Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

The Greater Good

Chapter Five: Running in Circles

Optimus hated looking over reports. Not for the actual content of said reports (though they weren't particularly interesting). And it wasn't even because of the sheer volume of reports he would get on a day to day basis.

No, it was because of the silence. The silence that was empty, but filled the room at the same time, almost clouding his audio receptors. His mind would wander in silence, and that was something he really didn't need right now. He needed something to fully occupy his mind, to divert it from the troubling events of the past day or so.

He had been staring at the same datapad for the past twenty minutes, and he still didn't know what it was about. Permission for Grapple and Hoist to start work on Sector 2814. Optimus frowned. How had this taken him so long to read and approve? Sector 2814 had been hanging open like a rusty gate since Unicron's attack all those years ago. Prime approved it and moved on to the next datapad.

Optimus tried to read it; he really did. But other things were weighing heavily on his mind, and he couldn't shake them off. Letting out a sigh, he tossed the datapad onto the desk and rubbed his optics wearily. Moving slower than he really had to, Optimus lay his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushed himself to his feet, making a beeline for the door.

It slid open obligingly, and Optimus stepped through into the command center, taking in the noise and general atmosphere that surrounded him. If he were human, he would have a taken a deep breath to enjoy the moment more. As it was, a small smile grew beneath his faceplate, although it was, at best, a hollow gesture. He slowly made his way around the room, coming to a stop behind Blaster.

Blaster, sat at his communication station and oblivious to Prime's presence, reached forward and pressed a button.

"Callin' Optimus Prime."

"Yes, Blaster?"

The communications officer nearly leapt out of his chair. Optimus was glad for a faceplate to hide his amusement. Blaster smiled nervously, slightly jarred by the incident.

"Oh. There y'are. Got a message comin' in from Earth. It's Ultra Magnus for ya."

Optimus sighed, although it was almost imperceptible to those around him. He kept a much tighter reign on his displays of emotion when he was out in public.

"I'll take it in my office," he replied wearily, turning back to the den of silence.

It was the City Commander, all right. But something was bothering him, and it wasn't the usual Sideswipe and Sunstreaker related incident. Both hands firmly planted on the desk, Optimus sat down in his chair.

"…Magnus. Is something wrong?"

The Autobot City Commander pursed his lip components apprehensively. "I just had Kup and Hot Rod in my office."

Optimus frowned. "What are they doing on Earth? They should be on Cybertron."

He wasn't sure why he even asked the question. He knew what they were doing.

"They were asking me about Elita One. About the day she died."

Hoping the pain in his optics wasn't too plain, Optimus continued. "What were they asking, exactly?"

Magnus paused. "I… they never got a chance to ask."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I stopped them before they could go any further, and told them to leave it alone. I assume that's what you said to them as well when they brought this to you."

Optimus covered his face with his hand. He was feeling a cranial ache coming on. "Something like that," he sighed.

"Somehow I don't think they're going to listen to either of us, Prime."

"What makes you say that?"

"A hunch. What do you want me to do if they are?"

The Autobot Leader thought for a moment. What could he do? Did he really want to reprimand them for seeking out the truth, just because it was too painful for him?

"Prime?"

What if they were wrong (which they most likely were)?

He shook his head.

He locked optics with Ultra Magnus.

"I… don't know. Let me have time to think about it."

Magnus seemed ready to object, but then settled on nodding. "Yes, sir."

"But keep an eye on what they're doing. If they're doing anything other than helping with the excavation, send them back to Cybertron immediately."

"Right. Ultra Magnus, out."

Prime pushed a button and ended the transmission. What kind of a decision was that? It simply allowed him to sidestep a hard choice temporarily until it came back and bit him in the aft. He heard Ironhide's voice in his head.

"You need to stop sittin' on the fence and do somethin', Prime!"

Optimus Prime pushed himself to his feet. "You're absolutely right," he muttered, heading for the door.

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When Hot Rod had first arrived on Earth, he had wondered how such firebrands like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could actually enjoy themselves. It was all lumpy and dusty, not to mention some of the odd and sometimes revolting odours that would make their way into his olfactory sensors.

Now, as he flew from a small ridge and landed on the ground with a thump, he couldn't think of a place that was more fun. Kup was lagging behind and yelling something at him, but Hot Rod couldn't hear him over the wind and roar of his own engine. He was probably just telling him to slow down, anyway. It was always the same thing with Kup.

"Damn it, lad, you've got to be more careful!"

"Slow down before you break something!"

"Turbo-revving young punk! I'll straighten you out yet!"

He turned and skidded as he approached the entrance to the Ark, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Hot Rod transformed and waited for Kup arrive, who was moving at a relative snail's pace.

"C'mon, Kup! You're not getting any younger!"

"Lad, I'm going to ignore you said that so I don't have to knock you into stasis." He slowed to a stop before the young mech and transformed. "For now," he added, jabbing a threatening finger in his face.

"Ooo, scared."

"You should be."

"Well I'm not."

"You should be."

"But I'm not."

Kup seemed ready to continue the asinine argument, but thought better of it and continued on, settling for a sigh and a shake of the head.

"What're we looking for here, anyway?" Hot Rod asked, looking around the Ark as though he had never seen it before. The Ark boys really had done a good job cleaning out the rubble.

"Well, first off, we're supposed to be here anyway. So I thought we should pay a visit for appearances' sake."

"And second?"

"Second… I thought we might be able to find some surveillance records."

"Right, right."

"What's wrong with you, lad? I told you that before we arrived."

"Yeah, sorry. There's just…" he paused. "I dunno. Something rattling around in here, I guess," he said, knocking on his head with his fist. "You know me. In one audio, out the other."

"All too well, lad," Kup replied, sighing. "Ah. There we go. Teletran One."

They made their way over to the giant computer, which had now been given a new screen temporarily. Two golden legs stuck out from the underside of the control panel. Both Kup and Hot Rod paused. Kup cleared his throat.

"Goldbug?"

The Throttlebot leader quickly sat up in alarm, slamming his head on the bottom of the control panel. Hot Rod winced in sympathy.

"Ow." He shook his head and looked up at the two. "What can I do for you?"

Kup made a small gesture to the computer before them. "Is Teletran in working condition?"

Goldbug nodded. "Half of the files have already been transferred up to the Cybertron library, but if you still want to use it…" He silently gestured to the computer.

The elderly Autobot walked over to it and paused when he saw Goldbug standing next to him, naively watching.

"It's… sort of sensitive information, Goldbug."

Goldbug's optics widened in horror. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise. I'll just…" He pointed down the corridor. "Yeah. Give me a call when you're done."

"Will do."

After waiting for the small 'Bot to leave, Hot Rod stepped forward to watch Kup tap away at the computer. He wasn't sure if the voice commands for Teletran One were working or not, but then again, they couldn't very well ask Teletran these kinds of questions out loud.

"Say, Teletran, have you got any records of Prowl pestering people who saw Prime's mate die?"

No thank you.

"Well?"

"Give me a minute, lad."

"Shouldn't I be doing this? Since I'm a bit more computer-able than you?"

"Not with these computers, you're not. Remember, the Ark was gone for a long time. Our technology advanced while these fellas were gone."

Hot Rod nodded, looking at the computer itself. Now that he really looked at it, he saw that it certainly wasn't as advanced as some of the stuff they had on Cybertron.

"Here we go."

Kup's words knocked Hot Rod out of his musings, and he looked excitedly from Kup to the monitor, and back again. "You've got something?"

His co-security officer nodded. "I searched for anything that had just Prowl and Ultra Magnus, Prowl and Trailbreaker or Prowl and Windcharger."

"And?"

"I got this," he said, glancing around the room before lowering the volume and commencing the playback.

The screen flickered for a moment before settling on an image of Prowl and Windcharger sat in what Hot Rod recognised as Prowl's office. The camera was at such an angle that he couldn't see much of either of their faces, only their body language as they sat on either side of Prowl's desk.

"Windcharger… I want to ask you a few questions."

"…about what?"

"About the battle a few weeks ago."

"But… everything's in my report."

"Yes. I know. I've looked it over," Prowl replied, holding the datapad up for Windcharger to see. He gently tossed it back onto the desk. "But I want to hear your version of events."

"Why? I mean… why?"

"I just want to be clear on a few facts before I file my report to Optimus."

Hot Rod privately smiled. Prowl never could tell a lie. He just never volunteered information when he didn't have to. Unless someone asked him a direct question about something, he wouldn't let information loose.

Windcharger shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I… suppose that would be okay."

"Right. Let's start from where you were stood, shall we?"

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"Well?"

"Listen, Prowl, I've put all this in my report. I don't know why you're-"

"I told; I need to be clear on a few facts before I file my report to Optimus."

"But the details are clear in the report. I told you where I was stood, who I was stood with, how… it happened."

"If the details are that clear, then you won't mind telling me again."

"I just… I don't understand why you're interrogating me."

Prowl looked taken aback by the wording. Literally. He sat back in his chair, and knotted his fingers together in front of him.

"I'm not interrogating you, Windcharger. I just want to be clear on what happened."

"The report's clear! Everything you need to know is in the report!"

The image flickered, and Hot Rod frowned, glancing over at Kup. "What-"

Kup tapped away at the controls. "Don't know."

The recording continued regardless of the interference.

"Why are you –ting like this, ----charger?"

"I…"

"What ---pen—out there?"

"It… you wouldn't -----stand."

"Understand what, ----------------?"

The signal cut out. Hot Rod gaped. "Get it back, get it back!"

"There's nothing I can do, lad. The files been transferred up to Cybertron."

"Well… what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Kup switched off the monitor and pressed a comm Switch. "Goldbug, we're done here."

"Okay. Thanks, Kup. I hope you found what you were looking for."

"We did. Thanks. See you later."

"Bye!"

Kup pressed the comm switch again, and the two turned to go.

"Where are you two off to?"

They froze as they saw Ultra Magnus before them, fists on hips in a manner that seemed to make his hulking frame even more intimidating.

"Business on Cybertron," Kup said tersely, before trying to make his way past.

"Kup. Hot Rod. Listen. I wanted to apologise about snapping at you before. I was out of line."

Hot Rod tried to hide his frown. "Uh… no problem."

"But try to understand… this was something that hurt us a lot. It took us a long time to put it behind us. I'm not even sure Optimus has yet. He certainly hadn't by the battle of 2005. The reason he fought so viciously leading up to and in the fight with Megatron was mostly because of Elita's death."

Kup cocked an optic ridge.

Magnus shook his head slightly, realising he was getting off the point. "I just… I don't want to see Optimus in more pain. Primus knows he's been through enough, especially recently. Coming back to life can't be an easy experience, even for Optimus Prime." He reached out and laid a heavy white hand on Hot Rod's shoulder. "Think about it before you do anything more, all right?"

The young 'Bot slowly nodded. "Right. Uh, Kup… let's, uh… let's go, all right?"

They gradually turned and made their way out, Kup's optics lingering on Ultra Magnus just a micron longer than they had to before he turned all the way around.

"Hey, Mags!" a cheerful voice declared. Magnus turned to see Inferno walking towards him, a stack of datapads climbing up to just below his chin. "Just the mech I wanted to see!"

Without further ado, he forced them into the City Commander's large hands.

"Inferno, what-?"

"Those were meant for Kup and Hot Rod, but since they're otherwise occupied, and you just happened to be here…"

"Where's Jazz?"

The grinning red Autobot shrugged. "Said he had to get some supplies from Autobot City. Somethin' about a fiesta. Well, see you later! I've got some lifting to do on the south side!"

And with that, he transformed and thundered down the corridor. Ultra Magnus looked down at the stack of datapads and glowered as best he could at them. A small part of him hoped they would scream in fear and run away, never to be seen again.

He growled in frustration.

Like I don't have enough to worry about…

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"Good day, sir. How may I help you?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

The robot paused for a moment, reversed, and rolled away. Optimus was becoming quite impatient with the robotic helpers. That was the third one in so many minutes that had asked him if he needed help. He made a mental note to ask Perceptor or Brainstorm about it.

He continued down through the library, the neutral and emotionless white lights above him giving the room an almost sterile feel; like an Earth surgery room or hospital.

His optics found their target. There. He bent down to better see the computer screen. Another mental note was made for the library to accommodate taller Autobots. He pushed a button on the screen, and he waited patiently as the library loaded the required information and downloaded it onto a datapad.

Optimus wondered how many people actually used the library a day. There wasn't much of an interest in ancient Autobot literature nowadays, except for the fanatics like Highbrow, Rewind and occasionally Chromedome. He remembered that Hound had expressed interest in archaeology at some point, though that was most likely Earth archaeology. Most of Cybertron's past was well documented anyway, either in the library, of via the Matrix.

He winced slightly as he thought on the Matrix. All of its wisdom, lost. All because he couldn't think of another way to stop the Hate Plague. There had to have been another way.

A shake of his head threw the disparaging thoughts from his head.

No. Thinking like that will get you nowhere. You need to focus.

For Elita.

The datapad slowly emerged from the slot. He frowned. The log was missing, except for some reconstructed words. Someone had obviously been here and looked at this information before, judging by the reconstruction. Prime didn't need to guess who.

"Computer. When was this information last accessed?"

The information was displayed on the screen. Not long ago. A few hours, maybe. Optimus nodded.

"And the time before that?"

More information appeared on the screen. Just after Cybertron was retaken. Prowl's logs must have been transferred up before Trypticon attacked the Ark.

"Who transferred in this information?"

The name segment was blank. Optimus paused for a moment before clearing the screen and looking over the datapad.

Windcharger isn't guilty, - ---- ---- much. Trail------- ------ ------- -----------, --- - ----- --'- --------. Ultra ------ isn't or wasn't -------- --------. I -----------------------------------------------------------

The Autobot leader frowned, troubled. It wasn't just Prowl's suspicions that troubled him, though. It was the fact that someone had indeed deleted the information. The Decepticons couldn't have done it – what would be the point? They would have been proud of their accomplishment. They killed Optimus Prime's mate! A cause for celebration!

No, it wasn't the Decepticons.

Which begged the question… who was it?

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(A/N: Ooo. Tension.

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