AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long! Between moving on short notice, getting sick, and the Christmas holidays, all my writing projects took a hit. Hopefully writing can resume a more reasonable schedule here soon...
Despite vast differences in species, culture, and circumstances, some things regarding family dynamics never really changed.
"Are we there yet?" Safeguard asked, a slight whine in his two-toned voice.
Starscream growled under the roar of his thrusters. "We'll get there when we get there. If I hear that question one more time I'm going to swat someone!"
"Who are you going to be swatting, Father?"
He growled again. "I don't know where you got your smart-alek tendencies, but it wasn't from me."
The young combiner just gave a little shrug - well, as much of a shrug as he could while lugging a bigger mech - and trailed after the older flier. The Dinobot dangling from his arms had no comment… but then again, two of the three Dinobots hadn't said a word since they had plucked them off their island. Perhaps they really were as dim as they looked.
Starscream twitched one wing as they flew, grumbling over the slashes raked in the metal. Recruiting the Dinobots has been a rougher venture than he'd realized - the big lunkheads might be unintelligent and primitive by Cybertronian standards, but they were still strong enough to give a Decepticon a run for his shanix. And Grimlock might be an idiot next to Starscream's superior intellect, but he still had a predator's cunning… and a complete disregard for anyone's authority other than his own.
All of that meant Starscream's first attempt to recruit Grimlock, Snarl, and Swoop into his forces had ended with claw and bite marks to his armor and two Autobot brothers dazed from being knocked about by Snarl's horns and Swoop's lava flail. Starscream had been two astroseconds from angrily declaring that the dumb beasts were good for nothing but scrap metal, but as always the twins had intervened before he could give the order to put the Dinobots out of his misery.
"Let us be talking to them first," Jetfire had suggested. "Perhaps we can be reasoning with them."
Reluctantly, Starscream had agreed… and somehow, within an hour all three Dinobots had agreed to accompany them back to Detroit. Now Starscream just had to figure out how to grant them what the twins had promised them.
"You Starscream promise to give us Dinobots new home?" Grimlock demanded from his perch on Swoop's back. If the mechanical Pterodactyl was at all uncomfortable bearing his leader's weight as he flew, he gave no sign of it.
"Yes, yes, I Starscream promise," he replied dismissively. Detroit had plenty of parks within its city limits - it should be easy to appropriate one and declare it off-limits to anyone but Grimlock and his team. If his citizens complained, he could just knock down one of the abandoned factories and let them make a new park. Kill two petro-pigeons with one stone and all that.
"And you Starscream promise to smash all cars?"
"What?!" Had Starscream not been in jet mode he would have turned around to glare at Safeguard. "Didn't you idiots think before you started making promises? The humans will revolt at that!"
"That was not being the agreement!" Safeguard insisted. "We are promising the Dinobots that you would be convincing the city to stop using fossil fuels!"
"Hmph. Still going to raise a ruckus from City Council." Starscream grumbled to himself a moment before replying. "Fine. I'll talk to the Council and we'll see about some kind of green energy initiative. But no smashing cars!"
"Fine," Grimlock growled. "Uh… what green energy?"
"Never mind." Starscream banked and dove, making for an open field just outside city limits. "Land, everyone. I need to rest my thrusters."
Safeguard set Snarl down before touching down himself, splitting into Jetstorm and Jetfire in the process. Snarl watched the combiner come apart with a look of dull curiosity, then shifted to his Triceratops mode and lumbered off to go whack his head against a boulder. Grimlock leaped off of Swoop's back and immediately picked a tree to practice his swordsmanship on, while Swoop simply folded his wings and regarded Starscream with the cold gaze of a scavenger bird.
Starscream huffed and transformed for landing, making a show of brushing his armor off. He was in no real hurry to go back to Detroit. Jetstorm and Jetfire's hasty promise to Grimlock just reminded him that he had other issues to discuss with the City Council, and he looked forward to the prospect about as much as he found himself looking forward to having his paint stripped and rolling in used motor oil.
Blasted human politicians anyhow… they're not much better than the old Autobot Council. The only saving grace is that they live shorter lives and can be replaced faster with more reasonable minds. If those reasonable minds even exist - it seems to me every single politician among their species is useless for the job, in it only for the wealth.
He flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder. Perhaps the old Autobots had been right in one thing - it made more sense for a being to simply do the job he was designed and suited to do than to hare off on whatever path he deemed fit, however unsuitable. Why expect a clunky tankformer to make a future for themselves in the Air Corps, after all, or an elegant flier to want to degrade themselves by becoming an energon farmer? And why let just any stupid greedy human become whatever they wanted to be instead of shuffling them off to a job better suited for whatever skills they had? Primus knew his job would be so much easier if he worked with politicians actually suited for their job instead of whoever wanted to campaign…
Something jabbed at his side. "Dad… Dad… Dad… Dad…"
"Stop poking me!" Starscream snapped, stepping away from Jetstorm.
"Sorry, Dad, but you were not listening." Jetstorm pointed. "Look!"
Starscream peered in that direction, narrowing his optic shutters at the sight of the garishly striped tent standing in the center of the field. "I see it. What's the big deal?"
"It is being a circus!" Jetfire exclaimed, practically bouncing on his pedes in excitement. "Can we be going for a look while you are resting?"
Starscream regarded the tent and the motley collection of humans and mechanical animals around it with a skeptical look. It really didn't matter to him what the twins did so long as they let him take a load off his pedes for a few minutes, but he had to wonder what was so fascinating about this antiquated human entertainment that these two would want to watch it.
"Why?" he demanded.
Jetfire's eager gaze took on a wistful cast. "Brother and I are always wanting to work in the circus together. We were always thinking how fun it would be to be performing for a crowd every night… having fun, and making mechs smile. We were wanting to go see, and remember our old dreams."
Starscream's brow plates bunched up in a puzzled frown. "Then why didn't you do that instead of becoming… this?" He gestured vaguely at each twin as if to encompass their whole being instead of a specific part.
"We were being simple labor bots," Jetstorm explained. "In the mines. Labor bots are not invited to join the circus. And later, we were being made into fliers and soldiers. We never got the choice."
Anger flared in Starscream's spark at those words. Functionalism at its finest once again - ripping away a mech's dreams and forcing them into whatever role society or politics decided was best for them. Sure, perhaps being circus performers was a pathetic dream next to his own dreams of conquest, but it had been their sparks' desires. Surely they deserved to choose their own paths…
Gah… and to think I was starting to wonder if the Autobot Council was right in their ways. What kind of a fool am I, to think Functionalism was a good thing? All it's done is clip these two's wings. No… never again.
"Go on," he told them. "Watch the circus. Just don't step on anyone, or I'll never hear the end of it…"
That last sentence was addressed to empty air as the twins dashed off, whooping and laughing in delight. Starscream watched them go, for a moment envious of their energy and optimism. Then he shook his head and leaned back against a tree, grumbling. When did he get so soft? These twins were a bad influence on him… he'd better watch himself.
"With all due respect, you can let go now."
"Hrrm?" Optimus jolted awake, shaken out of his rest by an unfamiliar voice. Part of his CPU remained muddled in his dreams - dreams of being a sparkling again, curling up in the berth beside Megatron, hugging his plush turbofox as he listened to his father sing the old songs and tell stories of his triumphant battles…
Something squirmed in his arms, and he glanced down in surprise at the live turbofox he clutched to his chest. He hadn't expected THAT part of his dreams to become reality! He relaxed his grip, letting the fox wriggle free and shift back to robot mode.
"As glad as I am to see that we'll get along nicely, I do have other places to be," Dominus told him, though he wore an amused smile.
"Ah… sorry about that." Optimus sat up, brushing his armor off. "I hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you."
"Embarrassment is rarely fatal," Dominus replied with a chuckle. "And it seemed to comfort you."
A high-pitched squeal cut off Optimus' reply, and he and Dominus turned to find Blitzwing watching them from his makeshift berth. The triple-changer's random personality had assumed control, and his jagged grin spread wide with delight.
"Zhat was so CUTE!" he gushed. "It reminded us of vhen you were tiny, Orion!"
Optimus blushed and smiled. "Well… glad someone thought it was cute."
Ratchet rolled his optics and resumed work on Shockwave, soldering a wire in the former double-agent's arm. But a smile fought to crack through his usual scowl, and almost succeeded. Shockwave, for his part, gazed at Optimus and Dominus with an intense glow in his optic, though it was difficult to tell exactly how he felt about it. There were disadvantages to interacting with a mech without a traditional faceplate.
"Ratchet, how are our patients faring?" asked Dominus.
"Good as can be expected," Ratchet replied. "Only so much I can do with limited supplies, but everyone should be able to walk out of here by the end of the day. Just don't launch an attack on Iacon or anything - nobody's in fighting shape."
Dominus nodded, then turned back to Optimus. "How are you faring?"
"I'm… good," Optimus replied, and was surprised to find that it was the truth. He felt stronger now that Ratchet had finished his repairs, and while some part of him was still trying to reorient itself after learning the truth about his father, he found he had mostly accepted it. There was still a lot to process - not to mention a lot of uncertainty regarding the future - but he was much better than he had been upon first waking up in the Dead Zone.
"Excellent." Dominus smiled. "I'll let you get settled and talk a bit with your team, if you like. Then I'd like to talk to you a little more about what your plans are. Your father as well. Our sanctuary won't hold out forever, and I wish to know whether you plan on staying with us for the long term before I make any solid plans on where we go from here."
Optimus' smile faded, and unease gripped his spark again. He hadn't wanted to think that this place was only a temporary refuge. Despite being crowded and distressingly short on resources, the Dead Zone had proven a perfect hiding place, safe from Autobot patrols. It was tempting to think they could stay here indefinitely, hiding from Ultra Magnus and his cronies while they plotted their next move. Primus knew everyone deserved some kind of rest after everything they'd been through.
Logically, though, he knew it was impossible. For one thing, there was no way Professor Sumdac could stay on Cybertron for very long. His decision to accompany Team Detroit to Cybertron had been a complete impulse, and he hadn't brought anything in the way of provisions with him. Isaac insisted it was no big deal, but Optimus knew it was only a matter of time before he started to suffer from the lack of food and water, or at the very least needed to be smuggled back to the space bridge.
And of course, their own supplies couldn't hold out forever either. Many who had fled to the Dead Zone had done so with at least some provisions, and most were willing to share with those who hadn't had the time or resources to bring their own. But their stores of oil and energon could only last for so long, and Dominus had judged it too risky to send anyone out to try to acquire more.
Still, Optimus had hoped they could hold out for just a little longer… which was why the news from Hot Shot came as such a blow.
He had just opened his mouth to ask Dominus where they could meet up later when the young mech charged in. Hot Shot waved his arms and spilled out a stream of babble that would have put Blurr to shame, optics blazing in panic.
"Wegottaruntheyrecomingtheyrecomingwegottagetoutofhere!"
"The frag, kid?" Ratchet grumbled, looking up from his work. "Talk Cybertronian, will ya? I don't have the processor to parse whatever junk language that was."
"Hot Shot, slow down," Optimus urged, patting the air in a soothing gesture to try to calm the young mech. "Can you start over?"
"We don't got time to start over!" Hot Shot insisted, waving his arms around with such frantic energy that bursts of flame escaped his wrist guards. "The Elite Guard's on its fragging way here!"
His spark sank down to his boots. No… I thought we'd have more time… "How close?"
"About ten kliks, boss-bot," Jazz chimed in, hurrying up to join the younger bot. "Hot Shot an' I were patrollin' the border and spotted them. Looks like someone tipped 'em off, or whoever's been directin' mechs here had their cover blown an' decided to talk."
Or were made to talk, Optimus thought darkly. There was a time when he would have thought the Autobots wouldn't stoop to torturing a mech for information… but now he wasn't sure the Autobots were much better than the Decepticons.
"Find Rodimus and tell him," he ordered, pushing his black thoughts aside for now. "Megatron too. We'll have to organize an evacuation of the Dead Zone."
"And go where, precisely?" demanded Shockwave, his unbroken antler twitching as he regarded Optimus. "The Autobots are hunting us down. It is not enough to simply flee the Dead Zone - we need a destination. None of us has the energy to run indefinitely."
"We can't fragging well stay here!" Ratchet retorted. "Unless you WANT to be thrown back in prison, or worse! I hear the mining camps are still operating."
"I was merely pointing out that running without a destination in mind is madness," Shockwave replied, unruffled. "Yes, we should plan an evacuation… but we should know where we are going first."
"I'm afraid he's correct," Dominus added, his expression grave. "Simply running isn't going to solve anything. We need a destination. Someplace we can regroup and take better stock of our options. I thought we would have more time to scout out a place, but…" He spread his hands helplessly.
Optimus groaned and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor. He, too, had assumed they would have more time. And part of him wondered if he hadn't brought this doom upon Dominus and his refugees, if coming to the Dead Zone hadn't led Ultra Magnus and his Guard directly to them. Yes, they would have found them eventually, but maybe not this soon.
No… there's no time for dwelling on that. We need to make a plan NOW. But there's nowhere on this planet where we can hide for very long. This planet or any other…
The thought that hit him at that moment was insane, and probably a terrible idea. But it was the only one he had at the moment. And perhaps, right now, what they needed was a terribly insane idea. If it worked, then who cared if it was crazy, right?
"We need to get to the space bridge," he said. "Or to Omega Supreme. I know a place where we might be able to find refuge."
Ratchet cursed and slammed the panel on Shockwave's arm shut with enough force to earn a pained grunt from the mech. "Are you nuts, Optimus? You can't haul these mechs to Earth!"
"Why not?" asked Optimus. "The Council would never suspect that we'd take refugees to an organic planet. And we've always had a good relationship with Detroit and its people - they'd welcome us."
"No offense, boss-mech, but we're gonna be taking 'Cons there," Jazz pointed out. "An' given that they've almost wrecked the place a few times, I'm sure they're just gonna see 'em as menaces to society. No offense, Shockers."
"None taken," Shockwave replied. "But you imply that the Decepticons are incapable of looking after themselves. Earth may not be an ideal solution, but it will suffice for now."
"Not sure Megatron'll agree with ya," Hot Shot pointed out. "They kinda hate him there-"
"I can speak for myself, Autobot."
Hot Shot yelped and scurried to hide behind Optimus as Megatron approached. The silver mech's armor was still dented and dull, but he looked in much better shape than before. And incredibly, he nodded in respect towards Dominus before addressing the others.
"Returning to Earth is… not ideal," he said. "But at the moment, it seems we have few other options. At the very least, we know it is at least somewhat safe for our kind."
Optimus nodded. "And if worse comes to worse, we can leave. There are other planets we can run to if need be. None as hospitable as Earth, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Dominus nodded. "Excellent. I'll spread the word and have everyone ready to leave as soon as possible. If I could trouble you to have Teams Detroit and Athena watch the borders, Optimus, I would be in your debt."
"Of course," Optimus replied.
"I'll have Team Chaar do the same," Megatron added. "The rest of my troops will aid in the evacuation."
"My thanks," Dominus told him, and he shifted back to fox form and loped off.
"Jazz, Hot Shot, get our teams rounded up and tell them to get to the borders," Optimus ordered. "Tell them to alert us the instant they see anyone getting close."
"On it, boss-mech." Jazz saluted, then transformed and drove off. Hot Shot peeled after him, leaving a swath of flames in his wake.
Optimus blew out a sigh. "Is this never going to end? Us running and hiding from Ultra Magnus like criminals? I hate feeling like we're going to be hunted the rest of our lives."
"It's a feeling I'm all too familiar with," Megatron admitted, resting a hand on Optimus' shoulder. "But sometimes, it's better to run and live to fight another day." He let out a sigh of his own. "This… is not the life I wanted for you, Orion."
"I know," Optimus murmured. "But at least you found me again." He managed a smile. "Let's help Ratchet get the injured prepared for transport. As soon as we can get to the space bridge or Omega Supreme, I want us to be ready."
Megatron nodded, and father and son went to aid in the great exodus from Cybertron.
Two guards stepped forward to intercept Sentinel Prime, crossing the blades of their ceremonial pikes before the doors of Ultra Magnus' office. "The Magnus isn't admitting visitors at this time."
Not even a full planetary cycle ago, that order alone would have been enough to send Sentinel packing. One never disobeyed a direct order, after all, especially from the Magnus. But Sentinel had had his fill of taking terrible orders from misguided mechanisms, and instead of slinking off like a good soldier he lifted his chin and drew his shoulders back to glare at the guards.
"Step aside," he ordered. "I'm here to report on an assignment that Ultra Magnus himself gave me."
"You'll come back and report at a later time," the guard replied, unfazed. "The Magnus left strict orders-"
"I'll tell you where you can shove those strict orders, you greaseplugs!" Sentinel snapped. "Unless you want to be the one to explain to the Magnus that we let Decepticon sympathizers slip through our fingers because you were a stickler for protocol!"
The two guards exchanged shocked glances. Sentinel felt like gaping in shock at his own ball bearings himself - he hadn't realized he'd had it in him to stand up to Ultra Magnus' own guards like that. And he half-expected them to throw him out or even call someone to have him tossed in the brig for his outburst.
In the end, though, the guards seemed to believe the urgency of his mission, and they stepped back and opened the door for him. He barely spared them a glance as he strode through the door and towards Ultra Magnus' desk.
"I left orders not to be disturbed," the Magnus replied, not looking up from his computer terminal.
"This is urgent, Ultra Magnus," Sentinel replied, struggling to keep his tone respectful despite the rising fury in his spark. "I thought it best to bring it to your attention as soon as possible."
Ultra Magnus sighed and looked up from his computer. "I hope this means you've actually captured a few of the mechs with Decepticon programming, instead of just drawing up a list of names we need to hunt down."
"Oh, I think I'm pretty close to capturing one," Sentinel replied, and he slapped a datapad down in front of the Magnus.
"What…" The blue-and-white mech picked up the datapad, scanning the contents… and his optics bleached white in horror. "This is a prank, isn't it?"
"It's most certainly not a prank," Sentinel replied, folding his arms across his chest. "General Deathsaurus spawned a number of protoforms before his death. Two of those protoforms are still alive and active - Dominus Ambus, who's currently MIA, and Minimus Ambus, who now goes by another name entirely."
"You can't possibly-"
"Ultra Magnus." Sentinel finally let some of his pent-up fury leach into his voice, his optics blazing and his headpipes vibrating with the force of it. "All this time you've been preaching about how dangerous those with Decepticon programming are to the safety of Cybertron, while you've been conveniently hiding your own heritage! You were so clever, weren't you, redirecting everyone's attention to the Hero of Cybertron while you ducked any accusations yourself!"
Ultra Magnus slapped the datapad down with enough force to crack the screen. "It's a lie. All of it! I don't know where you got this information from, but it's flawed!"
"Spark scans don't lie," Sentinel retorted. "And both your spark signature and that of Dominus Ambus match up with Deathsaurus'. It's way too close to be a coincidence."
The Magnus shook his head, anger and confusion warring over his features. Had Sentinel not known any better, he might assume the news had taken the Autobot Leader by complete surprise. But that was impossible… he had to know who he was descended from, right? There was no way he could be completely ignorant of who sparked him.
Though Optimus had no idea… He shoved that thought aside. This wasn't about Optimus. This was about the Magnus. There was a galaxy of difference between them, right?
"I was cold-forged," Magnus insisted. "I had no spark-parents. This information has to be fabricated - if not by you, then by someone trying to undermine me. Destroy this immediately, and speak of it to no one."
"Oh, like frag I am!" Sentinel retorted. "I've had enough of your orders, Ultra Magnus. I've had enough of ruining mechs' lives just so you can claim to all of Cybertron that you're doing your best to protect them, while you yourself pretend you have no Decepticon programming! While you pretend you're not the very thing you're trying to stamp out!"
"That's enough!" Magnus roared, shooting to his feet. "I'm not going to hear any more of this. You've clearly gotten far too wrapped up in this mission, Sentinel, and it's affected your processor. I'm relieving you of duty."
"You can't-" Sentinel began.
"I can… and I am." Magnus picked up the datapad and snapped it in two, sparks spitting through the air. "Guards, escort this mech to the brig. He needs to cool his heels for a few cycles until he gets his cranial processor on straight."
Sentinel reached back to draw his lance out of subspace… but hands grabbed his arms before he could do so. He cursed and writhed as the guards dragged him out of the office, leaving the Magnus to sweep the broken datapad into the trash before going back to his work.