Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related.
AN: Have I ever told anybody how much I hate this motto?
"No Sacrifice, No Victory", yeah, right!
Any good leader should be willing to do all to save his men and not accept that he might have to sacrifice some of them only to "Try it again at a later date" or "Perhaps we'll have better luck next time."
I agree that someone who fights to defend himself and those whom he loves has to be willing to die for his goal if needed – but that doesn't change the fact that this motto is serious BS.
It really calls for a sacrifice or there will be no victory at all and… when is the sacrifice too great to really call it something akin to a victory in the end?
I could rant for hours, perhaps even without managing to explain my point to you, so I will simply be silent now and let you read.
Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter and amusing me with the image of fairy Prime tripping trhough the corridor. I didn't know it came across like that. ^^"
Some references to the "28 Dead Ends" story "Angsty" from Dragoness Eclectic.
Special 2: No Sacrifice, No Victory (AU G1)
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Bright, artificial light and dark, all-swallowing shadows created a sharp crisscrossing pattern on the floor of the long corridor leading to the Council chambers, the heart of the newly rebuilt Iacon.
With each of his long, steady steps, Optimus Prime wove in and out of the light and shadow, letting his blue and red paint gleam brightly like summer skies and sunsets or glow darkly like the eternal night of Cybertron and spilt human blood.
Light and shadows – how fitting it was.
Oh, what he would give to have such clear lines restored in his confused, aching CPU….
When something ends that you spent your whole life doing, that you put your whole strength into, your whole Spark, every little hope… you can't believe it at first.
You are shocked, confused, perhaps even a bit disappointed and angry that suddenly everything is over, and you feel guilty about these last sentiments, because you should be happy and glad and cheering….
You. Have. Won!
You have succeeded, you came out on top, you have survived, you can finally move on and become happy….
Can't you?
Optimus Prime stared at his downed archenemy, his antagonist, a mech he knew almost as intimately as himself.
Megatron was dying.
And Optimus had prevailed.
He just couldn't believe it.
"Aren't you going to celebrate, Prime? Oh… no, I forgot. That isn't your style…. You will lecture me, pray to Primus to accept my dark, tainted Spark, but you won't ever admit that you're happy that I'm finally dead, once and for all, that you have won…. Am I not right?"
Megatron smirked, his optics dim and exhausted, Energon streaming over his face and obscuring the harsh features.
Why did Megatron, the dying mech, seem to accept the outcome of their millennia long battle so much easier? Why was he so calm about his fate? So peaceful?
Why did he behave so much more like the ultimate winner than Optimus himself?
The Prime just couldn't turn his optics from his enemy, not even to look around to see which of his brave mechs had survived the horrible fight, and who had perished to herald Megatron's arrival at the Matrix.
He felt like nothing, pathetic and lost, confused and frightened to his very core, like Orion Pax standing in front of his hero, just when the great silver mech had revealed his true colors to him.
And he just couldn't understand it.
"So silent, Prime?"
Even mortally wounded and in incredible agony, Megatron still found the strength to taunt his enemy. He smirked, superior in every way, as he ever would be.
And he knew it….
"You have never before killed such an high-ranking opponent, have you? I'm not even sure if you ever have killed anybody…. You haven't, haven't you?"
The smirk melted into a smile, a strange mix between amusement, disbelief, pity and regret.
But somehow Prime doubted the regret was for him.
"It will pass, that I promise you, Prime. Two or three days and you will get over it and move on. Raise a toast to me, Prime. To me and to Cybertron's destiny. It's decided now. May Primus show mercy on his Creations."
Optimus nodded, still silent.
He was still half in a trance from his sudden achievement.
The great blue and red mech wasn't even sure how he had delivered the final blow, just that Megatron lay there before him sounding more bitter than he had ever heard him before.
He could hear how the systems in the giant silver Cybertronian were failing one by one, and finally it registered in his CPU that, yes, the war was over!
He had won!
A pale, hesitant smile formed behind his mouth-guard, almost afraid to form.
Meanwhile, the red optics of his opponent dimmed a little bit more with each passing second.
But Megatron still noticed the twinkling in his enemy's optics that told him the outcome of their final battle had finally sunk in.
He smiled again, the exhaustion of a lifetime visible on his face.
"Do me a favor, Prime."
His vocalizer struggled through the words, filling them with static, threatening to offline too, now that everything was shutting down.
Optimus focused on the dying mech's face, willing to honor the last wish of his nemesis.
A scratched, Energon-coated silver hand reached out to touch his kneeing form, the dreaded fusion cannon lost in the battle.
"You were always a worthy opponent, Optimus Prime. I almost pity you for your victory."
Blue optics narrowed half angry, half confused.
"You think you have saved Cybertron by defeating me, and you, in all your naïve glory, don't realize how wrong you are. I have always been the lesser of two evils."
Megatron smiled, pain and death changing it into an ugly grimace.
"Do me a favor, Optimus Prime, and don't blame yourself when you finally realize the consequences of your victory and the true extent of Cybertron's downfall…."
The red optics offlined for the final time and silver turned to grey, leaving a confused Prime alone in a changing world….
The months after Megatron's death had been hard.
Not only for Optimus, but for his Autobots as well.
The humans had a saying: "The darkest hour is always before the dawn."
How right they were and Prime really hoped that the sun would now finally rise above Cybertron again.
The Decepticons had tried to hold their ground, both on Earth and Cybertron, struggling fiercely and ending many good mechs' lives, but without their leader they were nothing more than a bunch of rioting misfits in the end, fighting against the inevitable, unable to plan, to think for themselves and to survive on their own – or each other.
The Autobots had managed to capture the Constructicons when they tried to slip unnoticed through the abandoned Spacebridge.
They were sent to Cybertron by order of the reforming senate, to be reprogrammed and their CPUs cleared of the effects of the Robosmasher.
Nobody had heard from them since.
For some time, Soundwave and the Seekers managed to hold their shrinking group together, keeping them in line with desperate promises and oaths of avenging Megatron's death.
Then the Stunticons went mad.
Flawed from the beginning and with nobody strong enough to control them and their insane tendencies and urges, their condition deteriorated quickly, deeper into the realms of lunacy.
They killed Frenzy when Soundwave tried to subdue the Gestalt with his telepathic powers, than they began to chase everything with wings attached to their bodies, hunting the Seekers, Coneheads and Triplechangers around North America, murdering many humans in the process and leveling at least three small cities in wicked, manic glee.
They managed to shoot down both Thrust and Dirge before the Autobots could finally take the crazy Gestalt out.
Parts of both Coneheads could be found scattered throughout four states, their heads carried around by the Stunticons like some horrible sort of trophy or Sparkling toy.
Ramjet died shortly after.
Having felt every single torture inflicted on his trine- and bondmates, he went insane and threw himself against buildings, vehicles, mountains and Autobots again and again, until the shocked and appalled mechs had no other choice but to shoot him down and to put an end to his misery.
The Combaticons, worried by the loss of sanity of the other Gestalt and sensing the end of the Decepticons, made a deal with the senate.
They were sent to Cybertron, would stay united and alive while serving only a light sentence if they spilled all secrets and tactical information known to them.
They sung like canaries only to vanish amidst countless other prisoners of war.
Months later, rumor had it that Swindle had been killed in a riot shortly before their sentence was finished and his brothers simply withered away, staring into space.
The war on Earth continued, with Decepticon rookies and Megatron worshippers staining the soil with their Energon blood every few weeks.
Rumble died, no longer able to bear the loss of his twin.
Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were shot out of the sky during a failed espionage mission.
Soundwave began to keep his remaining two Creations inside him, never letting them out of his chest compartment.
One day, he was discovered at the entrance of the Arc, willing to spill everything he knew just to keep himself, Ravage and Ratbat alive.
Finally realizing that the war on Earth was ultimately lost, the remaining Decepticons tried to flee to Cybertron to regroup.
Skywarp and Thundercracker stuck together until the very end, one night sneaking through the Spacebridge like the Constructicons tried before.
They succeeded, only to be shot down by Shockwave who held them responsible, along with every other Decepticon on Earth, for Megatron's demise – and who didn't need two other ranking members of the Decepticon elite trying to regain leadership of the scattered, demoralized and infighting troops.
Astrotrain and Blitzwing attempted another route of escape and vanished in space.
No longer needed on Earth, the Autobots followed the few lucky, surviving Decepticons home.
In a perfectly timed attack from two sides, through the Spacebridge and from Cybertron, they managed to catch Shockwave by surprise and defeat him, ending his dreams of grandeur once and for all.
Most Decepticons surrendered after seeing their last commanding officer fall, and the resisting few mechs left were forced underground, degraded to starving, hateful whispering shadows, always in danger of getting caught by the Autobots or killed by a hungry comrade.
Some time later, Astrotrain returned, battered and broken.
Blitzwing had gone missing after an encounter with a hostile alien race on their way back to their home planet and was never seen again.
Only one single Decepticon was still unaccounted for at the end of the war.
No matter how hard the Autobots searched for him, interrogated their prisoners or set bounties on his head….
Starscream had disappeared without leaving a trace.
He had been missing for a long time, his absence from all the battles on Earth and Cybertron both troubling and a blessing at the same time.
The Seeker was the only one with the necessary abilities to unite the Decepticons again under his rule and start a successful retaliation, but the flyer had disappeared sometime around the date of Megatron's death und nobody had seen him since.
Some dreaded that he had made his way to Cybertron and was simply lying low, plotting in the depth of the slums, gathering new followers around him with every passing day.
Others thought his grey carcass lay somewhere in Earth's giant ocean, either in the abandoned Nemesis or hidden under the water by one of the other Cons.
Nobody knew for sure, so they could only stay vigilant, waiting and hoping….
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Light. Shadow. Light. Shadow.
Sharp lines on the floor, the walls and Prime's chassis but none in his processor.
He had a strange feeling, a sense of foreboding since Megatron's death.
The final words of the warlord had touched some cord in his Spark that just wouldn't stop ringing….
And it wasn't a good tune.
Thud. Thud.
Light. Shadow.
Prime looked up from his musings when he reached the grand portals of the council chambers.
Two white and black shapes already awaited him, Prowl and Jazz, the first mech even more stiffly and uptight than usual, the other mech without his usual cheery grin.
'They could feel it too,' realized Optimus.
They could feel it as he did, this strange sensation that had started with Megatron's death and had intensified with their return to Cybertron.
Each passing day only strengthened the forebording, made it clearer and evident that there was something they were missing, something that wasn't quite… right.
"Shall we go then?" asked Prime with a weak smile and, without waiting for an answer, opened the door to the senate's chambers.
His officers fell in step behind him.
At first they were blinded by a bright golden shine illuminating the great hall in an imitation of sunlight.
When their optics adjusted, they could make out at least fifty regal-looking mechs, resembling Mirage's or Track's build, looking down at them from their seat rows.
Artistic runes and ornaments adorned each flat surface inside the chambers, outlined with the most precious metals and crystals found on Cybertron.
Prime couldn't help to frown at this obvious display of wealth, while outside these halls Cybertron was still being rebuilt, many mechs without shelter and starving.
But, he had argued with the Council before about these things and the senate had decided that it would serve their people more if they had something to look up to, something to show that a new time of prosperity was about to begin, something to built their hopes upon.
Something like new Council chambers, where the government could meet and decide Cybertron's fate.
Optimus still believed that his people could have done without status symbols in favor of filled tanks and a place to recharge.
A quiet gasp from behind pulled him out of his thoughts.
Instantly his optics focused on what had shocked his Third in Command.
Or better, who….
On the other side of the chamber, right beneath the first rows of the Council mechs, stood Starscream, white, red and blue paint gleaming in the golden glow, dark head and ruby eyes swallowing the light like a dark hole.
Prime wanted to pull his rifle out of subspace and could feel that Prowl had already aimed his gun – but the head of the Council stopped their attack in an instant.
"There is no need for violence in these sacred halls, Optimus Prime. Please, don't desecrate this place of hopes and burden your Spark with an innocent's life lost."
"Innocent?" queried Jazz, his visior dim and cold.
Optimus hesitated for a moment, then he nodded and Prowl subspaced his weapon.
"What does this mean?" he asked quietly, his optics never wavering from the silent shape at the other end of the chamber.
The Seeker, infamous for his nervousness, hadn't moved an inch, even when clearly threatened.
One senator cleared his throat, "You had no way of knowing, but Starscream worked under our direct orders since he first became a Decepticon."
"I don't understand…."
"You are aware of the unfortunate mission in which his partner, a mech named Skyfire was lost?
Starscream was found by one of our security mechs after he crashed for lack of fuel vorns ago.
"After healing his injuries and his disastrous hearing before the Science Council, we took him under our wing, helped him, trained him and made him one of our Black Ops.
When Megatron's campaign showed signs of success, we sent Starscream to act as our sleeper agent in his troops.
He was ordered to get as close as possible to Megatron, acquire a command position and become invaluable.
"The plan was to assassinate all officers of the Decepticon movement in one go and to take control before they could get even stronger.
"The first plan failed, but Starscream survived the punishment for his treason and we gave him new orders.
He was to sabotage any of Megatron's plans and to seed unrest in the lower ranks. He stood true to his orders even when the senate was forced into hiding and Autobot and Decepticon elite alike were lost on Earth.
"He has helped you many times in the past, Optimus Prime, he doesn't deserve your hostility but your utmost respect.
He is a loyal soldier of the senate and Cybertron, unlike any other."
Jazz gaped openly and Prowl furrowed his brow ridges, but Optimus showed no sign of emotion, thanks to his battle mask.
Internally, his processor was reeling and this strange sensation of wrongness was getting stronger and stronger.
Something wasn't right!
He believed the Council when they said that Starscream was on their side, and that he had helped them the entire time, it would explain a lot – but something about the Seeker himself wasn't right.
He could see him from where he stood, a sleek, elegant shape, never-moving, his face expressionless and without the familiar smirk, the screeching voice not taunting or gloating, his optics never wandering or wavering….
His optics!
They were dull, devoid of any feeling, without all the things that had once made Starscream the Seeker they had known and hated.
The senator continued on, "… and so we have decided, that you and your Autobots need rest. You have done enough in the past hundred vorns, too much weight has burdened your shoulders. You are exhausted and tired of this war and we understand that.
"We have assembled a new task force to guard, control and supervise the Cybertronian population from now on. Starscream will be one of their officers once his name is cleared and his role in this war has been made known.
"I'm sure you agree with me that Cybertron needs guardians.
"Too many grudges are still fresh, too many injuries still bleed…. We need someone to watch and keep any future riots at bay. Such a war must never happen again!"
The senator looked at Optimus, "Do you understand?"
Prime nodded weakly, overwhelmed, still lost in his own thoughts, and partly horrified with what the Council had decided and put in precise and seemingly well-meaning words.
"Then you are dismissed. I hope you and your mechs will enjoy your retirement, Optimus."
They left the room with one final glance at Starscream, who still hadn't moved and didn't acknowledge them in any way.
Prime and his former officers made their way back through light and shadow, baffled by the recent events, all wishing for the sharp separation of black and white to still exist in their CPUs.
But everything was just a blur of grey now, if they wanted to admit it, or not.
They all knew it, even if some still had to come to terms with how their new future would be.
"Soo…. That was pretty unexpected news about the Screamer, huh?" Jazz grinned uneasily, almost questiong.
"That wasn't Starscream!" said Optimus forcefully.
Jazz flinched.
"That wasn't Starscream! It never was! The mech designated Starscream died vorns ago during the crash!"
Prime stopped and stepped to one window, looking down at the newly rebuilt Iacon.
He could see figures below them, mechs and femmes alike.
Their appearance wasn't any different from any other Cybertronian surrounding them, they worked, laughed, chatted, lived….
But there was something in their optics....
No, quite the contrary, there was something missing in their optics, that Optimus could now recognize instantly.
They weren't really alive, they had no real personality, no dreams, no goals other than serving the Council and to do what they were ordered to do.
Keeping watch about the others of their kind and to extinguish any spark of discontent and rebelliousness in its very beginnings.
Every single security mech he could see had lifeless optics, but what frightened him far more was the sheer number of ordinary neutrals or less famous Autobots that had that same, dull gaze, even if the rest of their behavior was fairly normal….
"That mech in the Council chamber wasn't Starscream. It was just a drone. A living, thinking drone, something the Council always wanted."
Prime wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh, to storm into the senate and to demand an explanation, to demand excuses, to shake Starscream until he showed some sign of life again, of true sentience, of something….
But he just settled for a tight little smile, full of bitterness and pain.
"I'm sorry, Megatron. You were right…. Primus, please forgive me…."
They have achieved victory – but was it really worth it?