Orion watched as refugees poured out of the groundbridge station. Several of the locations had been completely cleared and the bridges had been closed. Other groups were still coming through. They would be finished in less than half a joor and he would have to figure out where to put everyone.
Mainspring commed him and he answered.
"Optimus, the enforcer in charge of the Tarn side of the evacuation would like to talk to you. Can I direct him to your location?"
"Yes," Orion said.
That was good. He was glad that mech had made it here safely.
He looked out over the crowd. The sun dome hadn't come on yet, which meant it was technically still the off-cycle. He was relieved that this was over now, and he could recharge on a normal schedule, though...
That was a selfish reason to be grateful…
A mech broke off from the crowd and headed purposefully in their direction. He didn't look happy, but Orion recognized him, and warned Ironhide and the other guards around him to stand down as the enforcer approached.
"Good orn, Autoceptor," Orion said.
"You promised us groundbridges half a joor ago," Autoceptor growled. "And what's with all these mecha who can't hold their fragging weapons right? Are those your soldiers? Are we prisoners, Prime?"
Orion started to speak, but Prowl cut him off.
"No," he said, doorwings flaring. "We had some trouble getting cooperation from the groundbridge stations, so we were forced to commandeer them."
Autoceptor narrowed his optics. "You're that Praxian who orchestrated this whole thing aren't you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," Prowl said. "I don't know why you sound so upset about it. I'd think you'd be grateful that we got everyone out."
"We didn't get everyone out," Autoceptor hissed through gritted denta. "The Decepticons found my group as we were going through the bridge. All my friends offlined because you weren't ready. Because you couldn't keep your promises and get us those bridges in time. And you were wrong about when Megatron would attack."
Prowl didn't seem to have a response for that, so Optimus stepped forward.
"I am sorry to hear about your friends," he said. "You're right—we could have done better…"
"Hold on—" Ironhide said, but Orion cut him off.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
Autoceptor looked like he was about to start yelling for a moment, but then he deflated. "No. There isn't." He looked back over the crowd. "I hope you've got somewhere for us to stay, though."
"We're working on it," Orion said.
Autoceptor nodded. "Guess I won't take up any more of your time then."
Orion watched as the old mech turned his back on them and stumped away toward the crowd.
He sighed, spark sinking. He'd known they wouldn't be able to save everyone. Many mecha in Tarn probably would have taken the opportunity to leave if they could have. But somehow it was worse to know that mecha had offlined because they hadn't been fast enough with the groundbridges. Part of him wanted to call the mech back, to demand to know how many were killed, and what their designations were…
He'd have to try and find out later.
He stared out over the crowd. According to the latest report, they'd saved thousands already. But now they had made enemies of all the groundbridge station managers. Elita had cautioned him against this course of action.
But he hadn't wanted to make a deal with the Council.
Would that have been better, though? Would it have been faster? Would they have been able to save more mecha?
He didn't know. Maybe he would never know.
Elita commed him over an internal frequency and he answered.
"I was just thinking about you," he admitted.
"Really?"
"I'm sorry I didn't listen earlier. I'm wondering if I should have taken the deal with the Council. We might have been able to save more mecha if we'd opened the bridges earlier. And... what if we lose permission to construct our own groundbridge station?"
"I… think you did the right thing, and I trust your judgment, Orion. I was only pointing out the downsides to Prowl's plan… In any case, I'm comming you because I've been contacted by a lot of news stations and reporters in the last ten breems or so. The media would really like a statement from you."
Right. Orion took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I have to go to the news and explain things." He said for the benefit of his guards.
Ironhide crossed his arms. "Sounds like a picnic."
"I can talk to some of them now," Orion said. "Where should I meet them?"
Megatron streaked over the city-state of Tarn in the last light of dusk. trying to fly off some of his frustration. They had lost more than seventy thousand mecha due to the Autobots' meddling.
Seventy thousand mecha who he could have sent to the mines and the factories. Seventy thousand mecha—many of whom might join the Autobots now out of gratitude.
And to make matters worse, he still wasn't entirely sure what had happened in that cave where he'd found the escaping mecha. He had lied to his commanders and told them he'd been too late and everyone had been gone already. He didn't want to admit that someone had gotten the better of him by making him see things that weren't there. He might talk to Soundwave about it eventually, but for now it was too embarrassing and troubling.
Also, he'd offlined two of the escapees instead of capturing them. Those two might have had useful information.
Straxus commed him.
"What?" he growled.
"Uh, so…"
"More bad news, I assume."
Straxus was silent.
Megatron growled, tilting up to fly higher in the atmosphere. The sun had gone down, leaving only a dim glow on the horizon.
He had won, but he had also lost.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Just spit it out."
"So, you know how you were hoping to find some more intelligent gladiators to be guards or commanders or whatever?"
"Yes."
"That might not be… you know, you should come see this place for yourself."
Megatron received a set of coordinates from him and changed course. He flew lower as he neared his objective. The buildings were taller here—soot and rust covered their paint and his vents registered low levels of toxic gasses in the atmosphere.
He landed and walked toward the large black building the coordinates seemed to be leading him to.
His soldiers, standing over slaughtered, dark-painted guardsmechs, bowed to him as he passed. The great double doors of the building hung open, and had gouges and holes in them.
He strode inside and met Straxus there in a foul-smelling hallway.
"So," Straxus said. "Welcome to the largest gladiator arena in Tarn. Let me introduce you to the contestants."
Megatron followed his subordinate down the hall, past the offline frames of more guards.
Maybe it was just the dim lighting, or the stench, but this place made him uneasy. Not afraid—he was almost never afraid—but alert, on edge.
Scuttling sounds in the distance bespoke infestations of turbo-rats or maybe even scraplets. And the whole place reeked of old energon, rancid high grade, and rust.
Straxus reached a heavy-looking set of double doors. He grabbed the handles and threw them open, then gestured for Megatron to go through.
Megatron fought the urge to power up his arm cannon as he stepped into the vast room full of cages. His tanks churned, and he had to turn down his olfactory sensitivity so the scent wasn't overpowering.
He walked past cages, spark sinking as he studied the pitiful creatures within. They stared back with frightened, maddened optics.
At first glance, they acted like symbiots, but they were too large on average, and their frame types were unmistakably those of mecha.
These were mecha.
He stopped at the fifth cage in the row. The being within rushed at him, screaming with fury. It clawed at the bars, activating the cage's energy field. Instead of deterring the creature, the field seemed to enrage it further and it threw itself at the front of the cage again and again, screaming each time plasmatic energon from the field coursed through its emaciated frame.
Megatron took a step back, and the creature finally seemed to give up. It backed away to the corner of its cage, growling pitifully.
Megatron sighed, clenching his fists. He had needed resources from this city. He needed more commanders, and more mecha who he could send to the mines. All he'd gotten was a new horde of volunteer soldiers and these crazed monsters.
He kept walking down the row. The room was vast. Larger cages on the other side probably held giant symbiots and perhaps some dinobots or transports.
He hadn't realized how good his life in the pits of Kaon had been. True, he'd been a slave, but he'd been praised, pampered, and rewarded for success. Life had only gotten difficult when he'd rebelled, and even then they'd given him energon, medical care, and upgrades.
He could imagine the creatures in these cages fighting desperately on a dirty arena floor, ripping each other to pieces. How quickly did they go mad like this? How long had these mecha been here, and how were they still alive?
He stopped again in front of one of the cages and met the flickering blue optics of a large femme. She had rust on her shoulder and a crack in her faceplate that ran from the top, through her optic, and all the way down to the corner of her mouth.
She was quiet, but there was no recognition in her gaze, and as he approached she crouched down in a defensive stance, warning him off with a dull glare.
He reached for the cell door.
"Be careful," a voice rasped behind him. "Some of us are wild."
Megatron froze, then turned to see a large mech restrained in a cage across the aisle. He had scars as well, and energy chains held him against the back of his cage.
"Megatronus... of Kaon," the mech whispered. It looked as if talking took him great effort. Those energy chains must have stasis lock functions that made it difficult to speak. "We did not dare… hope you would… come."
"I am here to free you," Megatron said, approaching the mech. This one seemed salvageable. "Are there others like you, still capable of thought and speech?"
The mech grimaced. "A few," he gasped. "Not… many in this room."
Megatron frowned at the lock on the cage door.
"The guards…" the restrained mech said. "Keys… in subspace."
Megatron nodded and commed Straxus.
"Yeah, boss?"
"The guards should have key cards or something in their subspace pockets. Bring some to me."
"Uh… sure."
Megatron cut the comm. He didn't need to hear Straxus's doubts.
The chained mech stared at him out of dull green optics. He was in somewhat better shape than many of the other prisoners, but he still had injuries.
Megatron wanted to ask questions, but the mech was having too much trouble talking. He'd have to wait.
He turned to look out over the cages. Some mecha were screaming, others whimpering. Some were curled up on the floor of their cages. Some of them were probably offline.
This place was worse than anything he'd ever seen. This place was worse than the mines. If he had had any doubts about what he was trying to do…
He had to put an end to this sort of thing. Orion could never understand. Even if he saw the cages and their tortured occupants, he wouldn't comprehend. He had never even been in a life and death situation. He'd never wondered whether the next pulse of his spark would be the last. He had never crouched in a pool of his own energon, praying for the pain to extinguish his spark.
He wouldn't last five breems in a place like this.
A Decepticon soldier came scurrying up to him, looking nervous. He handed Megatron a ring of data chips and bowed.
"Go," Megatron said, and the mech turned and fled amid threatening shouts from the caged prisoners.
"The… red key," the chained mech said.
Megatron flipped through to a data chip with red paint on the sides. He inserted it into the lock, and a screen blinked on, giving him options to de-energize the cage or unlock it.
He powered down the cage first.
The mech inside sagged forward against the chains with a sigh of relief, then looked up at Megatron. "Thank you," he whispered. "I can barely believe… Are the rumors true, then? Did you conquer Kaon?"
Megatron nodded and unlocked the door. A loud, abrasive beeping noise filled the room. The prisoner winced, and those nearby screeched, rushing to the front of their cages or retreating to the back.
The door swung open, and the noise ceased.
"Are there keys for your chains?" Megatron asked.
In answer, the mech shuttered his optics and heaved forward with a roar. The chains snapped and he stumbled out of the cage.
Impressive.
The mech was about as large as Megatron, maybe a little taller and thinner. He stared Megatron down, meeting his gaze evenly. There was some wildness in the mech's optics, but it was a calculating, controlled wildness. He'd have to ask Soundwave later if this mech was trustworthy. For now he was just grateful to find someone promising.
Megatron broke the silence. "This is nothing like the gladiator pits I've visited before."
The other mech shook his helm. "At the beginning, they have you fight wild symbiots and the insane. Most die in their first fight. But if you manage to survive they eventually bring you here, torture you, make you one of their monsters."
He had almost no inflection in his voice, but it was very different from the way Soundwave spoke. When Soundwave spoke, he showed his emotions in the way he moved, but with this mech there was nothing to indicate his mood.
That might be a bad sign.
"What is your designation?" Megatron asked.
"I don't remember," the mech said. "I only have the one they gave me."
Megatron frowned. "How long have you been here?"
"I don't know. Long enough they've stopped pitting me against their smaller beasts. Not long enough for them to break me though. There are others, elsewhere, who haven't lost their sanity yet. Most of these in this room are beyond saving."
Megatron nodded.
"If you use the black key, the cages are programmed to kill them."
"I have other things to see to," Megatron said, handing the gladiator the keys. "Can I leave that decision-making to you? Or will it be difficult to kill these mecha?"
The mech shook his helm. "Death loses its meaning."
"It does," Megatron agreed. "I want you to keep anyone salvageable alive. Put the rest out of their misery. I'll return early next orn at which point I would like you and any others you decide to keep to accompany me to Kaon."
The mech nodded. "Thank you, Megatronus."
"You say you do not know your designation? What would you like to be called?"
The mech looked thoughtful for a moment, and the sudden presence of emotion on his previously blank faceplate was almost eerie.
"I suppose the one they gave me in the fights will do well enough," he said. "Overlord. I am Overlord."
Prowl's back was turned on the rest of the meeting room so he could watch the big screen on the wall. He could still hear the other commanders behind him—shifting, venting—as they watched the news.
They really should have started the meeting already, but Orion wasn't back yet and no one wanted to start without him.
The former archivist's faceplate filled almost half the screen and was looking directly into the camera, which, from Prowl's perspective, made it seem like he was looking over their helms, staring off into the distance as he spoke.
"…groundbridge stations, while regrettable, became necessary after both the Council and the station managers themselves refused to assist their fellow Cybertronians. My soldiers have vacated the stations now that the crisis is over, and the groundbridges are currently operating as normal. I do not doubt I will be criticized for my actions, but my duty as Prime is to protect the mecha of Cybertron, including the mecha of Tarn who were rescued from Megatron's attack before the on-cycle began. There are many thousands of refugees from Tarn in Nova Cronum and Iacon, and I call upon the governments and citizens of those city-states to welcome our brothers and sisters with open arms and sparks…"
The door of the meeting room opened and Prowl's doorwings picked up the pedesteps of a larger mech—probably Orion himself.
His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the mech sit in the chair beside Elita, and the two of them muttered greetings to one another.
"…furthermore, Megatron has now shown that he is not satisfied with ruling Kaon alone. His intentions appear to include spreading violence across the world. We must work together to stop him."
The video cut to a reporter, and Prowl used that as an excuse to shut the news off, and turn his chair around.
"We should hear what they said about the speech," Elita said, then turned to Orion. "I mean, it was a very good speech, but I'm sure they'll find something to complain about in it and I want to be prepared to answer questions."
"We need to get on with the meeting," Prowl said. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to watch the news later."
Elita frowned at him and Prowl turned away.
He was still terrible at the whole getting along with mecha and being polite thing.
But it was true—they didn't have time to watch the news right now. What was he supposed to do? Ignore everyone's lack of priorities so they felt better about themselves?
Mecha had offlined this orn because he'd done that—because he hadn't suggested they take the groundbridge stations by force from the beginning.
"So," Mainspring said. "Shall we? Do we have a final count of refugees?"
"Yes," Prowl said. "74,309. We had about twelve thousand this orn. It seems the Decepticons did catch up to one group, but most of them made it through anyway. Two Tarnians were offlined, and thirteen were injured. Other than that, there were no casualties—at least on our end."
Mainspring nodded. "Good. I would add that all of the Autobots helping with the evacuation are accounted for, and have returned to Iacon."
"In other words," Prowl said. "Overall, it was a success. Except for the fact that Megatron now has control of two of the largest and most productive energon mines on the planet."
The room fell silent.
"Way to put a damper on things," Ironhide grumbled.
"At the present," Prowl continued, "More than a third of the energon consumed by Cybertronian kind comes from mines in Kaon, Slaughter City, Tarn, and Blaster City. And it seems logical that Megatron will seek to take the others as well, since they are geographically close to Kaon."
Silence again.
"We get that much of our energon from the south pole?" Chromia asked.
"I'd encourage you to do some research on the topic," Prowl said. "Since you are supposedly in charge of resources."
Chromia narrowed her optics, but Orion spoke before she could snap at him.
"Thank you," he said. "As I'm sure you all understand, this puts us in a dangerous position. We couldn't stand up against Megatron this time, but we need to prevent him from conquering any more cities."
Elita nodded. "Since we found out Tarn was in danger, I've made contact with the other large city-states near Kaon. Simfur isn't a likely target at this point, so they aren't interested in our help, and Gygax is much the same way. Slaughter City and Blaster City, on the other hand, are very willing to accept our protection."
"We need to train our soldiers first, though," Ironhide said. "We can't send them into battle yet."
"That's for certain," Ratchet growled. "Half of them are still recovering from those factory death-houses."
They continued talking, trying to figure out how long it would take to train their soldiers, trying to decide whether to keep them in Iacon, or preemptively send them to one of the endangered city-states. They talked about what to do with the refugees—where they would live, how the Autobots would support them.
Chromia seemed very concerned about their financial situation—apparently they were running through Mirage's credit faster than she'd expected.
By the time the meeting was over, they had still only settled a few issues and Prowl only had a few breems before it would be time to go to meet with Yoketron.
He checked his messages, skimming through them to look for anything important, and then went to his office to jot down a list of things he needed to do after his training.
It was too long. He'd have to stay up late this off-cycle to get all of it done. At least he could recharge through the off-cycle now that the whole issue with Tarn was over.
Landquake commed him and he answered. "I'm coming," he said before the transport could announce his arrival.
Prowl left the tower and met Landquake outside. He tried to clear his processor a little on the ride to the transport's apartment. Yoketron would expect him to be able to meditate, and he could never do that with all of the noise currently running through his processor.
Landquake dropped him off at the apartment building, but didn't follow him in, claiming he had other errands to run for Yoketron. Prowl walked to the apartment on his own, and pressed the entry request button.
It was Yoketron himself who came to the door this time. Prowl stepped inside, looking for Petra. She was sitting cross-legged on the too-large table, playing a board game with an older mech Prowl had never seen before.
A glance at the board as he approached them told him that the old mech was obviously letting Petra win.
"Good orn, Prowl," the petite femme said, glancing in his direction.
"You might want to move that piece on beta eight two hexes northwest," Prowl told her.
"All right," Petra said with a confused frown, and moved the piece.
"Prowl this is Kup," Yoketron said. "Kup, this is the mech who passed on the message that you were in trouble."
"Ah," Kup said, scowling at the board. He moved a piece, then looked up at Prowl. "Good to meet you."
"And you," Prowl said.
"Oh!" Petra said, and then moved another piece. "I get it now. Thank you, Prowl."
Even if the older mech tried, he probably couldn't win now.
Prowl glanced at him again, and Kup shook his helm, muttering under his breath.
"We should all talk for a few breems when the Prime gets here," Yoketron said. "But for now, we have work to do. Come, Prowl."
Prowl followed him out to the crystal garden. They sat across from each other in the courtyard.
"So," Yoketron said. "I hear your evacuation of Tarn was successful."
Prowl looked down, recalling the old enforcer who had come up and complained that his friends had been offlined.
Prowl could have prevented that. "If…" he trailed off.
Yoketron was silent, waiting for him to continue.
Prowl sighed. "If we'd been just two breems faster, we could have pulled it off without any casualties. I didn't say anything—I thought about taking the groundbridges by force, but I didn't think Orion would agree to it unless there were no other options. But if I'd brought it up earlier, then even if he didn't want to do it, we might have gotten started a few breems earlier…"
Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Mecha offlined?"
"Two of them," Prowl said. "I don't know all the details, but the Decepticons caught up with their group as they were going through the bridge."
"I see," Yoketron said.
"And I know they say you can't save everyone, but… that doesn't mean I don't want to try."
Yoketron seemed to consider that for a moment. He always, always seemed to think things through before he spoke. Prowl should try to do that more often.
"I believe that is a noble goal," Yoketron said. "But there is danger to it."
"You did tell me I'll have to accomplish the impossible."
"And you will—I am sure of it. But if you're going to try to fight a war without casualties, you'll have to be very careful not to get discouraged."
Prowl looked down. "I guess since mecha have offlined already, I've already failed."
"Prowl?"
"Yes."
"That is exactly what I just told you not to do."
Prowl smiled slightly.
"It won't be an easy balance to strike, but in order to do your best work, you must not dwell on the past. The past can be a valuable learning tool, but it is not an accurate measurement of worth or ability."
Prowl nodded.
"Failure is only the end of the road if you choose to turn around and go back."
"You have so much confidence in me," Prowl muttered. "It's inspiring."
Yoketron sighed. "Prowl, you are very talented and brilliant, and I am sorry if I made it sound like I doubt you. In truth, I simply want to make sure you understand… You took part in saving more than seventy-thousand mecha. If you consider that a failure because you lost two, then you must learn to overcome feelings of failure. You must accept that failure is not a terrible thing. If we never failed, we'd never grow."
Prowl tilted his helm to the side. "I'm not sure…"
"Well, I am," Yoketron said. "How did the ornly meeting go?"
"It went well," Prowl said. "I don't think I insulted anyone… more than once or twice."
"I suppose that's progress." Yoketron raised an optic ridge.
"I just don't have the right kind of patience to deal with mecha," Prowl said.
"Patience is a learned skill," Yoketron said. "Believe me, I've been trying to learn it for thousands of vorns. The trick seems to be in the trying—it may not get easier, but your efforts will make a difference."
Prowl nodded.
"Is there anything else troubling you?"
"Nothing beyond the normal logistics of running an army," Prowl said.
"Perhaps you should find some mecha to help you with that."
Prowl shook his helm. "Not yet. I'm not ready for that yet."
"You'll need mecha in your department eventually," Yoketron said. "What if Megatron attacks another city?"
"I have a battle computer upgrade," Prowl said. "If it comes down to it, I can run an entire army by myself."
Yoketron seemed to consider it. Then he nodded. "That doesn't surprise me, but I still think you'll need help eventually. Shall we meditate for a few breems before I instruct you?"
Prowl nodded, and turned off his optics and audios. He tried to let go of all the thoughts spinning around in his processor.
He hadn't thought meditating was a useful skill before he'd started training with Yoketron, but now he didn't know how he'd lived without it. It grounded him, kept him sane. He'd even started meditating on his own to help himself recharge every off-cycle.
But this orn, he couldn't quite focus. His processor kept wandering.
How could he avoid getting mecha offlined in the future? When would Megatron attack next? Would Prowl be ready? Would the Autobot soldiers be ready?
He wanted to observe them being trained—to see how that was coming along and gauge how much he could ask of them. He should ask Mainspring to send mecha to Slaughter City and Blaster City as well, to map out defensible positions. If he was going to defeat Megatron's superior numbers, he was going to need a better understanding of the terrain.
Prowl un-shuttered his optics and let his audios come back online. Yoketron sat across from him with a peaceful expression on his faceplate.
Somehow, Yoketron always seemed to know if Prowl wasn't really meditating, but the old mech hadn't called him out on it yet this orn.
Maybe he was giving Prowl a little extra time to try before he stepped in.
Prowl refocused. He shuttered his optics and turned off his audios again. His doorwings still picked up some readings—light, shadow, motion, sound. He could turn their sensitivity down but, like a pain grid, they could only be turned completely off by a medic.
It made meditating somewhat difficult, but then again, as soon as you were really meditating, you could sense the mecha around you anyway.
Prowl focused on his spark beating—the way it felt, the rhythm of his energon flowing through him. He tried not to think about anything else.
Before long, he could sense Yoketron's spark as well, and then those in the surrounding apartments. He tried to ignore that, so he didn't lose concentration. The deeper you got, the more you felt, and the harder it was to keep meditating.
It got to be too much after half a breem, and Prowl sighed un-shuttering his optics again. He'd done some research on meditation, and most sources said it was best to meditate at the surface, where you could only feel your own spark or the sparks of those immediately around you, but Yoketron had never mentioned anything about that.
Prowl wondered how far he'd be able to feel if he tried. Could he sense mecha a block away? Two? Ten? Could you feel the whole city-state if you tried hard enough?
Prowl meditated again, attempting to reach out farther than before. It took a few tries but eventually he managed to reach out and feel several streets down. When he finally lost concentration he spent a few astroseconds with his optics shuttered, just thinking. He hadn't realized just how many mecha there were nearby. The walls of the garden blocked out most of the city sounds, but really they weren't alone at all.
He tried again, trying to sense even farther.
"What are you doing?" Yoketron said, breaking his concentration.
Prowl un-shuttered his optics. "Um… I apologize. I was distracted."
"By what?"
"I… well, by meditating. I was trying to see how far I could feel. I know that's not the point but…"
"Interesting," Yoketron said. "How far could you feel?"
"About three blocks in each direction."
Yoketron tilted his helm to the side looking slightly skeptical.
"Is that…"
"Do it again."
Prowl blinked, then nodded and tried to meditate again. It was a little difficult at first, especially because his doorwings told him Yoketron was watching him.
After a breem or so, he managed to reach out a few streets before losing concentration.
He looked at Yoketron. "I only got a few streets out this time. Why?"
Yoketron shook his helm. "Again. But this time, don't try to feel far, try to feel deep. Try to feel here. Does that make sense?"
"No," Prowl said. "It doesn't."
"Try it anyway."
Prowl shuttered his optics and meditated. This time, Yoketron did so as well, which made Prowl less self-conscious.
Instead of focusing on how far he could sense mecha, he tried to focus on the crystal garden.
As he sank farther into meditation, the feeling of his own spark got brighter, louder. Yoketron's did too.
And then he started to feel the outlines of the crystals in the gardens.
He could feel the walls, the tiles in the floor, and someone standing off to the side, watching…
Prowl gasped, un-shuttering his optics and letting all of his systems come back on.
There was no one there.
Yoketron frowned at him. "What happened?"
"Um…" It seemed silly now. "I… felt the crystal garden. But… it doesn't have a spark, so I don't know how..."
"Prowl, this whole planet has a spark," Yoketron said. "I've said before that we are part of Cybertron. We are all part of Primus."
Prowl looked down.
"I'm confused as to why you seem so troubled."
"I… thought I felt someone else here."
Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Ah… well, the end of mortality isn't the end of the road, and the Well of Allsparks isn't a prison. I wouldn't be surprised if there were multiple mecha watching us."
"No," Prowl said. "That... can't..."
"Ah, I see," Yoketron said. "You told me you don't believe in Primus. Does that mean you don't believe in an afterlife either?"
Prowl wasn't sure what to say.
He had….
He had felt someone there.
He shuddered.
"You'll very rarely feel other presences," Yoketron said. "Even when you're attuning yourself to Primus like you were. But if you do feel anyone, you should know they can't harm you in any way."
"What was that, though?" Prowl asked. "That… didn't feel quite the same as meditating."
"When I was young," Yoketron said. "They taught meditation differently. Those who studied Circuit-Su attempted to find the balance between the corporeal and incorporeal realms. If you could sense the sparks of those around you, it was no longer considered meditation. However, in a time of great need, Primus showed us that by delving deeper into the incorporeal realm and tapping into his spark, we could utilize his power over the corporeal."
Prowl's optics widened. "Processor over matter?"
"Exactly,"
"You said it can take a hundred vorns to learn."
"Well, you didn't perform processor over matter," Yoketron said. "You've got a long way to go before that. But… you do show promise. Even more than I initially expected. Perhaps I will teach you. For now, though, I think we've spent enough time on meditation. Let's see if we can get through the rest of this orn's training before Orion shows up."