(***)

This is gonna be long. I'm warning you of that right now. And…look, it isn't pretty. But it's necessary. Not as an excuse so much as an explanation. But…well, that's later. First, what happened on Earth.

Earth had a large number of native lifeforms on it. The ones that made the most noticeable…well, everythings, were homo sapiens: little hairless primates that were pretty integrated with machinery, but it was mostly outside their bodies.

What had happened was, the first Cybertronians to crash-land on the planet were Decepticons. That wasn't going to be a great thing for the homo sapiens, because the general philosophy of Decepticons when encountering a resource-rich planet was: Nice infrastructure, shame about the original tenants. By the time Optimus and his team had made it planetside, the Decepticons had already established an FOB and integrated themselves into the militaries of a number of powerful homo sapien militaries. It wasn't a full-on Infiltration program—Megatron didn't have enough time to organize like that—but they were lying low until they could swoop in, eliminate everyone who needed eliminating (read: most-to-everyone on the planet at the time), and then start processing the raw materials on Earth into easily transportable energon cubes.

When Optimus arrived, the "laying low" plan very quickly went out the window. And as you'd expect of Optimus, one of the main priorities for all Autobot forces were to protect the "humans" and ensure—and I'm quoting Ratchet quoting Optimus directly, here—that "they did not pay for the hubris of our own people."

The Autobot Code demanded that; the Matrix demanded that; and Optimus, as most people knew him, would have demanded that too, regardless of how many people above him were calling the shots.

The problems started almost right away. Causality number one in this Battle for Earth (nobody called it that then and, so far as I can tell, nobody calls it that now) was Bumblebee, but it wasn't the Decepticons that got him. Apparently, some human organizations were aware of the presence of Cybertronians on the planet—or maybe it'd been other extraterrestrials they were after and we just got prioritized, nobody knows for sure—and Bumblebee made the mistake of falling for a trap. Optimus was faced with a dilemma: he could rescue Bumblebee, and probably get some insider knowledge of the Decepticons, but at the likely cost of harming the humans, possibly sparking an outright war between us and them. A war we'd very quickly win, given that human technology was still well behind us, even with a million-year war sapping any and all creativity out of our species. Optimus made a call: he said that they'd only move once they had a plan to get Bumblebee back without the use of overwhelming force.

Well…the Decepticons also knew Bumblebee was captured, and they didn't care whether the humans lived or died. They raided the human's base and slaughtered everyone—Bumblebee included.

Starscream apparently claimed that Bee had been vivisected by the humans long before the Decepticons had gotten there and that we should be thanking the Decepticons for putting a fellow Cybertronian out of their misery. Optimus didn't believe it at first because, well, if it'd been true then surely the Decepticons would've started massacring humans in revenge, right? We may hate each other but they have that whole "Cybertronian superiority" thing.

No, what mattered to Optimus at the time was he'd made a call, and the call had resulted in a friend's death.

Right, I said. Of course, I said. That's gonna affect anyone.

But just wait, Ratchet said. Because it gets worse, he said.

Oh boy, did it ever get worse…

The Decepticons went public and the Autobot forces on Earth stepped in, losing Jazz in the process. But the humans seemed grateful. Why wouldn't they? We'd just saved…well, everyone.

Yeah, a reasonable assumption—in theory. But when some weapons started appearing in the hands of Earth militaries that were far more advanced than anything that'd come before—for the humans, at least—a few questions were raised. None of which got to be answered before Megatron launched a second assault on each Earth capital simultaneously. Again the Autobots—horribly, terribly outnumbered at this point—went to work, and the casualties were severe. So far as Ratchet knows, the only thing that kept the planet from being completely overrun was the timely intervention of the Decepticons favorite pastime: a leadership coup. This time by Onslaught and the Constructicons, though, not Starscream. Or Shockwave. Or Starscream again. Or Starscream. You get the point.

What had apparently allowed the Decepticons to launch that kind of attack on that many targets was that humans had made a deal—with Onslaught, it turned out—for some tech. From a repentant, breakaway faction—honest (y'know, because a name like "Decepticon" conjures up images of trustworthiness and straight-shooting). Tech that would've jumpstarted everything from human space-travel to terraforming to fixing their ozone layer. Stuff like that.

All that tech, of course, had a secondary function: it jammed radar, teleported mini-cassettes into strategically important areas, unleashed computer viruses that crippled missile shield networks—that sort of thing. Stuff that made it very, very easy for the Decepticons to wipe out a billion humans in a single week.

And, no, none of the tech we'd apparently seen humans carrying around earlier was from this secret deal. And, yes, this secret deal did require just a teensy-weensy bit of selling us out to the Decepticons.

So, y'know, about half of Optimus's forces ended up dying in this battle. And about half of them were killed thanks to surprise attacks from suddenly very well-informed Decepticon hit squads. This included Wheeljack, Jetfire, Springer, Arcee, and Ironhide. Those last two—well, let me just say that you only had to know a little about Optimus to know how much those two deaths would've stung.

They stung for a lot of people, Ratchet said. They stung for him too, he said. But they stung extra for Optimus, not just because they were some of his oldest friends, but because he'd specifically requested they follow him to Earth. Arcee, Ironhide, and Ratchet—while everyone else volunteered, Optimus sought those three out and successfully convinced them to join his team. And now two of them were dead, and it wasn't hard to point the blame at the humans.

Well, Megatron took the loss hard. They'd outnumbered the Autobots ten to one for Primus' sake! How the hell did they lose? There were two people left on Earth that were part of the Central Committee: Ratchet and Trailbreaker. One a dear old friend and long-time medic, the other probably the most likable bot you'll ever meet, who was as good as Bumblebee at united people behind a common goal.

Neither of them could take Megatron, even with half the Wrecker's backing them up.

Optimus got one of them; the other was disassembled in front of his eyes. Just because the Decepticon's lost.

The humans refused to reveal which parts of their society aided and abetted the Decepticons, even after this.

Instead of the humans telling the truth about that, the truth came out about the weapons. Those "advanced prototypes" the humans had been bragging about? They were from…well, exactly who you'd expect they were from. Yeah, Bumblebee. And while we'll never know for sure, some damn convincing signs pointed to Bee having been dead long before Starscream and the Seekers attacked the facility he was being held in.

Oh, and the reason we'd found out about the weapons? A good chunk of the Autobot corpses disappeared on us, including Ironhide's Then they suddenly reappeared, in the form of shambling, human-controlled corpses. "Mech suits," they called them. Bits and pieces of dead Autobot strung together like something out of the Dark Cybertron prophecies—that's what Ratchet called them. And of course, the humans only announced these…I don't even know what to call them, these insults to us while they were busy kicking us off their planet.

More on the way, they'd said. Have plenty to hold off another Decepticon invasion, they said. Only here because of you, they said.

More on the way? Yeah, some of our people hadn't been "repurposed" yet.

So Optimus did what Ironhide and Springer and Arcee had argued at the very beginning: he stormed whatever human bases he could locate—said frag it to whatever humans got in the way—and pulled his people out so he could give them a proper funeral. And…

…well, Ratchet stopped telling the story after that point.

"Point is, kid—that's the context." We were still driving through Iacon, still making our way towards Optimus's last known location. "Whatever you've heard, that's where it all stems from."

"Can't say I heard much," I said. "I mean, Rodimus mentioned something about faces…"

"No comment," Ratchet said.

"How much longer were you all on Earth?"

"Too long. Too damn long. If we'd pulled out sooner we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Who's call was it to stay?"

"Who d'you think?"

Yeah…who do you think?

I figured, at that point, it was probably best to shut up and just think—or maybe let Ratchet say something else that he'd only ever tell me accidentally, or under his own power. I could give you a pretty well-reasoned argument as to why I should've just done that. Probably could've thrown in some graphs, too, just to make it real pretty-like.

But, see? I'm not always great at following my own suggestions.

"D'you condone it?" I said.

"What's that?" Ratchet said.

"The stuff Prime did," I said. "I mean, you didn't exactly tell me what that stuff is—and I'm pretty sure that's not accidental—but, d'you condone it? D'you think it was the right call?"

Ratchet didn't say anything right away, but when he did finally talk, it wasn't exactly with a cheery voice.

"What d'you think?"

"I don't know! I've got no idea! Nobody's told me scrap and I've got no idea how I'm supposed to decide anything at the moment."

Again, Ratchet didn't say anything right away; but when he did finally talk, he sounded…tired. Just…tired.

"Y'know what, kid?" he said. "Honest truth: that really is the right answer at this point."

"Is that gonna change?" I said. "I hate the prick who ordered me to do it, but I've still got a job to do."

Ratchet sighed again, driving down those bombed-out Iacon roads.

But he didn't say anything afterwards.

Yeah, so…what the hell was that supposed to mean?

Well, I found out soon enough.

(***)

We made it to Optimus after running over every crater we could find. Actually, no, that wasn'y quite the end of it. To get to Optimus, we had to pass through what used to be an enclosed market; something that hadn't existed on Cybertron for longer than I'd been around. We transformed just outside the security gates, walked through a fairly thick crowd, and—thanks to Ratchet being, well, Ratchet—got ushered through in an infinitely smoother fashion than I'd anticipated.

A whole convoy of Autobots were coming and going around that market, but I saw a few people I recognized: Nautica, Getaway, Windblade. I think I saw Nightbeat out there in the crowd, too, but he can't place himself on the day, so who knows. Might've been a ghost. Seeing them was a bit more calming, especially Nautica. But at the same time, it's hard to feel too comfortable in a situation like that.

Anyway, I started chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Ratchet said.

"It's just…I'm starting to get what the Central Committee meant by 'distance', now."

"Central Committee?"

"D'you guys not know you're—never mind. Point is, I'm trying to think of the last time I was this close to him. And that's funny, because what kinda weird thought is that?"

"Lotta people have that thought."

"I figured. Feels weird—don't like it. Also not a fan of the crowd."

"They're fine; they won't hurt."

"Says you. Put two Cybertronians together and what's the most likely outcome?" I cracked the servo-joints in my neck and started scanning the area. "All right, well, guess this is toot-a-loo from me."

"Not so fast, Skids." Ratchet walked out in front of me. "Change of plans."

"Change of plans? That—okay, I was kinda hoping you were just gonna follow me and then leave, but 'change of plans' sounds like you're about to heavily interfere."

"I'm not about to 'interfere'. I'm about to help you."

"By?"

"By taking you directly to him over and getting you two talking." Ratchet crossed his arms. "Giving you fair warning, so don't complain."

"Getting us—what? Oh for—no, no I've got orders from High Command and they say do this the theoretician way. Just walking up to him and—I mean they could've sent anybody to do that!"

"Sure. Doesn't mean it won't work."

"Yeah but, again: Orders from High Command. I'm well within my rights to report this."

"Uh-huh," Ratchet said, and for the first time in my existence I saw him smirk. "And how's that gonna work out for ya?"

Mmm. Well, he had a point.

"Scrap," I said.

"Just remember: you had a funny feeling walking over here and you hated it. Hold onto that and everything'll be fine."

"Worst. Psyche-out. Ever."

"It's not a psyche-out, kid, now c'mon—be in motion when I start making noise."

Not like I had any choice in the matter, right?

I started following Ratchet and looking around for Optimus. Some of the people in the crowd—the people that saw and recognized Ratchet—noticed that I was looking around too, so of course I grabbed their attention. Not ideal but what can you do?

"Yo," Getaway said.

"Howdy," Nautica said.

I nodded my head at them as I passed and now I know that Nautica hesitated a little bit, which even then made sense because, hey, it's Nautica! Skids and Nautica, the dynamic duo (okay nobody ever called us that). Why the cold shoulder? Well, Nautica, it's because...you can't see me but I'm gesturing all around me.

Yeah that'll come up later.

Anyways, Ratchet, though, was leading me down a path that led in only one direction. I kept following Ratchet down that path and then…there I was. Standing on a plateau, overlooking a great natural balcony over the great wastes on the outskirts of Iacon. It was a deep, purple night sky with few stars, so the broken shards of glass that we call "mountains" were just as purple.

And on the edge of the plateau was a massive red and blue bot. Optimus Prime.

I hadn't been on Earth—and as a theoretician, I usually got deployed behind Decepticon lines for either direct on-the-ground planning or "funny business"—so, being that the Autobot army was vast…this had been the first time I'd ever actually seen him in person.

The funny feeling was still there, but not it was focused on how this larger than life general—this titan of the Cybertronian race—was just…alone.

Ratchet saw me staring.

"He's not taking visitors," he said.

"Yeah…yeah I figured." I shook my head. "So what good's this gonna do, then? He's not going to want to see me."

"You're not a visitor," Ratchet said. "You've got orders from High Command."

"I—sorry?"

"Optimus!" Ratchet was already walking down the slope. I did the polite thing and waited until I was called.

I saw Optimus turn around though…and despite the faceplate—despite how stoic that made the average bot look—you could tell something was…well, something was wrong.

"Ratchet," Optimus said. "It's good to see you."

"Doesn't sound like it is," Ratchet said.

"Apologies, old friend," Optimus said. "I'm contemplating the stars."

"Yeah," Ratchet said, "all three of 'em." He turned my way. "I'm sure you heard us, but this young bot has orders from High Command. Orders to talk to you."

Now Optimus was looking at me. Yeah that…that was something, I'll tell you what.

"Uh…it's…it's Skids," I said. "Skids of Nova Cronum. You uh, you don't know me."

"I've heard of you," Optimus said. "But you're right, I don't know you very well."

"You've uh…you've heard of me?"

"Yeah he's heard of you," Ratchet said. "Get down here. I said you two are gonna talk, not yell at each other from twenty feet away."

"You'd better do as he says," Optimus said. "He's persistent."

"And I have buzzsaws built into my hands—don't forget that."

"Yes," Optimus said, "there's that, too."

So down the slope I went. And then I really was standing face-to-face with Optimus Prime.

He looked a bit more stoic, but not by much.

"All right," Ratchet said, "so here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna referee this conversation. Skids, if you try and get evasive—if you try and obfuscate the whole point of you being here—I'll hit you. And Optimus, if you try to sulk away, I'll hit you too."

"Ratchet…"

"That sounds like a sulk. Do I hear a sulk coming on?"

Optimus shook his head, but he also chuckled. It was when he stopped that his face went back to looking…well, like something was wrong.

"For the record, sir," I said, "if I wasn't so afraid of pain, I'd be happy to obfuscate."

I wasn't sure how he was going to react to that—a chuckle would've been nice—but his face… "sulk" is actually a bit of a good word, believe it or not.

"I'm not 'sir'," he said. "I'm Optimus. Please let's…let's establish that right away."

"Oh uh, sorry. Sorry, Optimus." I was about to salute so, yeah, killed the motion right quick. "Uh, meant no offense by it."

"You couldn't have known." Optimus looked out at the wastes. "You should have known, but…"

"Oh uh, well…yes but, see I didn't get much chance to prepare for this so—"

"He's directing that at himself," Ratchet said. "And hey, you, you're sulking. What'd I say?"

Optimus gave Ratchet a sheepish look. Now…actually, no, I won't get into it. I was going to try and make a comparison to get you to understand what witnessing all of this was like, but…later.

Just for now, we'll focus on how Ratchet turned to me and said: "Just out and tell him. Otherwise we'll be going on like this forever."

I took a breath. Because violence—and also because this was playing out in a way I never would've predicted.

I said, "Look uh…Optimus. High Command—actually, no, not High Command: Ultra Magnus, Rodimus, Elita One, Thunderclash, and Pri—Prowl asked me to speak with you. They wanted to know if…well, if something was wrong. As Ratchet alluded to, I was supposed to do it discretely. I was supposed to…actually I don't really know what I was supposed to do. My guess is that Prowl wanted me to figure out if there was some way to make the Matrix go back to normal or—or whatever normal means for something like that, and then get the hell away so Prowl could just get on with it."

I turned to Ratchet.

"And I'm guessing since everyone told you about what I was doing that this was probably all put forward by Prowl—he's arrogant enough to interpret the others signing on to his plan as him just being right—and this part of the plan, the part where I'm supposed to check in on Optimus, that's all something that Magnus and the others seized on. Which means you've tried this talk before and haven't gotten anywhere with it."

"See?" Ratchet said. "When you put it like that, it sounds like your friends are intensely worried about you."

"Oh God," I said, "please don't tell me you brought me out here just to do a recap."

"No, kid—no." Ratchet crossed his arms again. "I got this idea because Optimus is lost up his own aft-pipe. Or putting it more gently: he thinks anytime someone shows concern for him, it's not him we're concerned about—it's the Autobot cause. Because in his mind, all we've done is dissolve the one into the other."

"I'd like you to stop this now, Ratchet," Optimus said.

"Make me," Ratchet said.

"Uhhh hey, hold on—time out here," I said. Yet again, my arms were up like I was about to get shot. "Okay so leaving all that aside for a second: is there any other reason why I'm here?"

"None at all," Ratchet said. "I'm trying my hand at being Prowl, 'cept with a smidgen of empathy this time." He shook his head. "I'm kidding. Just answer me this, though: the stuff I told you about on the way over—"

"Ratchet, dragging Skids into this is highly—"

"—the stuff I told you, when you saw Optimus out here, what would a rational expectation be? In light of all that, what would you expect Optimus to be doing right this instant?"

"I…" I had to think about this, because honestly? I didn't know what to expect. Something intense had happened on Earth, and Optimus's job/life was intense, so…hey, contemplating the stars made sense. Trying to get some bearings. Feeling the weight of the universe. You'd expect a leader to do that, wouldn't you? And…that was my answer: you'd expect him to be doing something close to what he was currently doing.

So, that's what I said.

"I figure it'd be something like what he was currently doing. I mean, I still don't know all the details, but I dunno if that would've…yeah. I don't know if that changes things but, I guess I could see 'contemplating the stars' as being a rational expectation, all things considered."

I looked at Ratchet, then I looked at Optimus, then I looked at Ratchet again.

"I don't know how this is helping," I said.

"It isn't," Optimus said. "Through no fault of your own, it isn't. Ratchet, old friend…what in the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to break through to you! Because for God's sake it wasn't happening on Earth!"

Ratchet beat his fists together. I backed up.

"Optimus," Ratchet continued, "I'm not a psychologist, but I know what self-harm looks like: and I know that people in your position—people that actually take this responsibility seriously—end up self-immolating themselves because they're being selfishly selfless."

I very nearly said "What? That makes no sense," but luckily I kept my mouth shut. Actually no, that's not true, I said that out loud—but nobody heard me, so I was still lucky.

Ratchet was still going. "You refuse to get help because you're stuck thinking that the whole Autobot cause is on your shoulders, so any screw-up on your part somehow implicates the rest of us too. And if you're not stuck in that mindset, you're busy drowning yourself with thoughts of how your burden necessitates you being alone, because the bot I knew died when he got that Matrix—he died because he had to in order to lead the Autobots, and so now nobody ever can or ever will know the real you. That's why we're supposed to call you 'Optimus' but never 'Orion Pax,' right? That's why."

Now he was looking at me. "Skids was supposed to cut through all that nonsense and show you that somebody specifically trained—somebody that didn't know you very well—could perfectly see how idiotic you were being. So I lied: I am trying to be Prowl."

"And me saying this is probably what you'd expect to see—"

"Was the last thing I wanted you to say, yeah." Ratchet was glaring at me now. "So thanks for that, Skids of Nova Cronum. Thanks for the worst answer in the universe."

"Oh," I said, "Oh, all right, okay—my fault, yeah? This is all on me." I jabbed my finger into Ratchet's chest. "If this is the fiftieth frikkin time you've tried this then maybe the problem is—"

Optimus had me by the shoulder; he also had Ratchet by the shoulder. And being that this was Optimus Prime, we were now both off the ground, dangling in the air, and incapable of jabbing fingers at each other. A small step for diplomacy, minus the unbelievably pissed off look from Optimus that we were both getting.

Actually, to be fair, Ratchet was getting it a hell of a lot worse than I was.

"Enough," he said. And yeah, him saying that? In that tone? That was definitely enough.

He dropped us.

"Ratchet, you had no right to use Skids like that." He leaned in closely, his voice dropping like a collapsing skyscraper. "And I strongly encourage you to stop whatever it is you think you're doing."

"You've told me that before," Ratchet said.

"Don't make me tell you again," Optimus said.

Then he turned to me. My brain decided then was the time to remember Rodimus's comments about Optimus and faces. I love my brain.

"Skids," Optimus said. "I apologize. You shouldn't have been swept up in this."

"Uh…it's…yeah," I said. "Um…is this it, then? What'm I supposed to tell High Command?"

"Leave High Command to me," Optimus started walking away. "You don't have to concern yourself with this nonsense any longer."

"Then don't make him!" Ratchet said. "You think people don't notice? You think people can't tell something's wrong? If you're going to act like the whole Autobot Cause starts and ends with you then wake up, because what you're doing? How you're acting? It's going to cost us. And for the record: I'm royally pissed off that you made me use that argument, because that's not the kind of bot I want to be."

Optimus spun right around and marched into Ratchet's face.

"You have a choice, Ratchet. You have a choice of what kind of bot you want to be. I do not. I have a bauble in my chest that remains me—in intimate detail—the value of my actions, whether they were wise and just and kind or not. If I seem unsympathetic, it is because of the two of us, only one has the ability to escape."

"Not right now," Ratchet said. "Not like this. Not the way you're acting."

"I've yet to issue a single order for you to stay."

"And see? That is now the worst answer in the universe. Because you know damn well orders have nothing to do with this."

They stayed glaring at each other until Optimus spun on his heel and left. Then Ratchet transformed and also left. Which meant I was there, on that plateau, watching a dust cloud and the figure of Optimus Prime leave me behind.

"Well," I said, to nobody except the universe itself. "…that sure as hell seemed like the worst thing in the universe."

And yeah, I cannot tell I lie: it really really did.