Chapter Thirty Four
23rd December
1959hrs
"Commander, I have something to report on. Its nothing major, but you said you wanted to be informed of anything out of the ordinary given some recen…"
"Alright, lad, don't need an entire pro-loge just have at it and let me know what you've found".
"Well, Sir, at first I just thought they were little seismic activity as this area is known for it, but over the passed few hours there's been a few more rumblings centred at the same area, and they're not strong enough to be natural and they've on the surface".
"And? So there's a few rumblings, probably some humans having themselves a loud get together".
"No, sir, its at the site of an old Decepticon base".
Kup stood from behind his desk and looked over at the young nervous mech.
"Get a team out there, now".
The security director was in no mood to deal with any activity at any Decepticon base, no matter how derelict or abandoned and certainly no matter how mild. If they got out there and found two bears mating, then fine, but it was better then letting it slide.
"Sir, there's something else…"
"What?"
Kup asked as he started picking up digipads.
"I ran a more detailed scan, and I was able to pick up Autobot signatures, I couldn't identify all of them, but one of them is aerial commander Springer".
Kup looked over at the young mech and narrowed his optics, more from anger at the Twins then at the mech before him – who seemed to be taking the glance personally. The older ignored the young mech's insecurities and walked past him, he reiterated his order and then was out in the corridor walking quickly as his worn joints would carry him towards the Prime.
2010hrs
"Rodimus, lad, we might have a lead on the Twins, or at the very least Springer".
"Real?"
"One of our monitors picked up Autobot signatures at an old Decepticon base, he also picked up seismic activity, one of the signatures he able to put an ID to was Springer's".
Rodimus murmured in response. Kup noticed he was still focused on the screaming city commander, or former if First Aid couldn't get his systems back to normal.
"I thought Aid sedated him".
"He did, but he's come back out of it again. First Aid told me he gave Mags enough to put Omega Supreme down, and no he wasn't exaggerating".
"I'd tend to believe him, lad".
"What the hell's going on, Kup? I mean, this is one of this shit fests where you're experience is more then welcome! I have to say to you now, Kup that I've had my share of quirky goings on in my life, but recently, there's been shit happening, and I gotta be honest, Kup, its freaking me out. I mean, I bet Optimus never had to deal with crap like this, and if he did I bet he dealt with it like he deals with everything, perfect!"
Before Kup could reassure the new leader, First Aid came out and joined them in the small room.
"Oh, Kup, hello".
First Aid said softly as he looked nervously at them both.
"What's the haps, Aid?"
Rodimus inquired.
"Not good I'm afraid, my scans aren't showing any physical glitches, there's no virus, no corrupted programme, no damage to any of the circuits, there is no evidence what so ever to support a fractured or fraying CPU. This, well, I think this is going to make me sound a bit… insane, but from what I can see, I think something is striking this insanity, this fear, straight into his spark".
"Is he saying anything?"
Kup inquired.
"Yeah, but its probably not that much of an improvement over him just screaming".
Rodimus stated.
"So far his words have been singular, things like "no" and "don't" and "Primus", nothing that makes any coherency".
The doctor responded.
"First Aid, have you ever seen anything like this before? Is there anything in your files that suggest something like this?"
Kup asked, the medic simply shook his head sadly and looked down.
"I'm doing everything I can, Kup".
He added.
"Some ghost kicked my arse!!"
Rodimus suddenly blurted out.
The other two turned, optics wide.
"What did you just say lad?"
"I was with some… a friend… they left and then something showed up in my room, and when I say "showed up" I mean started throwing stuff around and shaking my berth! I know it sounds crazy and I know it sounds nuts but it's the truth, and seeing Magnus like that, knowing that the twins are running around a few energon goodies short of an interstellar picnic just confirms it for me. Unless there's some kind of wide spread insanity then this place is just… well… ghost central".
Despite the looks from his companions, despite the realisation he probably just made himself look like a complete dumb arse or crazy mech, he actually felt relief. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a heavy burden had been removed.
Their glowing blue optics watching him was unsettling to him, Kup opened his mouth about to say something but Rodimus didn't want to hear it.
"I gotta go! Sort this shit out, old man, this goes beyond my pay grade!"
Rodimus turned and then ran out of the office.
"Well, that was unexpected".
First Aid said simply.
"He's not the only one seeing things, Aid, but you're a young mech; I wouldn't expect you to have experienced what so many of us older mechs have".
Kup turned and began to walk out when First Aid said:
"Actually…"
Kup stopped and looked over his shoulder, an optic ridge rising.
"What's that lad?"
"Ah… actually I think there's a few other tests I can still run".
First Aid pulled back from what he was going to say and looked down, almost ashamed.
"Okay, lad, you do whatever you think might help".
The older mech left the room. The doctor slumped down into a chair.
"Way to go, Aid, way to go".
He whimpered irritably at himself.
2118hrs
Rodimus stopped and transformed outside the ancient Autobot ship. The Ark. They still used it, but recently it had stood empty as all Autobot forces were being deployed to the city to protect it from any further attack and to ensure there was a larger work force to assist the reconstruction.
So, now, it stood empty. Magnus had stated it was still a valuable assert and it needed to be utilised, but in the mean time it was a risk to their security as there was still Autobot technology that while Decepticons wouldn't want given its age, to certain human groups it would prove a gold mine.
It was a freaky sort of structure at this time of night. A harsh wind picked up and blew passed him violently, kicking up dust and debris of dead trees into his face. It was completely dark and very, very empty. He had to bite the bullet, as the expression was said, and just go inside. He wasn't sure what his purpose was for coming here, but it was the best, well, only idea he'd had in the last few weeks that this debacle had been going on.
He walked slowly along the entrance; the light from the slither of the moon soon disappeared. His optics switched to infrared and he was able to see the complete desolation that resided within this ancient place. The rocky over hangs had the occasional nocturnal organic life form scuttling over it, there were large puddles of dust and dirt that had blown in here and every now and the constant curves of the corridor's entrance were less then settling. He reached the main chamber after ten minutes of walking through the pitch.
Teletran was completely offline, so there was no light source coming from it. More rocks lay strewn about the place, having become part of the décor, but also being dislodged from both volcanic and Decepticon activity. A large spider web reached from the top of the once so valuable computer to a series of overturned rusting chairs, the owner's dried carcass dangled from the mid section of, its empty shell gently dancing across the stale breeze that passed through.
"PRIMUS!"
He screamed as he pulled his rifle from subspace as he jumped around to face the large being behind him.
He felt like quite a fool when he noticed it was just a pile of stacked tables and chairs, covered in cobwebs, dust and the occasional digipad.
"Oh man, what the pit was I thinking coming here?"
He asked himself out loud, his voice echoing through the ship.
Magnus had ordered the power sources be removed from the Ark until such time as they decided to reinhabit the place, again because of human thieves and because it was a waste of valuable resources. Rodimus recalled the older, more experienced soldier's words and wiped the lubricant from his forehead.
"Primus".
He whispered.
"Give us back Magnus, please?"
He wasn't one for prayer, it wasn't that he was an "atheist" or even an agnostic, he was just simply a bit lazy and would rather be facing some broad chested femme then sitting in "church" listening to some guy rant about how great Primus was.
Rodimus decided he'd had enough of standing in this chamber, taking in the absolute morbidness of this once bustling and perhaps over crowded section of the ship. He knew why he had come here, and he accessed his internal databanks to find the exact location of where he was headed.
He'd been in here a few times as Hot Rod, but had not returned since he had been "promoted". Walking along towards the corridors that would snake into the darkest parts of the ship wasn't the most welcoming of thoughts but he needed to do it. He had to. If he didn't, well, he had no other ideas and this was the best he had.
The habitation wings had narrow corridors, usually in grounded bases the areas around the officer's quarters were a lot nicer, in both size and decoration, but on board their vessels, they didn't have space for such luxuries. Magnus had been a firm believer in "space rationing" as he had phrased it.
"Damn".
He whispered to himself as he realised how much he was missing the stern bot, and certainly how valuable he was to the cause… Primus, he probably would have destroyed the whole planet earth by now if it wasn't for the city commander's guidance, even Kup's ramblings had proven useful.
He brushed a bit too close to a wall and found nothing there; he fell through a set of open doors.
"Slag".
Whispering he stood up slowly and decided he was sick of the eerie green environment that infrared provided, so he flicked on a small light mounted on his shoulder. He shone it around the room he found himself in. It was definitely a private quarters and when he saw what lay about the floor and on one of the tables he realised it belonged to someone who had been off lined during the great battle. He felt like an intruder, standing in this empty room, a room that had provided privacy and comfort and a get away from all the war that existed out there. Walking towards the berth he wondered why this place hadn't been cleared out properly as he picked up a small trinket from the berth side table. It was singed and warped from great heat. He couldn't guess what it had once been, but given its current condition and the other objects in this quarters he knew who it belonged to. A mech who he'd met just the once, but who he had heard about a lot. In fact, it was on his fourth day on earth that a huge explosion had ripped through a portion of Autobot City resulting in at least twenty injured Autobots and an insanely enraged Autobot CMO. He'd later learned that a certain Autobot scientist was a little… unsafe… apparently he'd been asked to remain at the Ark, for the safety of all concerned, but on one of his visits to the city he'd made a comment that started with "Hey, I bet if you put this thing there and plugged that thing into…"
He felt a smirk tug at his lip components and he decided to leave the emptiness to its own ghosts. On exiting he pulled the doors together to give the darkness some privacy.
Another five minutes passed and he was still guiding himself along the snaking corridors with the light on his chassis giving out some comfort, his CPU providing the map. It was still unsettling, though, walking through this place, he hadn't realised just how big it was. How deep it had ploughed into the mountain, and how frightening it'd probably be if he was without the ability to navigate this place.
Reaching a single door, his CPU indicated that on the other side was the corridor that led to the officers' quarters. That was where he needed to be. He pressed his hands against the door and slid it along its tracks. It protested for a moment, and the smell of rust made itself known, but his stronger struts won out and the door lost.
The corridor was a little wider, but not by much, and there were a few remaining trappings that indicated the higher ups resided here. Mostly finely crafted Autobot insignias and a for some reason, a huge poster of Jim Morrison, Jazz or Blaster could probably answer that. He passed a few open doors and shining his small light in he could see they were completely empty – obviously the rooms of survivors. A few of the other rooms were shielded from his optics by shut doors, a heavy lock on each of them, obviously those in the brass who died were afforded more respect to their privacy. At the end of the corridor was a room with a damaged lock next to two large doors that filled the entire end of the hall. He was curious at this point as to the contents of the room with the damage. He pushed the lock and it fractured, he doors easily submitting to him as he passed through. The room was completely clean of any mess and had a certain level of order that was unusual, even for an officer. On a table sitting in the middle of the room, set up, was a game the humans called "chess", its pieces were crafted from granite and marble, and looked very, very expensive. A couple of the pieces had fallen to the ground as a few small pieces of rock had fallen from the ceiling and obviously dislodged them from their placement. He crouched down and picked one up; it resembled what the humans called a "horse". He was sure he could get an audio full from Skids about what it was and what it meant and what its role was in this game, but quite frankly, he desired other things to fill his memory chips then human games that looked so boring. He placed the piece back on the table and stood.
When he woke he was on the floor, his optics expressing to him the fractured pieces of the chess board he'd fallen upon. Something had struck him, and had done one hell of a job. He rolled over onto his back and groaned, reaching up with both hands he massaged the back of his cranium.
"Holy slag".
He groaned again and slowly managed to pull himself up, a twinge of fear passed through him as he realised his tiny little light was shattered, and that his CPU was unable to switch over his usual optical function into infrared. Rodimus managed to pull himself up into a standing position and decided he needed to do what he intended and then get the hell out of here. Feeling his way from the room he made it back out into the hall, it wasn't that much of an effort to locate the double doors from there but it was a rather strut straining job to get them open.
Inside he was ever so grateful to see a slightly dim lamp burning in memorial. Daniel had suggested it, saying that after the assassination of JFK the humans had lit a torch lamp thing on his grave and it continued to burn. Rodimus had no idea who JFK was, or even if that was his name or perhaps what humans called initials and he certainly didn't want to offend anyone by expressing his ignorance.
It proved comforting to see it sitting there on the former leader's desk glowing, sneaking some illumination into the darkness about it. Optimus' room had been restored with fakeries of what had once existed here; the real items had been moved to a museum type display at the city. But there was a small object sitting on the desk that was original, a gift from Spike after he'd been saved with his father. It was something Magnus had said was inappropriate to be preserved in memorial of the greatest Autobot leader who ever functioned. Spike didn't seem too offended, but humans, especially Spike, were good at hiding their true emotional state. It was a small figure crafted in plastic, with a plastic fabric that resembled grass worn as a skirt, and coconuts used to cup the plastic femme's mammaries. She had several colourful little paper necklaces hanging around her neck and if you knocked her the little hips would swing. Carly had later explained that it was a Hawaiian dancer, and that while it certainly was not something expensive or valuable or even appropriate, it had been given to Spike three days before his mother had died. She'd gotten it from a trip to Hawaii where she'd met his father. So it held a great deal of significance, and Optimus had respected that and appreciated that and had treasured that.
Rodimus brushed it with his little finger and then watched it dance in the dim light.
"Optimus. I need your help".
He said firmly to the room. The brightly painted mech removed the Matrix and placed it on the desk; he resumed the size of Hot Rod.
"There's something going on, Optimus, and I don't know what it is or what to do about it".
He walked to the shelves and viewed the large amount of digipads.
"I figure since you're one with the Matrix now, that you could, I dunno, come out and tell me what the slag I need to do to sort this all out".
He paused and gripped the sides of his head with his hands.
"Please, Optimus! We all know I'm never going to be as great a leader as you were, Pit, that plastic dancing femme on your desk could do a better job then me, but if you could just, I dunno, give me some crazy Matrix dream so I can have a few clues".
After Prime's death, after he'd taken the Matrix, his recharge had been filled with dreams, memories as Kup had explained, from those who had carried the mantle long before him. They were meant to assist, not to frighten, but over time they had subsided. Kup explained there was only so much they could give him before they realised he had to sort it out for himself. Each leader was different and each leader had to decide for himself just what kind of leader they were going to be. Optimus had been through the same trials and tribulations the Matrix and his self doubts would give him.
"Rodimus".
Hot Rod spun around and found himself facing his idol.
"Optimus!"
"Just as there is light, there is dark, just as there is good, there is evil, just as there is kindness and generosity, there is cruelty and selfishness. What lies in the spark of one will not lie in the spark of another".
And with that, Optimus was gone.
"Optimus! Wait! Please! That doesn't make any sense!!"
He screamed after him. But the peaceful, reassuring chill Prime's presence had left in the air was gone.
Hot Rod dropped to the floor and sobbed.
--
Author's NB: Honestly, I have no idea if JFK has some ever burning torch on his grave, I recall something about it once, but couldn't remember if it was JFK or Elvis. But it sounds like a possibility?