Maelstrom Chapter 35
The Longest Night
Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.
Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes!
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!
Maelstrom Chapter 35
The Longest Night
Part C
CONTINUED FROM PART B
Optimus was in no place to worry about omens.
He had other things on his mind...or rather...in his mind.
Centipedes.
Centipedes in his mind.
Was that what this was? This plain of circuits and memories? His mind? If so it was positively infested with multi-legged alien bugs of various sizes. All sharp silver metal and wires, scuttling like lighting over the surface and down. Gleaming, segmented predators with needles for feet that left pin-pricks of agony behind each violating step. Cutting into his mind with long, curved pincers so they could burrow in.
He'd see one....chase it...only to have it slip its flat, knife-like body under the surface of the circuits. Digging at the spot yielded nothing but pain. How could he separate these things from his thoughts when they disguised themselves as his thoughts?
When is what you think not really what you think? How do you think it through when what you think isn't really your thinking?
How much of his thinking was truly his own?
Would he ever know?
Could he live with not knowing?
Did it matter?
Was he going mad?
Could he function mad, like Rodimus did?
Could the Autobots live with two insane Primes?
Who could replace either of them...without going mad?
If the Matrix bearers couldn't bear it who could?
.....
Besides...the Matrix hadn't spoken to him. No one else was Chosen.
Chosen.
The Matrix was mostly void now.
Could it even still Choose?
No one left in there. Just the primary consciousness Optimus only suspected existed, but could never prove, a tiny bit of Rodimus...and himself.
Himself.
And who was that?
He was Optimus Prime, Autobot leader. The guy with the centipedes digging holes in his mind.
Now that was sure a big help.
How much of his mind was his own? Was his mind ever his own?
Yes.
When?
When.
When...he was...
He was.
Orion Pax.
Orion Pax was clean.
Squeaky.
Who was Orion Pax?
No one.
Except to himself. Except, maybe, to Ariel.
When had that changed? When had the...infestation started?
"You...you monster!" Ariel's body on the ground. She hadn't been afraid. Wrong. She'd been plenty afraid, just not paralyzed with fear.
He saw Megatron's face again...new. New to him. New to everyone. Not the eternal enemy yet. Not the single Transformer Optimus understood before all others...except Elita. .... Maybe not even Elita.
Megatron had seemed a monster. Orion had meant what he said. He had shaken this monster's hand, now that hand had killed Orion's hoped-for mate.
And Megatron had killed Ariel, just as he would now kill Orion Pax. Neither of them would ever again walk the world. Two new beings would be born in their places, but Orion and Ariel had passed that day.
Orion's last act was to try to kill Megatron.
It was a sincere effort, born out of what he thought was love for Ariel.
He had jumped, recklessly, at Megatron. At evil.
"No you don't Megatron!" Wrong voice. Same result.
Was it love that made him jump? Maybe. Just a spark of it though, like the unborn spark within Arcee now. Potential love might be more accurate. All the elements were there, but the feeling wasn't ready to stand up and walk yet. Certainly it was not the indomitable thing it would become as Elita grew ever wiser, ever stronger, ever more incredible in his optics over time and war and loss.
Nevertheless it was enough to send weaponless, clueless Orion against the foe he would lock horns with for the next millions of years with every intention of killing Megatron bare handed.
Then he died.
Idiot.
The next thing he knew he was coming to slowly in Alpha Trion's workshop. His body felt odd, his head odder.
There was a noise...like humming. Not in his audios...in his head.
The humming sounded....pleased.
"What? Who?" he had asked intelligently.
The older robot next to him was holding something in his hands. The humming grew louder as Optimus stared (for he was already Optimus, he just didn't know it yet.)
"I am Alpha Trion. This is the Autobot Matrix of Leadership. It is calling for you. You are its new bearer. It has Chosen you."
"What?" Optimus said again.
The older robot shook his head. Alpha Trion would tell Optimus later that this confusion was pretty normal in new Primes. He'd seen it before in Nova and Sentinel as the Matrix took hold.
"It has rebuilt you, my young friend. You are not who you were. Look at yourself. Your body is a warrior's now. The Matrix reshapes its bearer to suit itself, but I don't think you should tell anyone you have it for now. The Decepticons think it is lost or destroyed. Keeping it secret will be to your advantage. It gave you the strength to survive your wounds and I repaired them for you. We can blame your new body on me. What is your name?"
"My...my name is...Or...." Confusion stalled his answer.
My name is Orion Pax he thought, but a new voice whispered to him.
Optimus Prime...you are Optimus Prime... the Matrix informed him.
"I am Optimus Prime," he answered Trion.
The older bot had nodded and placed the gem and its casing into his hands. He felt what was needed and placed it within, into his heart.
It was like an old friend. Guiding. Helping....and at that moment he sought out Megatron with eager vengeance. He would stop the Decepticon. Permanently. When had he lost that resolve to just...finish it?
Too bad he didn't have more experience.
Too bad his future friends the Arielbots couldn't stay.
Too bad more seasoned soldiers like Kup and Ironhide hadn't sought him out yet.
Too bad he didn't yet have the skill to finish what he set out to do.
Too bad the Matrix couldn't protect him from the centipedes.
Somewhere in those first, awkward years Vector Sigma had blunted his resolve. It was easy, it had said. He was eager to be blunted. He didn't like killing. It wasn't his nature.
The Autobots were always on defense anyway.
No real warriors versus Megatron's legions of brutes.
It was always cut and run. Escape. Recruit. Cover the others. Thwart Megatron's goals but don't engage. We can't hold out against them.
Optimus and Elita had often wondered how they'd survived as long as they did. It had seemed a miracle.
Now Optimus knew. Megatron had his own centipedes to contend with. They weren't wiped out because Megatron wasn't allowed to wipe them out. Just as Optimus wasn't allowed to go on the offensive.
The Autobot ranks had built up slowly. Volunteers from among the victims.
But they were too inexperienced.
Their training improved.
We aren't strong enough.
Ultra Magnus was born from Kai's despair. Forged by Vector Sigma, Optimus now knew, to stiffen Prime's resolve when it needed help. Magnus took over training the newest recruits and a real army started to congeal out of the ranks of volunteers.
But...
We are the Autobots. Autobots don't kill.
Did those within the Matrix know he was tampered with?
Optimus doubted it.
After all, they were creations of Vector Sigma too. Optimus doubted it could reach them or influence them within the Matrix, but surely they were used to that evil touch just as he was.
The real soldiers among his people sometimes grew frustrated with him. Magnus and he had words many times.
And Ironhide. Kup.
Wheeljack would get furious now and then over all the repair work he had to do that interrupted his projects. Ratchet's fury was over the pain he couldn't always defeat.
Elita threatened to take command if he didn't start taking some definitive action... then suddenly dropped the issue. Mostly.
That always happened. They all dropped the issue.
Optimus was Chosen.
He stayed in command.
Centipedes in the minds of his people. He should have been replaced, acting as he was. Or rather, NOT acting as he was.
Cybertron was always in chaos. Other space-faring races gave it wide berth - just as Vector Sigma wanted.
And every so often, a pulse from the Matrix. Disappointment.
The war dragged. Energon grew scarce. Neutrals and soldiers starved to death.
A new resolve. Find energon. Go.
Leave Cybertron to Magnus.
Leave Elita.
Leave her behind.
She was getting too strong. Her mind and will were hardening as his could not. She was pushing too hard for a solution, and Vector Sigma found her hard to control. Loyalty to her troops, compassion for their people... she couldn't let the matter rest... and he listened to her.
So she was parted from him to weaken them both.
He found the thought that led up to his turning his back on her. She was too small for such a voyage. Too weak. Leave her - for her own good.
"It's too dangerous! We will return for you as soon as we need!"
I always need you Elita.
She was stronger than he was in so many ways.
He found it then. An old and useless thing. No longer strong. No longer relevant. An implant dying under the force of his love for her. The centipede lay half-buried in his thoughts, greyish, dull, and rotting. It stirred slightly as he contemplated it, and he felt a dim and childish need to hide his mate away "for her own good."
Idiot.
Crush that thought. Kill it. She gives you surges with her courage and strength. You love her for it. Her own good indeed. How utterly condescending. Amazing she forgave you for it.
The arrogance died easily. It was so decayed it fell apart in his hand. Rodimus was right. Removing these things felt good even as the pain increased. Even if parts of his mind were left bleeding life away.
The Ark's crash landing on Earth was nothing Vector Sigma could have controlled or predicted. Optimus, Megatron, and many of the major pawns from both sides were lost to Vector Sigma.
Aw.
And building up new armies took so much time and resources.
Earth had its own side-effects.
After each battle...the generals, the presidents, the police, and the mothers on the street.... "Why? Why don't you stop them for GOOD Optimus Prime?"
Autobots don't do that.
But...it made sense that they were asking.
So fragile.
So short lived. They don't understand. They don't have time.
The war was killing so many. Autobots don't kill. ... Do we let others be killed? They have so little time...
The schism in his mind was so obvious now. How could he not have noticed? His own honest need to protect Earth's residents went to war with his compulsion to let the war drag on and on.
He remembered Ironhide threatening to assault him as he and the Autobots nearly rode their honor into the sun after the Berger incident. Was leaving Earth undefended more honorable? Leaving billions unprotected was better? And the time he had let the Dinobots fight Devastator unaided after losing the duel with Megatron.... And, and, and...
"Let them go..." Over and over. "Let them go."
When was honor just an excuse for doing nothing? When real lives were at stake, could it be...dishonorable?
Magnus had resurfaced on Cybertron and rejoined them with a vengeance. Screaming at Optimus in the depths of the Arc shortly after coming to Earth for the first time was one of his first moves.
"You mean to tell me the only offensive assault on Decepticon headquarters here was made by CARLY WITWICKY? A human child?"
Magnus was right. That made no sense whatsoever.
Let them go?
Maybe that should change.
Change.
Change was coming.
Find the invader. Time for you to go little buggy! Let them go? I want Rodimus to let the slavers go! Why? So they can harm different little children? No. Not anymore! They must be stopped - at ANY cost! If it costs us our very souls then so be it! We are the Primes! We don't get to hold anything of ourselves in reserve. Rodimus sees it - he kills them. And I punish him for it! No more! No more letting them go!
This time the centipede was larger and it tried to bite him, but he stepped on it and twisted his foot around until it collapsed and squirted greenish ichor all over the place.
Ugh. Ouch. That mess is in my mind. That mess IS my mind.
Maybe...maybe now I can change.
Change.
Change was coming.
The next Chosen was coming.
Access to Earth's power and resources made new warriors a possibility and a priority. Vector Sigma grew busy, replacing those that were lost over the years. Among its new Autobot children were the Arielbots, the Protectobots, Arcee, Springer, Metroplex's consciousness, Blurr, and Hot Rod.
Optimus Prime was there for each of them when they came online. His was nearly always the first face they registered with their new optics. He hoped they liked it.
He liked what he saw in each of them.
But Hot Rod...the Matrix liked that one too, right from the start.
The new Autobot had lit his optics, declared his name, smiled that impetuous smile all in the same instant.
And the Matrix had purred into Optimus' mind. Just for a second.
It was so brief Optimus almost forgot it in the first years of Hot Rod's life. The war with Megatron was going badly on some fronts, better on others. Earth was growing more defensible, but they lost Cybertron completely in the process. Hot Rod himself made it easy to forget. It was hard to picture the boy succeeding Optimus when Hot Rod couldn't stay out of mischief longer than a day or two.
Nothing major...just...impulsive.
Like Orion. Jumping into things.
"You monster!" I'll kill you! I swear I will!
The Matrix had liked Orion.
It liked Hot Rod.
Maybe...maybe he should change.
On the moonbase, shortly before he died again, he was thinking about change. Time to start listening to Magnus and Elita. Time to give the humans what they were demanding.
Time to go on the offensive.
Vector Sigma had confirmed it. At that moment, it had decided to get rid of Optimus Prime. Prime was slipping out of control.
Sigma took the leash off Megatron.
Autobots paid with their lives. Bluestreak. Brawn. Prowl. Ironhide. Ratchet. Most of his team...his friends! Ah...but they were those who were most heavily influenced by Earth.
Optimus went into a killing rage the likes of which he hadn't felt since Ariel was shot.
The battle was brief, and for perhaps the first time since the tussle with Orion and Megatron it was completely sincere. Optimus and Megatron were both unchained and they weren't pulling their punches....but Optimus Prime wasn't a dock worker any more...and he threw Megatron down.
Aim the rifle.
Pull the trigger.
Come on Orion! Where are you when I need you?
Finish it!
I...
I...
I can't.
Autobots don't.
Optimus remembered struggling with himself. He thought of the people just lost, and the people yet to be lost in this never-ending war. His finger trembled around the trigger.
"Monster!"
Would he have done it? Could he have broken that control and finished it?
FINISH him! Optimus realized it was hard for him to even think of the word "kill."
Kill it. Kill the implant. Oh but it's a deep one. Deep.
He would never know if he would have done it. His hesitation cost him time. Megatron had reached for the hidden blaster and Hot Rod had leapt.
"No you don't Megatron!"
"Monster!"
Impulsive. Brave. Decisive. Chosen.
And in the way.
Damn it all.
Who am I?
"Optimus...forgive me," Hot Rod had said.
Forgive you? Who's asking who for forgiveness here? So young... The Matrix... don't you hear it? Don't you know what I just sentenced you to? I should have fired!
Guilt flared in Hot Rod's optics.
Guilt left Optimus mute to answer him
Give the Matrix to Magnus. He's the only choice.
But...
Give the Matrix to Magnus. He's the only choice.
Centipede.
It clamped its legs into the surface of his mind; holding on in spite of its complete irrelevance. Some part of him still wished Magnus could have held on to the Matrix just a little longer. He wished Hot Rod could have lived just a few more years. Not even a vorn... too young to die... even at the request of the Matrix. The grief was over-whelming. So many of them thought Hot Rod had killed him. They would never know it was the other way around.
Rip it out. The legs popped out of his mind like a zipper...one set at a time. Pop, pop, pop, pop.....Ouch. Little pools off life-force filled up the holes where the legs were, and then overflowed, and joined together....
He had given the Matrix to Magnus. Vector Sigma knew about Hot Rod, wanted Magnus. It wanted someone it thought it could control.
Control Magnus? Hah! He's really under control now! You were better off with me you stupid piece of slag!
Give the Matrix to Magnus. He's the only choice.
Maybe, if he could have resisted, if he could have given Hot Rod the succession at the moment of his death, it would have alleviated some of the doubt in both Hot Rod and the Autobots. It wouldn't have ever been easy, but it might have been easier.
Or rather, harder for Vector Sigma to plant young Rodimus with his own crop of centipedes.
He's only twenty Earth years old. Optimus had told himself instead. He's not ready! Magnus can carry it for him for a while.
Idiot....but at least he got a break.
He was revived against his will. Let this farce end already!
Quintissons. They were monsters too. Orion would have very much liked to kill them as well, but Optimus fought with Rodimus instead.
Who's the monster now?
Died again. About slagging time.
Revived again.
No. Really. Enough already. Four times is a bit ridiculous.
But it stuck this time. He was back.
This time was different though.
Rodimus dumped the Matrix and the job back into Optimus' lap with deceptive glee...falling victim to his own centipedes. Vector Sigma didn't like him. Even with Kup and Magnus "steering" him the young Prime had a lot of influence coming from his time on Earth. In some ways he thought more like a human and was hard for Sigma to control.
So Hot Rod was back too. Sure. The dead did a lot of walking these days.
Idiots. Both of them.
Optimus couldn't return to Cybertron. Elita was missing. He let others be his hands there. Vector Sigma's hold must have slipped some then. Some.
The Matrix was empty and he told himself the faint surges of pain he felt from it when Hot Rod was around didn't mean anything. It took something dramatic to clue him in, like a slap in the face.
Galvatron ripped Hot Rod's innards out...and Hot Rod smiled, hoping to be as dead on the outside as he was on the inside. It came to that before Optimus got his head out of his tailpipe. Idiot. He knew how that felt.
The partnership changed things.
THEY were changing things. The two of them together did what neither could do alone.
Out-think the centipedes. When we fight our ideas...when we wrestle them together...we defeat the enemies inside and out. I act more decisively and you believe in a molecule of self-worth. Rodimus...I think we may have made a miracle there.
Vector Sigma had confessed to panicking over the partnership during its interrogation. Optimus remembered Rodimus' smile at that moment. Triumphant.
"We outgrew you Vector Sigma. We beat you then," he whispered. Optimus knew there would be no sweeter victory for Rodimus than this, but for Optimus it was hollow.
He might have won back then, but Vector Sigma's controls had wormed their way back into Optimus' mind.
Somewhere between his torture and his mind-link Rodimus had shattered Sigma's control. In doing so he also violated the worst of his partner's compulsions.
Autobot's don't.
Autobot's don't kill. They don't assassinate. They don't hunt their enemies down like a wolves on a blood trail. Autobot's don't kill.
Or...
"Monster!" I'll kill you! I swear I will!
So deep....
Autobot's don't!
Autobot's don't!
Autobot's don't! Well...they don't want to...
But if they HAVE to?
Rip it out...so very deep...but if Autobot's have to...they may not want to...but if they have to...Autobots will kill. Even if it's a thought invading their brain.
Optimus reached for the alien implant...this one was different though. Strong. This one fought back.
It reared up high over his head, huge in his imagination, and making use of his symbolic label of a centipede. The idea clamped its venomous pincers into his already wounded sense of self. The poison... guilt, disillusionment, and despair. Prime's blinding idealism fought him. His inflexible morality and sense of honor fought him. Vector Sigma fought him.
Killing - wrong.
Yes.
But faced with a choice of evils...sometimes.
Autobots don't...shouldn't...DON'T!
Optimus fought back. Not this time! This time my mind is my own! I believe in those things but not at ANY cost! Letting more die is too high a price for keeping my hands clean!
Catch the centipede. Squeeze it. This is MY mind, and I have a right to that if nothing else! I am the Chosen of the Matrix! You had no right to change what I was...what they Chose!
It bit him, fought him, tried to wrap its multitude of legs around him and into him. Its tail end sunk into the surface of his mind for traction. It poisoned him over and over, sinking in curved scimitar fangs into his soul all the way to the root.
He dug his fingers in and squeezed.
It writhed violently, pummeling him. They tumbled together, rolling and wrapped up like obscene lovers.
He crushed his fingers into it.
It constricted.
It scrabbled dozens of deadly legs against him, into him, cutting trenches of agony into his soul.
It bit.
It bit.
It bit.
He held on.
It weakened.
It bit.
His life hemorrhaged out of more wounds than he could classify.
He held on.
It died.
Oh....now that's some pain. See Rodi? I can take it too. I think I may be dying. My mind is...damaged. I wonder....will I get to stay dead this time?
CONTINUED IN PART D