Chapter One
Music: Fallout Soundtrack "A Trader's Life"
War. War never changes.
Over two hundred years ago, the Civil war between the Autobots and Decpticons came to its sudden, brutal conclusion. Rather than either side suing for peace, the conflict had continued to its final stupidity. After eons of war, Armageddon had come at last.
No one knows for sure who had unleashed the Titans, but when Metroplex and Trypticon had destroyed each other, all of Cybertron felt it. And the planet responded. Oceans of mercury and gallium rose, fell, flooding into cities. Towering metallic mountains crumbled, sending millions offline and rendering still more without homes. In still other areas, wastelands of rusting, twisted metal formed new canyons, swept with winds so savage they ripped the metal skins from Autobot and Decepticon alike. The pain and madness which ensued drove both sides to join forces in a brutal but secure alliance that promised death and suffering to outsiders.. Many of their mightiest gestalts lost members, leaving them short a limb and sanity, making them a threat to all.
Still others throughout the once vibrant, beautiful planet had gone insane with grief and desperation, banding together to prey on anyone foolish enough to venture near their camps. And some, reviled by the sane and insane alike, had degenerated into even more feral states.
Over time, as survival necessitated putting aside old hatreds and rivalries, Autobots and Decepticons came together and formed communities that came to be known as enclaves. While many believed that true peace could never be, something miraculous happened. A spirit of cooperation began to form. Many mechs formed friendships. A few, despite all the odds, forged deeper bonds. Within these small enclaves, hope, something neither side had much of, began to shed a faint, flickering light over the ruins.
As time passed, larger communities began to form. This merging and growing process necessitated the transport and delivery of valuable supplies and goods: raw materials, finished items, and most precious of all, energon. Once again, however, they found themselves facing a new challenge: dwindling supplies and increasing needs. The ruins on the opposite end of what came to be called the Divide held great wonders, it was theorized, because the massive shockwaves in the wake of the dying titans had not reached so far. No one knew for sure, however, for neither scout nor courier had walked that long and lonesome road and lived to tell the tale.
In the end, however, it came down to the same thing. Either they did what needed to be done, holding tightly to the ray of hope the stories gave, or fall into conflict over the need for power and survival once more.
Because war never changes.
So thought Optimus Prime as he studied the reports in his servo. There was simply no getting around it. They only had enough energon for six months, and that was with everyone on short rations. There were nearly a hundred or so other mechs to look out for, himself and his co-commander, Prowl, included. The last scouts who'd gone into that great and terrible rift known as the Divide had not returned. It tore at his spark to have to send another.
Seeing the look in his old friend's eyes, Prowl said, "I'm not sure which idea I like least, Prime. Asking for volunteers, or ordering them out into the wastes." He ran his palm over his faceplates and leaned back in his chair.. "And why does it have to be from our people again?"
Prime looked down out the desk. It had seen better days, much as they all had. One leg was missing, and that side had been propped up with a chunk of rubble. He was quiet for a moment, thinking of the last scouts from the next enclave over. Starscream controlled that one, and it had surprised everyone to discover that the vain, egotistical Aerospace Commander actually did have a head for leadership. He'd had command suddenly thrust upon him when Megatron had been deactivated decades ago during a scav attack. He'd taken control with his usual gloating arrogance, but within days, had fallen into a somber sort of melancholy. Many had speculated that his attempts at control and Megatron's violent responses to them had been a game that neither could admit enjoying. That, in a dark and toxic sort of way, they'd actually been friends. No one on either side, not his trime-mates, nor Skyfire, had ever been brave or foolish enough to broach that subject, and so the mystery remained.
The Decepticon leader's loss had affected him deeply. Now, decades later, it was a wiser, more mature Starscream who led his enclave of more than one hundred Decepticons, with a few neutrals thrown in for salt. Soundwave had, after some trepidation, assumed the role of second-in-command, at least until he'd disappeared without a trace some months ago, his beloved cassettes going with him. Now it was Thundercracker at his side. Skywarp, Primus love him, had neither the mind nor desire, and was content to just be part of the trine as he'd always been.
An uneasy but mutually beneficial truce grew between the two groups. Trade, at first. Then coming to one another's defense to ward off some horror of the Cybertronian wasteland or another. Wheeljack and Starscream began exchanging ideas. Exchanges of ideas grew to become projects. No greater joy had come to Starscream when Skyfire, long-presumed to have been lost, found Prime's enclave, and the two had tentatively renewed their friendship, Skyfire being moved to do so upon seeing this newer, more pensive and less vicious Starscream. Of course, there were always holdouts against the opposite side, but all it took was a stern and pragmatic reminder from either commander to settle things down.
Still, the simple cold reality of it was that all the friendship and happy reunions and new science couldn't change the facts: rations were getting tighter, the wasteland was worse than old Cybertron had been even at the height of the war, and mechs were offlined daily due to lack of fuel, disease, or being murdered at the hands of former comrades who had a chosen a colder route to survival. Or horrible twisted creations brought about by damage to some mechs' CNA. Or just simple misfortune.
Even so, Optimus still found it hard to be more pragmatic. He'd always had a sunny disposition, even in their darkest moments. He never gave up hope that while the former glory of their world could never be restored, that they could forge something new from its remains. He never felt more respect and appreciation for Prowl than he did at times like these. Prowl was by no means a cruel or hardened mech, but he found it easier to apply logic and reason when it was needed most.
"Because when we aligned with Starscream and his people, it was agreed that scouting, courier duties, and so on would be taken on in fair and equal amounts. Also, you know as well as I do that losing Soundwave and his symbiotes was a massive blow to his people."
"We don't know for sure that they're deactivated," Prowl pointed out. "We also don't even know where they really went. They just picked up and left one day, though I can't think of any logical reason as to why." He sipped at the energon in his cube and made a face: it had been cut with straight petroleum, unrefined, to make it last longer. Without the refineries, petroleum could still be consumed, but it wasn't ideal and it tasted bland to him. Also, their old stocks from Earth were running thin, and unless something was done, they wouldn't even have that..
"I don't know either, Prowl. Even after the war, he was a notoriously private mech." He fell silent for a moment. "Back on topic, Optimus. It has to be someone. I can have Blaster radio Starscream, ask him to ask for volunteers-"
Prime shook his head. "No. Unless there's great enough need, I don't want to call upon them. Their numbers of mechs viable for the job are thinner than ours. But I will ask them if they can contribute some supplies. That they do have."
Prowl's intake vents huffed out air. "It will have to do, I suppose."
Prime nodded. "While I have Blaster contact Starscream, have those in our enclave who are still work-viable assemble."
Optics bright, Prowl leaned forward in his chair. "Send me, Prime. All I do is sit on my aft all day and-"
"No, Prowl. You do a great deal more than that, and you know it. You keep me from trying to save the world with—how'd you put it that one time?"
Prowl smiled a little. "Sunshine and poetry."
"Yes, that. You keep me grounded." He looked into Prowl's optics and shook his head. "As much as I want to enforce my earlier no and make it stick, something tells me that I need to let you do this. Maybe it's intuition. Maybe it's the Matrix. Regardless, I know you well enough that you've actually put a lot of thought into this. You don't decide these things lightly, or without a great deal of rational thinking." It was Prime's turn to huff. "And, I know that I can't tell you no just because I don't want your death on my hands."
Prowl smiled. "I take it then that you're letting me do this?"
Prime turned his servos palms-up. "Yes. Because I also know that if you feel something is truly logical and the correct turn of action, you will do it despite your orders." He chuckled. "I recall a time when you would never have considered such a thing, even for a nano-klik."
"Times change, Prime. So do mechs."
Optimus nodded. "Yes. They do." His optics dimmed even as he smiled behind his mask. "Go and get Jazz. I'll need to brief you both. Once we have word from Starscream and his people, we'll know how to proceed.
As if on cue, Blaster poked his head into the shabby office. "Hey, big boss. Got Screamer on the tel for ya."
Prime nodded. "Patch him through, old friend."
The boombox nodded, then hesitated. "Is… something wrong, Optimus?"
"You'll know all about it later, Blaster." He watched the tall orange mech go. Blaster put on a brave front, but Optimus knew he was still waiting for the day that word came about Soundwave. He wished fervently that he could tell him something. Blaster nodded, his blue optics losing a bit of their light before he turned to do as was asked of him.
A moment later, Starscream's raspy voice came over the tel. It had long since lost its screechiness, and in its place was the world-weary timbre of a mech who had lost much and was tired of doing so. Optimus pondered a moment on what the final days had cost all of them. Then he pushed it aside and addressed the Decepticon leader.
"Thank you for taking my call, Starscream."
The screen flickered, rolled, then came into better focus. Static blurred the picture but Prime could still make out that Starscream looked the same as ever, albeit tired of everything and perhaps everyone. Still, he gave Optimus a small nod of greeting. "I had nothing better to do. What do you need?"
Prime took no offense to the cool greeting. He suppressed a smile, knowing that Starscream had put on a facade to disguise his own worries, and he would allow him to keep his dignity. "We need your aid."
The commander leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest plates. "How am I not surprised? Let me guess: our dwindling energon supplies? Repair materials? The latest entertainment vids?" The quirk of his lips made it obvious that Starscream was more interested in keeping up appearances than in any real rancor. Again, Optimus let him have his pride.
"Whatever you can spare. I'm sending a team into the Long Road again-"
"No. Not again." Starscream's voice had a bit of its old edge again. "It's a death trap and we both know it. This is the sort of thing that I'd often warn Megatron against! Bastard always thought he knew best." His handsome face twisted into that old, well-known sneer even as a light of pain filled his optics. The look came and went so fast that Optimus thought that perhaps he had imagined it.
"Starscream. Things are becoming desperate on both sides. I… I know you don't want to lose anyone else under your command-" He paused seeing the aerospace commander's jaw tighten. Their respective enclaves got along, but dealing with their leader still required grace and a delicate touch. "Through no fault of your own." It was true.
"I realize that," he hissed. His red optics flared briefly. The loss of his last group to enter the Longest Road—and Soundwave's disappearance—weighed on him heavily. Optimus chose his next words carefully.
"Both our groups need vital supplies. I realize that I'm preaching to the converted here, but the Road represents our best chance, even with the dangers it holds. We both know that the ruins for many kliks all around us have been picked thoroughly clean. Scouts going out many orn's travel from here have failed to turn up so much as a dropped energon treat. I know that the so far no one has returned. But if our choices are sit here and rust, or face our fates head on… well." He leaned back in his own chair. "I know what choice the Decepticons of old would have made."
Starscream's glare could have smelted him. "You slagging glitch. I should cut all of you off." There was no real malice in his tone. He knew that Prime was right. Even now, Starscream was cautious, only now instead of desiring to cover his and his trine's afts only, he had others to look out for. Megatron had called it cowardice. The Autobots had thought him a slinking, conniving snakeoid. Now, the truth lay somewhere in the middle. He still valued himself and those closest to him more highly than perhaps was warranted from a leader, but his concern carried much further to his men as well. They were his primary concern.
Before Prime could speak, another mech hove into view. Skyfire. The younger scientist leaned down and whispered into his friend's audio. Starscream's face tightened, he hissed something back that Prime couldn't hear. Skyfire remonstrated in low, measured tones, still inaudible. Starscream glared at him, a mix of hurt, anger, and fear flitting across his face. He nodded curtly before looking back to Optimus. "I will send Long Haul to you at once. Starscream out." Before the screen went black, Skyfire looked at Optimus. He dimmed one optic in a wink, leaving Optimus to wonder hat he had said to Starscream.
"Glitchmouse, two meters northwest," Rewind called out.
Brawn barely spared a glance in that direction. Though his optic lights rolled, he couldn't be too hard on the cassettibot. Rewind had a reputation for getting overly focused on trivia, and he was determined to do his job as lookout well. For him, this meant commenting on the most trivial—no pun intended—occurrences. Brawn could have done without six pages on the watch datapad with such minutiae as "Saw a gridbug. Purple… no, blue? Red? Trick of the light: it's green!" and "Something's moving out by the west wall. Turned out to just be some shadows that looked like struts without armor. Too spooky for me." Meanwhile, Rewind's brother, Eject, was making ready to take a tour around the enclave.
As he stood up, he picked up his recently-emptied energon cube. "Eject has the ball. He dodges Mindtwist and zips to the center bound. He winds up, he throws—Scoooooooooore!" He tossed the empty cube into Wheeljack's extractor bin, which was designed to absorb what little energon clung to the inside of cubes. He punctuated this by imitating noises of crowds cheering and raising his clenched servos overhead.
"If you're done winning the servoball tournament, get your aft to the perimeter." Brawn's gruff voice carried in from the other room. Eject grinned and got moving.
A short time later, Brawn received a call "Decepticon spotted on the premises!" Eject jogged back to the gates. He didn't spare the Constructicon so much as a nod as he joined Brawn and his brothers Steeljaw and Rewind. They kept wary optics on Long Haul as the Constructicon rolled up to the gate,
The dump truck huffed out some exhaust. "You gonna let me in? Or do I gotta haul all this stupid scrap back home?"
"Sheesh, keep your damn aft plates on," Rewind said. He pulled the lever that operated the gates. They didn't do scrap to keep any fliers out, but they did a good enough job of keeping out feral scavs, marauders, and worse out of the enclave. The metal doors groaned and squealed on their hinges as they rolled into their pockets. "Good to go!" he called down.
"Yeah, I can see that, Captain Obvious," Long Haul grumbled under his vocal unit. He had to admit that Grapple had done a fine job on those gates as he rolled on in, Brawn's optics boring a hole in his dorsa all the way. "Bite my aft, shorty."
Brawn ignored the insult. "Take it to the middle of camp, and stay put," he ordered.
"Yeah, yeah, whatevs." Long Haul did as directed, then stayed put, still grousing. A few nano-kliks later, Optimus Prime and a few other Autobots came out to meet him.
"Thank you for bringing these supplies, Long Haul," Prime told him.
Long Haul stayed in vehicle mode. "Yeah. Sure. Hauling, loading, and unloading. It's what my spark pulses for." His bitterness would have been a downer had it not been so obviously over the top. In a low voice, he muttered, "I almost wish I was going. Then maybe I could do something interesting for a change."
Optimus resisted the urge to pat the Constructicon's truck cab. Now more than ever, Long Haul's job was vitally important, and as much as he still longed to do something more glamorous, it couldn't be. The Autobot commander commiserated with him,, Memories of being a lowly file clerk remained with him even now, as they always would. He know how Long Haul felt, but he also knew that every duty was needed, especially now. "I appreciate your desire, no matter the motivation."
'"Yeah, sure." He seemed to sit a little straighter on his tires. Long Haul waited in silence as the supplies were unloaded. Once this was done, he said, "I'm outta here."
"Give your commander our thanks," Optimus told him. Long Haul's windshield rippled briefly in acknowledgment before he sighed out his air vents and rolled out the way he'd come. Prime, Jazz, and Blaster watched him go.
"Damn," Jazz said. "He leaving already? I was hoping Mr. Personality would stick around a while, join us for energtea and a game of trabacc. Blaster snickered.
"Never mind that," Optimus said. "Let's get these things into storage. Then we can take stock of what we have to work with."
"How'd you talk old Starscream into helping out?" Blaster asked, picking up a couple of crates under his arms. Prime lifted up a bundle, saying, "I can't take all the credit. He was pretty averse to the idea. Then Skyfire said something to him that I couldn't catch, and he changed his tune. He looked pretty upset."
Blaster and Jazz exchanged looks. There were rumors in both enclaves that Skyfire and Starscream were rekindling more than an old friendship. Hey, whatever made Sky happy, but old ideas of the Deceptcion commander were hard to let go of, and no one wanted to see the younger bot hurt. Blaster smirked. "Probably threatened to not visit for a while."
Skyfire called from behind them, a chuckle in his voice. "It didn't take much. I just threatened to go with you all if he didn't send the supplies over."
Jazz's optic ridges rose and waggled. "Oooh. That's evil. Well, you were briefly a Decepticon at one point," he teased. Skyfire huffed a bit of laughter, then joined them in hauling the supplies. Optimus watched him, bemused, then set his parcel down. They could use a third, he thought, but not Skyfire. Not just because of Starscream, but because he wasn't suited for what it would require. Optimus believed less in ordering and more in assigning those best suited to the right job. Armageddon hadn't changed that.
Skyfire smiled. "I'd best get going. I'd love to stick around, but the duties of envoy call me on."
Everyone knew what he really meant. Post-war, Starscream and Optimus had decided that an envoy would help to bridge the gap between Autobot and Decepticon. Skyfire had readily volunteered. Though his spark aligned more with the Autobots, he had friends in both places. This, of course, included Starscream. Despite their initial falling out when Skyfire had been revived vorns ago, the end of the war had brought about a reconciliation, and the two spent a great deal of time together. Skyfire was careful to not tread on the pedes of the other trine members, and in turn, they'd come to respect and even like him. Perhaps due to bung separated for so many centravorns, it was hard for Starscream to let his friend out of his sight for long, and Skyfire was still learning to set boundaries. Optimus remained confident that in time, things would balance out, and so had kept to himself on the subject.
"Well, don't let ol' Screamer hog you too much," Jazz said. "We like seeing you around here, too!" Blaster added, "Shame you really can't come with us. You'd be a great asset."
Skyfire shook his head. "True, although, you must also consider my size. I'd stand out like spilled energon on a black bar surface. But oh, if I were smaller… so many things to learn and discover there." He shrugged. "Once a scientist, always a scientist," he said.
Optimus smiled behind his mask and nodded. "Indeed. We are who we are. All we can do is let go of the past when it no longer serves us." He thought of Elita then, and said, "We have to let go and take hold of what future remains to us all." Pushing aside his sorrow, he said, "Well, who wants to help me move these supplies inside?"
The answer was 'everyone'. Once the supplies were safely stored inside, and Jazz had gone to look for Prowl, Optimus turned to Blaster. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Optimus, anything you need, I'm your mech."
Optimus pulled in air through his vents in a sigh, then said. "I hate to ask it of you-"
Without hesitation, Blaster said, "I'll go, Optimus."
"Are you sure? Your cassettes-"
"I'll talk to them, Optimus. I know at least two will need to remain here. Their help is needed. But I want to bring Steeljaw, at the very least."
Prime nodded. "Fair. His olfactory tracking skills will come in great stead for you all. He might be able to find-" He stopped there, two names hanging between them. Blaster nodded. "Yeah. He just might. I admit, my wanting to go is a bit selfish, but I want to try. Bumblebee was—is – my friend. And Soundwave… well…"
Prime understood. "It's complicated."
Blaster scrubbed his servo over his faceplates. "Yeah. It's complicated." They let the matter drop. A briefly awkward silence ensued. At last, Prime said, "Whom else did you want to bring?"
Without hesitation, he answered, "Rewind. He's the best suited for this"
Optimus nodded. "Very well. Go and talk to your cassettes, old friend. I know they won't be happy about the separation, but we'll do all we can to ensure their care and safety."
"Thanks Optimus. And thanks for letting me go." His weary smile tugged at Prime's spark. The Autobot commander watched him go, and he hoped he was making the right choice about everything. His spark ached with bitter sorrow. He dimmed his optics a moment, shook his head, then went back inside.
