened and obscured, like so much else.
"I would imagine you need to discuss my offer with your companions, but perhaps it would be in your best interest to not mention my role, albeit lacking".
"You suggest I lie? Megatron? When everyone amongst my kin are searching for answers, I am meant to welcome you into our midst and tell them nothing of your purpose, of your deceit? And when they discover the truth, how do you think they will take that?"
"I'm not asking you to lie, Ultra Magnus. The humans have a saying, 'on a need to know basis', and how many of your kin actually need to know this simple little fact?"
The wind picked up and whipped across the sludgy mess, carrying the sorrows of many gathered along its passage.
"Magnus…"
Megatron placed his hand on the warrior's shoulder.
"You respected me once, admired me, I'm not asking you to replace that insignia on your chassis. I'm just asking you to do what you know is in your Autobot's best interest. We help you with repairs, materials; you offer us passage to Cybertron and a peace treaty".
"And do all your Decepticon goons wish peace?"
"Do all your Autobots?"
The city commander narrowed his optics, but Megatron was correct, there would be Autobots who would not welcome a treaty. Autobots who sought revenge, and who only came to that small red face upon their armour because it was a Decepticon who sired their rage and heart ache. It could have easily been the other way for so many.
"I will give you time to meet with your lieutenants. To discuss the terms I offer. I will return in one planetary rotation, here".
"Very well, Megatron, tomorrow, here".
The two regarded each other for a moment, Megatron's optics taking in every movement; every facial expression the city commander made, Ultra Magnus did likewise of his foe.
Megatron smiled, as the tyrant could, turned and then flew off, there was no fare well.
Ultra Magnus groaned, his shoulders slumped momentarily. He gathered up the digi-pads and began his slow return to the makeshift town they had erected amongst Autobot City's remains.
