I know I'm late, but:
Happy Mother's Day!
I forgot to say it last week, so now I feel really bad :/
But I'm making up for it in a really long chapter! Yay? I'm not sure if you guys like that kind of thing or not...
Well on to other things now that that's out of the way-
To recap O.S.A.H so far:
1. Fera, Sol, and Optimus are slowly going insane
2. Arachnid is a psycho
3. Secretary Kepler is a turd muncher who needs to have his mouth sewn shut
Agreed?
Now enjoy :D
Of The Spark And Heart
Part 1
Chapter 33
"Don't chastise me Prime, I made a promise that I intend to keep, and I feel impatient withholding that said promise."
"But do you not realize what kind of danger you were putting yourself through when you decided to transform in the kind of state you're in? I knew you were brash Sol, but so reckless?"
"You think I care about my wellbeing? What about Fera? She's been in the Decepticon hold for an Earth week now. A week. And you've all done nothing against it."
The two mechs faced off mid-floor, staring one another down as they fought for a silent dominance. Optimus, though much taller and more experienced overall, was slowly relenting to the barely armored mech before him. This was a personal battle, raging on far past a single joor. They had been here, arguing like this mere clicks after Solas had arrived. The wounded mech held no patience on his entrance, and that fact had only worsened as time drug on. Momentarily distracted, Sol glared around him at the hangar they were in, pulling up his noseplate at the looks the humans gave him as they passed. Where they curious? Or derisive? It was so different here than at the base in Amoret, the space too large, the people too rigid. He never predicted he'd see the kalon that he'd wish to be locked back in that prison of a command center.
At the moment, Solas nearly had all of his armoring back, excluding his left arm and his right leg. However, he had been able to transform in Amoret and make it here to Washington in less than an Earth day and a half. It had been one of -if not the- most uncomfortable transformation he had produced, causing him to be sore and aching in his deepest parts when he was in bipedal mode. And yet despite that, he'd pushed himself on, only stopping once on his journey here. The unbalanced weights on his body felt odd when he moved around, but as long as he could reform, he didn't care. He was actually quite proud of himself for getting this far like he did. It had taken far more sneaking past Hawktail and the others than he had hoped, but it was well worth it in the end. The first joor had actually been mainly about explaining Sol's abrupt disappearance on the base, with a flustered Wheeljack, an irritated Hawktail, coolly venomous Stratis, and a lot of relieved words from Greenlight.
"We have discussed plans with Prowl and are preparing to move out the astrosecond we can locate the Decepticon base." Optimus went on, crossing his arms over his chassis just as a group of the remaining 'Bots walked into the room. It was pleasantly surprising to see all the old comrades he had made over the vorns in the same space, but it was also sad to realize that along with these and those on the bases in San Diego and Diego Garcia, they had most of the living 'Bots left in one single group. It wasn't the most reassuring possibility against thousands of the enemy. Shaking off the thought, Sol kept his gaze on his leader and away from the approaching mechs and fembots. "And how long should that take? Don't you realize she doesn't have the time for us to just luckily come up upon the base's location? She'll be dead by next groon if we don't do something soon."
The Prime slowly shook his cranial unit and pinched the bridge of his nasal plate. If only they knew where the Decepticons were hiding, this whole mess would be dealt with in the shutter of the optic. Solas was yearning to destroy a few of the enemy, to show he was serious about this human. Was she even a human anymore? What had she become to him? Solas faltered in the conversation for a nanoclick to feel the wandering tendrils of the small spark within him. If what Ratchet and Optimus figured to be true, then that was one more reason to retrieve Fera and get her back into protective custody of the Autobots. Optimus must have heard something, for his helm shot up and he peered behind him to the awaiting group.
Looking at them now, Solas could easily tell a majority of the 'Bots there. Among them was an emotionless Prowl, an anxious Red Alert, the attractive fembot Firestar, the tactical analyst Moonracer, the Fuchsia-pink Arcee, and Inferno. They were all spread out, watching the exchange between Optimus and Solas carefully, making the black warrior dread the possibility of an audience to this argument. It was a disagreement between two grown Cybertronians, not others who only wish to delve into the privacy of peers. "I understand that Solas, far too well actually. However-"
"There has not yet become a plan of action feasible enough to take in terms of pinpointing and retrieving the said human female target." Solas' optics flicked up to see Prowl making his way over to them, his arms crossed over his chassis. He still wore that same mask of indifference on his faceplates, but he seemed uneasy about something. It was almost as if this conversation made him uncomfortable. This. Of all things. Solas knew this was why he hadn't wanted a crowd to be around during this conversation between himself and his leader. "Have you even found the base yet? Or even tried looking for it?"
Seemingly from nowhere, Rethalia walked up behind Optimus and took position beside him, "We've been sending patrols one after the other so as to cover ever square inch of this country's surface. Greenlight and Wheeljack have finally been able to place a tracking signal on one of the bugs in the main grid, and are now injecting a spyware program as well." she lifted her servo and set it on Optimus' arm.
Seeing them together like this, so relaxed when they should be worried out of their processors, irked Sol. He knew he could trust his comrades and especially his leaders, but there was still the uneasiness he felt knowing that whatever time they stalled, the Decepticons were coming that much closer to finding the secret of the Stone and killing Fera. Solas' spark skipped a beat. If Arachnid somehow got her dirty servos on the secret of the Stone of Primus...
How would they be able to cope with the loss of the war? If the Autobots finally were unable to defeat the Decepticons, what would this world come to? Surely, this world and the next would be reaped of its freedom. They would be taken under Decepticon rule while their own would spread like a virus from one planet to the next. The Decepticons had always been the greater supplied of the two factions, gaining the proper technologies and energon supply needed to conquer Earth and on. Sol felt his spark twisting with the possibility that this really could be it, that this new development between the 'Bots and 'Cons would truly be the end of the war. The Stone was unbridled power, pure in energy that was much like the AllSpark Cube.
Could this really be the end of the war? Had the Decepticons won? So soon, just like that?
"Are you ok? You look like you're in pain." this voice was soft and youthful, pleasant to the audio receptor, with a vast innocence that made Sol do a double take. He hadn't heard a voice so full of shy concern since listening to the dwindling population of sparklings on Cybertron. There was a feather-light touch on his shoulderbolt and Solas, being the anxious and jumpy 'Bot he always was, whipped around to see who this one was intruding his bubble.
The figure he saw jerked at his sudden turn towards them and their optics widened in surprise. It was a small fembot, shorter than Rethalia, with soft blue paint and white accents. She couldn't be older than Bumblebee, for the look of adolescence and the lack of wear on her faceplates showed as much. Her helmet was simple, with a gentle bow and slope on the crest, and two backwards facing attachments to the sides. Never before had Sol seen this fembot, and apparently neither had she seen him, for she seemed far too frightened of him to of known who he was.
Cautiously, Sol looked from the shy blue fembot to the Autobot group. The only one showing the most emotion towards the two of them was Ratchet. Glancing back, Solas narrowed his optic slips, scanning the frame of the fembot. Pretty quickly, he located the thing he was looking for on the high right shoulder panel of the fembot's armor. It was the Autobot insignia, with the crest he spied underneath. "You're a medic?" he guessed, getting a jerky nod from the fembot. She was so much shorter than Sol that she barely came to his chassis, forcing him to look down on her and offer no help in smoothing her nerves.
"That is Cloudsong, my apprentice." Sol turned his helm around to see Ratchet approaching them, "She is also Thunderflare's sister."
"Sister? I didn't know he had a sibling." turning back to the apprehensive apprentice, Solas raised a servo and placed it on her shoulderbolt, ignoring her jump at his touch. "Cloudsong, I'm not going to harm you, trust me..." his sentence faded. Without warning, out of the blue, he felt his spark suddenly plummet. His vents hitched and his optics shot wider, staring off into the distance. He felt his CPU falling into a terrifying fog and his spark twisting as the small spark abruptly shut off. Like a switch, it turned dark.
His insides screamed at him, tearing through his processor as a fiery wave and leaving him in a frozen stupor. Where was it? Where was the small spark? Its beautiful glow was blanketed to nothing, while the comforting hum that had reassured him so many times throughout these few quartexes was silent. The disturbing still of the small spark hadn't a single faint light of life left. It was just cold. And still. And so...gone.
"Solas?" it was a familiar voice, yet he paid it no attention. Solas felt his anxiety rising without warning, his pulse skyrocketed in less than a nanoclick. No, this wasn't it, his small spark wasn't gone. He felt as if his spark was being torn, the pain rushing his circuits to the point that he felt it would shatter into tiny fragments. The entity that he had allowed to encase the small spark was shaking in increasingly larger waves as the deadly still of a hole seemed threatening to collapse his own spark.
He ripped himself around and clutched at his chassis, growling with his optics still wide and his very gridmap wriggling in silent distress. Where was his pillar? His sanity? His light? He couldn't feel it anymore, he couldn't sense it. It was like a blockade had been placed on the bond he shared with it, preventing him from even knowing it was there. If he didn't know any better, he would assume that it had been physically taken from inside him. The innocent light, his small spark, was nowhere to be felt.
Giving a strangled cry, Solas crashed into the wall and stumbled on his peds, hitting a scaffold while he stay doubled over, trying to reach into his spark chamber and hold in his servos what he felt was missing. He wanted to see for himself. He wanted to know the truth. But oh the pain! He felt as though he were being shredded into slips of molten metals, his core dipped into the Pits of Cybertron itself. Processor-numbing agony slipped into every crack and niche of his plating and sensory wiring, nearly blinding his overworked optical systems.
Another servo grabbed at him, but he spun away, snapping his helm around in a frantic search. A milky haze covered his vision, obscuring anything remotely clear for him and causing only more confusion to capture his anguished frame. It's gone, he thought as his throat burned with unreleased screams. His oral sheets clamped together and his very energon flowed with acid. It only intensified when he reached out to his dark small spark. It's gone!
Blurred and fuzzy profiles shifted into his view, and when he moved away from the strangely familiar silhouette, absolutely overwhelming shocks of light blinded him. Spark-stopping pulses of a full-on cranialache pounded the inside of his CPU, flooding his audio receptors with roaring energon. He very well nearly fell to the ground as his joints and motors began to lock, but instead of laying aside in a curled ball, he started to search. Search for something causing this suffering and making him want to tear the boiling plates off his body.
Voices coursed across his senses and rang along with the bashing turmoil in his processor. Why was he feeling this? Where was the small spark? Frustrated, frightened, and desperate for relief, Solas grabbed both the sides of his helm and bowed back to yell as loud as his vocal capacitor would allow. It shook with the power of his wild call and crackled before it popped and Sol was left mute. If he wasn't able to release his stress vocally, he'd do it physically.
He leapt forward towards the open feel of the door and he transformed. The astrosecond his wheels hit the concrete floor, they were screaming within the smoke that billowed behind him, bursting outward to dissipate as he sped past the exit. The small spark couldn't be gone. Not like this- with no symptom and completely from nowhere. He had to see for himself if it was true. If his small spark really was gone, he would...he didn't know what he'd do. It was hard to think of anything with this pain. Frag it if no one would help him find it, he'd do it himself. He'd find his small spark. He didn't think he could, or wanted to, wait any longer.
There were no words to describe the scene of the room. A frighteningly still metallic figure kneeled by the back wall, with an equally as unresponsive prison mate. Simply put: a torture chamber. One could imagine the gruesome smears of life across the floor, mixed in with that of their peer's. The air would be brittle and stale, full of obnoxious smells that burned the senses. Together, they dwelled in the invisible poison that was slowly taking their lives away, appearing to not care as they offered no sign of fight or defiance left. But although the smaller of the two prisoners looked as if she was perished, she was merely fighting her own battle of the will to live.
In the clutches of cold iron, and bound by a suffocating grief, there hang a human teenager. She was no longer expelling the stubborn ire seen as her personality, or showing her piercing blue eyes to any who walked in. Instead, she let her sad head hang, with her knotted and red-stained hair masking her face, and her now murky eyes staring at the floor. Marks freckled her exposed arms and legs, with some oozing out life while others were scabbing over with dirty, grimy, crusts of skin. Traveling down her body, one would be able to see the way her ankle was swollen to almost twice its original size, and the way it simply hung in the air without the ability to move or shift.
Dried up streams of caked blood, sweat, and tears ran from the corners of her eyes and made its path over her pale cheeks and neck to mix it with the dots on her shirt. She had cried until she could no longer, falling under in a rare sleep that was more from exhaustion than an act of fatigue. Her mind danced with dark, almost demonic visions, tearing at her flesh and digging into her skin with knives while their smiles stretched widely across their grotesque faces. Screams bubbled in her throat through these terrible nightmares, yet all she seemed able to do about any of it was lie down and take it.
Although this reoccurring fit of horrible dreams rocked her sore and tired frame, there always was one thing that broke them up and forced its way into her heart so to protect her against the worst of the suffering. She'd called it Hope for the longest time now, and even though she knew that Hope was only saving her from herself, she couldn't help but blame these accursed nightmares on those who were in them. Decepticons.
Her eyes shot open and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath like a dying fish. The chains holding her arms clinked softly while she struggled to rein in her flustered mind and calm her racing heart. Her incredibly blue eyes hurried around the room, taking in her surroundings as if she hadn't seen them a hundred times over. Eventually, she was able to coach her body into settling down more, and over a short time, she was able to take in far evener slips of air. The speed of her heart paced at a better pulse, allowing her to check herself without the constant roaring in her ears. Everything was here and in place.
Looking up, Fera caught sight of the poor Autobot still strapped to the wall across from her. He looked so dejected and beaten; it tore out her heart. Arachnid had said that his name was Rodimus, and that he was a very important Cybertronian mech. They used him against Fera as they pried her for answers, even threatening his life at some points so to better understand her importance. Platon, her main torturer, had located the waves of energy as her necklace, and she was unable to hear exactly what they were saying as they went over their findings. Shortly before she blacked out, Arachnid had sworn to figure out the meaning of the charm around her neck. No matter what.
Rodimus wasn't glancing at her anymore, or even appeared living at all. Instead, his peeling paint was flaking off in small pieces while his abused and bent body made him look beaten to death. The only indication that he was alive was the small rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.
"Rodimus, are you...are you alive?" Fera forced out, more in a course whisper than a strong question. The 'Bot didn't move, and the girl's heart dropped. Was he just asleep? Or was he in the process of dying? "Rodimus-?"
"Why are you doing this, human?" for the first time since Fera had seen him, he'd spoken. His voice was young, but filled with an invisible wisdom that put a more hardened edge to his tone. It was scary how familiar it sounded to her own father's voice. Swallowing only dryness past her languid tongue, Fera breathed in and fought down a shudder. "To tell the truth, I don't really know." she let her head fall backwards until it was sitting on her shoulders. The light above bit into her pupils, but she didn't care as she stared on into the vivid white. "Apparently it has something to do...with this necklace...if what I understand they're saying."
She heard a wheezing sound and she picked up her head in time to see Rodimus violently release a series of coughs, shaking his body with each loud hack he produced. The chains jerked and rattled each jump Rodimus made, yanking back on his arms every time he moved. After a few seconds, his episode ended and he was left to drag on strangled breaths. Fera could hear the rattling of his vents and the way they sputtered when he exhaled. Turning his head to the side, he spat, spraying a transparent yellow liquid on the ground. Mixed with it, were small dots of bright azure blue. Energon? Was he really so hurt?
Knitting her eyebrows, Fera silently watched him in concern. Though she could do nothing to help him, she felt like she could relate to his pain and his suffering. She couldn't possibly look any better off than him. But, what he did have over her was the length of time he'd been here for. Fera estimated her time here as a good few days, while she dreaded to think of just how long Rodimus had been here himself. "You shouldn't believe what you hear from them. Especially them." he rumbled, exposing his face when he gazed up at her. A small blue stream trickled down his chin from the side of his mouth, dribbling onto the floor when he talked, "I have learned not to expect what cannot be, mostly through my experiences with the Decepticons. This fact has become clear with my capture. They promised my freedom on their whim, yet I don't assume that time will be in your life cycle."
"There can only be hope in a world of darkness." Fera saw the slight dip that the 'Bot's eyebrows made at this comment, almost appearing confused. "It's a saying I made up a while back...it seemed to fit in...with a lot of things in my life...it just sticked." watching him now, Fera could see the soul-searching feel of his cobalt-blue eyes piercing deeply into her own icy ones. He was looking for something, studying in her very core for who knew what.
For a few seconds, they sat in quiet. The fragile still broke as Rodimus shifted, dropping his eyes to stare instead at the floor. "You sound like my old friend Optimus." the statement was soft, almost inaudible to Fera's ear. But, she still heard it, and her mouth parted slightly with the surprise. He sounded saddened and on-edge of pure depressed, only allowing Fera's mood to drop even further. Her words faltered when no response seemed to form in her mind. The pure feeling behind the short sentence made by Rodimus cause stinging tears to spring in Fera's eyes.
Neither of them were able to speak again before the door beside them opened. Fera dropped her head to her chest, allowing her shameful tears to fall over her cheeks and bead from her nose. She no longer could stand to see who walked through the entrance, whether it be a simple soldier on guard duty or the Queen of Hell herself, Arachnid. It wasn't worth it any longer to try fighting what she couldn't win. She realized that now. She was a meager human among these aliens who possessed so much more than she. All she could try doing now was survive.
What she wasn't expecting was to feel the gentle press of a giant metal bar underneath her chin, raising her face up to flash her closed eyes and broken expression.
Opening her lids, Fera sucked in a shaking breath and forced herself to look up at the next 'Con. When she saw the only mech who truly seemed to have any sanity in this base, her body sagged and her tears flowed faster. His camo-like paint blended well with the dim behind the curtain of spotlight, and his crimson-red eyes stayed trained on her steadily. He bore no look of disgust or delight. There was no hint of hatred or repulsion, or even pity. If Fera didn't know any better, she would have thought that he was...disturbed somehow. One of her tears hit his finger and his eyes flicked to it before he slowly brought his hand away and held his it closer. After studying the small drop of saltwater, Titanios peered back at Rodimus, then back to her.
"Is sorrow so immense in your species?" he asked quietly, keeping a strong eye contact between them. Fera sighed, letting herself sink further into the air and stretch the muscles in her shoulders. Giving a wince, she responded, "Many things are...sadness is just one of them." and she finally let her eyes settle on the ground. Allowing herself to fall apart in what seemed like defeat wasn't the best thing to do before the enemy. This enemy had the abilities to exploit the fear one held, and turn it into tenfold of what it was before. Titanios didn't act that interested in causing her the pain his peers did, but what proof did Fera have to confidently say he wouldn't?
The sensation of Hope's presence waned on her body, and she felt the fatigue slipping through her stubborn mind to dwell on her conscience. It offered her nothing but support, and she was grateful for the help despite her earlier wishes of keeping it away. She didn't think she could do so now, considering Hope was officially her one and only lifeline to have the strength to go on. There was no way she could pull away now.
"Is it grief that you are crying from?" Titanios questioned, causing Fera's weary mind to snap back to reality. She lifted her head and held it firmly straight, forcing herself to stay awake. "No..." she paused, rolling in her lips before releasing a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, "I'm afraid." another stupid mistake. Titanios ducked closer, pushing billows of air to rush over Fera and cause her skin to prickle. "Afraid? You don't seem that way around us."
"Not for myself, for my friends; my family. I...miss them...and I'm afraid for them..."
"That seems more like loyalty than fright."
"Truthfully? It's that and more." Fera took this time to sigh again, angered at herself for more reasons that she could count, as her tears continued to fall. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon, that was apparent. Giving up on calming herself, Fera went on, "It's knowing that I'm not going to get out of here. It's knowing that my friends will be sad about me. It's knowing that they'll get hurt in this war. And it's knowing that no matter what I do, I won't ever get to say I'm sorry."
"You fear so much, yet you still fight for freedom?" Titanios' eyebrows burrowed together and Fera gave a sad, tragic smile. "It's my personality. I'm just really hard-headed I guess... My body won't let me quit." at her choked comment, Titanios' hand came up once again to wipe away the wet trails bleeding down her cheeks. Allowing him to remove the overwhelming droplets of shattering resolve, Fera curiously hung quietly while Titanios disappeared back into the shadows. What could he be doing? Was he leaving? Fera's throat tightened at the thought. If Titanios left, then another 'Con would take his place, possibly a session instead. Either way, she would lose without him here.
A few seconds into her anxious fit, two obnoxious, clanging bangs rang through the air. Fera jumped at the sound, causing the chains to swing again and ring like small bells. A yellow, red, and orange body fell to all fours as they appeared free from their binds and into the grasp of the lights above. Shocked, Fera's lips parted with the frozen gasp she wished to make. Rodimus? Free?
Titanios' face showed up again not long after Rodimus pulled himself up to use the wall for support. Flabbergasted into silence, Fera merely watched as the 'Con reached up towards her chains and began to fiddle with them, shaking her a little with his movements. And looking to her, Titanios bore a mask of somber gentleness that almost made her cry out in happiness.
"I have doubted myself for many vorns before your arrival here, and it seems I do not share the same enjoyment in your torture as my peers obviously do. As a result," the chain suddenly loosened and before she knew it, Fera was caught in the open palm of Titanios' massive hand, looking up at him in wonder, "I no longer wish to stand by the immoral."
The lucid summer sun baked the blacktop of the road until small waves of heat rose up to distort the air around it, boiling the small forms of animals who scurried across its surface. The baking hills stood against the background with an almost chalkish appearance, like they were but mounds of dried clay. The sway of the treetops rustled along in the barely existent breeze while the birds soared overhead with the call of their songs. A curved path bowed before a bullet of a vehicle as it rocketed past that treeline that sat beside the road. The clouds above floated carelessly across the wind, rolling off the paint of the car's black paint. No harsh wind seemed to move the day, allowing the car to reach whatever speed it pleased, whenever it pleased.
Its roaring bellow of an engine cut through the hazy sheen of the day and rumbled deep within the ground around its tires. The body of the car was pristine, if not for the missing covering of the left front door and the half of the rear. Its model was a Boss Mustang, definitely a newer model, with all of the latest features offered being found along the outer shell. It would amaze a person to witness this show of amazing beauty in a sports vehicle, including the unbelievable driving abilities its owner possessed.
However, for the figure clad in brown and amber-orange, masked in the mix of the trees and the spacious lake behind them, this was no regular Earth-bound mechanical automobile. The way it moved spoke volumes for whom knew what to look for, and the style it used to smoothly make each turn or pick up speed was nearly inhuman. The shape stayed low to the shadows, further covering themselves from the prying eye. Even their eyes blended into their surroundings, being an emerald-green as they were. They lurked around the edges of the treeline, making sure not to lose sight of their target.
Those eyes narrowed, straining on the black Mustang as it coursed over the distant land's rolls. The moment it disappeared, the green eyes did as well. However, the surface of the lake rippled where the hidden figure had once been. Clicks and whirrs filled the space around the trees and water, emitting from the lake, but simply taken as the calls of the crickets and cicadas roaming the nearby area.
~Cameo, respond.~ the deep, guttural noise of the voice slithered across the top of the water, skimming for only seconds before the clicking picked up again. ~What, Zincar? Did you find-~
~Autobots.~
~What?~
~Autobots Cameo. We've finally found them.~
"Tell me again Prowl how this is to help up retrieve Fera?" Optimus Prime was standing in the middle of the communications room. Computers and broadcasting devices line the walls, with a broad keypad panel in the front by the largest of them. A silence had befallen the room, despite the soft taps of Prowl's digits on the dashboard control. Images flashed by the screens of the many computers, showing visions of different security angles as they switched every so often. The two mechs had been in each other's company for some time now, well over a joor at least, discussing the plan that Prowl saw as 'the most logical scheme of preceding in the recovery of the desired priority'.
The lights of the room stay dimmed to the point that most of the illumination came from the glow of the screens. No humans were allowed into Prowl's personal office without permission, so no sign of life wandered past the door except for the two there now. Organized shelves of various items sat bolted to the walls, carrying on them past maps of both human and Cybertronian battle strategies. Upon reaching Earth, Prowl had become fascinated with the pattern of human wars being fought in a more predator-like fashion. The layout was primitive of course, but it was the simple effectiveness of them that poked the analyst's interest.
Pausing for a click to turn around in his chair to face Optimus, Prowl kept one elbowjoint on the dash while he rumbled his chassis. This mech didn't like repeating himself. "I am simply obtaining information that has originally been gained through Greenlight and Wheeljack's spyware programs. In doing this, I am able to outlay a map of sorts and predict the best location of our adversaries' base of operations. Fera Lennox will most likely be there, with Arachnid, where the leader can watch over her at a closer distance and they may abstract information from her." stopping again, Prowl swiveled back around and aimed his faceplates back at the screen, "However, in doing this, I do not possess the abilities to hack into the main systems and observe from the viewpoint of the security devices. Because of this, I am attempting a solid, logically sound plan that may result in a successful -and less of the latter- recovery of our intended objective, despite the lack of data I required."
Optimus, having to take a nanoclick to take everything in, crossed his arms over his chassis and began to slowly pace from one side of the smaller room to the other, his optics on the ground as he did so. The dull sound of his footfalls carried around the room like the quiet chirps of birds in the mornings. Prowl allowed his leader to walk around quietly, gathering his thoughts so to better understand their situation. What he didn't realize was just what was going through Optimus' processor at that sparkbeat.
Slowly, but surely, he was loosing his bearings as he worried for not just Fera Lennox, but Rethalia, Liora, the whole of the Autobot faction along with what this could mean for them, and Solas Kaon. The mech hadn't been answering his comlink since his departure, no matter who tried contacting him. No one expected him to act as he did before he suddenly left, appearing seemingly confused and agonized as he nearly broke down the opening door of the lobby. Prior to his unexplainable leave, he had been speaking with the shy Cloudsong, whom approached him in the curious concern that Optimus had come to expect from the young cyberling. The coincidence of that moment struck Optimus mid-stride and he approached the idea as he looked up at one of Prowl's televisions. Had Cloudsong sensed his oncoming affliction? If so, how? No wonder Ratchet wished for this apprentice so badly, Optimus thought, narrowing his optics at what he saw. He must have seen something in her that none before had, including myself.
There really wasn't anything that drew his attention on the device, but it was better than what he'd been doing before: nothing. At least he was actually looking at something now, even if he barely could keep up with the information. He was a commander, not a tactical analyst. Nonetheless, what he knew was simple: The Decepticons must never know of the Stone of Primus, or it could be the end of their fight. Yet even when he'd been fully aware of this fact, he'd still given Ironhide the ancient artifact and allowed the fallen comrade to pass it on to Major William Lennox. When the Major died later on, he was sure the Stone was lost. He was sure that it would be safer in no mech's grasp than any. Now, he knew he was so very wrong.
In allowing Ironhide to keep the Stone, he was giving away the very future of their race to him. And when that Stone passed down to William, the human species was now responsible for something they, including William, knew nothing of. With Fera gaining the Stone of Primus, and her apparently lack of knowledge as well, she was now the holder of that said future. The Decepticons were one life away from taking the only known key to the last hope for Cybertron.
Shuddering softly from the process of a Decepticon world, Optimus held a servo over his lip plates while he continued to wonder over his different trains of thought. Rethalia was prodding at his bond, questioning his sudden anxiety and trying to calm him at the same time. Optimus responded steadily, reassuring her that he was fine, and to not worry over him. His sparkling was also brushing around the edges of their connection, testing his emotions and pausing to decide whether they were good or not. The memory files shared between him and his creation flushed back into his processor through that bond, forcing him to recall the better moments of his life cycle instead of feel so worried and saddened.
The attempts made by Liora were so innocent and well-meant that he couldn't help but feel slightly better. He let himself drift for a sparkbeat to dwell on the files she sent him, reliving the precious times he'd missed with her and Rethalia as a result of his being a Prime. What would it be like, he wondered, to have never been granted the Matrix of Leadership; to live the life of a commonly soldier or civilian, and raise my family peacefully? The wars between his brother and himself would most likely have been handled by someone else, but how would it have turned out? Ultra Magnus would have made a great Prime, or even Alpha Trion for Primus sake, but him? He'd been a simple dockworker at the time, happy with the kalons he lived, along with the fembot he'd already loved so much by his side, and a future brightly lit before him. Would he still have joined the war? Would he gone into hiding with Elita? With how she was, there would have been no keeping her form doing what she had. Though she went from a simple caretaker for a clutch of sparklings, to an elite soldier for the Autobot faction, Optimus wondered if he would have wound up finding himself here despite his intentions. It seemed no matter the situation, he always returned to the war. Always the war.
"Optimus." he'd wanted nothing more than to have what he did now, sparkling and all. He just wished it could have been under better circumstances in his life cycle... "Optimus." once, he nearly gave the Matrix up, and retired as Prime. But, that had been shortly before the attack on Praxus, where the sparklings had been wrongly put to death at the fading echoes of the Dark Hunt, thus giving him no other reason for staying as he was. Elita-One had needed him for his strength and wisdom, not for his inabilities to step up and be a leader for those who'd follow him. "Optimus Prime."
Then Liora had come, and everything he ever thought he'd known changed. In that split nanoclick, holding Rethalia's servo as Ratchet announced the presence of his creation...indescribable. In that moment, nothing was more worth fighting for. "Optimus!" the quick, snappish call yanked Optimus back to reality and he jumped at the voice, turning around to see Prowl swiveled towards him again from his monitors. His faceplates were not irritated, as Optimus had expected them to be. Instead, the serious features of one of Optimus' most trusted comrades were concerned, a look Optimus knew too well how to distinguish these kalons.
He'd let himself space out again. Sighing, Optimus dropped his arms and began back towards his smaller peer. "I apologize Prowl, please continue." the black and white Autobot narrowed his optics at the Prime, but said nothing of his worries as he returned to his work on the computers. "You're not resting enough. You must recharge more if you are going to keep yourself up like this." his voice was stern and firm, almost like he was giving an order rather than a suggestion. He never was one to sound friendly when he meant to be. Optimus straightened, but instead dropped his act and rested a servo on the back of Prowl's chair for support. He'd already recharged multiple times the past groon. Maybe only a few joors at a time, but he'd still recharged nonetheless.
"I'm fine. My recharging is not nearly as important as retrieving Fera Lennox and upholding the information she carries from the Decepticons."
"You'll collapse if you continue like this Optimus. There is no reason to exhaust yourself and restart later on if it is the safety of the human female you seek." Prowl knitted his digits in his lap and focused Optimus with hard, sapphire optics, "You cannot perform at optimal levels if you break down."
"Will over processor Prowl."
"And what is it, this information you say Fera Lennox holds that is worth this said 'will'?"
"Information vital to the survival of our race, let us leave it at that."
The mech fell silent, more a listener than a talker anyways. He appeared finished with talking, but Optimus knew he was fighting back the words on his glossa. The 'Bot would never speak up unless necessary, but the knowing that Prowl was uneasy with the end of the conversation made Optimus anxious as well. It was a mental decision that came with such skilled silence from the analyst. Giving into the pressure, Optimus pivoted away and lifted his digits to roughly massage the tangled wires under his foreplate.
"I do not fear for myself anymore Prowl, nor do I for my mate. We've learned to handle ourselves in this war, and so have those who call themselves Autobots. I have even come to realize there was nothing to come from Megatron, or Arachnid for that matter." he let his servo fall, but he held his gaze downward, "Many who see me as I wish, I can never show my true side around. Now, I tell you, I am uncertain of myself." his helm moved from side to side, his processor disbelieving. Was his resolve breaking? Was his spirit of hope finally fading? What had triggered such intense emotions in himself and the others that Fera grew to mean more to them than just the capsule for the Stone? "Though you don't know the deeper importance of Fera Lennox, I know you will leave things be when I ask." his helm twisted on his neck to peer over his shoulderbolt as the tapping of the mech's digits ceased. Prowl sat with his spinal support facing Optimus, remaining in this accompanied silence with his leader. Neither of them spoke up against the brittle still, Prowl nor his Prime. Optimus waited for the chance to make a move, or for Prowl to do so instead. However, only himself broke the draft of the room's chilled breeze.
~Hound ta Optimus.~ Optimus aimed his faceplates at the door, shattering the motionless peace. He half expected the mech on his comlink to walk through, but then his files reminded him of Prowl's rule against unauthorized entry. The restart of Prowl's digits against the keypad caught his attention, and Optimus looked back for a nanoclick before straightening up. He pressed his comlink communicator by his audio receptor and continued to watch the mech work. ~This is Optimus. What is it you need Hound?~
Prowl reached up to the corner of the dashboard to reach a button, and Optimus peered back at the main screen as the drone imagery switched to a live feed. ~Fera's fembot creator's been nervous lately abou' 'er daughter. I thought ya might wanna talk to 'er. She won't let meh leave 'er side fer a click.~ the rugged and accented voice of the scout sounded extremely worried, almost helpless even. For the first time, Optimus realized that he had been forgetful in speaking with the devastated female creator. Guilt built inside of him, and he didn't hesitate to respond to Hound's message a moment longer. ~I am on my way. Meet me in your personal quarters, and I will be there in an estimated five clicks.~
~Computed, Hound out.~ the comlink cut, and Optimus was left alone once more with Prowl. The typing had stopped again, with Prowl's neck stretched to the side so to let the right side of his faceplates show. Optimus nodded towards him in a farewell, and he started for the door, "Please Prowl, keep me updated whenever you are able. Do you have the tracker with you?" Optimus stopped to wait at the open entryway as Prowl tossed something through the air, not looking at the Prime as he did so. Optimus caught the small thing easily and he opened his servo to study it. "Thank you." Optimus heard a grunt from Prowl and a small smirk played on his lip plates as he finally exited the room.
Walking his way through the base, Optimus nodded to those who called greetings to him as he passed, noting the way the soldiers seemed far stiffer and formal than the nurses or regular personnel of the base. Jolt even made an appearance, his attention caught in his compad as he typed away. He barely missed the humans underped while he seemed entranced in his work. Realizing where the mech was heading, Optimus jumped and grabbed his plating, jerking him to the side. Jolt gasped and his compad flew from his servos to the ground. Both the mechs stepped back, the shorter emitting a short whine of complaint as he found his device left to skid across the concrete. "What the-" he whipped around, his lip plates open, but his words stalled as he saw his leader standing before him. "Optimus! What...what did you yank me like that for?" Optimus' optics flicked up and he tipped his helm forward.
Jolt turned and saw the rolling structure that was a scaffold, being relocated by a wrecker with flashing red and yellow lights. The Prime was surprised jolt hadn't noticed the show beforehand. If Optimus hadn't grabbed the blue medic when he had, the smaller 'Bot would have crashed into the vehicle and created a destructive, probably highly dangerous, mess. "Oh..." Jolt vented, backing away with Optimus to allow the scaffold more room to maneuver. When the truck had passed with its large cargo, Jolt rushed to pick up his work, which was unscathed and whole despite the fall it'd taken. "Thank you Optimus Prime, I was...mildly distracted." Jolt held the compad close and stepped back, giving a respectful nod. Optimus provided him with a kind grin, finding the slight awkwardness of the mech who had aided him greatly those decacycles ago in Egypt amusing. It had been those few hazy clicks when Optimus had been given Jetfire's remains, allowing him to finally defeat Devastator and The Fallen both. He would never be able to show enough gratitude towards the young mech for what he'd done.
Placing a servo on Jolt's shoulderbolt, Optimus gently squeezed it, "Distracted, yes. Mildly so, not as much." he chuckled when Jolt's faceplates shifted into embarrassment, "Take pride in yourself Jolt, you are able to concentrate despite your distractions. However, I would ask you to take more caution around our human allies and their machinery." Jolt quickly nodded, the crest on his helm bouncing up and down as he did so.
Jolt and Optimus parted ways down opposite ends of the hall soon after. His mood always lifted when he talked with the younger of their species. Scanning through the map logged into his processor to find his way towards the barracks. Unlike the base in Amoret, this particular structure had one row of large rooms spared for Cybertronians in each quartering hall. The size of each was impressive, but the space between them was a lesser desirable con than pro.
He finally made it through the main hangar before he paused to search the room. Again, the various scaffolds and structures were located in different spots, with humans moving hurriedly amongst the floor below. They passed along around or underneath the structures with others standing or lounging nonchalantly in different spots randomly in the room. A few conversed by a row of military vehicles while another spoke with officials along one of the paths attached to the perimeter of the room. A few, he knew. However others, he didn't, but he still acknowledged them when they called him out. But he wasn't here to make small talk was he? Gently squeezing the cargo in his servo, Optimus slowly paced around the scaffolds, scanning the space for a single Cybertronian life other than Ratchet, who was teaching yet another lecture to a group of humans over vital chinks in a Decepticon's armor.
The next 'Bot he saw, he called over. It was a fembot, quick to action as she strode over with a grace only her kind knew. The bright pink of her paint blazed against the blank grey of the concrete, creating a vivid spot of color in the space of the colorless. "Yes Optimus?" Arcee questioned sweetly, coming to stop a few feet away. Her sharp, wild optics danced with youth, and the energy only a cyberling such as herself would experience. She seemed to bounce on her peds, awaiting her next task with a hyper aura.
Raising his servo, Optimus handed off the tracker to Arcee. She took the device and turned it over and over in her slim digits, finding each side of it to see before looking up at Optimus. "What is this for?" she asked, beginning to study it again. Optimus tapped his chassis and Arcee nodded, placing the tracker on her armoring, "It's a tracker beacon. I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to locate Solas Kaon and bring him back to base. In his state, he's vulnerable, putting him at risk for even a single Decepticon's assault." Optimus explained, noticing the change from vivid hype to curious concern in Arcee's expression. She nodded at his request and balled her servos into fists by her sides determinedly. "He exited in a northern direction, with his last known location being bound for the city of Alexandria." Her leader went on, gesturing with his digits in the way Solas departed. He didn't even have to ask twice, for the fembot accepted the task without argue and left in the next click byway of her new vehicle form: a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle.
When the throaty roaring of her engine coursed throughout the openness of the room, Optimus shook his helm slightly at her flashy show. When was she ever not trying to show off? As he began down the direction of the barracks, he grimly answered his own question. It was the same time they all were at their most serious. He vaguely brought up the times when Arcee was merely a soldier amongst her fellow mech counterparts, taking to the shooting range with Bluestreak and Soulsearcher, and beating them time after time. She was the fembot to outmatch on the range, only surpassed by Elita, Chromia, and Ironhide. It was still an enormous compliment for one so young as herself.
It was a shame to put the fembot through a war as young as she was, but it was no one else's decision but her own. She'd seen things that most twice her age would have lost their processors over. And yet, through all the war, violence, hatred, and hopelessness, she had pushed on to become not so different from Bumblebee. Those two could have been siblings from the similarities they shared. The fresh feelings a war-hardened, scarred mech or fembot got from the cyberlings was widely welcomed throughout the Autobot faction.
Once again, Optimus was forced to move on as he came upon Hound's quarters faster than he originally planned. He was ahead of schedule. Lightly, he brought up a servo and knocked on the door, waiting only a few nanoclicks before it slid aside to reveal the room beyond.
The inside of the space was much like that of their base in Amoret, only larger and more furnished. There were no cluttering toolcarts strung anywhere, or various parts lying around. Instead, it was fairly clean and organized, with a simple berth and desk towards the back wall, and a cleaning area to his left. Each wall was made of solid concrete, untouched and unpainted. Lights sit burrowed into small holes in the ceiling so as not to hang down and strike the cranial units of Autobots as they passed. That specific problem had been addressed immediately upon arrival to the Amoret base. Optimus was sure that he still had that dent from those quartexes ago...
Settled on the berth with his body awkwardly inclined backwards across the gap between his rest and the wall, was the burly Hound. His legs hung off the edge, with his servos laid carefully behind the form on his chassis. The missile launcher on his shoulderbolt was purposefully disarmed and removed, now resting harmlessly by his thigh. The dark paint on his armor made the bright yellow and white of Sarah Lennox's clothing stand out greatly. As he approached, Optimus took note of the way Sarah hid her face in her arms and didn't seem to hear his entry.
Hound found Optimus' optics as the Prime stopped at his peds, and the mech nodded grimly. Removing his servo, Hound exposed Sarah completely. Even then, the human female did not move, spiking Optimus' concern further. Knitting his optic ridges, he looked to Hound for an explanation, only gaining an uncertain expression as an answer. Sarah's blonde hair was crudely pulled back in what humans call a 'ponytail', and she was dressed in simple clothing that looked worn and dull. She appeared asleep from the lack of movement she made, but Optimus knew that she must not have rested the entire groon at least.
Human emotion never ceased to amaze the Prime throughout his decacycles on Earth. Whether it be grief, or happiness, or pain, or love, the vast magnitude of any and every wave they feel was overwhelming. Their boundless hope when things were pulled into an abyss of darkness was confounding and yet so humbling to witness that Optimus felt himself inferior upon feeling such said experiences. They were unable to share the union of a bond as of ones that Cybertronian sparkmates or siblings shared, but Optimus had witnessed the levels of sorrow or joy they went through upon loosing or being around their peers.
At first, Optimus had been confused at how humans were able to experience something similar to a Cybertronian with their bonds. However, he'd come to learn that because they were unable to savor a bond like a mech or fembot, they shared feeling between one another the only way they could. This incredible event allowed such primitive creatures to develop relationships far beyond that of those who maybe able to literally split their being with another. It was a special, and yet so fragile, capability only few could produce. Humans just happened to be one of them.
Optimus, sensing the melancholy soberness wafting off of Fera's female creator, leaned down and placed a servo on the berth while the other hovered by her body. He lightly touched her shoulder and then pulled back the arm. For the first few nanoclicks, she didn't react. She continued to hold her head between her knees and hidden in the crooks of her arms. But then, the movement of her sides rising outward and in was followed by her lifting her head to show her face to the world. She was an absolute wreck.
Optimus noticed with a jolt that darker rings hung under her now disheartened and hazy brown eyes. The skin of her face was a pale ivory, the faint pink in her cheeks now gone. Her proudly squared shoulders were sagging in defeat, her overall posture slouched. The lids of her eyes drooped lowly, trying desperately to force Sarah into rest while her instincts appeared to work in the opposite direction. Her usually smiling lips were now etched in a deep frown. Even the fabric of her clothing looked tired and wearied.
Sarah searched his faceplates, almost as if she didn't recognize him. Her cracked lips parted and she squinted her eyes, her arms moving to her sides. "Optimus?" the fatigue and hoarseness showed clearly through her voice, and Optimus felt his spark drop from the guiltiness he felt on hearing it. What could he have done to prevent this woman's suffering? What more could he have done to make sure Fera and the Stone were safe and Arachnid hadn't the chance of discovering Cybertron's greatest secret? What more could he have- Nothing, his sparkmate suddenly interjected into his processor, filling his bond with everything she could offer.
He hadn't noticed he was falling prey to his regret before the fembot had stepped in and broke that muddling faze. Rethalia had pulled him from that pulling grip of Sarah's gaze and was now wrapping herself around his spark almost protectively. You did everything you could have, Rethalia went on, shutting off Liora to his momentary episode and forcing her own support in the sparkling's place. No one would argue that they could have done better. There were six of us there Optimus, an entire unit of Autobots. And still, we couldn't protect her.
Optimus shook his cranial unit once to clear it and gain a better hold of himself. Backing off slightly from the human female on Hound's chassis, Optimus burrowed his lip plates in a larger frown and kept a firm hold on the berth. "Sarah." he greeted softly, giving a slow nod. "I felt it was time we spoke...about your daughter."
Sarah's eyes seemed to drop even more, and with it, Optimus' mood. She gave a long sigh and rocked where she sat so to lean back on her hands and straighten out her legs. "You have a plan?" she assumed, getting a shake of the helm from Optimus. Sarah's eyebrows dipped down and she let her eyes flick to the berth. "Then why are you here? No disrespect Optimus Prime, but I don't see the reason in speaking with you unless you know how to get my Fera back." she looked up again, "I lost William, I don't want to lose her too."
"And you won't. Not under my power." Optimus agreed, studying Sarah's determined and sad expression. He reached back out to Rethalia, yearning for her strength and guidance as he fought for words for the first time in a rare while. Silence befell them for a click or two before Sarah shifted and got to her feet unsteadily. Wobbling, Sarah made her way over Hound's plating to stand on his leg, forcing Optimus to lean back even more. She locked gazes with him, holding him in a solid, but weak stare. "Optimus, listen to me very carefully," strangely, this was beginning to sound like the time where Sarah had threatened him about her daughter back in Amoret, "I once told you that I would give you a verbal punishment scary enough to make your God scared if Fera was ever hurt, right?" she asked. Definitely like that time.
Optimus burrowed his optic ridges, not understanding where the conversation was headed, but hesitant to interrupt. Sarah halted the conversation for a moment to looked beside her and squat down, then pushing herself forward so she would slip down off of Hound's leg to land on the berth. "Well," she began, walking over to Optimus' servo, "I didn't know you then. I hadn't realized the truth and honesty behind your kind's depth of emotion. I couldn't understand you yet." she held her forearm and studied his faceplates, her own face pained beyond explanation. "And over these months, I've come to respect you more. I could have left, I knew that. Early on, I knew there was a possibility myself and my daughter could live a life outside of this." she rolled her hand in the air, "A life in hiding and constant running, but a life nonetheless." she shrugged and finally darted her brown gaze away, scanning the room around the. "But...then I knew..." suddenly, her voice broke and she lifted a hand, pressing the back of it to her nose and lips.
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to go on until this moment passed. "She saw things in you all that I wouldn't listen to...I...no, I wouldn't...Hound helped me see what I was missing before..." she couldn't speak any further, her eyes watering over as she murmured a quick 'sorry'. She then squatted down on the balls of her feet and burying her face in her hands. Hound immediately sat up and cupped his servo around Sarah, masking her in his bulk as he lifted her up and took her close. Her cries echoed softly behind the muffling sheet of Hound's armor while her hands clutched at him harshly. It broke Optimus' spark to see Sarah's small form seem so vulnerable against Hound's large frame.
Stop it, just please...stop. Optimus straightened at the sound of Rethalia's voice through their bond, on edge of pleading. He was surprised at the vivid difference of Rethalia's tone compared to what she'd spoken like shortly before. He hadn't realized he'd been sharing files. Quickly, he dropped the view of Hound and Sarah and blocked off the loop between them. With that stream gone, the mech was now able to fully grip what his sparkmate was feeling. Rethalia's grief was welling beyond a terrible point, nearly crushing Optimus with its weight. There was no doubt in his processor that she was having one of her episodes, forcing her to relive the terrible murders of her entire unit. And with no doubt, he knew it had come on by his actions. A terrible guilt consumed him, overwhelming his spark to the point where he was actually blocking her side of their connection.
Regretting even that, Optimus' optics flickered and he growled, roughly scrubbing his servo across his chassis. Eventually realizing that simply having himself open to his mate wouldn't be enough, he threw open the bond as much as he could, allowing him to completely experience what Rethalia was. The sere amount of pain, guilt, anger, sadness, and horror shocked through Optimus like a flash of electricity, curling over his frame in a crippling bolt. His gears locked and then released, snapping wiring and sending twisting rages in his CPU. He fought back the pain-induced yell crawling in his throat, instead clamping his oral sheets shut. Courses of blazing and core-melting fire ran up his spinal support. His tanks churned at levels he figured would either collapse the internal part or force him to purge. His legs felt weak and unstable while his servos shook as he grabbed at his spark. The very air around him seemed lit with energy, burning him from the outside while his pain melted him from within.
He turned on his heelped and slammed a servo on the berth, supporting his body before he fell to his kneebolts. The free arm hanging by his side wrapped around his midsection, almost as if he could hold himself together by whatever strength he could muster. Optimus felt as if he were shattering piece by piece, losing his processor to a whole-consuming beast of himself. Every spark extinguished under his power rushed before his optics, flashing faceplates he knew well or not, but providing the same feeling behind their death every time. Anguished screams of the deadsparked seared to the front of his CPU like a stubborn virus, refusing to move or be erased from his files. However, though he was in pain, Optimus would never delete those files. The memory of a fallen soldier kept their spark alive even after they have gone. It was the legends that they lived forever in, not the body.
The pipes on his spinal support hissed loudly, expelling large amounts of obscuring mist. He felt his internals grinding against one another and the hydraulics in his limbs complaining horribly. Rethalia wasn't responding to him, no matter what message his sent. A slick liquid leaked between his oral sheets, bitter to the taste. Optimus lifted a servo, pressing it to his lip plates. Pulling it back, he was shocked to see it as bright blue energon.
"Optimus, I want to know something," Sarah's voice picked up again, forcing him to push himself up despite the pain and find her back on the berth. She was near him now, reaching for him with a tear-streaked face and a concerned gaze. "tell me she'll be ok. Please. Just that she won't die and I'll be ok." she touched his arm and Optimus jumped slightly to position himself better, "Don't torture yourself like this...please, just tell me she'll come back and I'll...be stronger..." Optimus paused and then gave a gentle, slow nod. Sarah gave him a ghostly grin with this and reached over to wipe off the energon on his lip plates, "Pace yourself. We'll get through this...I want you to enjoy whatever time you have with your wife..." Sarah blinked, allowing a single tear to roll heavily down her cheek, "Because you never know when she could be ripped from your life."
Was this his signal to leave? Did Sarah wish to speak with him longer? Oh this pain! Squeezing his optics shut for a nanosecond, Optimus met gazes with Sarah and gave her a brief "Thank you". He didn't wait an astrosecond longer. The Prime was out the door and sprinting down the halls faster than he had arrived. He almost leapt through each path, barely avoiding the humans below. The frustrating pace they forced him back with almost had him roaring to clear it faster. He felt Rethalia's lingering emotions running through him, urging him on and calling him further like a rope pulling at his body.
He burst through the entrance to the commanders wing of the base, rushing into the barracks with a speed that he hadn't used since the fight in Chicago. The agony inside of him was clearing, allowing him to process easier. However, he knew this was from Rethalia's relenting to this inner darkness. Finding a renewed spring in his step, he rushed onward at a full-out sprint. Thankfully, his shared quarters with Rethalia was at the beginnings of the wing, providing himself and his mate a spacious area that took up almost the entire side of the Cybertronian's half of the hall. At first, Optimus had been hesitant to accept the overly roomy space, but certain circumstances pushed him to take it. He came upon the door before nearly breaking the keypad with the access code he punched in.
"Rethalia!" he called out his sparkmate's name as he ran through the door. It didn't seem to open fast enough, forcing him to swipe it aside as he came forward. He let the door shut behind him before he swept through their quarters, moving past the main room into the wash rack, finding the lights switched off. Swiftly twisting around, Optimus strode across the length of the living area to come into their berth room. She still wasn't there. "Rethalia!" he called his beloved's name again, only to have silence befall his audios and spark. The last space he came upon was their offices.
He poked in the upper half of his body, leaning in to scan across the desks located on both sides of the room. Idle computers sit on both, one black in shutdown while the other was left powered on and with stalled work. Various nick-knacks and collected spreadsheets or plans litter the surfaces of both. Optimus' own desk was dangerously scattered with this mix of compads and papers, some hanging off the edges and threatening to fall off. The small doll Fera had made him back in Amoret still rested at the front, safely inside the clear, crystalline case he'd placed it in. Rethalia's however was cleanly organized, with compads on one side and papers on the other. Even her small decorations were lined neatly. But what he knew was that she never, ever left her computers running while she was outside their personal quarters.
Optimus nearly tripped over himself coming inside. He rounded around Rethalia's desk to find the very fembot sitting on the ground with her spinal support against the furniture. She had her arms wrapped around her legs so tightly that they almost touched her chassis. Her mandible was tucked close, hovering over her kneebolts. The angle of her helm allowed Optimus to truly see the utter fear in his sparkmate's expression. As clear as the red of his paint, Optimus saw the terror of Rethalia's faceplates. They were contorted into a pure, distant bout of fear, with her optics wide and her lip plates quivering. She was visibly shaking, her armor rattling violently. It appeared like she'd seen the war for the first time.
He kneeled before her and grasped her helm between his servos, keeping her cranial unit still, "Rethalia, look at me. Please, everything's ok. You're ok." not taking time to process any longer, Optimus took her into his arms, wrapping himself around her and overtaking her in his overall mass. Rethalia instantly began to cry at his touch, emitting a series of low moans that were near eerie. Optimus felt her digits locking onto his plating as she buried her faceplates into the crook of his neck. The warm line of tears flooding from her optics dripped down into his protoform, soaking into the cracks and crevices of his frame. However, he didn't care if his wiring and internals became soaked, going on to press his own cranial unit to the side of hers. The vibrations coming from her armor shook Optimus, while Rethalia's expelled sorrows broke through their bond to the outside world.
Rethalia was lifted into Optimus' lap as he settled back into a sit, allowing her to curl into a ball against him. He held one servo on her spinal support and the other on the back of her helm, hushing her like a sparkling and trying to calm her back into a state of reassurance. "Sunraider...Silverlight...Flashfall..." Rethalia groaned softly. She shuddered again and Optimus held onto her harder, shuttering his optics closed. He felt her overwhelming feelings coming over him again, but he let them come. He would be here for her, no matter what. He wanted to feel what she did; to go through the pain she was. The loss of her entire unit effected her greatly, and it seemed that she was finally coming to grips that they were truly gone. Optimus had lost parts of his own units, even half of one at a point. However, he'd never, through all his vorns, lost a complete unit.
"Steelrunner...Boltstreak...Windripper...Metalloope r...Scrapheat..." she quietly named off each Cybertronian with a single vent, finally voicing the designations for the first time since their deactivation. The faith in their bond was slowly break,ing becoming two from the one that they held. Optimus clutched at his sparkmate and that faith, holding it in place with his own overwhelming sense of hope. He shut them both off to Liora, protecting her from these unexplainable and completely hysterical set of emotions. "Optimus, I'm so horrible..." Rethalia whispered, her frame racking against him. She felt so cold, so vulnerable. So many times had Optimus loved his sparkmate's strength and her vigilance. And so many times had he yearned for her warmth in his cold world. But now, here, she seemed so...breakable. "I never...never gave them...a proper goodbye...and those sparklings! Oh Optimus!" her cries came with a renewed vigor, making Optimus feel helpless as he continued to gently brush Rethalia's spinal support and rock her back and forth.
"Shh Rethalia, it's alright...you're not horrible...everything is alright..." he spoke in their natural language, creating the familiar clicks, whirrs, and small sounds that came with it. It seemed to help, but only slightly, forcing Optimus to resort to hoping that this episode would simply pass. The true grimness of war never spared the few, or the many. It never saw the innocence of those who wished for peace, and it never hesitated for a sparkbeat to take life from life. Optimus' anger finally rose, boiling over into a protectiveness that had him growling in the dim. War and hatred and darkness. It was all one in the same.
Horrid realities turned into vast truth, and truth to pain, and pain to anger, and anger to war. It was the endless cycle of this that brought the endless fighting and cease of civilty that refused to acknowledge a warless peace. No world grew into what it shall become with the cycle of hate and war, yet when the simplicity of the main view that two kings were merely fighting with pawns, war seemed illogical. Those few who saw the gentle beauty in peace were left behind in the rash and destructive force that was a raging arrogance and uncontrollable aversion.
They never asked for hatred. They never asked for war. What was war but a spat between titans? Others would become involved rather than the beginners settling things themselves. Primus forbid the weak and pure at spark. It seemed that, despite all the virtue Optimus Prime and his Autobots had tried to protect, this was becoming a fight of survival. A race was imploding in itself. Now, the only hope for that self-destruction was a small human, currently in the grips of a blind tyrant. Lust for energon and a drive of misguidance dragged it on longer than needed be. This could have never happened. Cybertron didn't need to be destroyed.
They didn't ask to leave their home.
"Rethalia... let them go...say your goodbye and apologies when this war is through...say them on yours and my deathbed, where our last words will be for each other and those we wish them for...not now...not like this...not in regret and grief and with this blasted war forcing it on you..." he felt his own tears swelling up, "Let us live in harmony with the life we have created here, one that we share with the humans...our family...don't let yourself break yet, because I still need you as my pillar, my anchor...please...love..." his words faded into her sobs, and he was unsure if she had heard. But he didn't think he could bring himself to say them again. Was it fair and just to hold off apologies and sorrows for a later time? Was it disrespectful to make them wait? He didn't know, nor could he possibly.
And for the first time in Primus knows how long, Optimus allowed himself to silently cry alongside his mate.
I recently saw Thunderblast in Transformers: Armada, and let me just say...
Ew.
So where do we go from here? Poor Rethalia...
And how will Fera escape?
Read next week! :D
*Chapter Inspiration: The Catalyst=Linkin Park*