Darkness and cold surrounded him as he moved about in the black corridors that seemed to tower over him. He knew where he was; he recognised the place only too well. What he didn't understand is why he was back here after all this time. He should have been on Cybertron instead.

"Hello?" he called, his deep timbre echoing hollowly throughout the mausoleum. "Is anyone here?"

The only answer he got was silence.

This isn't right, he thought. Somebody should be here.

"Hello?" he tried again. "Can anybody hear me?"

"Prime?"

Optimus turned around, startled to hear that soft voice so close to him. When he saw who it was, however, he stared at the familiar face incredulously.

"Huffer?" A part of Optimus screamed at him that this wasn't possible, and yet there it was. The minibot was there, in front of him, his face one of utter anguish and despair. "What's wrong?"

"We can't find our bodies, Prime," Huffer said, sounding confused. "Where are they?"

Optimus felt his heart sinking at that question. Was that why he was back here? To be reminded of his mistakes?

"They're gone, Huffer. Destroyed. I'm sorry," he answered ruefully.

"You sure about that, Chief?"

Ironhide. Indeed, the weapons' specialist was standing a couple of feet away from the Autobot leader, his arms crossed and regarding Optimus with quite the sceptical look.

"I set the mausoleum on self-destruct myself," Optimus answered. "There's nothing left."

"Maybe," Ratchet said, appearing next to Optimus as if out of nowhere. "But that doesn't answer the question."

"I don't understand," Optimus said. He took a step back, his gaze locked on his friends. "I've told you what happened. What more do you want from me?"

"They want you to remember," Alpha Trion's kind voice rang in Optimus's audios.

Optimus snapped out of his troubled recharge mode, onlining his optics sharply. He looked at his surroundings, and saw that the coldness and dark of the mausoleum was gone; he was in his room, on his berth, as he should have been. Even so, his spark was still pulsating rapidly in his chestplate and he had to sit up. He rubbed the slumber off his optics, hoping to rid himself of the last remnants of the… dream? Nightmare? Optimus couldn't possibly tell anymore. Whatever it was, though, it had the power to disturb him to no end.

"It happened again, didn't it?"

Optimus nodded, sighing. He knew that it was all the answer Elita-1 needed.

There was the whirring sound of gears in motion, and then long fingers touched his shoulder.

"What was it this time?"

The Autobot leader bowed his head, locking his gaze on the floor. "They wanted to know where their bodies were. They couldn't find them in the mausoleum," he replied before facing her. "It was strange, Elita. It almost felt as if they were trying to tell me something."

Elita-1 didn't speak at once, probably contemplating on Optimus's words. "Have you talked to Smokescreen?"

It took a lot for an Autobot leader to feel like a sparkling caught in the act of doing something wrong. This time, however, Optimus felt exactly like that.

"Optimus…" Elita started, shaking her head.

"Smokescreen already has his hands full," he said. "There are other Autobots that need his help more than I do."

"And you know that this can't carry on either," the femme said. "You've had those dreams ever since you returned from the Matrix. This isn't a coincidence." She cupped Optimus's face, which was free from the battlemask, stroking it tenderly. "All I'm suggesting is to see him and ask for his advice. I'm sure he'll be more than willing to offer it to you."

Optimus had to admit that his bondmate had a point.

"All right, Elita. I promise you I'll speak with him when the time comes," he said and stood up. "Now, however, I must find Jazz. We need to contact Earth and discuss the matter of supplies we should send."

Elita-1 nodded her understanding and she stood up as well. "I have to attend to some matters that can't wait as well. Chromia and Nova are expecting me so we can look over the new Autobot protoform facility." She smiled a bit. "I guess we have our hands full too, don't we?"

"Indeed. But I'm glad you're here with me," Optimus said with a smile of his own before leaning down for a light, loving kiss on Elita's lips. In the next moment, he put his battlemask on and exited, heading towards the control room. He knew that Jazz was already there, waiting for the Autobot leader to show up.

Sure enough, the first thing that Optimus saw when the doors to the control room opened was the saboteur. Jazz was standing in the centre of the room, his gaze locked on the newly-installed Teletraan-III's monitors and reading all the information flashing there.

"Anything interesting going on, Jazz?" the Autobot leader asked, walking up to his current second-in-command.

"Negative, Prime. Everything's been real quiet down here," Jazz said, facing Optimus. "Can't say I'm complaining though."

"That makes two of us," Optimus replied with a nod. However, as he looked around, he noticed that someone was missing from the picture. "Where's Red?"

Jazz smiled a bit. "He went to his usual round, checking to see if the cameras are working."

Optimus chuckled a bit at that. "He realises he could have run a diagnostics scan, of course?"

"He has. Twice," Jazz replied. "He just said there was no harm in being certain."

"Indeed." And yet Optimus's mirth died almost at once as another, much darker thought crossed his mind. "What is Smokescreen's assessment?"

Jazz's optics dimmed slightly underneath his visor. "He said that, as long as Red goes about his routine, he should be fine."

"And what of his memories?" Optimus asked.

"No way," Jazz said. "Not yet anyway."

Optimus's spark sank at that, and the Autobot leader felt for the security chief. Red Alert had been one of the mechs who had suffered the most during the Hate Plague, and the Cure had hardly helped him. Though all the Autobots had returned back to the Autobot City after their recovery, Red hadn't shown up at all, not even on the next day or the day after. When Inferno and Hoist finally found him, five days later, Red was in such a state of dementia that he barely even knew who or where he was anymore. Everyone decided that there was only one thing left to do in order to help Red out of his insanity: they erased his memories from that time, hoping that they'd be able to restore them once Red would be able to deal with them on his own. In the meantime, Inferno watched over him, notifying Hoist and Smokescreen whenever a problem came up. Though it wasa harsh solution, Red was steadily on his way to a full recovery at least. That was more than could be said about others, unfortunately.

"Attention," Teletraan-III said at that moment, cutting into Optimus's train of thought. "Incoming transmission from Earth Commander Ultra Magnus."

Optimus and Jazz exchanged a look. Ultra Magnus was calling them earlier than the appointed time. Had something happened then?

"Put him through, Teletraan-III," Optimus commanded.

"Of course, Prime," Teletraan-III said, complying with the order at once. A few seconds later, Ultra Magnus appeared on the screen, and Optimus noticed how rigidly his old friend stood, tension coursing through his entire circuitry. Things didn't look good at all.

"Prime, do you read?" Ultra Magnus asked, his tone calm and professional; he was keeping his emotions in check.

"Loud and clear. What is it, Ultra Magnus?"

"I received a transmission from Goldbug," the Earth Commander answered. "The Ark is unearthed and going through repairs as we speak."

That didn't sound quite so bad. "And Teletraan-I?" Optimus asked.

"He's functional. In fact, functional enough to receive messages sent to him."

Optimus and Jazz stared at Ultra Magnus incredulously.

"What kind of message?" the Autobot leader asked.

Ultra Magnus stepped back and nodded to his right. "Blaster, do you want to do us the honours?"

"Sure thing, Magnus, my man," Blaster's voice sounded off-screen and, in a matter of seconds, the communications' officer himself appeared. "Yo, Prime, check this out! You're not gonna believe this!"

"Try me, Blaster," Optimus replied.

"Well, for starters, it's an automated message, playing around the clock repeating itself. Thing is, the signal is weak and I could only catch bits and pieces of it. Here's what I managed to enhance."

Blaster pressed the play button on his chest-plate, and the sound of recorded static filled the air.

"…This is… attack… six Autobots… assistance acquired…"

Optimus frowned. The voice was distorted, yet there was no doubt that this was a distress signal.

"Did you pinpoint the location of the source, Blaster?"

"You betcha! I'm sending you over the coordinates right now." Indeed, Teletraan-III's monitors flashed brilliantly, indicating that the message had just arrived.

"Got it. Thanks," Optimus said, and he got ready to end the transmission.

"Whoa, hold on, Optimus. I still haven't told you the really incredible news."

Optimus froze. "There's more?"

"Yup," Blaster said. "The message was sent in a secret Autobot frequency."

"No surprise there," Jazz said. "Whoever sent the message wanted to make sure the good guys got it."

"That's not the surprise," Blaster said. "The surprise is that we haven't used this frequency since the Battle of Autobot City."

Now both Optimus and Jazz were downright dumbfounded.

"Are you sure about this, Blaster?"

"100%" Blaster said.

"I see…" Optimus crossed his arms in a thoughtful manner. "We'll need to think this over. I'll contact you again as soon as we've reached a decision."

"Okay, Prime. Blaster out."

And with that, the transmission ended. Optimus didn't speak for many long moments, feeling almost overwhelmed. Finally, though, he faced Jazz, and he could tell that the saboteur was just as shaken as he was.

"Jazz… Can you tell me why this frequency wasn't used again after the Battle?"

"Rodimus figured that the Decepticons had found out about it and used it to eavesdrop on us. That was probably why they knew about the mission on Earth."

"I see. He wanted to make sure history didn't repeat itself," the Autobot leader mused aloud. "Did he make it a direct order that no Autobot should use this frequency?"

"He sure did," Jazz answered. "Whoever used this frequency obviously couldn't know about the order, so he must be a Decepticon."

"Or an Autobot who couldn't have known about the order," Optimus pointed out.

"But who could that be?" Jazz asked, frowning.

"That's what we're going to find out." Optimus pushed his shoulders back, his mind set. "Contact the Twins, Blurr and Wreck-Gar; we're going to investigate the source of the signal."

"Gotcha," Jazz said, making a motion to walk towards the exit. However, he stopped at the last moment.

"Jazz?" Optimus could see that something troubled the saboteur.

Jazz pursed his lip components momentarily and finally decided to just go ahead and speak his mind.

"Prime, with your permission, I want to add one more Autobot in the team."

"Who?" Optimus asked.

"Bluestreak."

Optimus certainly didn't expect that kind of request.

"Are you sure about this, Jazz?" he asked cautiously. "I've read First Aid's report."

Jazz sighed. "First Aid's afraid; that's understandable. But the kid's an Autobot too, Prime; one of the best we have," he reasoned.

"He's not well," Optimus pointed out.

"He's been through a lot," Jazz admitted, "But he's also a fighter; you know it, and I know it. Just give him a chance, Prime. If anything, it will put his mind off his own problems."

It was obvious Jazz didn't intend to back down. So, Optimus finally nodded his consent.

"Fine," he said quietly. "But I don't want to see him break, Jazz. If he shows any signs that he can't handle the situation, I'll have to ask him to back away from the Autobots once we get back from the mission."

Jazz nodded. "Understood. Thank you, Prime."

Prime allowed himself a small smile underneath his face-plate. "Don't thank me yet, Jazz. Let's see how he pulls through."

TBC…