Author's Note: This is the second chapter to go up since FFnet's opt-in policy was rolled out. So if you haven't read Ultra Magnus' perspective on that infamous sparring match, you probably missed the alert for the previous chapter and might want to read it first. Either way, I hope you enjoy! ~ Eowyn77
Optimus was grateful to have both of his brothers at the human integration training, but the reality of this kin-gathering was much more...complicated than his expectation had been.
Sam and Ultra Magnus seemed determined to ignore each other, and Sam was (rather inexpertly) blocking his end of the bond. What Optimus could sense from the human Prime was an odd mix of fear, occasional false cheer, and a growing sense of inadequacy. Magnus left the bond wide open, and he was full of misgiving and worry when his processor wasn't focused on an immediate task.
What should have been a joyful gathering of brothers turned out to mostly be awkward avoidance.
/You are concerned,/ Optimus said to Magnus during a lull.
/I am,/ he frankly answered.
/About?/ Optimus pressed when Magnus didn't elaborate.
/Nothing that can be helped by worrying. I should focus on Spitfire./
Optimus vented a sigh. When Ultra Magnus drew a line in the sand like that, Optimus knew, not even the Prime could beat an answer out of him. The mech was as stubborn as Chromia when he wanted to be.
Giving up there, Optimus nudged Sam over the bond.
A flash of alarm slipped through before Sam blocked it again. About ten seconds later, Sam surprised Optimus by dropping the block. Did you need something? Sam calmly asked.
Optimus carefully considered his answer before responding, Yes. I need my brother.
Sam glanced his way and then pointedly focused on Ultra Magnus. He's right there.
He is kin, Sam, but he is not…
He's your brother more than I am, Sam blurted out. I mean, just look at you two!
It is the bond that defines the relationship, Optimus reminded him. Appearances shift constantly among my kind.
Your kind? Sam huffed in a way Optimus recognized by feel, even if he couldn't hear it. You know what, I'm trying to pay attention to Mrs. Lennox.
Optimus focused on her, and she was demonstrating the uses of various common household items like staplers and hair blow dryers – things Sam already was familiar with. He vented a frustrated sigh. If his brothers wanted to try his patience, he decided he would win that contest, too.
…
After Sarah's demonstration, they broke for an exploration of her house, looking for any additional items they didn't understand.
As the new mechs and femmes spread out, Optimus glanced at Sam. It's 02:00 hours on the East Coast right now. Perhaps you should retire for a few hours.
Sam narrowed his eyes at Optimus. Are you seriously putting me down for a nap?
A mischievous thought occurred to Optimus, and with very-human humor in his spark, he answered, You're welcome to stay and join the others in the scavenger hunt. If you look through Spitfire's top, right dresser drawer, you might find something you don't already know the use of.
Sam's jaw dropped and he stared, boggling, at Optimus's holoform.
Optimus smirked and shrugged one shoulder. Don't act so surprised. They have been married for more than a decade longer than you and Mikaela.
Recovering a little, Sam rolled his eyes. Now you're just trying to be an obnoxious aft.
Amused (and letting that mirth roll across the bond), Optimus answered, Well, this training is all about learning to act like humans…
Sam barked out a laugh and, shaking his head, threw his hands up in mock surrender.
Optimus slung an arm around Sam briefly in a hug. Before it could actually get mushy, though, he stepped away to talk to Sarah Lennox. "Spitfire, Sam and I are needed back on base."
She nodded. "Sure. Thanks for hanging out. And Optimus?"
He paused to meet her gaze. "Yes?"
"I know this was primarily for my benefit. Thank you."
He smiled, tipped his hat, and blinked out of existence. Sam mosied around front to where Optimus was waiting in his alt-form.
Sam climbed into Optimus' cab, accidentally broadcasting it over the bond as he resisted the urge to slam his brother's door. He didn't really want to at this point. Mostly he was just feeling petty as a residual thing.
Optimus sensed it, of course. I do not know what has crawled up Ultra Magnus' tailpipe, nor do I know why you are angry with me, but somehow I have managed to offend you both since sunrise.
Really? Sam asked. I mean, I'm not offended or anything.
Then what are you feeling? Optimus asked, a ring of challenge to the question.
Sam gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "I don't want to talk about it."
But Optimus knew his brother better than that. Ultra Magnus might not yield, but Sam would. Tendrils of Optimus' compassion and pleading reached across their bond, and Sam slumped back against the seat-back. Don't you have any macho self-restraint?
With a chuckle, Optimus gently asked, What would be the benefit of that? Ulcers? High blood pressure? Headaches?
I didn't realize Autobots got ulcers, Sam snarked back.
This emotion I know, Optimus answered, ignoring the snark. You're feeling evasive.
Sam snorted in amusement but still radiated resigned...grief? disappointment?... over the bond. Can we talk about it during my nap?
That was probably for the best anyway. Agreed.
…
In the barracks, Optimus settled in on his bunk and offlined his optics. Before heading into recharge, he selected the destination he wanted to go first: Sam's ancestral home. His Witwicky grandparents had owned the house his Aunt Shelly lived in now, and Sam's family still went there from time to time for the holidays. In the basement's den, there was a multi-use gaming table, among other diversions, and that was where he wanted to meet Sam.
He sank swiftly into recharge, becoming aware of his dreamed surroundings only moments later. The table was set up for foosball, and Optimus looked up from the game to see Sam hesitating at the foot of the stairs.
"Best two out of three?" he offered his human brother.
Sam strode deeper into the room. "Don't we have some heavy, Primely crisis we should be dealing with?"
"Sam," Optimus earnestly said, "my most important and urgent Primely duty is to resolve whatever it is that has stood between us all day. I will not impose myself in your mind or spark as I did Megatron's, but I don't have the luxury of quarreling with you. You are my brother Prime, and I need your trust and your amity. I need you."
Sam's cheeks puffed out in a deep breath that he slowly exhaled. "That was kind of intense."
"It is the truth."
He rolled his eyes. "It's just...it's nothing."
"You cannot lie to me, Sam."
Sam deflated in another sigh, but after a few heartbeats, he lifted his head, meeting Optimus' gaze. "I'm not your brother. I mean, I know the bond defines the relationship and here we are so we're something to each other, but Ultra Magnus is…"
"His is an older kin-bond."
"He's your equal," Sam snapped back. "Or far more your equal than I'll ever be."
It was Optimus' turn to vent a sigh as he at last understood. "You are jealous of Ultra Magnus."
"Not… I mean, that might be part of it, but he's the same species as you. That makes him way more your brother than I am, just by definition. I could never have sparred with you like he did earlier today."
How could he not see? Optimus glanced down at the gaming table between them and had an idea. Looking up at Sam, he said, "I enjoyed the sparring because it was him, but not because I was particularly eager to spar. I've seen more than enough combat. And I enjoy this," he gestured at the very-human surroundings, "because it's time spent with you. Magnus could not join me here, not anymore. Only you can share my dreams. That makes you far more my brother than he'll ever be again. Only you can play foosball with me."
Sam snorted and looked away, but at least he didn't roll his eyes. Optimus counted that as progress.
"Sam, you are my equal. You are a check and balance on me, and that's something Magnus has never been. Whether in your memories or mine, we are as equal in stature as we are in other ways. How can I help you comprehend that?"
Sam huffed again, but it was with a sad smile this time. "Die for me, maybe? Frag it all."
Optimus was grateful he had a sense of Sam's emotions, or he never would have understood his brother's meaning from the words alone. Sam was reluctantly but inescapably coming to see the truth.
"You died for me, too," Optimus pointed out. "You carry Matrix particles in your flesh – you are the Matrix-bearer at least as much as I am. You have spoken with the First Dynasty of the Primes just as I have. Magnus has no part in any of that. Despite differences in our appearance, we are unquestionably equals."
This time there was genuine humor behind Sam's snort. "Oh, there's plenty of room to question – and people have over the years – but I see your point."
"So...best two out of three?"
Sam chuckled softly as he gave in to the pleading from Optimus. Stepping up to the foosball table, he grabbed the handles on his side. "You're on, brother."
…
They stood on the back porch of Aunt Shelly's home, watching the sunset. Optimus had won both of the first two games, but Sam had taken it all in stride. Afterward, Sam had suggested they come upstairs. At the moment, he was quiet, both emotionally and verbally.
"Thanks for not giving up on me," he softly said.
"As I said, I don't have the luxury of being at odds with you, Sam. But I've been at odds with Megatron long enough that I have no desire to have a rift between us, regardless."
"You know that feeling when someone borrows your shoes and makes them wear weird so that they never fit right again?" Sam glanced at Optimus and wryly smiled. "Never mind. My point is...sometimes things change, and you can't ever change 'em back."
Even in recharge, Optimus' memories came in swift succession: Praxus, Thetacon, Iacon. Corona, Moonracer, Jazz, Elita. "I am aware of what that's like."
"Can that not be us?" Sam asked almost plaintively. "I mean, I'm not sure how to fix this exactly. I can't change how I feel about Ultra Magnus. I've been trying all day."
Optimus let his affection for his brother roll freely across the bond. "It's not how you view Ultra Magnus that's the problem. It's how you view yourself."
"Great," Sam groaned. "Not this whole self-esteem argument again."
Optimus shifted so he was in front of Sam and let a hand rest on his brother's shoulder. Then touching his helm to Sam's forehead, he willed Sam to feel and draw on his confidence in his human brother.
He knew it worked when Sam huffed a laugh and rested his free hand on Optimus' shoulder. "All right, all right, you've made your point. Brother Primes, through thick and thin."
"I'm glad you're finally seeing things through my optics."
"Yeah, whatever. You win – again. Nothing new here."
"It wasn't a competition, Sam."
"Sure. Fine. Let's talk Primely shop, then. What's on the agenda? Alpha Trion's weird walking stick?"
Optimus could sense that Sam's feelings weren't entirely settled yet, but at least the defensiveness that had held Optimus at arm's length all day was gone. All things considered, he'd call that a victory and run with it. "The unknown creation of Solus Prime."
"Yeah, that. What tests have you run on it so far?"
"I haven't had the time or recklessness to experiment on it."
Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Alpha Trion bequeathed it to you for a reason. No one else knew it was Ancient Prime tech, so it's not like he was trying to hide it or keep it out of the wrong hands. Why would he give it to you except for you to use it?"
Optimus vented a sigh. "I would be much more inclined to experiment with it if I knew what it was. Or if it had been made by someone other than one of the original thirteen Primes. Its origin alone means that, under other circumstances, it would belong in a museum. It must be handled with great care. Beyond that, I'd rather not accidentally tear a hole in spacetime, for example. We have no idea what this enigma does."
"Then what are you going to do with it?"
"We could ask the Ancient Primes themselves. After all, one of them made it, apparently." Optimus felt Sam's growing irritation and panic and made a slight concession. "Perhaps Wheeljack or Beachcomber could first perform some preliminary scans – under your supervision."
…
When Sam woke up, Optimus drove them both to the garage that was Wheeljack's temporary lab. A more-permanent one was under construction, but it took a while to build something that could withstand Wheeljack on a day-to-day basis.
He'd commed ahead, so both Beachcomber and Wheeljack were there waiting for them. Once Sam climbed out, Optimus transformed and pulled the staff out of subspace and studied it briefly. What are you? he thought.
That's what we're here to find out, Sam reminded him.
Nodding, Optimus extended the staff to Wheeljack. "Be careful with this," he said. "It was made by one of the original Thirteen Primes."
Wheeljack made a trill of surprise, but Beachcomber asked, "What makes you say that?"
"It bears her mark: Solus Prime."
"Solus?" Wheeljack asked, perking up.
"You know the name?"
"Only in passing. The mech who taught me Advanced Munitions Design exclaimed 'Sweet Solus Prime' right before something went boom once or twice."
"So her memory was preserved amongst the engineering guilds?"
Wheeljack shrugged, carefully handing the staff off to Beachcomber to take a look. "He was older than Kup, and I never asked who Solus might be. Whatever he knew about her died with him. He turned down Megatron's offer to join the Decepticons back before 'bots knew how dangerous that was. He was extinguished in the first year of the war."
And therein lies the problem, Optimus thought. So much knowledge has been lost in the War, both archival and cultural. It isn't just killing us individually, it's destroying us as a people. Aloud, Optimus said, "The works of Solus Prime are incredibly powerful and are of uncertain properties. I entrust this artifact to your care to run non-invasive scans on it, under my brother Prime's supervision."
Beachcomber looked at Sam curiously, but Wheeljack simply extended a hand to lift the human up onto his workbench. Addressing Sam, he asked, "So what kinds of scans would you like us to run on it?"
Optimus smiled as he turned to leave – his fellow Autobots had quickly recognized that Sam was a Prime as well and treated him as such. Hopefully it would alleviate some of his foul mood.
He'd only made it three steps before Sam nudged him over the bond. Don't be so smug about it.
Optimus just let his pleased satisfaction roll across the bond even more strongly and kept walking.
Heading back toward the Autobot hangar, he could sense that Ultra Magnus was out on the tarmac, and it was an easy guess that he was inspecting the Iron Will.
As he rounded the corner, Optimus noticed both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe standing next to the Cybertronian ship, and he narrowed his optics at them until he strode closer. Jake O'Donnell, Ratchet's hand-picked human nanoscientist, was with the twins, and all three of them were apparently considering a few different splotches of black paint on the Iron Will's exterior. Relief filled him when he understood what he was seeing. The reason O'Donnell beat out his competition for this position was because, in addition to being a brilliant nanoscientist, he was an amateur painter with a good eye for color. The ship was going to be coated with a matte, black, nanite-based pigment to better hide it from human observation. As fellow artists, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were helping O'Donnell evaluate a few different stealth paint formulations.
Movement, and the distinctive sound of riveting, intrigued Optimus, and he crossed behind the ship to the other side. There, Bernie Sanchez (Ratchet's latest recruit) was demonstrating something for Inferno and Firestar.
"...hurt like the Pit," Inferno was saying.
"So the swearing would indicate," Sanchez said with a shrug, "but only if we can't shut down sensors in the area – either due to logistics or Ratchet's orders. Otherwise I can have the armor plating back on in a matter of minutes if not seconds."
Inferno snorted in amusement and then shook his helm in disbelief. "So you can complete a battlefield repair in a quarter of the time a weld would. I would never have thought to make such a…crude repair but I can see how it could be useful in a pinch."
Sanchez smirked. "No pun intended."
Firestar laughed, and Optimus returned to his original objective of finding Ultra Magnus.
"Hi, Optimus," Quinn called out as the Prime climbed the ramp onto the ship.
"Damage report?" Optimus asked.
Magnus transmitted the report, but it was Roadbuster who responded out loud. "Infested with humans."
Ultra Magnus' irritation rolled over his bond with Optimus. Roadbuster must have seen some sign of it, because he added, "Sir."
As Optimus strode into the hold, he saw why Roadbuster was annoyed. Ratchet was there, along with the rest of his human repair team. Bradley Johnston was standing on Magnus' hand several meters in the air taking pictures and measurements of a damaged bulkhead. James Quinn's voice was coming from under a darkened console where Blaster was kneeling. Aragorn Davis was eagerly consulting a tablet that had been jury rigged to access a different console's dataport. And Desmond Williams was holding a vessel that, judging by the color of its contents, was a sample of the Iron Will's hydraulic fluid. Agent Graham was sitting in the captain's chair, either supervising or observing with curiosity, Optimus wasn't sure which. Possibly both.
"Don't worry, we won't break anything," Davis said.
"Not that a 'bot would notice," Quinn grumbled. "This bucket of rust was slagged before you even commandeered it."
"You're leaving grubby fingerprints and stinking pheromones everywhere," Roadbuster snapped, "not to mention whatever butchery is being inflicted on the outside. I'm the Iron Will's engineer, and…"
"They're my repair team," Ratchet evenly said. "If I decide they can be of assistance, they assist."
Roadbuster growled slightly, pointing a menacing finger at Williams. "Put that back, fleshbag, before I decide you'd be more attractive as oilcake frosting."
Gesturing dismissively, Williams said, "You Autobots don't harm humans…"
"Who told you that?" Roadbuster interrupted. Turning his glare on Ratchet, he said, "Did you tell them that?! Why would you tell them that?"
Ratchet vented a long sigh.
"Uh, because it's true?" Williams snarked.
Still addressing Ratchet, he said, "You didn't need to tell them that!" Stomping, Roadbuster headed for the ramp Optimus had just climbed. "You can fragging well fix it yourselves, then."
Behind him, Ultra Magnus sent a pulse, the kind used to alert cadets before orders were announced.
Roadbuster paused long enough to glare back at Magnus. "Sir." Then he continued down the ramp.
Graham cleared his throat. "We didn't mean to cause trouble, sir."
"You didn't," Ultra Magnus answered. "Your assistance is appreciated."
"Not by Roadbuster," Johnston muttered, then more loudly to Magnus, "Thank you for the lift. I think I've got what I need now for the interior repairs."
Magnus lowered him to the floor.
"Believe it or not, that's a pretty average mood for him," Blaster said, backing up Magnus. "Hanging out with him for the year we were waiting for a passing Seeker was just barrels of fun."
"How did you know Optimus was here, Quinn?" Magnus asked, deliberately changing the subject since Roadbuster was likely still within hearing.
"Footfalls. You were already here, and a mech Optimus' size makes big tracks."
"He's being too modest," Optimus said. "He can also identify us all by the sound of our engines. It's a remarkable ability."
"Johnston's almost there," Quinn added, scooting out from under the console. "He's got most of you down. The twins are hard, and he sometimes mixes up Jolt and Wheeljack. But Optimus' footfalls give him away, too." To Blaster, he said, "Lucky for us Megatron was the inspiration for a lot of human tech. This transport's internals are so much simpler than mechs' frames, and I'm pretty sure we can replace that wiring with Earth-made materials. I'd feel better if Davis would have a look at the circuit-boards, though."
"With pleasure," Davis said, grinning, and offered Quinn a hand up from his mechanic's scooter.
Ratchet turned to Williams. "Go ahead and get started on that hydraulic fluid analysis. I know what mechs need, but inanimate transports like this one usually use formulations that are less complex and therefore easier to replicate."
"What Roadbuster didn't want to admit was that we had to use mech-grade hydraulic fluid," Ultra Magnus quietly said. "We couldn't find enough of the transport-grade."
"Well, where'd you get the mech-grade then?" Williams challenged.
Ratchet ground his gears, and Williams' eyes widened in understanding. "Oh."
Roadbuster's voice carried in from the ramp. "It doesn't decay like energon does. We rounded up enough offlined mechs and drained 'em of their fluids. That's what we had to do to get here so we could save your sorry afts. Happy, ya maggots?"
A horrified look crossed Williams' face as he glanced at the vessel in his hands, and Optimus said, "You have lived comparatively sheltered lives. And we will do all we can to keep it that way. Earth will not suffer Cybertron's fate."
"Go ahead and put it back, " Ratchet gently added. "Then begin cooking up a batch of mech-grade hydraulic fluid in the med bay. This ramp won't rise again otherwise." Toward the open door, he called in a louder voice. "Any fluids you didn't have to cannibalize?"
"Nope," came the surly answer. "If you want your trained ape to assist with the outer hull, send him down here."
Ratchet glanced at Johnston, who jutted out his chin and called back, "The term you're looking for is educated ape, and I'm on my way."
Optimus' amusement rolled over his bond with Ultra Magnus, much to the larger mech's relief.
"Considering its condition, the Iron Will sustained surprisingly light damage," the Prime observed.
Magnus nodded. "Yes, we deliberately wanted the Iron Will to continue to look like a derelict, and our efforts before coming here were focused on making it as mechanically sound as possible. And as Quinn noted, Earth's tech is fortuitously compatible with much of our own. We estimate being ready for short flights again in less than a week."
"And by short flights," Graham asked, "you mean…?"
"Between here and the moon."
Graham's eyes widened, but he quickly recovered. "Ah. Naturally, sir."
Optimus sensed Magnus' swell of respect for Graham, maybe even with a tinge of affection.
/They quickly grow on us, to use the human expression,/ Optimus sent to Magnus.
/They do indeed,/ he replied. /I knew a few mechs who had organic pets, back in the day, and I thought they were kind of…creepy. Unpleasant. But these humans are different. Cleaner. And when you think of what they can do with nothing more than carbon-based circuitry to work with, it's pretty impressive./ Aloud, he added, "With a few additional repairs and improvements, we'd be able to make it to anywhere in your solar system with ease.
…
"It's ancient and it's made of Cybertronium," Beachcomber said to Optimus back in Wheeljack's temporary lab. "That's all we're really sure of, sir."
Sam's excitement across their brother bond indicated there was more to it than that, and he said, "Tell him about the scuffs."
Optimus looked curiously at Beachcomber, but Wheeljack was the one who answered, projecting an enlarged view of the staff. "It's imperceptible under a typical visual inspection, but there are some scoring or scuff marks here…" he zoomed the image in closer, "that I can't really explain."
"Where is it on the staff, exactly?" Optimus asked.
Using a laser-pointer, Beachcomber circled the area on the staff that had the marks. "It's about 20 centimeters wide and goes all the way around."
"So something extremely hot encircled it at one point," Optimus concluded.
"No, that's the interesting part," Wheeljack answered. "If they were created by heat, the edges of the scuff marks would be rounded. They aren't. They're sharp."
Confused, Optimus said, "But that would mean they were created by a substance harder than Cybertronium."
"And that's, like, harder than diamonds, right?" Sam added.
"Correct. There are very few materials able to etch Cybertonium, and most of them aren't stable for long. This is an intriguing insight."
"There's one other thing," Beachcomber said.
"Maybe," Wheeljack interjected.
Ignoring him, Beachcomber highlighted the tip of the walking staff with his laser-pointer. "It's very fine work, but I believe there's a weld attaching a cap of sorts to the staff here. If I'm right, it's also possible that there's a chamber inside the staff, that it's been hollowed out."
"The weight is so close to what pure Cybertronium would be," Wheeljack said.
"But not exactly," Beachcomber replied. "We're just being thorough in our report."
"Thank you, both," Optimus interrupted, reaching for the staff and subspacing it again. "We'll continue this another day. In the meantime, Roadbuster is being difficult…"
"Surprise, surprise," Beachcomber muttered.
"...about the humans helping with the Iron Will's repairs. Perhaps knowing his ship is being repaired by fellow Cybertronians would both speed the work and improve morale."
"It's worth a shot," Beachcomber said, and he and Wheeljack headed out.
Optimus offered his hand to Sam, and the human climbed aboard.
…
In their bond dream that night, Optimus found Sam in Wheeljack's makeshift lab.
"Oh, hey," Sam greeted him, somewhat distractedly. He was again holding and studying the staff.
"You are intrigued."
Sam set it back down on the workbench and focused on Optimus. "I just can't for the life of me figure this out. Sure, it could be coincidence, but it doesn't feel that way, if that makes any sense. Why would the staff of Alpha Trion – the staff of Solus Prime – make it all the way to Earth from Cybertron. Why now? I mean…" He gestured toward the staff. "We've dealt with some pretty epic stuff over the years, but the pieces always made sense eventually."
"Such as with the Matrix of Leadership."
"Yes. And this…I just can't wrap my brain around it. And I know that humanism squicks you out, but it's true."
Optimus chuckled softly. "It is an…unsettling mental image. And again, we might need to go to the source to learn what this staff is and why it came to us now."
"Yeah, well, not right this minute, okay?"
"Beachcomber won't have much more time to study it with you," Optimus pointed out. "He reported to me just this evening that he believes we could more-effectively mine the metals we need from asteroids using the Iron Will."
Sam straightened, alarm swelling across the bond. "You're not going with them, are you?"
"We are still discussing that. While I will likely assist in the mining project, it would not be on the Iron Will itself. We need someone to scout ahead, analyze the composition of prospective asteroids, and identify the next target for the crew of the Iron Will to mine. Only Sideswipe and I have the ability to maneuver in space, but his jetpack isn't as effective as Seeker mods, and he doesn't have my science background."
Sam's disappointment mingled with dismay into something almost bitter. "But you'll be beyond the range of our bond."
"Perhaps, but only briefly. At most a year. We will only target those metals and other minerals necessary to build the solar harvester. We don't wish to destabilize your world's economy by flooding the precious metals market, nor do we wish to plunder your world of its metals to build the harvester."
Sam grimaced and looked at his shoes, hiding behind a flimsy block he'd put on the bond. Still, Optimus respected the intent of that block, even if the strength of it was in question.
Eventually, Optimus tried to coax him to drop it by saying, "You are troubled."
Looking up and meeting his gaze, Sam asked, "Will Magnus be close enough for you two to be in range?"
Optimus suddenly understood the block: Sam was trying to hide his jealousy again. "Sometimes. It depends on logistics, but it's also quite probable that we'd occasionally be beyond the range of the bond, too."
Sam nodded and looked down again, and Optimus hopefully offered, "We don't know for certain how far the range of our bond extends. This concern might be completely unnecessary. Ultra Magnus and I will implement Lancer's suggestion as soon as the Iron Will is flight-worthy, though. Then we will know."
"Lancer's suggestion?" Sam asked, looking up again.
"To take the Matrix off-world to recharge it. Specifically, she suggested we take it down, away from your solar system's ecliptic plane, since that would make it much more difficult for you humans to detect us harvesting the ambient energy."
Sam furrowed his brow, his surprise slowly pushing out his jealousy and angst. "That's…really kind of brilliant."
Optimus chuckled. "That's Lancer. There's a reason Ultra Magnus considers her indispensable."
Sam seemed to decide this was a safe topic of conversation, and he asked, "Show me more about her?"
Following Sam's lead on this one, Optimus willingly obliged.