Age of Smoke Part 1: The Autobot Code

Chapter 32: Research

I opened the door quietly, trying not to wake my symbionts. I'd been gone longer than I'd expected to be, but they were all still recharging.

Ravage woke, as always, and looked up at me.

I woke up twice and you still weren't here, he accused.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Are we going to train?

"I need to recharge too," I said softly.

Ravage was satisfied with that. He made room for me on the berth.

I noticed the computer was running, and went to shut it off. Ratbat must have been watching the monitors, though he normally didn't do that when the others were here because Frenzy would bully him about it and try to get him to play games or poke around on the public database.

I sat at the desk to shut it off, careful of the winged symbiont who was curled up there.

The monitors weren't pulled up, though. Ratbat hadn't been watching them.

Hmm…

I checked the computer's history and found he'd been on the public databases…

Dread ate its way into my spark.

"Ravage?" I said.

Ravage looked up. "What?" What's wrong?

"He was researching himself. You didn't tell him, did you?"

"No," Ravage said, but he was guilty. "He called Frenzy stupid so I made sure he knew his place, but I didn't say anything about…"

"Shh," I said.

Ratbat was stirring.

I needed to talk to him privately, to see if I could salvage this situation.

It's not my fault he was researching on the computer, Ravage thought. And he ought to know what he did. He ought to pay for it.

I scooped Ratbat up and his processor started booting up as I stood from the desk.

"I'll be back," I said quietly and slipped out of the room, taking Ratbat with me.

He had almost finished waking up when we got to a nearby office room. I sat down and set him on the desk there.

He looked around, disoriented and confused. "Soundwave?" he said. "Where are we?"

And then he remembered.

"Soundwave?" I saw on the computer a mech named Ratbat, like me. He was bad. The Decepticons killed him and all his friends… "Soundwave? Why did you call me Ratbat? You… you killed someone designated Ratbat."

"No I didn't," I said.

Ratbat wrapped his wings around himself, wincing—one of them was hurt—and stared up at me with round optics. "Ravage thinks I'm him. He said I was a monster, that I hurt someone. But… he's wrong, isn't he? I'm not that Ratbat. I'm different. I can't be him, because I'm a symbiont, and he was mecha, and… and he couldn't fly. So I can't be him, can I?"

If I told him he wasn't Ratbat, he would believe me. If I made something up about how he'd lost his memories, and insisted that Ravage didn't know what he was talking about, Ratbat would accept it.

But only for now.

He could already tell he was different from the other symbionts.

"Ratbat…" I said.

He sobbed.

"No. Li-isten."

It took him about a breem to master himself and look up at my screen.

It's true, isn't it? "Why did you lie to me?" he demanded.

"Let me tell you a story," I said. "That senator, the mech who you researched…"

Ratbat stared at me.

"He destroyed my best fri-iend."

"B-but…" Ratbat said.

"So I destroyed him," I said. "I di-idn't kill him."

"You mean I really am that Ratbat?" the symbiont whispered.

"Yes."

"So…" he stared at me. "So you really do hate me, just like Ravage said. You… you made me forget who I was."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much I could say to defend myself.

"I thought… I thought you cared about me like the others, but Ravage was right." No one cares about me. I'm just a monster…

I looked at the agonized, miserable youngling on the desk in front of me.

"Don't kill me," he said, suddenly frightened. "Don't hurt me, please…"

He was trembling, which aggravated his damaged wing.

How had that happened?

"Let me see your wing," I said.

He gasped and backed away.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I promised, reaching out gently.

But he was too afraid.

"I always knew I was different," he muttered. "I'm smarter, and clumsier too. But…" He probably doesn't care if Ravage and Frenzy hurt me.

"I do care," I said. "And I'll talk to them and make sure it doesn't happen again. Calm down."

Ratbat stared at me, but he didn't trust me anymore.

And his begging had reminded me of the old Ratbat.

"You don't re-emember what you did," I said. "You don't have to be-e that mech if you don't want to. You ge-et to try again."

Ratbat curled tighter around himself again, whimpering.

"I could have killed you," I said. "But I gave you another chance instead."

I let that sink in for a few astroseconds until he looked up again.

"So you…"

"I don't hate you," I said. "Please believe me."

He started crying again, but it was relieved crying this time, and he let me look at his wing. It wasn't hurt too badly. I'd take him to see a medic as soon as I could the next orn.

I gathered him into my arms and carried him back to my room.

Optimus set everything on his desk aside and sat back, shuttering his optics.

The Matrix of Leadership was many things. Some of them were complicated and difficult, but the knowledge of the Primes was something Optimus had no trouble comprehending.

It was organized in a sort of grand database, like a library of memories. Optimus dove deep into its databanks, seeking an event that Alpha Trion had suggested he study.

He couldn't help but admire the elegant structure of the system. It was as if each Prime was a library, organized into experiences, choices, and interactions with other mecha and with Primus. It wasn't a linear, chronological organization, though, it was linked and inter-connected, with large events and decisions connected to all of the surrounding circumstances and reasons.

It had taken Optimus a little while to get the hang of it. He had been afraid once or twice, that he would get lost in the recesses of his predecessors' memories and never find his way out.

The memory he was searching for was in one of the later Quintesson wars. Regulus Prime—a seeker—was leading a coalition of city-states. During the pre-council era, each state had had its own government, and so the alliance between them was complex and fragile.

Optimus had known about that Quintesson war, of course, and its outcome, but there were so many things he hadn't known about the wars—things that had been edited from the historical records, or lost over time.

Because the different city-states had had different leaders, it had been extremely difficult for them to work together. This battle was no exception. It had started in Valvolux where they had been keeping mecha who'd been captured by the Quintessons and later rescued. Most city-states just executed former Quintesson prisoners because they had all been infected by the Quintesson reprogramming. But the leader of Valvolux had kept them and it had backfired.

In the end, they had developed a way to repair the Quintesson reprogramming, but this battle pre-dated that time, and the choice to spare the rescued prisoners had exacted a terrible cost. The city had been nearly destroyed and many, many more mecha had been offlined.

Optimus watched the battle through Regulus Prime's optics, wondering why Alpha Trion had asked him to study a battle in which the Cybertronians hadn't come out victorious. Perhaps he was trying to suggest that even experienced commanders did not always succeed, or maybe he wanted Optimus to learn that you could recover from even devastating losses. This had, after all, been shortly before the tide had turned.

His office door opened. He heard it distantly, and marked his place in the archives before pulling out.

One great difficulty about the knowledge in the Matrix was that it wasn't abridged. Every moment in the lives of the previous Primes, every thought, every sight and sound, had been recorded. It took him a while to find his way back to the present.

"Optimus?" Elita said.

Optimus blinked, and then looked up at her. "Is it time already?"

"It's half a joor past when you told me," she said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Optimus stood. "I am sorry to keep you waiting. I was… lost in a memory, I suppose."

"Hmm," Elita said. "The Matrix?"

Optimus nodded.

"I can feel it when you think about the other Primes," Elita said. "You're more… distant."

They left the office and headed toward the base's exit. Optimus had promised her a walk, and he needed to go back to the Hall of Records anyway, because he was almost done with the books Alpha Trion had sent him with.

They walked in silence out of the base and to the groundbridge station. They didn't have time to walk or even drive to Central Iacon, so they were just going to bridge there and walk to the archives.

Once they were through the bridge and walking down the crowded streets, Optimus dared to ask. "Is something on your processor?"

She smiled at him thoughtfully. "I'm just curious… what's it like sharing memories with them? Do you become them when you're remembering them?"

"Not quite," Optimus said. "I can view their visual and audio feed, and it comes with transcribed thoughts and feelings. But though it is definitely more in-depth than any biography, it is not quite the same as—"

"Mr. Orion!"

A blue and black youngling came chasing after them. Optimus stopped, suddenly wishing he'd taken a different route.

The mechling met his gaze and froze, looking uncertain.

"Oh, sorry," he said, and turned to scamper off.

"Wait, Factor," Elita said, unsubspacing an energon treat. "Remember me?"

The youngling hesitated, then came back over. "Hi Elita." He accepted the energon treat from her, then frowned at Optimus. "You look like Mr. Orion. Are you…?"

Optimus smiled and knelt so that he didn't tower over the little mechling so much. "I am," he said. "Or at least, I used to be. I… got an upgrade. It's good to see you, Factor."

Factor still looked uncertain, and after another moment, he scurried away.

Elita unsubspaced a bag of energon treats and handed it to Optimus.

"You planned for this."

"Well, I figured I might as well be prepared," she said. "We were coming to Central Iacon after all. I… know you can't remember them, but I figured I'd… I don't know, re-introduce you to them."

"I do remember some of them," Optimus said. "From when I was completing the fourth trial. But… that was different."

"If you'd like, we can go a different way and avoid them."

Optimus looked at the energon treats in his hand. "They are my responsibility now in ways they weren't before. It will be good to remember what mecha who are not soldiers are like."

Elita nodded and they continued.

Optimus found himself wondering how many times he'd walked these streets with Elita. He wished he could remember.

A few mechlings found them on the way to the Hall of Records, but not very many. It had been a while, after all, and some of his sparkling horde would be adults by now, if they were still online.

The Hall of Records was quiet, as always, and peaceful.

"You still love it here," Elita observed.

Optimus nodded, and led the way to the stairs.

"Elita?" he said as he climbed. "There is… something I have been meaning to ask you. I know I should have done so shortly after receiving the Matrix, but perhaps… on the walk back… but no…"

"What is it?"

"I will ask you later."

They reached the top of the stairs. Elita smiled in a puzzled, amused way. "Why? Is it a personal question?"

"Well… in a way. I suppose most wouldn't consider it that personal, but…"

"You're so uncomfortable about it," Elita said. "I'm curious now."

Optimus stopped outside of Alpha Trion's office door and tapped the entry request.

They waited for a few astroseconds.

"Are you sure he's here?" Elita asked.

"Well…" Optimus said. "He no longer has Council meetings to go to… and I did let him know I was coming this orn. Maybe he is elsewhere in the archives. We could look—"

"Wait," Elita caught his arm. "I still want to know what you were going to ask me a moment ago."

He stopped, considering. He knew he shouldn't feel so self-conscious about this. "It is unimportant," he said. "I was wondering if you'd tell me… how we met."

She blinked.

"I cannot remember. I know that is not…"

"Oh! Of course I'll tell you," Elita said. "It's not very exciting, though. But actually… I wonder if, deep down, you do remember," she smiled at the ground.

Optimus waited.

"Well, the first time I saw you was at Perceptor's house. Chromia had discovered that Ironhide was spending time with you rebels," she smirked. "And so she was determined to humiliate him in front of you all and drag him out of there for good. And you were sitting in the corner. I noticed you right away. In fact, the next time I saw Ironhide, I asked him about you and he offered to introduce us. Of course, we had to keep that a secret from Chromia. She would have been so angry at him—she was when she found out. And then Ironhide brought me here, to the Hall of Records, to meet you. And we talked until your break and then we walked through the city and talked some more and I met your sparkling horde," She smiled fondly. "And I think I was already in love with you by that point."

He met her optics, smiling as well.

"And I was terrified. I knew…" she looked away and sadness crept across the bond. "I knew already that you weren't going to be an archivist forever."

"I am sorry," Optimus said. "It has been very difficult for you."

"It's been worth it," Elita said, putting a hand on his arm. "Every moment it's been worth it. And I'm just so glad things worked out. You know, we owe that old Circuit-Su master so much."

Optimus nodded. Without Yoketron, they wouldn't have their bond back. "Yes, he…" he trailed off as he heard approaching pedesteps.

Alpha Trion came around the corner. "Ah, here you are. Sorry, I was away from my office. Come in, both of you." He shot a look at Elita, which made her defensive. She probably thought he disapproved of her.

They followed the old archivist into his office.

"So," Alpha Trion said. "Finished already? You read quickly."

"I have made it a priority," Optimus said.

"Hmm. I can't believe I'm saying this, but be careful about how much time you spend researching. You do have other responsibilities."

"I do have a few questions about the material you have given me so far," Optimus said. "And I am ready for more."

"Historical questions?" Alpha Trion said. "Or advice questions?"

"Both," Optimus said.

"I can't promise to give you every answer you seek, or that the answers I do give will be to your liking, but I can answer."

Optimus glanced at Elita. He hadn't realized this meeting might be boring for her.

But as he and Alpha Trion started talking, she seemed perfectly content to sit and listen.

They discussed history and wars and great leaders for almost a joor before Optimus realized he needed to get back to base.

Then he and Elita bid Alpha Trion farewell and left the archives. They ran into a few more of Orion's old sparkling horde, but many of them approached cautiously and only after Optimus had offered them a treat. Another reminder that he was not the mech he had once been, even though he still sometimes felt just as inadequate.

He pondered this as they walked through the groundbridge that would take them back to the Autobot base.

Prowl entered the tactical command center, wishing he could be anywhere else. Yes, he was angry, but he did not want to fight this battle.

There was no avoiding it, though. The mech had made an unpardonable mistake and it was Prowl's duty to correct him.

He approached Fizzle, who didn't look up from his work, not until Prowl tapped the mech lightly on the shoulder.

Fizzle turned in his seat, obviously annoyed. "I'm trying to get things done here," he said.

"We are not currently engaged in conflict with the Decepticons," Prowl said. "Your work can wait—I need to speak with you in my office."

"Can't we talk out here, commander?"

Prowl blinked. He'd heard them complaining about him, of course, but he'd never had anyone outright defy him before.

"Very well, then," Prowl said. "If you insist. If I heard correctly, you were responsible during the final joor of the battle for the assault on our own seekers, wounding and nearly offlining one of them."

"Oh," Fizzle said. "I was 'responsible' was I? How was I supposed to know they were ours?"

"You're always supposed to be aware of where they are," Prowl said. "If you'd been keeping track of troop movements in the area you were overseeing, you would have noticed them passing by. They are a valuable resource and we cannot lose them, especially to something as preventable as friendly fire."

Fizzle glared at him. "Well, I'm sorry, but what happened there isn't my fault! I wasn't informed and just because you always keep track of everything and try to micromanage all of us doesn't mean we always know what you're going to do. Having those seekers fly right through the sector I was overseeing wasn't in any plans I'd been told about. If you want us to work together, you've got to give us some warning when you change things around."

Hurricane stepped away from his station and started to speak, but Prowl cut him off.

"You are responsible to check all incoming memos about troop movements and take them into account," Prowl said. "Furthermore, you may not like me very much, but I am your commanding officer and I expect you to show me the respect that station warrants."

Fizzle hunched over a little, looking down, but then glared up at Prowl again.

"Sir," Hurricane said.

"What?" Prowl snapped.

"I… I was in acting command at the time. I did send a general announcement about where I was sending our seekers, but I failed to specifically notify the mecha whose areas they were passing through. It wasn't entirely his…" Hurricane trailed off as Prowl rounded on him.

But Prowl couldn't bring himself to yell at Hurricane, even though it seemed Fizzle wasn't as guilty as he'd thought. He should have checked first—he'd just assumed Fizzle had been careless.

"Well…" he said after a few moments pause. "I expect you to do better in the future… both of you."

"Y-yes, sir," Hurricane said.

"You may be dismissed," Prowl said. "I'll take command for now."

Hurricane nodded and started shutting down his station. They had fewer mechs in the command center since there weren't currently any battles, but they still needed some help coordinating the clean-up in Nuon City.

Possibly their last battle clean-up effort, since their resources were running thin.

Prowl caught some unfriendly glances from the other mecha in the room as he took his place at his computer terminal.

He tried not to think about it as he started working, but it was hard not to be concerned. Even Hurricane had talked back to him. And, more importantly, they weren't working or communicating well with each other. They weren't a team.

They weren't a team and he wasn't a leader.

But he didn't know what to do about it, so he threw himself into his work. It was hard without his battle computer, but he didn't need that right now and he certainly didn't need the processor ache that using it would give him.

Skywarp walked around the corner and jumped when he saw the tall blue seeker standing there.

"Ack! Thundercracker! What the frag?"

Thundercracker crossed his arms.

"That's…" Skywarp said as the startled feeling ebbed. "That's my job, sneaking up on mecha."

"'Warp, I need to talk to you."

"Oh, come on." Skywarp rolled his optics.

"Really," Thundercracker said. "This is important."

"No." Skywarp didn't want to talk to his brother. Besides, he was pretty sure the mech wanted to talk about things Skywarp would rather avoid.

Like how Starscream had erased his memories.

It was better not to think about that.

"Yes," Thundercracker said. "Please, 'Warp, I feel like I'm missing something and I need to know."

"You take things far too seriously," Skywarp said. "You're overthinking it. You were hurt and you lost memories and we told you everything that happened that you forgot already."

Thundercracker frowned.

Skywarp could tell he wasn't buying it.

"Besides," Skywarp continued. "What does it matter? Why can't you just be—"

"No," Thundercracker said. "Starscream said something. Something about keeping me out of trouble. What was he talking about?"

"Beats me," Skywarp said, trying to hide his discomfort. Of course, he could leave this conversation whenever he wanted to. "You know Starscream. He spits out all sorts of meaningless slag cuz he loves the sound of his own voice—that's just who he is. In any case, I have better things to do, so…" he activated his mod, but just before he warped, Thundercracker reached out and grabbed his arm.

The warp was slightly jarring since Skywarp was dragging more than twice the normal weight with him.

He gasped as they came out in his quarters and he saw his brother grimace, but Thundercracker didn't let go. In fact, he grabbed onto Skywarp's shoulder with his other hand.

Skywarp tried to pull free. "Get off!"

"No, not until you tell me what it is you two are hiding from me. What happened before I lost my memories?"

"I'll warp again," Skywarp threatened. "You know it's not good for mecha's sparks when I bring them with me too many times."

Thundercracker's expression settled into a sort of grim determination.

"You'll pass out after three or four times."

"Then by all means, knock me out," Thundercracker said, tightening his grip. "Go on."

Skywarp glared at him, then warped again, out onto the streets just outside of base. Thundercracker grimaced again, but held on even more tightly.

"Will you give it up?" Skywarp demanded. "There's nothing to tell you."

"You're lying."

"Let me go, and I'll tell you."

"No," Thundercracker said.

Angry, Skywarp warped again, onto a nearby roof. This time he could feel it hurt Thundercracker through the trine bond, and Thundercracker leaned on him, venting hard.

Skywarp struggled, trying to push his brother off of him, but Thundercracker was still holding on too tightly.

"Why do you care so much?" Skywarp demanded. "Why can't you just accept that you don't get to know everything you want to?"

"Because I know you can tell me," Thundercracker said. "Please. I can see you feel bad about it. Just tell me and I'll stop bothering you."

But if he told Thundercracker, Thundercracker might get in trouble again and Megatron didn't seem the type to give third chances.

"Please," Thundercracker said. "What are you afraid of? Just tell me what really happened. I promise I won't be angry at you."

"Let go or I'll warp again."

Thundercracker shook his helm.

"Starscream will kill me if I tell you."

"He'll never have to know."

Skywarp shook his helm. "But you'll tell him. You won't be able to help yourself—I know you, Thundercracker, and I know you'll confront him about it."

"I promise I won't," Thundercracker said.

Skywarp looked down.

"I swear it, 'Warp. I won't do anything about it, I just want to know."

Skywarp sighed. "Megatron was going to kill you… he… he was going to kill you to punish Starscream for letting some prisoners escape, and to punish you for…"

"For what?"

"For helping them escape."

Thundercracker stared.

"You deserted," Skywarp said. "I don't know why." Thundercracker didn't need to know about Vos. That would definitely push him over the edge. "You helped the prisoners escape, then deserted, and Megatron had Starscream bring you back in exchange for… for keeping his position as a commander."

Thundercracker shook his helm.

"He…"

"They wiped my memory, didn't they?"

"Megatron was going to kill you!" Skywarp said. "He was going to… to cut off your wings and lock you up in a tiny box and let you leak to death." He shuddered. "We didn't have a choice."

Thundercracker shook his helm again. "That lying…"

"You promised! You promised you wouldn't say I told you. And you can't do anything stupid. If you desert again they'll kill you for real and we won't be able to talk them out of it."

Thundercracker finally let go of him, and Skywarp wasted no time in warping himself back into the building.

Pit, he shouldn't have done that.

He shouldn't have said that.

Now Thundercracker knew.

Skywarp shuttered his optics. "What do I do? What do I do? What do I do now? Pit, pit… Starscream… he'll kill me. I'll tell him Thundercracker beat it out of me. I'll say he threatened me. Starscream will believe that, right?" He took in a deep vent. "Next orn. I'll tell him next orn. Thundercracker won't have done anything stupid by then, right? He'll be fine. He'll be fine, he's a slow thinker. He doesn't do things until after he's thought about it for a while."

Satisfied for now, though still on edge, Skywarp warped himself back out into the halls. He needed to prank someone to settle his nerves.