The inhabitants of the autobot base react to a message from a hated enemy. In the typical bad timing fashion they're used to, an important relic is unearthed during this stressful time.
AN- First scene is a post-war flashback from the RID timeline.
The star saber was kept on a pedestal in the Iacon museum. Without a Prime, there was no use for it any more except for decoration.
Although, even without the powers of a Prime, it was still a big sword.
Someone didn't need to raid a tomb of one of the ancients to wield it effectively.
Bumblebee could attest to that.
Not that he did. The warrior didn't discuss the end of the war much. The people didn't like to hear it. Or so he was told.
A statue of Optimus Prime? Perfect for morale. Relics like this sword? Hung up in museums like they had occurred in a different timeline entirely. Like they were an optional part of a life so far away from that timeline that it felt disattached.
Knock Out had caught sight of younglings going into this very museum; some paying close attention to every placard and some goofing around.
Most of the placards were pretty short. A quick glance at that sitting under the star saber read simply-
An ancient weapon of Prima. Used on planet Earth to end the war.
Didn't mention whose spark it had stabbed through to end said war. Didn't even mention who had wielded it.
He'd heard a patient only the other cycle mention that it had been Optimus who had used it to kill Megatron.
It was surreal.
The war's end wasn't even all that long ago. Perhaps three Earth years? He'd grown too accustomed to using that planet's solar cycles to measure time. It wasn't like he'd gone to it in over two of those years; but a part of him had hung onto its time measurements. Just like he'd hung onto that planet.
In the end, he hadn't needed to change so much as he had made himself. All that effort spent making himself fit into Team Prime at the end of the war seemed more apt to backfire on him these days than give him benefits.
For some reason, Knock Out hadn't adapted out of it yet.
As a 'hero', if the title only a few knew even mattered, he was able to enter the museum charge-free. So was Bumblebee. And at least the clerks were pretty likely to know how important the scout-turned-warrior was. Unlike that patient earlier. Unlike the council themselves, judging by how they were utilizing the war hero.
It wasn't all that long ago that Bumblebee was the impromptu leader of their small team, navigating politics with Shockwave and his one surviving predacon, ordering them all around and then caving to their pleas for an extra break, being-
Well. Being confident.
Just like this peace time seemed to scrub away all signs the war had even existed, it had been scrubbing that confidence aside.
And it wasn't right.
But Knock Out didn't exactly want to get upset over it. He still had a good night to look forward to. A few friends to meet. Before that, though, he was going to meet another friend; and they were going to look on and remember the war this planet was convinced it needed to erase.
"You ever wonder?"
The yellow mech glanced over. Yellow. Why did he go back to yellow? His primary black scheme had been dazzling and evoked all the leadership he'd once had.
"Wonder...what?" Bumblebee prodded.
Oh, right; he'd been saying something. Knock Out shook his thoughts about the other's paint job away.
"Why you had to be the one to do it?" he finished.
For a moment, Bumblebee either played dumb or was genuinely confused.
Knock Out elaborated: "Kill the Big M. Ever wonder why it was you in the end?"
Bumblebee went bashful, rubbing his head and looking away.
"Oh, I don't know why that'd be a big deal...really, it's-"
"Fragging impressive." The medic crossed his arms after he had interrupted. "Really, why bother selling it short? You killed an unkillable legend."
If it had been him that had done it, Knock Out would never stop bragging. It was something to be celebrated, not forgotten and reduced to some museum somewhere only younglings visited.
"I-I don't-"
"Why do you sell it short? Why do you let the world sell it short?" the medic asked.
That last question could've applied to more than Bumblebee's killing (however temporarily) of Megatron.
It could've meant the time he'd spent as temporary leader of Cybertron.
It could've meant the war itself.
The other race car had no answer.
Neither of them did.
But when they left a few jours later, they both drove in their Earth-based altmodes.
Neither had chosen new ones of cybertronian build.
Before they left, Knock Out spared one last glance at the star saber.
What a powerful weapon, even when it wasn't in the servo's of a Prime. But in those servos? Well, Optimus Prime could've ended the war rather quickly. Killing Megatron before the other had created his own superweapon wouldn't have been too hard. The one hit to the Nemesis had almost grounded it. A second would've truly made that 'the darkest hour' of the decepticons; quite likely the last.
It hadn't been. Only one strike had ever hit the warship. Its magnificent power was never fully utilized against his old boss.
Really, Optimus could have used that thing on its dusty pedestal to end the war weeks before it had ended.
But he hadn't. He had never killed Megatron.
Sometimes, Knock Out really wondered why.
It was a bit amusing to hear her blatant act get called out. Normally, her victims would latch onto the hope she was offering with peaceful words. Maybe humans were just naturally cynical. Or maybe this one just happened to remember their last meeting.
"Alright," Airachnid pushed away from the ledge June stood on with a chuckle that made the human flinch. Good. "You've caught me."
Not that there was ever any argument there. The entire spiel about doing it without bad intentions, all peaceful thoughts, etc- as the human had said, it was all 'bullshit'.
"So long as you're mine, though, I can make the autobots do whatever I want," the femme smirked.
At least until they determined her demands were not worth the human's life.
And that moment would be sure to tear them up just as much as complying with her demands would be.
"I want their latest 'archaeological' finds. I want whatever silly relics they've been fighting over lately. And most of all-" she dropped back down over the human, who cringed back away. "-I want to watch their struggle as they bring my gifts to me. As they're forced to cooperate with me without indulging their wish to kill me. Not with your fragile little life on the line."
Too fragile, it seemed. Dark red bubbled up on the human's arm where Airachnid had let her claw slip too deeply.
Silly of her.
Then again?
It would be obvious enough on the video feed when she was making demands for the autobots. And a little blood would only add more urgency to their panic.
"Think about it, Ju-une!"
The disgusted reaction to how she purred the human's name reminded her of a certain two-wheeler. Airachnid viewed it as a premonition, a sign of delights to come.
"Can you imagine the look on Arcee's face when I make her bring my prizes?"
Airachnid could. It was delicious.
All of the autobots would react so wonderfully. Perhaps she'd demand that Arcee deliver the gifts- or maybe she demand the other stay and imagine how the two-wheeler would be tearing herself up over not being there to save the little human.
Sending for the brute would likely leave the doctor in a similarly helpless, miserable mess. Of course, demanding the medic would mean the one-opticed brute would be doing the same as he waited in suspense.
So many options, so much time to deliberate.
All the time in the world that this human stayed alive, that is.
Or that Airachnid could use her corpse convincingly in videos.
"I'm not helping you do that!" June spat.
Brave little one. Too bad she was shivering; what a give away. Weak.
"Hm," Airachnid tapped her chin as if in thought and then brightened up. "I do know where you live. I presume your son still stays there?"
The human went quiet. The femme could have laughed.
Silly, caring creatures were always so predictable.
"Now, if you'll excuse me-" she lurched one arm forward and grabbed the bleeding human easily, "We have a call to make."
This was stupid.
This was-it was impossibly stupid.
The last time he'd done something so rash had been while he was under the influence of poorly constructed synthetic energon.
Ratchet didn't have that excuse this time.
But he was stressed. He was so very stressed and the lone wolf wrecker had offered an outlet.
If it wasn't for that cursed Airachnid, Ratchet never would've found himself here; standing in temperature hot enough that the air was rising in visible ripples while Wheeljack dumped the last crate into the pit they'd scraped up.
One Earth hour ago, the autobot base had been hailed. Raf had paused his current work to set his laptop aside and approach the monitor.
"Who's that, Ratchet?" the boy had asked. "It looks like it's an...insecticon frequency? I must not be reading that right."
His first instinct was to agree with that conception. No matter how smart the child was, he still had severe roadblocks in understanding cybertronian script; obviously, he had misread th-
But it was an insecticon frequency.
The team had gathered to see it. The video had left them all reeling.
No matter how the others felt, Ratchet knew what was happening to him. The evening June had gone missing, she had been heading back to get her son. He should've merely bridged Jack over. He never should've let her drive alone, even if she'd done it a dozen times without incident.
Hindsight was 20/20, that Ratchet knew, but he still felt responsible.
He wasn't the only one taking guilt on. While Miko had been more angry than usual over Bulkhead's injury, Jack was now panicking. But there was nothing for him to do and he knew it. Just like Ratchet knew there was nothing he could do either.
Airachnid, forgotten by most of them after she had gone silent, demanded the stores of Tox-En and red energon found at M.E.C.H.'s facility in Sinaloa. That was already a preposterous demand. Yes, they had bridged the red energon to the base before. But trying to bring the Tox-En to whatever rendezvous point they chose would be impossible by groundbridges. Such volatile substance was not cleared for that means of travel.
Besides. Optimus had already said that, while "we will do everything in our power to bring our friend back safely", they 'could not give Airachnid such powerful weapons'.
If Ratchet knew Optimus, however, then the Prime would be caving on that soon enough. He would always put the safety of one human over cybertron's best interests.
When it was a human that Ratchet happened to know and care about, that flawed decision making of his old friend seemed far less infuriating and far more conflicting.
The medic had left the base in all its chaos quickly. Outside, hidden behind an outcropping of rocks as best as it could be, was the Jackhammer. Inside was a mech that never got conflicted over making a bad choice out of two bad options.
"You ready?" Wheeljack came back to Ratchet's side.
The older mech looked at the pile of dangerous toxins. Bulkhead's plan to burn it away still seemed to be their best option. If M.E.C.H. hadn't interfered, there was little doubt the weapon would have melted into a very dangerous sludge.
While they had no volcano nearby, they could still do the best they could.
Instead of speaking, Ratchet offered a short nod.
Speaking would feel like giving the order itself. If June ended up dying, speaking would have felt like the execution command. This was her ransom they were burning up.
The wrecker tossed his grenade from one servo to the other; then it was extended over to Ratchet.
"You want'a do the honors?" he asked.
Normally, he wouldn't.
Ratchet took the grenade and, before Wheeljack could patronize him about not knowing to use it, primed the thing.
This was stupid and he didn't do stupid things.
But here he threw it into the pit and ran for cover with the wrecker regardless.
M.E.C.H. had the most sophisticated anti-hacker systems humanity could offer.
But even those could not stand up to the joint pressure of two skilled hackers.
Perhaps if it was just Raf working to find their point of origin with what unfried material he could find on scene, the systems could have prevailed.
Against a being who had perfected the art of surveillance?
They stood no chance at all.
At times, the two hackers caught glimpses of each other's handiwork. They never once interacted, but both recognized who the other was.
For this once, they were not opposing forces.
And so neither Rafael Esquival nor the decepticon Soundwave interfered in the other's work as they carved back the final layers of protection that M.E.C.H.'s Chimera operation had.
"I can't believe I just pulled a Miko!" Jack laughed nervously, tailing Smokescreen alone out of the groundbridge.
So long as he was busy with the rookie, he couldn't think about his mom.
Or he wished he couldn't. It was impossible to cut the worry off, no matter how many distractions he and Smokescreen tried. The stress was all encompassing.
At least, it had been until he saw the crowd of decepticons below.
He and the autobot rookie crept over to cover and watched the operation unfolding. All of it was centered around one side of rock outcropping and the metal hanging out of it.
"What is that?" the human whispered to himself.
It almost looked like...a hilt, of some sort.
The more he thought of it like that, the more Jack felt that his guess was true. This was Arthurian, then. Straight out of the myth.
"Whoa.." Jack breathed, then turned in excitement to Smokescreen. "It's a sword!"
The rookie looked similarly flabbergasted.
"Not just any sword," he replied, "That looks like the star saber; a legendary weapon forged by Solus Prime, as lore would have it."
Time spent guarding the elite archives of old did not seem to have been wasted on Smokescreen.
"It's rumored to to wield the power of the Matrix."
The same strength Jack, even as a human, could practically feel emanating from Vector Sigma.
If that power had been enough to return Orion Pax to Optimus Prime, he could only dream of what the saber would do for them.
