Author's Note: IronRaven recently posted an amazing fic set in the Botosphere 'verse titled "Precursors: Etymology." Seriously, go read it!

Hunted
A few days later, I went into my dreams better equipped than ever before. I'd talked with Mikaela about it, and she had some good ideas, too. I was almost eager to turn my arguments loose on him.

"Optimus," I greeted him.

"Brother," he acknowledged.

"I still haven't given up."

He gave me a pointed look. "Nor have I."

"Okay, then." I bounced a little on my toes. "So what exactly is the problem with giving us only what we need to help build the harvester?"

"Your species is resourceful, Sam, and we've witnessed your capacity for war."

"Yeah, well, we don't just make weapons, you know."

He just gave me a Look (which I totally would have missed without the bond) and disbelief washed from his spark to mine.

"Okay, yeah, pretty much anything could be used for a weapon, but most of the time it isn't. Most the time, it's not even intended to be. I mean, September 11th was fought with box cutters and boiling water and airplanes. But we still ride on airplanes and use box cutters and make coffee every single day without using them to kill each other."

He shook his head and stubbornly stared out across the ocean.

"Being resourceful just means we're resourceful. Sometimes that's good and sometimes it isn't, but it's like punishing us for being smart."

"If your species is advanced enough for our technology, they will discover it on their own."

"Sure, if it's for our benefit. But it isn't. Optimus, I want to help. There are a lot of humans who would if they really knew what was going on. I'm not talking weapons. I'm talking things like techniques for refining ore. Ratchet's always ranting about how inferior the metal is here."

Turning toward me, he planted his hands on his hips. "There is no technology so innocent that humans could not put it to violent use."

"Like Starscream and his twisted All Spark Cube?" I challenged. "You do realize you basically just said we're all a bunch of Decepticons."

"I will not share our technology with humans," he declared.

"Yeah?" Pushing deeper, I dove into his mind and hovered over the bit of code that would wake him up. With an imagined push of a button, I could set off his internal alarm clock. "Seems to me that at least some humans can be trusted with your tech - not just any old tech, either, but the processor of a Prime."

He vented a sigh of frustration, and I retreated out of his head. "Yours is not the only worthy race. Our brothers used those exact words. You're keeping humans at arms' length because you're prejudiced."

Genuine anger bubbled across the bond and I mentally backed away. I really didn't want a repeat of our first big fight.

But he sensed my withdrawal and pulled me into a tight hug of the heart, not letting me get far. Neither of us wanted this argument to actually put a wedge between us, even though I wasn't about to budge and it looked like he wouldn't either. I didn't even try to resist him and said in a low voice, "Love ya, too, Optimus." It was time to move on and dream of something else.

…

Hunter

Despite our pleasant shared memories, I was still furious with my brother when I pulled out of recharge. Prejudice had nothing to do with our refusal to share our technology. My judgment was based on the very real and compelling evidence that human nature was inherently violent.

It would not take a charismatic sociopath like Megatron or even a twisted glitch like Flatline to destroy humanity. Far more concerning to me were the humans who assumed that theirs was the only correct path and were willing to indiscriminately kill those who disagreed. A blinding sense of superiority inspired far more harm than outright malice.

The people who were sure they were always right were far more dangerous than those who knew they were wrong. That was how it began with Megatron. The council had given him the tremendous trust of protecting not only our lives but the Cube as well, and he took that responsibility very seriously. At first, he was motivated by nothing more than the well-being of our people; I knew this because we were still bond-brothers. It took more than a dozen human lifetimes for the disillusionment of politics to begin taking their toll. Even then, it was a subtle shift in thinking. He began to believe that these squabbles among the powerful were not his concern. Let them worry about energon distribution and good relations with other races. He was the Protector of Cybertron and that was responsibility enough. They would advance their causes and he would advance his. That was the pattern of the Primes who each had their responsibilities and trusted their brothers to look to their own offices.

It was almost two dozen human lifetimes before I recognized another subtle shift, this time more in spark than in processor. He didn't trust the council. It was not until I'd met my brother Primes that I realized this was where Megatron went astray. The pattern of the Primes was a division of power, yes, but it was also fundamentally built on trust. Without trust, there was suspicion of motive and jealousy of power. Without trust, Megatron felt that the mechs who wanted to make peace with another race were undermining his own labors as Protector.

Slowly he began to believe that any councilmech who disagreed with him was opposed to him. Over time, he decided that if they were so arrogant as to oppose their own Protector, he was duty-bound to oppose them. As Protector, he was obligated to assume as much of the council's power as he could, since they clearly could not be trusted with what they had.

About that time, our parents were extinguished. Not until my own death did I learn Megatron was the one who murdered them.

The making of a Cybertronian tyrant took millennia. Humans were fleeting in all they did, and their tyrants rose and fell in a cycle of decades at most. They were so quickly corrupted and so apt to forget. Everyone from rogue individuals to entire nations could turn in violence against their brothers in a frighteningly-short period of time, even if it took several of their generations. I could not permit them access to our technology.

I was not prejudiced; I was simply observant.

But I was also brother to a human Prime, and I still did not understand the full ramifications of that fact. Our brother Primes told us some of the significance. He was the voice of the hunted to the hunter, the check on my power to take and give life. He was a companion, a bond-brother, and cherished kin. Like me, he was tasked with the many roles of a Prime, roles that had previously been shouldered by seven mechs. We complemented each other.

He was also, as he pointed out, a reminder that mine was not the only worthy race. My brothers didn't elaborate; I suspect it was because there were many ways in which humans were worthy and it would have been too time-consuming to list them all.

The humans were worthy of our respect, of our protection, of our friendship. One of them was even worthy to be a Prime. I could not, however, consider them trustworthy. I would be hesitant to share the knowledge of our weaponry even with Sam. No amount of urging or arguing the expediency of sharing that knowledge would change my mind. It frustrated me to no end that Sam refused to see the wisdom of my choice. I would not yield, even if it meant we were unable to replenish the All Spark. I made my choice in Mission City. The survival of Earth was worth the sacrifice of my entire race, if need be.

I was so sure of my course that I would sacrifice not only my own life but the lives of innocents for my convictions. I had condemned my one-time brother for doing the same. It was a sin for which both Megatron and I bore the blame. Megatron was so certain he was right that he would crush others underfoot rather than be dissuaded; I was willing to sacrifice our entire race rather than yield. Our bond might be severed, but I was and always would be Megatron's brother.

What I was doing now went beyond the necessary evil of opposing the Decepticons. Like Megatron with me, I was distrustful of Sam. The realization shook me.

Kind encouragement swelled across the bond, though there was a hint of hesitancy to it. After our argument last night, I was not surprised that Sam was concerned. I clung to my brother Prime, focusing inward to center myself. For all our fraternal similarities, Megatron did not share the peace I could always seem to come back to. Sam happily absorbed that calm, and I could sense I still had his undivided attention.

Bonds defined relationships among my kind, but we were also defined by our bonds. I was Megatron's brother, and that truth had defined me for a very long time. He and I were binaries, poles. Now I shared a bond with another brother who was alien in so many ways, and Sam disturbed that balance. For the first time since accepting the title of Prime, I truly had the opportunity to choose my fate. Would I choose to be Megatron's brother or Sam's? One was carved of adamant, and the other was from a race that was 'squishy' in more ways than one. I was mere metal, caught between the two. I was inevitably influenced by them, but there was always a choice and this was no exception. To embrace Megatron's influence would be to turn away from my bond brother. To embrace Sam's influence would be to turn away from the convictions that had carried me through this endless war.

There was always a choice, but that didn't mean I liked my options.