It felt strange to be alive.
It was not as it had been during his brief resurrection as an amnesiac. That time, he had been disoriented but had no reason to suspect anything odd about his continued functioning.
This time, he retained a lifetime of memories that proved to him exactly why his state in the world of the living was strange.
It would take time to adjust, he supposed. Unfortunately, time was not a commodity they could afford in great quantity at this very moment. There were decepticons on the loose. There were cybertronians in space flying nearer to this world.
There were doubts. So many of those.
And there was so much pain.
He'd returned to a world where a majority of cybertronians were dead. A world that someone he had once cared for had destroyed so many lives and become something he could not help but loathe him and so many of those who had stood at his side in causing such misery. A world where Primus had died and his corpse was littered in the dead of millions.
It was too much for the archivist- one who had last lived during the beginnings of the war, when there was still hope that such a war could be avoided- to grasp all at once.
He felt he was doing a commendable job in trying, at least.
"We can't," he said in reply to one of Ultra Magnus's suggestions. The large mech (it was so strange to see that such a large mech was still smaller than him; Orion had always been a small mech, but now he was in a body that was far from the size of his old one) fell respectfully silent.
"There are autobots out there that will come to Cybertron and won't want to accept the idea of a truce by word alone. They'll see that we have the advantage here and push for us to merely take the planet for our own."
Ultra Magnus did not seem to look entirely displeased by the idea.
"Meanwhile," Orion continued. "-there will be decepticons coming down and they won't believe our word of mouth that Megatron disbanded their cause. They're going to think it's a trick and see the autobots as attempting to oppress them through deception."
Both the elite guardsmech and Ratchet frowned.
"But you're proposing something that would make both sides unhappy," the medic argued.
It was true, unfortunately. But it was better both be unhappy rather than both be upset enough to attempt to continue this war or else oppress the citizens of Cybertron (as Knock Out had reported happening to his old world).
"It also wouldn't alienate either," Orion replied. "It would set both factions on even footing and allow all of us a new start on this world. If we hang on to past affiliation, we'll never be able to leave the scars of this war behind."
And Orion wanted the same thing Optimus always had- peace.
This was their first chance in eons to try to heal their world. Its physical body had been repaired, but to hang on to the old factions or dreams of a second Golden Age (or a decepticon empire) would be to never allow its society to repair.
"What about neutrals?" Ultra Magnus folded his servos together. As upset as he sounded at Orion's ideas, he was not outright demanding they be replaced with enforcing the autobot code.
Orion believed in that code. But he also knew that outright enforcing it (as opposed to believing it and steering the world in its direction without naming its affiliation) would alienate all those who had chosen not to take on the autobrand.
"Some of them will be angry that the Prime is gone," the mech elaborated. "Some will be angry to see decepticons remain unexecuted, let alone be forced to see their faces in government. Some will just be angry to see the hallmarks of both factions at their lead instead of cybertronians who remained neutral like themselves."
All of which were very real concerns.
None of which had easy answers.
"I will appeal to the neutrals," he offered as he stood. The former archivist in the body of a Prime began to pace in a manner quite unlike what Optimus would have done to clear his mind. "The autobots are going to probably see me-" Orion waved up and down the unfamiliar bulk "-as their Prime even if I say I'm not. They'll probably think that as a whole no matter what I say. So I'll reach out to the neutrals by pointing out that I, as Orion Pax, never choose a faction brand and they may think their spiritual leader has no alignment; just like they don't."
There had been none solidified at the time that he had last lived, after all. If he had continued to fight without seeking the Matrix, he did not doubt that he would have joined the autobots.
"Hopefully that will convince them to give this world a try while also not managing to drive autobots off. I think-" he bit his lip briefly before nodding at Ultra Magnus. "I think you should be the official commander for the autobot faction. Even if they do insist on seeing me as a Prime, you know far more than I do about leading them."
Ratchet threw his servos down and looked away, but he did not argue it.
Ultra Magnus did not seem convinced.
"Even if we are able to establish a state of peace among the surviving cybertronians and the newsparks from the Well, we are still weakened from the war. Other planets and governments could attempt to take advantage of us."
As Orion opened his mouth to contest it, the lieutenant spoke over him.
"I understand that many would rather ignore us altogether. But some could see who it is you wish to appoint in the government and grow far too angry at your forgiveness to leave us alone. There could be trade barriers, travel sanctions, even attacks."
That almost irritated Orion. He was upset over everything right now. His recent return left him disoriented. There was so much pain everywhere from a war that had destroyed so much. There was a shadow of corruption ready to take advantage of their fledgling state of peace and here he was trying to find the best option for keeping that away.
It did not grow to full blown frustration, but he still ached to think that Cybertron would never again regain its respected standing in the universe if his plan was accepted.
"We have had wars in the past. Let the universe think we are a warlike culture," Orion said. "That our culture fights but does not hang on to grudges once the latest war is over."
It was a distasteful suggestion. It felt so insulting for Primus's sake. The god was one of life, not war. But it could keep them from drawing too many suggestions and demands from other planets or federations.
"Maybe we could say that," Ratchet replied with a frustrated gesture. "But there were whole worlds wiped of life in this war. If we'd kept it among ourselves, maybe aliens would just consider us a war culture that's always at risk for imploding on itself. It didn't stay among ourselves though."
There had been so many genocides. One was too many and yet there had been more and more.
Even with all of Optimus's memories, Orion felt that reality hard to bear.
"We'll make a publicized deal with humanity. They know we exist, do they not? The insecticons ruined our cover on that planet. Perhaps a deal with one organic planet will be a first step in letting others see us as willing to leave this war and its genocides behind," he offered.
They were such a young people. They were so capable of spawning their own decepticons, as M.E.C.H. had shown. They had long been a warfaring planet themselves. Throwing them into the celestial circus hardly seemed fair.
Optimus would never have even suggested it. He had wanted so badly to protect them from the stains cybertronians brought.
But it was already too late for that. The best they could offer for reparations was a treaty of some kind; something that would keep any of Cybertron's still living enemies from attacking what they would otherwise think was an unprotected planet.
This was all a mess.
Orion wanted to slump in exhaustion. He wished Alpha Trion could have been here to offer advice. He wished this entire war could've been avoided.
But he'd also witnessed life returning to Cybertron this very cycle.
He had always been an optimist. That sight had filled him with a hope for the future of Cybertron and no amount of struggling through laws and plans would manage to kill the joy of watching the Allspark return.
Even though the ship had crashed, the groundbridge still worked. There were two mechs on board who really knew how to operate it. One of them had been found on the ground unconscious and carried to the medbay by an irate Ratchet. The other was that medic himself.
After their meeting with Ultra Magnus, Orion had asked his doctor friend to send him in search for the wildcards left on Cybertron. The largest of the predacons had aided him in that after the archivist had introduced himself to the mech and asked for help. He- Predaking, Orion found the name in his memory cores- had spent a short time scanning for the life signs of Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave. All he asked in return was to have Shockwave left for he and his fellow predacons to 'deal with'. Orion had asked what, exactly, that entailed and had gotten a cryptic answer in return. He determined to speak with Predaking at a later time on where the clone would fit into their new world. Something gave him a feeling that Bumblebee would be a wise addition to that later conversation. All in all, he had rather liked the sophisticated predacon from first impressions and hoped that their races could live in together on this planet happily.
The first groundbridge deposited him on the top floor of Darkmount. Orion stepped out and looked around the dim throne room nervously. It was an awful place, he could tell just by its appearance. The damaged throne looked like one intended for a tyrant. The walls and ceilings felt overbearing and hostile in how they curved and sharply pointed down at him.
There was a mech near the throne. He stood looking down at it as though it had somehow disappointed him greatly. There was no color to his plating. It was so very unlike the vibrant seeker he remembered from the militia.
"Starscream," Orion called. The decepticon twisted around quickly and pointed flaring weapons at him.
"Optimus Prime," the seeker sneered. "Stay back! Or I'll send you to your autobots in pieces!"
When he was inside this armor? Orion did not think it likely.
"I am not him," he said and took another step closer despite the warning.
This mech had killed a friend of Optimus's on Earth. This mech had a trail of atrocities behind him.
This mech had been the one who- unknowingly or not- sent him into Primehood twice and, in doing so, sealed an autobot victory.
"The war is over," Orion spoke up again gently. "Do you really want to continue shedding energon for a lost cause?"
All empirical evidence would suggest that Starscream's answer was yes.
But Orion would not accept that.
"Cybertron is going to live again," he continued with a small wave of one servo. "It will live under a government that will not demand one side over another be jailed or executed. But that requires the leading commanders of both factions to officially stand down: not continue the war."
Starscream's sneer curled viciously.
"It sounds like a weak world, then. One that my decepticons will have no struggle in conquering."
Orion didn't flinch.
"Starscream," he said. "You once convinced me that I was meant to be a Prime during the early days of the war. You did the same recently, when I had lost my memories. Give me a chance to convince you that you can be something greater than the losing commander in a dying war."
The weapons wavered. The seeker's optics went wide while his mouth fluttered. Then his demeanor went stiff again.
"Get out," Starscream snapped.
Orion commed Ratchet and left calmly through the bridge the medic summoned.
Only time would tell if his words had succeeded or if Starscream's death would be necessary for the war to accept its state of truce.
The autobots had won.
That much was clear when the eruption of sparks had poured out from the Well.
The autobots had won and Megatron could not even find it in himself to be bitter of that fact. He ceased his flight, landed on an outcropping nearby, and watched the sparks spread out over the planetside.
The Allspark was majestic. It was vivid and lively and chaotic as it poured out. And it was something his spark could never find itself a part of.
Megatron watched and thought of life- and of death. Of how his feelings on it had transformed and how they remained.
He still did not want to die. It had nothing to do with legends and pride.
It was fear.
Fear that he would return to Unicron when he perished. And, the disgusting coward that he was, he did not want to return to that so soon.
But while he did not wish to die, he knew he had to leave this planet behind.
His legend was a stain of horror and tyranny. It deserved to be forgotten. He deserved to be forgotten.
Flying from it, never staining it with his presence again- it was all he could do to let this world forget him.
Soon, he would go. For now, he would stare at everything he'd poisoned and attempted to kill. He planned to never see it again.
Jours passed while he gazed over forbidden fruit. An engine was the first noise to break him from his reverie. It was a familiar rattle; one that he had heard many times since returning to his army after his journey into deep space. It belonged to an alt mode of human design; he had always scorned taking on such an alt mode himself and now he did not know that it would be possible to choose another with the changes Unicron had made to his frame.
The engine drew near before the sound of transformation interrupted it. Heavy pedefall came to his place on the outcropping.
For a moment, they remained in tensed silence. Then, he grew sick of waiting for the other to explain his presence.
"Here to kill me, Optimus?" he asked tiredly.
The other mech didn't speak; just stood there watching him. Then he moved forward and sat by the gray mech.
"He is not here," the other said.
Oh? Megatron's optics narrowed.
"He took the Allspark into the Matrix and let it pour into the Well."
Oh.
"So then you are..."
When Megatron drifted off, the mech besides him confirmed his unfinished question.
"Orion."
Ironic, then, that on the cycle Megatron left his old self behind, Optimus would as well.
Once, he would have seen it merely as evidence for their existence as legends.
"And are you here to kill me?" he spoke into the silence.
The mech who had never truly betrayed anyone leaned forward over his legs.
"I do not plan to."
Of course he did not. Orion had always been a pacifist. It was a quality that carried over to the Prime he had made.
If only it hadn't. If only Optimus had killed him far sooner. It would have cut down on so many of those false memories. It would have prevented him from ever finding dark energon and alienating his spark from the Allspark in the first place.
"I will not make you endure my presence," Megatron said. "I wish to see this planet live free of my war for only a cycle longer. Then I will fly. You and Cybertron will never have to see me again."
Even if he would not allow himself to die, he would not remain to watch this world rebuild and heal without him.
"You want to run?" Orion's voice was far too contained. "Megatron, how very unlike you."
"Megatron died on Earth," he growled.
He had been killed by a no one, by a scout. It was disgustingly fitting, in hindsight.
"You may have disbanded the decepticons, but without you here to confirm that it was not a fabrication, how many will truly stand down?" the other asked. "How many will continue to fight? How much fighting will be needed to kill the peace this world is being given a chance to create?"
How many were even left to do so? It hardly could matter. He could not remain. He could not face those who were here, let alone what newcomers would arrive; Starscream's presence had proved that earlier.
"What would you have me do?" Megatron turned on him. "Stay? Stay and soil this world with my presence, just to keep my former soldiers in line?"
It was ludicrous.
"I would have you stay and present yourself as evidence that this war is over," Orion replied immediately. "I would have an official truce. I would see to it that our former factions see their leaders have called the war off and demand that truce to be respected."
The brisk tone faded. Orion closed his optics once and, when he spoke again, it was softer.
"The Golden Age held to a senate. Its predecessors held to a council of Primes. Such did not work by the time of the Golden Age and it will not work now." The other looked out over Cybertron. "Trying to return to a government like that will only cause tension among autobots, decepticons, neutrals, and those alien spacefarers that have survived your war. My friends have suggested that many will see me as a Prime regardless of my own identity as Orion Pax. They will likely see me as the spiritual leader that Primes have been seen as in the past. I can stand in as that figurehead, regardless of my lack of the Matrix; you can stand in as another."
Megatron laughed.
"Absolutely not!" he flashed dentae upon finishing his mirth. "Did your relinquishment of the Matrix cause you to relinquish memories again? You seem to forget who it is you are speaking to."
He ground his claws against the ground.
"I will not lead anyone ever again. I will not see another cybertronian again, let alone a populace. Do you not understand the suffering I caused?"
Surely, Optimus had. It had always been a matter of enjoyment to watch the Prime's empathy drag him down with every new murder or torture Megatron inflicted on one of his mechs.
"I had no reason to do it; to start this war after being denied the Matrix nor to refuse every truce you- Optimus- offered," he stated. "There was no rational betrayal or grief pushing me towards that brink. I wanted to do it all. I knew it, you know it, everyone will. I cannot face them; not as the one who chose to put them all through hells."
"I was not giving you a choice," Orion contested. "You wish to leave and not face any of my people? You do not deserve that mercy and you know it."
That...
had been unexpected. Megatron gaped even as the other continued to look at him stonily.
"I knew that Optimus hated me," he replied through his surprise. "-but I hardly believed him capable of forcing others to suffer just for his revenge."
Even as he said it, he felt the lie.
"Optimus never hated you," the other said. "He was barely capable of hate. As much as he attributed it to the Matrix, I don't think it was the whole reason he was dulled from feeling everything."
The other reason was him. Of course it was. He'd strung along hopes for the sake of dashing them for too long; that would desensitize anyone, but especially a hopeful mech like Optimus.
The news added onto a list of regrets too long to ever work at rectifying.
"And you?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Orion looked away.
"I was always emotional."
It was an answer enough. He could not have expected otherwise. He should not have expected otherwise. Orion was right to detest him. Whatever affection they had once shared had long gone cold under millennia of atrocities and manipulations on his part.
"I wish to leave this place," Megatron said after their silence became suffocating. "Keeping me here will only cause more pain. Surely you can see that."
The other turned back to him.
"All I can see is that your disappearance would both make your decepticons unlikely to believe their cause was disbanded and would put them on uneven footing in a world of autobot leaders. I only need you to present yourself. You look enough like you used to; everyone will be convinced it is you. I can be seen as a Prime; you can be seen as a warrior. The spiritual leader and the military defender."
What a joke it was to ever be called a defender. He was an aggressor who sought only his own gain, not the protection of others. But-
"Are there truly decepticons who will stand down as you did or will most seek to continue the cause under their own- or another's- leadership? That can be preemptively dealt with; you will remain their leader, at least in their own vision."
-But it did not mean anything genuine. Orion was setting up a show. It was for appearances only. He was meant only to stay here to keep his decepticons in line while the optics of a thousand victims judged and feared him. The shame of the former was enraging, but the latter would be a continued existence of confusion in a manner much like he had experienced when seeing Starscream earlier that cycle.
"That makes me a puppet. A figurehead to be seen while you direct my every move." Megatron frowned. "I will not-"
His words died in his throat. He stared at the other's expression and saw no room for protest.
"You wish to have a public show," the former warlord started up again after looking away from the emotions contained in Orion's optics. "But I am not Megatron. I will not be the face or leader of the decepticons again."
A servo grabbed his shoulder and tilted him back to face the other again.
"And I am not Optimus. But they will see me as a Prime even though I am not. They will see you as Megatron-"
"-even if I am not." The gray mech slumped. The servo kept him from collapsing completely. "I can see your point."
However detestable a point it was.
He tested the words carefully. "So you want a truce?" he repeated the earlier word.
There was something in the other's expression that seemed only a step from grief. Orion's voice was strong regardless.
"I always have."
It cut too deeply. It was a pain he would need to adjust to, if he was going to be forced to feel it from thousands of others on the regular.
Orion's servo dropped from him and turned palm up. The mech stood up and kept that servo waiting.
"This isn't me asking you to start over," he said plainly. "This isn't a clean slate; this isn't forgiveness or forgetting; this isn't me being happy to have to see your face ever again, let alone on a regular basis. But this is the best way I can think of for convincing your decepticons to stand down and live with Optimus's autobots."
No one would be happy with this arrangement.
But, with any luck, no one would be enraged enough with the publicized truce to continue killing.
He was still mulling it all over- enjoying the breeze of a living world while he held to the railing of the topmost patio- when another came to Darkmount. The visitor was too fast to be most decepticons. Soundwave's human designed drone alt had good speed, but not that good. The autobots were all notoriously slow and encumbered.
That left one option.
And Starscream did not like that option.
He felt slighted from earlier; he felt reeling over words he'd never have expected from Megatron; he felt- he felt- he did not know what he wished to do next and he hated it! He always had contingencies, plans, and goals. Thanks to that slight from earlier, he had nothing.
None of that stopped Megatron from reaching the throne room's floor and transforming there. Starscream clenched the railing tighter; his talons carved grooves into it.
Far too familiar pedefall crossed the room and approached the patio with revolting hesitance. Everything about the mech was revolting. He'd known that for a long time, yet now it was merely the fact that this was not his Megatron that disturbed him.
"You spoke with Orion Pax?"
It was rhetorical, no matter how much like a question the voice made it be. Things were always rhetorical with this insufferable know-it-all.
"What do you care?" Starscream responded stiffly. He refused to turn around. He could not face the slagger now.
That did not stop the abomination from walking into his line of sight and staring at his profile.
"There's no reason to chase a dead dream," Megatron said.
Oh, how poetic. So good to see he'd died and come back as someone willing to use his brain module for once. Just fragging fantastic.
"There is no reason for anything else," the seeker countered as he finally willed himself to shift and face the mech. He was so much taller now. "The decepticon cause may have been forgotten by you, but I will show it to the glory it deserves. I will lead it to a new era! My lead will bring it prosperity and strength and everything you said I could not manage to-" he hissed.
Recants were in his mouth the moment he finished. His wings were ready to dip down and quake. He wondered how much more it would hurt with Megatron's new bulk.
For far, far too long, the other was silent. Confused pride morphed to fear morphed to irritation. Starscream glanced over the edge of the railing and wondered if he should just fly from this spot and get away from this revolting mockery of the greatest mech who had ever functioned.
And then Megatron did speak.
"Starscream," he started flatly. There was nothing hostile in that tone and Starscream half wished there was. That, at the least, would be their routine, familiar- there was safety in the familiar. And this whole end of the war situation held nothing familiar for him.
"You were the best second in command the decepticons ever had."
Wait.
He thought back on the cortical psychic patch.
You were not even the greatest lieutenant I had ever had watch my side.
"But-but you said-"
The other's face curled into a snarl. Well, there was his 'familiar'.
"I lied," Megatron hissed. "Do you not believe me capable of it? I lied because I could not fuel your ambitions or pride; I lied to keep you in your role as my subservient. I...I lied because I believed it was true. But I had never accepted that Orion Pax had never been my lieutenant and never would be."
Oh, this was rich.
He didn't know that he had ever hated the mech more than he did now.
"Flattery won't stop me," Starscream brushed the words off. "The only way you could keep me from reviving the decepticons in my name is to beat the idea out of me. Oh-" he gave a laugh. "-but you won't do that anymore, will you? Not after learning the 'true meaning of oppression' or whatever it was you tried to say."
And it had come as a yell then- hadn't it?
It had come in a tone that had sent Starscream retreating and chastised.
It had never meant a thing so long as it was used thusly with him.
Megatron was glaring, but he did not yell this time.
"Do you understand what Unicron did to me?" he asked lowly.
Did he care?
Not one bit. Personally, he hoped the fragger stuck him into some sort of mental acid pit and let him rot there a while.
"He made me experience everything. Everything I'd ever done to another, from their view."
That was...he didn't know what to do with that.
"To you."
Unease crawled over him. He looked over the expanse of land simply to avoid having to look at the slagger.
"I'm shedding lubricant," he mocked. "Now why do you think that pity party of yours will make me stop in my goal to resurrect the decepticons?"
Starscream was sneering. It made the other change course.
"You injected dark energon to reanimate Skyquake, did you not?"
It was a one-time incident. He'd been half drugged from surgery at the time.
"What of it?" Starscream brushed the small incident away.
Megatron leaned over him.
"Then we had both best hope that container will be barrier enough at our death," he growled down. "-or else our souls shall join Unicron's anti-spark. And then you will understand what I mean. The trail of destruction and misery you've cast in your wake will be significant enough plaything for him."
Death had always been far too frightening. This hardly reassured him in that terror. Starscream returned to gripping the railing so hard it nearly pinched apart.
It was one time. One surgery induced episode of madness.
And it would have to decide his fate? it would have to keep him from doing anything that made him too much of a target, so as to prevent that promise after death?
He hated this fragging reality.
"The decepticons aren't worth it," Megatron finished.
But what else was?
The warship was still crashed outside the Well. It was perfectly easy to find and just as easy to soar down to.
He landed on the flight deck and strode in with faked confidence.
It seemed all of the others who mattered were gathered on the bridge. Starscream walked to it without resistance. Not until he reached the lift itself. There, the autobot rookie was talking to that traitor Knock Out. Both jerked up in surprise when they saw him. Starscream ignored them in favor of shoving through to the lift.
Upon exiting onto that bridge, Arcee was the first to pull her blasters out and point them at him.
Oh, she wouldn't like this at all.
That almost made him like it more.
"Keep your guns away, autobot," the seeker sneered. "You're pointing those at the ruler of Vos."
The words killed all other conversations. Op-...Orion turned from Ultra Magnus. Arcee looked ready to shoot him regardless of what he said. Predaking tilted his head in curiosity.
"Are you...Does this mean that you won't be continuing to press for decepticon leadership?" Orion was the first to ask.
Really, he'd thought the words were self-explanatory enough.
"You all can set up whatever little happy autobot government you want here," Starscream sneered. "But Vos will be independent of that government."
It had always been a city state in the past. A portion of Cybertron, but one isolated from all others. It was privy to the signing of all new laws and treaties and trade deals, but the rules of Iacon did not apply to it. Or the seekers of Vos pretended they did not, at the least. In the Golden Age, they all had pretended that stubbornly even as the council suffocated their every movement.
He would not be suffocated by the former Prime or his former master any longer. This time, it truly would be sovereign to itself.
"Vos is mine," Starscream declared. "Neither of you will control it. It is mine."
For once, he would have something all to himself. He would prove to all the rest that his uncontested rule would find the successes they'd said he could never have.
Less than a breem later, he'd flown from the ship of hostiles once again. He soared to the ruins of Vos and found the tallest peak left over from the bombings and war.
Starscream landed atop that rubble, looked out over his newly uncontested domain, and felt no victory.
