Orchestra

His home was a mess of datapads and paper-thin sheets of metal that were covered in designs, sketches and scribblings that lay scattered all over the floor and furniture. Orchestra shook her head and shut the door behind her before walking up to the table where Maestro was seated and writing something furiously on a metal sheet.

"Haven't you had any rest at all?" she asked in the melodious voice of an alto.

"I had a few hours of shut down earlier," Maestro replied, his voice a deep tenor. "But creativity would not let me lie idle for much longer."

"What exactly is it that you are trying to create?"

"Life," Maestro said simply.

Even without turning around he could feel Orchestra's piercing, blue-opticked gaze on his back.

"May I ask when this moment of inspiration came about?" she asked.

"At the pub last night, over a few shots of high grade energon." He turned round to face her. "And before you call me crazy, insane, lunatic, or whatever, hear me out." He stood up. "Yesterday I was forced to retire from my job at the Academy for the plain and simple reason that nobody wants to learn from me anymore. No one wants to learn music. Orchestra, don't you see? If we don't find a way, once we're gone, there'll be no more music on Cybertron. No more music will mean no more songs, dancing, art and theatre – nothing. The Arts will die with us."

"I think it's a good idea Maestro," Orchestra said.

Maestro's eyebrow ridges raised slightly. "You do?"

"Of course. You forget sometimes Maestro, that I was created for music just like you. Music runs in my energon flow as it runs in yours."

"So you'll help me?"

Orchestra shook her head. "No. It's a good idea Maestro, but we are not engineers. We create music yes, but we cant create life. Nor do we have the money to pay any of the engineers to create for us, not even you. We wouldn't even know where to start."

"We start at the beginning." Maestro took her hand in his. "I don't want to do this alone Orchestra."

She gently pulled her hand away. "This time you'll have to Maestro. I cant help you. I'm sorry. Its too big a project for me. And I don't want to put my spark and core into creating something that I'll end up loving only to lose him all over again. Losing Chord was already painful for me, don't make me go through it again."

"What do you mean?"

"War is coming. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or next week, but it is coming. There are rumors of a new evil power rising in the south and east and there's already been some fighting in the south. Its only a matter of time before it reaches the northern and western territories. We may not live to see full-fledged war again, but if you create new life now, you will be leaving him defenseless against whatever force is approaching.

She reached up and touched his face. "There is no place in war for music Maestro. Let it go; let it die or fade away. You've tried your best to save it, but it cant be saved – not anymore. There's nothing else you can do. Let it go."

Then she turned away and left. Maestro watched her walk out the door, her white form blending into the gold of the city as it shone in the day's light. He turned back to his desk and in one swift motion, swept his arm across it, sending datapads and other various objects shattering and crashing to the floor. He picked up the metal sheets and ripped each into pieces, destroying more datapads as he stomped down on them.

When he had finally cleared his home of all evidence of his project, he sat down on his bare sofa and buried his head in his hands. He felt miserable, but he could not cry. His creators had not instilled that show of emotion in him. Who was he kidding? His creators had instilled almost no emotions in him, he had learned them on his own, as few as they were and as basic. Infact, the only way he knew how to express his emotions was in music.

His creators considered emotions a weakness, an indication of inferior quality. So if emotions were reflected in music, then Orchestra was right – music had no place in war.

But emotions were what drove them to rebel and fight the war in the past – and win. Emotions that were packaged in music, music that stirred the sentient feelings within all the robots at that time. If that was the case, then music was a strength – one that they all needed if war was to come again.

Maestro raised his head and reached for a clean sheet of clear steel. He pulled out a laser engraver and then began to draw anew. There was still a small ounce of hope left, and as long as that lasted, he was not going to let anything go.

A/N: This was the first time for me playing with Original Characters in fact, and i'm happy to say that Maestro was one of the few that grew in character and personality as the story progressed.