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[Chapter Four: Access Granted. Displaying Contents.]
. . . . .
Elita made certain that she and Optimus were far away from prying eyes or listening ears.
"Why...?" was the first question that passed her lips as she stopped, stood and looked up into Optimus Prime's eyes. She was tense and unsettled, searching for answers as she scrutinized his upgraded form, her question multifaceted beneath its simple surface.
"What is it, Elita?" Optimus asked softly, not asking for clarification of her request. He was no mind reader, but it did not take one to see that the fembot commander was teetering on the brink of a breakdown. He responded with a question of his own, attempting to gently coax the source of Elita's troubles into the open, reaching out to sooth her frazzled nerves by cupping her cheek with his hand.
At that simple gesture, the pink and white femme's icy demeanor melted, a rush of warm memories flooding back into her mind. She let go of her animosity, and gently cursed herself that after all this time Optimus still knew exactly what it took to calm her inner storm. She shuttered her optics and vented a deep, cleansing sigh, just savoring the sensation of his touch.
Prime smiled, if only a little. "I missed you too," he murmured, having a good idea of what had been eating at her.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered tremulously. "I had been so long since we heard anything from the Wreckers or Ultra Magnus as to your fate – we saw the Ark and the Nemesis vanish into that deteriorating space bridge and there was never any word … I gave up hope of ever seeing you again. Things had been so hard, and then suddenly Cybertron is alive again and you … you came walking through the gates …"
Dropping to one knee to meet Elita more at her level, Optimus pulled her against him into a warm embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "We lost so many shuttles in the war when the Decepticons turned the warp cannons on them. Yours went down. I … believed the worst. If I had known you were still here, I would have found a way to bring you and the crew of your ship to Earth. I didn't know, Elita. I'm so sorry."
Optical lubricant rolled down the fembot's cheeks. "It's all right, you're alive, thank Primus you're alive!" she gasped, burying her face against his neck. She laughed briefly amid her tears. "I was actually angry that you were still alive, I feel like such a fool!"
"I probably deserved your ire," Prime assuaged, just thankful to see Elita still in one piece, remembering the emptiness that had consumed him as he watched her shuttle go down, helpless to do anything about it, and forced by the needs of command to keep functioning, keep focusing on saving those who were still alive, given no quarter to grieve or despair for his loss.
"Shh. You did not. My emotions got the better of me," Elita softly countered, pulling away from his neck to wipe her cheeks, resting her hands on his shoulders. "You're alive, Cybertron is functioning, Megatron is gone and the war is over. There's finally a dawn at the end of this long, dark night."
Her smile warmed his spark. "Rebuilding won't be easy, but hard work is always more pleasant in the company of those you love."
"It's been too long, Orion," Elita whispered, drawing in closer.
"It has, Ariel," Optimus murmured, closing the distance between them with a kiss.
. . . . .
"Everything has continued as you have so ordered, my Lord. Starscream is secured in the seventh level of the holding facilities," Feint stated, bowing low on one knee before Shockwave.
"Good. I will examine Starscream personally in due time," Shockwave stated, canting his head downward at the submissive femme. "And the Wreckers left believing they had finally destroyed my last facility?"
"Yes, my Lord. The Dinobots also believe that you had abandoned Cybertron to be reunited with Lord Megatron," Feint continued. "They have been preoccupied with the Swarm and its movements across the planet."
"Excellent," Shockwave praised. "It is as I predicted. Grimlock is a fit warrior, but he is no longer mentally capable of anticipating my designs. What of Elita-One and her soldiers?"
"Scouts report that she believes as Grimlock does, that you are either offworld or offline," Feint answered. "Though your arrival comes at a fortuitous time, Lord Shockwave. We have recently taken one of her soldiers prisoner."
"An unexpected windfall. I expect a full report later," Shockwave said. "Rise, Feint. Your service to me has been exemplary as usual. You will accompany me now to the main laboratory."
"At once my Lord," she said, standing and taking her place at Shockwave's side as the purple mech continued down the hallway of his facilities beneath Tarn.
Of the same frame-build and type as Soundwave, Feint was slightly shorter than Shockwave, a lithe flying type built for stealth and agility. Her body was painted a bold ultramarine and black, with unusual golden-orange powerlines traversing her torso, upper arms and thighs. Her head was rounded and tear-drop shaped, similar in style to a Terran motorcyclist's helmet, with a glossy black visor covering her face. Unlike Megatron's loyal communications officer, Feint had not taken a vow of silence, and would, at times, retract her visor to reveal cunning orange optics and a beautiful face beneath. Such beauty was lost upon Shockwave, who was no longer capable of being moved by a fembot's charms.
"Megatron is no longer of concern to us. I have assumed command," Shockwave stated as he strode briskly across the dull gray walls and floors.
Feint seemed surprised. "Lord Megatron is … dead?" she asked, needing confirmation of such weighty news.
"Slain by the Autobot scout, Bumblebee. One might call such a demise ironic," Shockwave said as he stopped at a set of bulkhead doors, entering an access code into scanner pad at the main terminus of the lab facilities.
Feint burst into sardonic laughter. "Slain by a scout? Oh how the mighty truly have fallen. He didn't even get a glorious end at the hands of the Prime he so hated!"
Shockwave turned to stare at his assistant, waiting for her to bring her emotions to heel before moving on. The Institute had robbed him of his emotional responses, but he still remembered what it was like to have once had them, and understood their place and function in others. If anything, Shockwave believed he now had a more firm grasp on understanding emotions than those who were still held in their sway; he could objectively quantify and manipulate them in others, untouched by them himself.
Feint cleared her intakes, noting how Shockwave stared. "Apologies, my Lord. I could not help myself."
"No, you could not," he calmly replied, moving into the terminus as the door opened in front of them.
Inside, the terminus was a large, circular room with other hubs leading to other parts of the facility like spokes on a wheel. The floors were marked with directions and labels as to what hallways lead where, everything well-lit and well-maintained. Drones trundled about carrying out their programmed tasks with repetitive efficacy, and power conduits hummed and pulsed through the walls, giving the entire facility the feel of a clockwork organism.
Shockwave continued through the terminus towards the surgical facilities on level 3B. "What is the current status of the dominant Insecticons?" he asked Feint, who followed just behind at his left.
"Shrapnel is still recovering from his last battle with Grimlock, and Bombshell is presently occupied maintaining the holding facilities for our research specimens. Kickback has been directing the hive mind of the swarm, which has left him essentially chained to one spot," Feint reported.
"And the number of the swarm?" Shockwave asked.
"Holding steady at around three thousand. The trine are unable to maintain or generate any worthwhile drones beyond that number," Feint answered, sounding disappointed.
"The Autobots have arrived in greater number now that Megatron has been disposed of, and it is a near certainty that they will send communiques to surviving neutrals and fellow Autobots to return. Remaining Decepticon forces will also have a marked interest in Cybertron, and the struggle to seize command for a counteroffensive against the Autobots will erupt shortly. If we are to maintain traction in our hold of Cybertron, those numbers must be increased or augmented," Shockwave explained. "Summon Kickback to surgical ward 3B, and inform the Doctor that I will require his assistance in an upgrade."
"As you command, my Lord," Feint nodded; she then paused, finials raised to receive an incoming transmission. "- Our drone network has just reported sighting of Predaking, Lord Shockwave. Your orders?"
Shockwave turned to look over his shoulder at Feint. "Awaken and release the other Predacons in storage, and send them to locate Predaking; order them not to engage him in battle, but to lead him to us. I am certain that his racial loyalties will give way to filial obedience once more," he instructed, before moving on to 3B. "I am also certain that your particular gift will ensure they follow your orders."
The outline of pleased eyes and smiling mouth appeared on the black reflective surface of her visor. "You may rely on it."
. . . . .
[Chapter Four: Complete.]
[End of Transmission.]