Hello, everyone; welcome to this story.
This is a new version of a fic that I'd been working on for a while, but which stopped working… The original idea was to base the whole thing in Optimus' and Elita's relationship ―a romantic story. Nevertheless, soon enough I realized that it wasn't enough… Either I was rushing things, or getting stuck; plus, I was having trouble in inserting new characters without it seeming too forced. Therefore, the only way to somehow save the original idea was to start over with a different perspective.
So, yes, the whole romance will still be there, for those whom were reading the original fic; but there will be more focus on the whole beginning of the classic conflict between Autobots and Decepticons ―which, in turn, allows me to play with a wider range of characters.
Does this mean that everything that has already been published from the previous story will be completely forgotten? No. I'll be using the parts that works, while brushing them up a little. The next chapter, in fact, comes from one that took place on the original version.
I hope you'll still give the story a chance, and enjoy the new perspective.
Now, a heads up: this new version starts in the end, goes back to the past, narrates the whole thing, and, then, returns to the end again; therefore the second part of this chapter will come only at the closure of the story. Sorry about that…
Let's begin, shall we?
Warning: English isn't my mother language, reason why you may find some grammar mistakes.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.
-01-
THE CONSEQUENCES part 1
It was strange entering the Chamber after so long… Almost ludicrous, all things considered; yet, a jab of pain assaulted his spark the moment in which his optics fell upon the torn room ―his servo lying upon his old seat at the Speakers' Table before he could help it, noticing every little crack and missing part, even in the dim light that surrounded him at the moment. This part of the city had long being reutilized, and several buildings looked exactly like this one, if not worse. Sighing, his processor brought up the image he just perceived when walking in and noticing the conditions of the long corridor of statues that served for a receiver… The sculptures of the Knights that served as columns for the place were still there, even though parts of the roof that they held with the tips of their swords ―which used to merge with the beams of the ceiling― were completely gone by now… The blue crystals on the blades' hilts, held firmly by the Knights' servos, were either gone or shattered on the floor.
And the statues of the first Primes, once inbuilt on the walls, were mostly gone. Even Prima, whom guarded the U-shaped staircase that connected to this Chamber, took his toll ―one of his servos was missing, same as the lower half of the Starsaber he was holding before his chest; and the overall piece was completely cracked.
There was the complete absence of the two large durabilium doors that once guarded this place too. But, then again, supplies had been so hard to get as of lately that it was almost too natural for the tall mech, as he guessed them reutilized and reshaped into someone's medical tools right about now… After all, it was the metal used for most of the surgical equipment; incredibly tough and difficult to forge, so whomever pulled that off had to be a professional.
…
A shifting on the debris behind him got the bot in high alert and made him turn towards the entrance, as one of his servos prepared to turn into a sword; the other one, out of sight for the newcomer, ready to pull out the long rifle he carried on his sub-space. His optics scanned and analyzed the doorway, and the shadows beyond, deciding whether to open a com-link channel to confirm movement or stand down and wait. The decision finally came when a silver reflection, accompanied by the sound of heavy and strong footfalls, was detected by the waiting figure.
Within a few kliks, a pair of red optics was observing him from across the empty gates, and a broad and menacing silhouette cut through the darkness of the night, mostly thanks to its silver shimmering. Even with the lack of light ―yet another resource they've been forced to focus on the compounds and still populated areas, as the fuel to keep the energy going started to become harder to find―, the sharp edges from the shoulder-plates, the forearms, the stabilizers and even the helm were visible.
"Brother" greeted the tall mech, receiving a snort for immediate answer. The newcomer entered the room with his denta still showing in a mocking grin; there was something alike a threat in his optics.
"I think we stopped being that a long time ago… Prime." The silver bot retorted as he started circling the room, observing the remains of a part of his past; a time from so long ago that it felt like a previous life for him, or more like a dream that never actually happen. Finally, he stopped at the seat that used to be his own, right across the blue and red mech. "I can't remember the last time we sat at this table…" He admitted, watching the named object. "Though I can perfectly remember the subject at hand" added the bot, then, optics tracking his companion's expression; but there was no recognizable emotions on the calm blue optics, which used to talk by their own, even if the voice-box remained quiet. Perhaps, this conflict had changed the noble more than anyone could realize. "Allowing me to enter Autobot territory, getting so close to you without so much of a guard… I must admit, the conditions and location chosen for this meeting made my interest pike." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, almost hiding the purple shield that now states his faction.
The other one kept quiet for a breem longer, before letting out a vent.
"You may have forgotten much from before, Megatron, yet the meaning of this place, of the Chamber of Voices, remains. We can still speak our minds concerning Cybetron's future within its walls… We can still do the right thing" started saying the Prime, channeling for a moment the bot he used to be before the conflict started; the diplomat, not the warrior. "Even when we rarely agreed on anything, we always discussed all possible solutions first, thinking in the best one for our people. For our world; the same one that now lies ravaged for a never ending war."
"We both know how it started, Optimus" hissed the former gladiator; optics narrowing dangerously.
"What I am worried about is how it is going to end" retorted the other, leaning in and using the tabletop to support himself ―a brave move, for Megatron was sure the broken thing would give under any of their weights; though it didn't. "The damage done up until now-… If we continue down this road, there will not be a planet to fight over; you must be seeing that already. Energon is becoming scarce, to say the least; the scouts and mining crews are returned empty-handed more frequently, and that is without counting the increasing acid storms. The civilians had long abandoned Cybertron, evacuating themselves to the colonies, or wherever they deemed it to be safe for them." The noble recounted, tiredly, and almost scared of how their race had fallen, so quickly and so tragically. "We must stop. Now. Before it is too late."
After this speech, the warlord remained silent for a moment; but, once again, broke into mockery chuckles as he finally uncrossed his arms, setting his clawed servos on the sides of his hip, and, glaring, state that was no possible diplomatic solution at this point. All those mega-cycles ―eons even― of fighting wouldn't be forgotten just like that; he wouldn't forget just like that, and he was convinced that neither side would agree. Not after all this time.
Optimus optics fell into a deep frown at those words; his shoulders tensed, already imagining the possibility of this outcome, no doubt. He had always been talented with debates, considering all likely retorts, and planning his next move carefully before opening his mouth again.
"Megatron, I warn you, that path may lead to our extinction." The Prime stated with all the authority he could muster from his title and position. "If there is any trace of the mech I once knew inside your spark-…"
"I'm the same from back then, whether you like to see it or not!" barked the former gladiator, slamming a fist against the tabletop, which creaked beneath the hit, complaining for receiving yet another hit. "If that's all you wished to say to me, Prime; I'll return to my own territory…" He added, walking around the few objects left within that room, aiming for the doorframe.
Albeit, the other mech wasn't ready to let go just yet.
"What would you say if I admitted to know about your plan? To know that the Decepticons are seeking to invade the Well?"
The mention of it made the silver mech stop on his tracks and stare at the other leader from above his shoulder, warily; wondering how that information reached the blue and red bot, for nobody had repeated, nor knew of the plan, except for his inner circle. Scrap, he'd even kept his second in command, Starscream, off the loop ―given his big mouth and dramatic flair, the gladiator doubted he would be capable of remaining silent long enough; therefore, he couldn't pin this on the jet.
After the silence settled, Optimus turned to face the mech he used to call brother; still frowning, though, this time, with the fire of decision burning deep within his eyes. He had known of the planned invasion for deca-cycles, and prepared to respond… Yet, a small fraction of him was hoping for the information to be wrong, and to discuss and reason things over with the former Lord Protector… Least the contingency plan would need to take place.
"Then, I would say you've a very capable informant" answered, finally, the silver mech. A retort that confirmed the accusation, instead of denying it, the other noble noticed.
"Relinquish that foolish idea, Megatron."
"Oh? You ordering me?" The warlord allowed himself to hiss a dark, long laugh at that. He found the whole concept rather humorous, considering their past.
"Both sides agreed for the Well to be neutral ground, back in the beginning of the war, Megatron. If you violate the treaty, you would be forcing my servo." Optimus continued without missing a beat, even clenching his fists and taking a few steps towards the silver figure.
A tense silence followed, as the pair measured each other, considering what to do next.
In the end, the former gladiator snorted yet another taunt and, transforming into a jet, fled the scene through one of the openings on the roof. The Prime, once alone, allowed himself to sigh, dropping his head over his chest and sagging his shoulders. "Megatron, you have brought this upon yourself… Upon all of us" thought the mech, as he, too, made his way out of the place; all the while, telling to the few warriors posted on the premises to stand down and return to base ―Prowl, his second in command and main tactician would've never allowed him to actually meet the Decepticon lord completely alone; and, of course, Ironhide agreed with the aforementioned. Thus why he had to bring a small contingent of bots as his backup, should anything happen during the gathering. Good thing they weren't needed, though… Optimus knew none of these young brave mechs would've stood a chance against his former brother; sometimes, even he had issues keeping up with the former gladiator.
At the street level, his spark shattered in a million pieces all over again.
In the cold of the night, down the soft glow of the two moons, Opitmus observed the tumbled buildings, the rubble that now crowded the streets and the distant columns of smoke from some recent battlefield; and, with a shaky vent, took it all in, while the acid smell that floated in the air saturated his systems. He had passed so many times through this street, when coming or leaving the Council's Palace… Yet, he could barely remember how it looked before the destruction reached it.
The rest of Iacon was no better… The Hall of Records had lost several of its floors, and the tower where he used to live when he functioned as Lord Regent was long gone now… There wasn't much left of the great capital city, especially on the exterior ring; but it was their last stronghold, not to mention that it was where their headquarters were located, such as the Decepticons took Kaon for their own. He knew that the Lord Protector's tower had been renamed as Darkmount ―their headquarters; Megatron's personal stomping grounds, from where he controlled his men. Yet, no Autobot had ever crossed Kaon's Walls and returned ―not even the Lightning Strike Team, whom invaded the Decepticons' citadel looking to rescue one of their own teammates; yet, not even Grimlock came back…
With a final sigh, the Prime transformed and, resigned to the events to come, called all high officers to the command center. A decision had to be made.
He drove ―raced, really― back to a large fortress located on the center of the city's First Ring, and next to the Hall of Records. The Omega Autobot Outpost.
It was, probably, the largest Autobot base on the planet; a true city, that was populated by soldiers whom, most the time, had been something completely different before the war hit their homes. Thus far, Optimus had met a few of them and learned how half of those bots had been fire rescuers, laborers, a few scholars, athletes… anything really. Whatever job one could think of, there was, at least, one mech or femme whom had performed it, prior to the conflict. Only a few were actual warrior-class.
At least, most of the old Elite Guard was with them, because of Sentinel; even though the Decepticons had Vos' renowned Energon Seekers battalions fighting for them ―actually, almost a ninety percent of their enemies were jets, which presented a problem in battle for the Autobots, whom were mostly ground-bounded bots. And this was without counting the gladiators and many other warrior-wannabes whom followed Megatron the moment this war broke out.
And all these difficulties were without counting the younglings, whom had received refuge, fuel and education within the Prime's troops. Some of them joined when they came of age, while many others preferred to leave.
…
The command center was a large room located on the top floor of the fortress, filled with workstations relaying the latest data received from the other outposts, and the scouts; it also had a large tactical-table that projected three-dimensional maps and blueprints, for all the officers to see without inconvenience. Optimus Prime, their leader, always stood at the head of this item as he issued the commands, or proposed tactics for the debate; all the while pointing the place where their next move should be played, into the maps projected before them…
But this time, there was no map, no grand speech; nothing too great. The situation demanded full attention in the blue and red figure that waited patiently for his inner circle to enter the room and lock the door. Only then, he admitted the fiasco of his meeting with the Decepticon leader. No diplomatic solution, no cease of fire would come… Not in the near future, that was for sure.
Yet, the worse part was that he was able to confirm the information received from the front: there would be an incursion at the Well of the AllSpark within a few cycles.
"Is he really that far gone?!" Ironhide, a bulky and sturdy black armored mech, whom had served as his bodyguard during Optimus time as Lord Regent, and had been his friend ever since, shouted at the news; his optics glared at no one in specific. "If the AllSpark's damaged, then we're all fragged for good! Bots and Cons!" He kept ranting.
"That's why both sides agreed to stay away from the Well to begin with!" A lime-green old mech complained; Ratchet, their chief medical officer, and yet another old friend of his.
"Apparently that means absolutely nothing to him; not that I'm surprised" cursed Kup, a veteran whom decided to clean the rust from his articulators and jump back into action when the war started. Despite his advanced age, he was one of the best soldiers in that room; and the only one capable of keeping the unit known as the Wreckers into place. Also, despite all the threats received from the chief medic, he kept using cy-gars.
The three bots were doing nothing more than verbalize the opinions of the other Autobots present on that room, whom silently stared at the table or a spot on a wall, while their processors raced with the consequences that a tarnished AllSpark would bring.
None of them had seen it, but they all knew what it was and what it looked like; a giant Cube with ancient glyphs from a forgotten language, pulsing with energy like a living entity. Its origin was a complete mystery… There were no records that stated where it came from, nor what it was exactly; so, the only thing that all Cybertronians has known about it was that the Cube ―as some called it― was their planet's and their race's source of life, for it kept the hot spots warm and filled with new sparks that would become new bots someday ―it was their primary way to keep the population going. Therefore why the protection of this item was the only thing upon which both factions could actually agree…
Until now, apparently.
"Conquering the territory is not what Megatron is after" announced the leader, before setting his optics on a short silver mech, whose eyes were covered with a shiny blue visor. "Jazz, report." He ordered.
The alluded, a Polyhexian whom worked Special Ops before the war started, was their current third in command and head of intelligence. He had infiltrated a Decepticon outpost about two quartex ago, remaining hidden for as long as he could, collecting data, before he had to turn tail and return after someone triggered an alarm ―he wasn't yet sure who noticed him, but there was a good guess among the guys from the Stealth Team.
"At first, there was nothin' too alarmin' ―warships' and outposts' designs; same old" admitted Jazz with his thick accent, which seemed to magically drop whenever situation required him to be extremely focused on something, or there was a serious situation at hand. "That's why Ah didn't think much 'bout it and moved on… Stumbling upon this…"
The short Autobot switched the blueprints for something else. Formulas and equations; lots of them, and highly complex ones too. The coding used by the Cons made it hard to read, but the decryption program offered by the engineers' team had already decoded part of the document… Thus revealing that, what they were staring at, was a plan to harness the energy from the AllSpark, so they could use it for the Decepticons own purposes ―mainly to quickly recover from their losses in the front, if the translation was correct.
"Tempering with the AllSpark! That's madness!" Sentinel, a tall and crimson mech, former leader of the Elite Guard, barked; utterly scandalized, if not completely terrified, for the possibility of the former Lord Protector to have even considered such idea.
"Not to mention impossible" interloped Ratchet, arching an optic-ridge at the plot stated in the data brought by their third in command. "The energy within it is far too powerful; if they attempt to fraction it, chances are they would just fry themselves on the spot." He commented, turning to look at the others; obviously not seeing what sort of an idiot proposed such thing to the Decepticon warlord ―nor how he deemed it a plausible plan.
"Yet, the probabilities of damaging it are too high to take the risk." Prowl, a young white and black Praxian, whom was both their second in command and master tactician, stated; he had already ran the numbers as the others spoke. "We need to counter the invaders and stablish a defensive wall between them and the Cube. Also, we should consider a backup plan in case our troops are unable to hold back the trespassers." He started to sort out, coldly, calculating as always.
The Prime nodded at what his tactician said, before admitting that he had considered all the options… They were outnumbered as they were at the moment, and even if they relocated most of their people around the Well, their chances of achieving a victory were low. No, he had already ran his own numbers and realized that they would never be able to withstand a long battle with the Decepticons; not in those lands. Besides, the fighting could contaminate the soil, thus damaging the AllSpark and causing the same cataclysm which they were trying so desperately to prevent ―after all, the same has been happening all over their world, due to the never ending combating.
The other bots in the room shared a quizzical look.
"Then what do you suggest?" asked Ironhide, confused. If they couldn't fight to protect it, and their defenses wouldn't last, then he wasn't sure what else was left for them to do…
"The only place where the AllSpark would be safe" started the blue and red mech, slowly locking gazes with all the bots gathered, making sure they all were listening to him with their undivided attention, "is outside of Cybertron." He finished, serious; yet, nonetheless, nervous.
"Out-… You can't possibly be suggesting-…" Sentinel stopped midsentence when the other nodded a single time to confirm.
"We launch the AllSpark off planet, until it is safe and we ensure there is no contamination within the Well." The Prime confirmed.
"Have you lost your senses?!" The Elite Guard exploded before everyone else, slamming his servos against the tabletop and making more than just a few of the other high ranked officers jump on their place and take a cautious step back. "The Cube is primordial for our very existence!"
"That is why I am attempting to protect it" retorted the leader; even though he didn't raise his voice ―he rarely did―, anyone could've guessed he was just as angered as the other mech, and was putting all of his authority within his words.
"How is jettisoning our source of life into deep space protecting anyone?! We all know of the Decepticon barricade, right outside our atmosphere; the Cube could be, either, destroyed or seized by our enemies!"
"As it is composed by pure energy, it cannot be destroyed; not to mention that it would be seized, regardless, if we do not take this course of action." Optimus defended himself, straightening his back and lowering his voice ―clear signs that he was losing his patience, and that would make any other soldier back off; but this wasn't just any mech, but the former head of the Elite Guard, and the mentor of the young Prime. Sentinel was far from admitting defeat.
The crimson old mech, therefore, simply shook his head.
"So, because we can't defend it ―as you claim―, you're planning to… What exactly? Hide it in deep space, while hoping the Cons won't go after it? And, in the meantime, what? We just keep fighting on a planet that would slowly go cold without its primary source of life?" He criticized, agitated. Then, he simply shook his head. "No… This isn't saving us, Optimus. You're sentencing us."
And, just like that, the Prime glared at his old mentor with his armor bristled and his fists clenched. He could've faced all the other accusations without batting an optic, admitting how crazy the plan was; but he would never let anyone say that he wasn't doing this for his people.
"So it would be to leave the AllSpark at Megatron's reach." He rebuked, cold and decisive. "I have already made the call" added he, quickly, as the other prepared to speak. "Once the Cube is off the Well and in outer space, two spaceships will be launched too; one of them will function as a decoy, while the other follows the AllSpark, and stands by to haul it back to the planet side, the moment we can ensure the Decepticons would not attempt to claim it again." He explained, this time addressing everyone as his optics surveyed the room.
Nobody seemed convinced with the plan, but they weren't going to challenge his authority either; so, in the end, Sentinel, having lost his patience, huffed and stormed out of the room, repeating his own opinion of this being a terrible mistake. As the door closed behind the crimson bot, others started questioning the leader about how far advanced was the whole idea, and how they could help to concrete it; only after some of the queries were answered, the officers left the command center, allowing the Prime to collapse onto his chair at the head of the tactical-table, with a long vent. "Why, Megatron?" mentally questioned the tall bot, hiding his face on both his servos, elbows against his tights. He felt so mentally and physically worn…
A soft set of footfalls, plus a warm feeling within his spark, was what made the giant look up. A pink and silver femme had perched herself on the head of the table, arms crossed, right before him; her azure optics focused solely on his own. Elita-One, another of his high officers… and his Conjux Endura.
Another sigh escaped the mech, as he let his head hung between his shoulders.
"Do you have me for a madman too?" He asked, resigned to the general opinion.
"Would it make you feel better if I said 'no'?" She teased, true to her nature; there was a smile on her melodic voice at that query.
He chuckled under his breath, a smirk breaking into his face.
"Only if you meant it…" retorted the blue and red bot, looking at her again with somewhat hopeful eyes; his mood lifting higher when noticing the lopsided smile, on her iridescent lavender dermas ―which shone baby pink, depending on the light, he had noticed mega-cycles ago.
Unfortunately, the happiness left her just as quick; azure optics averting to the side, and winglets ―long and mimicking folded wings― falling a few microns behind her back.
"The plan… is crazy. And I can't blame the others for their reaction; I mean, you are asking us to lob the AllSpark to who-knows-where, without any sort of warranty for this idea to work out" admitted the femme, uncrossing her arms to use her servos to support her weight, holding onto the table's brim.
He lowered his head again in acceptance of the critique. There was, really, nothing to say against it…
"However" soon added Elita, calling her companion's attention back to her. "I also know what it took from you to come to terms with this decision…" She pointed; one index tapping the center of her chest, in clear indication of her spark-chamber below the many layers of armor. A gesture that made his dermas tug into the ghost of a smile. The femme smiled too at the recognition, before letting out a sigh; optics turning into a sad stare. "You wouldn't have made the call if it wasn't the only available option. Which means… we really are that desperate, aren't we?"
"Indeed" admitted the mech with a sigh of his own, forehead falling heavily into one of his servos.
Silence fell upon them as the pink bot nodded to herself, as if accepting this course of action. Deep down, she still wasn't all convinced of this idea; but she could try to see things from his perspective, and admit that they were running out of options. Of all options, in fact. Even if Megatron's idea failed and he couldn't increase their numbers, the Autobots were already outnumbered and outgunned; and Optimus was more than aware of that. And so was she… Being in charge of the femmes' branch of the faction had molded her into a tougher warrior, making her experience the similar pressures than her mate was being forced to shoulder. She could fully sympathize.
"I've to go back with Mia and the others; I just wanted to make sure you were fine" announced Elita, as she stepped away from her perch and went to caress one of her mate's shoulder-plates. He caught her servo and, holding it with the same delicate touch as always, gifted her with an honest and grateful smile; a gesture that soon mirrored on the femme's lips. "You know, I really miss the cycles when the most difficult missions around were chasing black marketers at the Third Ring…" She growled, the moment he let her go and she walked towards the exit.
He snorted behind her, getting up and letting her know the feeling was mutual.
Once alone, the Prime shut down the blueprints and maps and never-ending rows of coding; unable to stand them a klik longer. As the tactical-table was turned off, the light from its surface gave way to a glossy black tabletop; and his own reflection stared back at him… If the hardened mech, whose frame was now covered in scars and dents, the one whom sported the silver shield of his faction on his shoulders and chest, was truly him. Sometimes, there was a dissociation of sorts… The young diplomatic from his memories, and the seasoned commander from the present hardly felt like the same person some cycles.
A streak of light on the wall called his attention and made him turn towards the window behind him, noticing that the shielding didn't fully close ―the hydraulic mechanism was probably jammed, but with his mind in more urgent stuff, he either never saw it, or forgot to ask someone to fix it. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he introduced the code to open them fully, thus enabling him to see the bright colors of a new dawn over Cybertron… Or, what was left of it. The ruins around him shed a sad light as the day reached them; and there was a thick cloud of smoke and ashes in the distance, beyond the walls of the outpost. "Brother… How did we allowed this to happen?" If he could only go back in time and warn everyone…
So, that's our new beginning for this fic.
Only a few details before continuing: like I've stated before in the original, since this is the Bayverse version of Optimus, I'll be describing him like 'blue and red' because the color proportion is inverted from the classic version of the character ―he doesn't have flames yet, because he has never been on Earth; but there're brushes of red around the torso.
Also, I feel like there'll be a need to stablish some time-related words, since the characters will be using them throughout the story:
Klik = second
Breem = minute
Joor = hour
Cycle = day
Orn = week
Deca-cycle = about ten cycles
Quartex (written the same in plural) = about a Cybertronian month
Stellar-cycle = about twelve quartex
Vorn = somewhere I read it was approximately 83 human-years, but Cybertronians will use it as an equivalent of 'year'
Mega-cycle = a hundred vorns (bots can live several mega-cycles, because of their incredibly long lifespan)
Eon = a thousand mega-cycles
Other things such as 'dermas' or 'optics' can be understand by the context, since it refers to parts of their bodies.
This is all for now. Due to my vacations coming to an end, I don't know when I'll be able to update again; all I can ask is for you to have me some patience, and thank you for giving my story another chance. I hope this time around it'll come out ok.
Let me know your thoughts.
See ya!