Age of Smoke Part 1: The Autobot Code
Chapter 8: Honesty
Jazz was not too pleased with the current state of things. He wasn't normally one to agree with Red Alert, but they knew they had some sort of a spy who'd managed to take out Red's security system long enough to rescue the combiner team. He didn't like the idea of having so many Decepticon prisoners so close. It might make this mech show his hand, giving Jazz an opportunity to catch him, but that was risky. They could not afford some sort of mass break-out. The 'Cons had retreated from Blaster City, which meant they had their entire army with which they could attack wherever the pit they wanted to next, and the Autobots would have to respond with everything they had. No extra soldiers to guard the base.
Jazz walked into the big circular meeting room. He actually wasn't the last one there for once. Optimus nodded to him from the head of the table where he was sitting between Ultra Magnus and Elita. It was good to see Magnus up and about. Jazz hadn't talked to him since he'd been injured, but he'd heard the mech's spark chamber had been damaged.
There were too many doors in this room—one on every side. Jazz sat so he could see three of them—that would have to be enough. He was across from Mainspring and Prowl. Prowl looked troubled, which was unusual because he normally didn't show his emotions on his faceplate.
It was also too quiet in here. There was a strange tension in the atmosphere.
Then Red Alert burst in. "Optimus!" he said. "A little warning would be nice next time you decide to drop two thousand prisoners on me!"
"I apologize," Optimus said, and Jazz could hear something abnormally severe in his tone as well.
"I hope you have an explanation!"
"Red Alert," Ultra Magnus said. "Do not speak to the Prime in—"
"I'd like ta know what the deal is with that too." Jazz cut Magnus's lecture off.
"We will discuss that once the meeting has started." Ultra Magnus glared at him. Jazz noticed Prowl's doorwings dipping down a little. What did that mean? He still looked troubled.
It was about a breem after the meeting was supposed to have started when the door opened and Ironhide came in.
Silence fell as he walked around the table and sat next to Chromia.
"Thank you for joining us," Optimus said. "I would like to thank you all for your efforts in Blaster City. I know we still have many things to do, so we will try to keep this meeting brief."
They'd won in Blaster City. There should have been a celebratory atmosphere, but there was not.
"Prowl, would you please report on how things are going in…"
"Optimus," Ironhide said. "Let's not dance around the issue. Prowl wasn't the driving force behind what happened."
Optimus looked up at the field commander. "Ironhide?"
"We've needed to take this step for a long time. We can't keep letting the 'Cons retreat. We can't keep letting them regroup and attack again and again and again."
"Ironhide," Ultra Magnus said sternly. "Are you claiming responsibility for the unauthorized capture of those two thousand Decepticons in Blaster City?"
"Yes," Ironhide said.
"I am also responsible." Prowl put in.
"These are acts of treason," Ultra Magnus glared across the table.
Optimus put a hand on his shoulder. "My friends," he said. He looked hurt—hurt, not angry.
Well, this was going to be fun.
"No," Ironhide said.
Everyone stared at him.
"Optimus, I am your friend," he said. "But this isn't Percy's house anymore, and we aren't a bunch of mechlings playing with things we don't understand. This is war. This is real lives on the line, real mecha dying. The longer we allow this to drag on, the more of them we will lose. This isn't a game, it's not a political drama. We need to hit the 'Cons hard. We need to beat them. The faster we move and the harder we hit, the sooner this will be over!"
Optimus looked down.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Elita spoke, optics flashing. "There are reasons we have allies, reasons we believe we can win this. One of those is that we are not warmongers. How is this going to look to the cities who support us? How will it look to the cities we defeat if we start acting just like the Decepticons?"
"Prowl, tell them how long this war will take if we fight like we mean it."
The table went silent.
"We could eradicate the Decepticons in two vorns," Prowl said. "One, if we initiated a draft."
"We could initiate a draft," Chromia said. "We have room here on this base for an army twice the size. And that's even if we don't have anyone deployed fighting the Decepticons."
Elita glared at her sister. "Didn't I just say—"
"Now hold on," Jazz put in. "Everymech calm down. We gotta talk about this rationally."
"You're traitors," Red Alert said. "That's the real problem. And you're fools! We have a spy on base, someone who was able to release that gestalt! Now you've brought half an army. The Decepticon prison is close enough to our base that if they got out, we'd have a battle on our hands right here!"
Ironhide looked at Jazz. "We still haven't caught that spy? Isn't that your job?"
"'Scuse me?"
"He's too busy teaching his subordinates how to steal energon dispensers," Red Alert said. "The point is, you should think through the consequences before you do stupid rash things!"
"The point," Ultra Magnus countered. "Is that you should trust your Prime and follow orders, even if you don't agree with them!"
"We're all pointing fingers and insulting each other," Chromia said. "Did any of you actually hear what Prowl said? We could be done with this war in two vorns at the most. We could be done."
"Not if we get too aggressive and lose the support of the cities who have allied themselves with us," Elita said. "Did Prowl factor that into his calculations?"
"The fact remains," Prowl said. "We live on a world that is already dying. In order to present a unified front against the real enemy—the coming famine—we should focus all of our efforts on defeating the Decepticons quickly."
Silence fell for a moment.
"I agree with Prowl," Mainspring said. "I am sorry, Optimus. I know you don't like war, and you don't want to strike first, but we can't afford to drag this out."
"Thank you for speaking honestly," Optimus said. "I do not expect you to agree with me in everything. In fact, through studying the wisdom of the Primes, I have come to believe that behind every great leader is a group of brilliant mecha who talk him out of making stupid mistakes. But Ironhide, Prowl… It troubles me that you did not come to me with this concern before disobeying my orders."
"Would you have listened?" Ironhide asked.
"How dare you…" Magnus said, but Optimus put a hand on his shoulder again and the injured commander fell silent, grimacing.
"I would have listened," Optimus said. "And then I would have tried to help you understand—"
"You would have ignored me," Ironhide said. "We needed to do this. We needed to show you that this works, Optimus."
"It only works until those prisoners overpower the guards or the 'Cons send their army to free them," Red Alert said.
"Know what I think?" Jazz asked.
"I don't care what you think," Ironhide growled.
"I think ya didn't tell Optimus beforehand because ya didn't want ta risk him giving ya a direct order that ya'd have ta disobey. Ya're accusing him of childishness, but ya're the one acting like a sparkling."
"At least I'm doing my job," Ironhide said. "I don't see you putting your life on the line. I haven't seen you out on the battlefield."
"If ya saw me doing my job, then I'd be pretty bad at it, don't ya think?"
"Then where's that spy? This is the second time you've let someone infiltrate. No, the third! Makeshift almost killed Prowl the first time and—"
"Ironhide."
The room fell suddenly and completely still, despite the fact that Optimus's voice had been relatively quiet.
"You are correct," Optimus said. "This is not Perceptor's house. We are no longer a fledgling resistance group. We must be more than that. We must be strong and we must be unified. We do not need to agree, but we must at least be open with each other. We cannot afford to bicker and argue as we have been doing, and we especially cannot afford to keep secrets from each other. I am more disappointed that you and Prowl went against my wishes without telling me than I would be if you had asked and I had commanded and you had disregarded my orders."
Prowl looked down in apparent shame, but Ironhide just shook his helm.
"That's only words," he said. "What are you going to do? Keep insisting we let the 'Cons walk away? I suppose you'll have to release all the prisoners so our mecha can die fighting them in the future."
"This is a military organization," Ultra Magnus said. "And you have disobeyed our Prime, who is also our commander. This merits a removal from your post."
"As Jazz pointed out," Prowl said. "We did not disobey a direct order. I don't think you want to try to argue the legalities of the situation. We cannot be removed from our positions."
"Optimus is your Prime," Ultra Magnus said. "He has the authority to remove you from any position, whether or not the law mandates that you be removed."
"Well then," Ironhide said. "What will it be?"
"Do not force my hand," Optimus said.
"You don't even have the bearings to…"
"I said do not force my hand, Ironhide. You are a capable commander and a good friend, and I do not wish to lose you to this disagreement. But what you did and what you are suggesting is wrong. It is poorly thought through and you have not considered the consequences. If we win this way as you say, by force, then what? Do we put the Councils back into position or do we become as Megatron? Would you have me be as he wishes to be? Should I bring peace to the world through tyranny? Do you truly believe that, even if I had good intentions, mecha would choose to follow someone who showed no mercy, who destroyed his enemies ruthlessly, who met violence with violence and killed to defend his own position? Do you think the war would end with Megatron's death? Do you think that I don't consider these things? I will not force mecha to fight my wars, I will not become my enemies, and I will not allow you to undermine my work. If you disobey me again, Ironhide, or you Prowl, I will not hesitate to remove you from your stations. Do you understand me?"
The room had gone silent again.
Optimus took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. The tension in the room dropped a little and when the Prime spoke again, his voice was gentler. "I know you were merely attempting to do what you felt was right. I know it is hard to watch mecha offline, and that you wish to take the shortest path to the end of the suffering…"
Ironhide got up from the table and left the room without a word. Jazz watched him go, then looked back at Optimus, whose optics had a deep sadness in them.
It was Mainspring who ended the silence "Optimus, what will you do with the prisoners we took?"
Optimus nodded. "This is a valid concern."
"If you let them go, you're just consigning them to death at the hands of our soldiers," Chromia said. "And consigning our mecha to death at their hands."
"This is true," Optimus said. "We will contain them for now."
"Then we need to find that spy," Red Alert said.
"I'll find him," Jazz said. "Give me one orn."
Ironhide was right. It was his job, and he would do it even if it meant he had to pull some less-than-legal resources.
"What about conscription?" Chromia asked.
"I will redouble my efforts to persuade mecha to join us," Optimus said. "But I will not make it mandatory. That is an infringement on the rights of the mecha I am sworn to protect. Prowl?"
"Yes, Sir?" Prowl said, looking almost humble.
"I apologize for my anger."
"It was not without reason," Prowl said, looking down. "I apologize for my actions. I may not agree with you, but I will not make such dramatic shifts in tactical strategy in the future without your permission… though, Optimus?"
"Yes?"
"All things said and done, I would rather have you for a tyrannical overlord than Megatron. We cannot allow him to win. If we are losing in the future—if we are losing and your speeches and propaganda are not enough to convince mecha to enlist…then what?"
Optimus didn't seem to have anything to say.
"With your permission, Sir," Prowl said at length. "I would like to return to my work."
Optimus nodded and Prowl got up and left the room as well.
"We have more to discuss," Ultra Magnus said.
"No," Optimus said. "Meeting adjourned. We will reconvene at the usual time next orn. If you have individual concerns that must be addressed before then, please speak with me about them."
Jazz got up. He had work to do. If he wanted Blaster's help finding the spy, he'd need to make sure he could cover his tracks.
Optimus watched them file from the room.
Ultra Magnus pushed away from the table, but Optimus stood and put a hand on his chair. Everyone else left except for Elita.
He could tell she was worried about him. He couldn't hide things from her.
Ultra Magnus looked up at him. "Prime, Sir?"
"Thank you for being here, despite your injuries," Optimus said. "You should get some rest."
"I have been getting rest."
"Come," Optimus held out a hand and Ultra Magnus took it. Optimus could see him trying not to grimace as he pulled the commander to his pedes. According to Ratchet, Magnus only had mild spark damage, but he would still need a few decaorns to recover. "Let's get you to your room."
Ultra Magnus walked on his own and Optimus didn't offer to help, though he could tell his friend was in pain. Elita followed, feeling troubled.
"I am all right," Magnus said once they had exited the meeting room.
"I know," Optimus said. "I want to walk you to your room anyway. You can go back to your office next orn."
Ultra Magnus nodded and they continued down the hall.
"Thank you for always standing up for me," Optimus said.
"You are my Prime," Ultra Magnus replied. "Furthermore, you shouldn't let the others act as if they are your equals in authority."
"I am your friend as well, I hope," Optimus said, choosing not to address that issue.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think that we should be using more aggressive tactics? Please tell me the truth, Ultra Magnus."
"I would never lie to you, sir," Magnus said as they reached his quarters. "I… do believe that if we were to make better use of our resources and move more decisively, we could cut down on overall casualties. But I am willing to trust that you have reasons for your decisions, whether or not you share them with me."
Optimus nodded, hoping his deep uncertainty didn't show on his faceplate. Prowl's question rang in his audios. What if they started losing? Primus had told him that he was not to let Megatron win. At all costs, he was to prevent that mech from defeating him.
All the deaths of this war were on his helm.
He took in a deep vent. "Thank you."
Ultra Magnus nodded, and Optimus left, still with Elita trailing after him. He almost wished she wouldn't.
"Optimus?" she said. "May I speak with you in private?"
He hesitated. "Is it of importance to this cause?" As soon as the words left his voice box he wished he could take them back.
He stared into her hurt optics and thought for an instant that he'd lost her too. Her expression hardened. "Yes, sir," she said.
"Very well. Come." He led the way down the hall to his office. He had many things to do, but he wasn't even sure he could at the moment.
"Orion," she said once the door was closed and they were alone. "Ironhide will come around."
Optimus looked down.
"You can't hide it from me, you know. And you shouldn't bottle up your emotions. They need an outlet."
"No, they do not. I have the Matrix. I am not controlled by my feelings."
"Oh, really?" Elita said. "Then what was that out in the hall? What was that when you lost your temper and shouted Ironhide down?"
Optimus sat down at his desk, not wanting to look at her.
"You're starting to believe it too, aren't you?" Elita said. "That you aren't Orion anymore. I felt you flinch when I called you that."
"I am so sorry," Optimus said. "You… you are correct, as usual."
She crossed her arms.
Optimus forced the words out. "I don't know what to do. I have all this knowledge, all this strength… but I need wisdom. We need a balance. I do not want to compromise what I believe. I cannot act in a way that is wrong, even to accomplish something right. But… is that wrong? Maybe I'd know if… if I'd just finished the trials before receiving the Matrix or…"
"Orion," Elita took his hand. With her standing and him sitting, she was about his height.
He looked up at her.
"You said Primus gave you a final trial and you passed it. You must have been ready. Just… trust yourself. Maybe what you need is some sort of compromise, some sort of middle ground."
Optimus sighed. "I don't know. I don't know if Ironhide will settle for a compromise."
"Give him time," Elita said. "And then when the time is right, talk to him. He will come around."
"He saw me spare Megatron's life."
"Megatron was our friend. And like you said, killing one mech, even Megatron, will not end this war. Ironhide needs to learn that there is no easy solution. And he will learn—he's not an idiot. Give him some space, and then go talk to him."
"Thank you for your advice. I will take it… I am afraid, however, that he no longer views me as a friend, much less a worthy commander. It is hard… harder to communicate openly now that I have the Matrix."
"Don't make excuses," Elita said. "That will never accomplish anything."
He nodded. "Again, you are correct. Thank you, Elita. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Bottle up all your feelings and work yourself to death maybe," she said. "Speaking of which, I would love to talk more, but we both have a lot to do. I want you to remember something though. Even if you can't mend this rift between you and Ironhide, even if you give up on yourself, Orion Pax, you will always have someone who believes in you." She smiled and left.
Optimus took in a deep vent, shuttering his optics. Her wisdom was sound. He could find a way to fix this somehow. The command frame was falling apart, but he could repair it—he could find a way to unite them all.
He'd gotten a few comms while he was talking to Elita. He commed Mainspring back.
"Hello, Prime," the mech said.
"You contacted me?"
"Yes. First, I know you're busy, but the Autobot seekers are insisting on speaking with you. One of them got into a fight it seems and they put him in the detention block. They're petitioning for some alternate form of punishment which I agree would be better considering seekers are generally claustrophobic."
Optimus shuttered his optics and sighed. "Have the seeker released immediately with an apology. And give Silverbolt my personal comm. codes. Tell him he can contact me any time, especially if something like this happens again."
He hoped the mech hadn't been locked up for too long.
"I will do that sir, if you're certain you want me to hand out your codes."
"Yes." He hadn't had many conversations with Silverbolt, but something made him think the mech wouldn't contact him unless he had a good reason.
"All right. There's another thing. I believe I've mentioned the growing need among our soldiers for a psychiatrist. I have some experience as a counsellor, but I have so many other duties I can't see to the emotional needs of my own department, much less the whole army."
"Yes," Optimus said. "You told me you have a psychiatrist friend who you trust?"
"I do, and I've finally convinced him to consider joining the Autobots. He wants to come here and talk to you first, though."
That seemed fair enough. "Yes," he said. "I will make some time to speak with him."
"Good. Let me know when you're available, because he was hesitant about it from the beginning and I don't want to give him time to change his mind. Also, I'm certain he can recommend some other trustworthy psychiatrists, which we will also need before too long."
"Thank you,"Optimus said. "I will look at my schedule and let you know when I have time."
"Is there anything I can do for you, Optimus?"
"Keep doing what you're doing."
"All right. And… all things considered, that meeting could have gone worse. I think you were wise to adjourn it when you did. Next orn, when we're all calmed down, we'll be able to talk through everything more rationally."
"Thank you," Optimus said.
Mainspring cut the comm. Prowl had tried to contact him too, so he commed the tactician back next.
"Ratchet, there's something I want to talk to you about."
Ratchet didn't look up from his work. "Yes?"
"In private."
Ratchet sent Pharma an internal comm. "What is it?" He had decided against going to Optimus's little post-battle meeting. It had been too early—he'd go to the normal one, which was scheduled for the next orn. They were probably just talking about what to do with all the prisoners and while Ratchet would like to give them all a piece of his mind for dropping so many injured mecha on him, he would have to wait until he was done repairing them.
"We're fortunate. They successfully captured another gestalt," Pharma said.
Ratchet didn't let the surprise distract him. "Good," he said. "I'll have to talk to them sometime and see if they're willing to let us study them."
"The likelihood of that…"
"Look, I know you don't think we should bother getting their permission, but I will not perform such invasive surgery on mecha if it's not necessary. Feel free to ask them, though."
Pharma sighed. "All right," he said out loud. "Of course, you're right. I'll do that." He turned to leave.
"Not right now! I need your help here."
"Right," Pharma said, looking annoyed.
"Keep your priorities straight." Ratchet glared at him. The older medic had taught him a lot. Sometimes Ratchet wondered if Pharma should be the one in charge.
But only sometimes.
Silverbolt felt his spark constrict as he turned so his wings fit down the narrow stairs. He couldn't imagine being locked down here for a whole orn.
The guard led the way past a row of tiny cells and stopped. "Um… I think he's supposed to be here."
"Who?" the mech in the next cell came to the bars.
Silverbolt stared into the empty cell. "But…"
"Oh, the other seeker? They let him out already. I convinced one of the guards it's not okay to keep a seeker down here and they got permission to let him go."
Silverbolt took in a deep vent, trying not to look up at the low ceiling. "Really?"
"Yeah," the mech said. "Hey, I'm Sideswipe by the way."
"Silverbolt."
"Good to meet you. I've been wanting to ask you seekers for a favor."
Silverbolt frowned. "A favor?"
"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "I mean, I'd help you out in return. I gathered from the few things I got your friend to say that you've been having trouble with some of the other Autobots, and I might be able to help you make some allies."
Silverbolt wasn't so sure he trusted this groundpounder. There was something mischievous in his optics.
"I'll let you think about it," Sideswipe said. "And hopefully, I'll run into you again sometime soon."
Silverbolt nodded. Since Slingshot wasn't here, he could leave and get out under the open sky again. They needed to find their brother anyway. Even though he'd been released already, it didn't mean he was all right.
Hot Spot wasn't sure if they were going to make it. The Autobots had brought them energon, which was good, but Streetwise and First Aid were still badly hurt. Hot Spot had listened as the guard had brought cubes of energon to the next cell over. Streetwise had needed to wake First Aid up, and the guard had insisted they drink the energon quickly, which meant that about ten breems later, Hot Spot heard First Aid vomiting his tanks out onto the cell floor. He'd felt the mechling lose consciousness again shortly after that. He could also hear Streetwise's ragged venting from the next cell over, and feel his pain over the bond.
He tried to think of a way out of this—a way to escape or get help. But First Aid's spark was getting weaker. It had been almost a whole orn since they'd been captured, and he wasn't sure if the mechling would last through another one.
A mech came into view in front of the cell. Hot Spot thought at first that he was just another guard passing by. But he stopped and turned to look at them, then glanced over in the direction of Streetwise and First Aid.
"Good orn," he said. "You are the gestalt?"
Hot Spot frowned.
"The combiner team. You know…"
Hot Spot glanced at Groove who looked frightened. Should they lie? Had the Autobots decided to kill them?
"Some of you are injured, I see," the mech said.
"And?" Hot Spot asked, worried. He couldn't defend Streetwise and First Aid from this cell.
"And I'm willing to make a deal with you. But I need you to answer my questions. Are you the gestalt we captured?"
"Yes," Hot Spot said. "Who are you?"
"I'm Pharma, a medic. I can repair your friends."
He'd said something about a deal. "In return for…?"
"Your consent. We would like to study you, figure out how Shockwave made you. But we need you to agree to it first."
"Why do you need that?" Blades cut in, obviously suspicious.
"We aren't Shockwave," Pharma said. "There are procedures here. You may be prisoners, but you still have rights as Cybertronians, so we'll need your permission."
Hot Spot glanced at the solid wall between his cell and the next. This mech said they had rights, but in the same breath he was trying to coerce them into agreeing to this. It was just what he should have expected, though.
He did not want anyone—especially an Autobot medic—opening any of his brothers up to try and figure out what Shockwave had done to them.
But if there was anything he could do to help for First Aid and Streetwise…
"I can't speak for anyone else," he said. "But you can do anything you want to me if you repair my brothers."
Pharma considered that.
"Me too," Groove said.
"Hmm," Pharma said. "It would be best to have all of you."
Hot Spot looked at Blades.
"Hey," Blades said. "I'm done with mecha opening me up and rooting around in my spark chamber."
Groove glared at him. "Can you not feel Streetwise? And First Aid? If he dies, we'll all offline too. If you're not willing to do this for them, then do it for yourself."
Blades glared back.
"Streetwise?" Hot Spot asked.
"I'm in," Streetwise said weakly. "Aid's not awake, but he'll probably be cool with it too."
Hot Spot looked back at Blades, who shook his helm.
"Are you sure?" the medic asked. "I do have other things to do, but if you'd like more time to think about it I can come back in a few orns."
"Are you refusing because you want to be contrary?" Hot Spot asked. "Or are you just scared of being operated on?"
Blades' glare intensified. "Fine," he said. "Fine, I'll do it. But I'm not doing it for any of you."
Hot Spot nodded.
"Excellent," Pharma said. "I'll go get some paperwork, and we'll come for you within the joor. Thank you."
He walked away.
"If we have rights to say whether or not they can study us," Blades said. "Don't we have a right to medical attention?"
"At least they're not leaving us here to die," Hot Spot said. "Let's not complain about it just in case they change their minds."