(***)

So the great thing about witnessing that whole spectacle was, everybody'd left. I spent probably more time than I should have just standing on that plateau, looking out at a whole lotta nothing. I didn't even have an internal debate about whether I still had an active mission or not until, y'know, I did.

"Well Skids," I said. "They can't blame that on you."

"Too right, Skids," I said. "Except Prowl's probably gonna give you a speech about 'expectations' and the 'can-do attitude' and 'why didn't you just shoot him when you got the chance?'"

"You really think Prowl's the type of bot that'd shoot Optimus Prime, Skids?"

"He's the type of bot that'd shoot Ratchet, I'll tell you that much, Skids."

"People are gonna think you're crazy, Skids."

"Good, Skids. Then I can finally be best friends with Whirl." That reminded me about Ultra Magnus threatening to arrest me. "God—what the hell're the rest of the Central Committee gonna think?"

In theory (shut up), they'd probably prefer I not take any drastic actions that involved mucking up the Autobot war effort. And I could assume, given that they'd tried to talk some sense—or whatever—into Optimus before, that they were just as concerned Optimus the person as Optimus the Autobot Commander, so there was double incentive to not do anything drastic.

But then again, if they'd been at this a couple of times already, then maybe they were getting desperate. And maybe drastic actions were what was called for. Not Whirl level drastic, obviously—I wasn't planning on nuking a city just to prove that, because we all die eventually, worrying about Earth was silly—but something a bit more than a stern talking to.

Great, so what'd that look like?

Well, I'll tell you what it looked like. I'll tell you what a "drastic action" is when you're in the middle of a four million year war; a war involving hulking six-mode weapons of mass destruction that, at one point in their lives, were just regular taxpaying citizens. I'll tell ya what qualifies as "drastic" when your arch-enemy flew the moon into the Devil's face just so he'd stop resurrecting a dead lieutenant.

It looked an awful lot like someone throwing a rock at the back of my head, because that's exactly what happened. It went "clank" and I went "sonofa—" and I spun around with my full arsenal ready to rumble, because four million years of war can make a person a tiny-bit paranoid.

I turned around and saw Nautica, who had a whole pile of rocks at her feet.

Now, Nautica and I go way back—which, for a species that lives forever, is saying something. So there are very few—vanishingly few—bots that I'd let throw rocks at the back of my head.

She is not one of them, because despite going way back, the vanishingly few number of bots I'd let throw rocks at the back of my head are zero.

"Nautica?" I said. "What the hell was that! Normal people say something first!"

"Normal people did!" She said. "I mean I did I mean—I've been calling you for five minutes! You started talking to yourself and then you zoned out!"

"Oh," I said. I put my guns away. "All right, well…comment retracted. Thanks for not taking my head off."

"Five more minutes and I would've."

She came sliding down the plateau and, when she reached where I was standing, gave me a light tap on the shoulder. "Right, so—you're here for something fun."

"Did we change the definition of 'fun'?" I said. "Because, yeah, sure, I've had a ton of it. Can't recommend it enough. It's like breaking your transformation cog."

"It involves Optimus, doesn't it?"

"Well according to Ratchet it involves a bot who thinks he's the beginning and end of the Autobot cause, which may or may not correspond to someone named 'Optimus'."

"As in…as in Ratchet thinks Optimus thinks that?"

I shook my head. "I dunno. My brain's been trying to crawl away and die since the moment I got here." Up went my brow. "And what're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be knee-deep in a quantum engine?"

"What's the point in a quantum engine when we're banned from even entering the atmosphere?" Now Nautica shook her head. "I don't know what happened on Earth, but it affected Optimus badly. It's…it's pretty noticeable, Skids."

"Yeah, that's…why I'm here."

"I heard that bit. The bit about Prowl."

I sighed. "Maybe we'd better talk somewhere else. In case Prime wanders back and wants his spot."

So Nautica and I transformed and made our way back into the market: one of the far corners of the market had a fully bombed-out roof, and so on nice nights bots would congregate underneath it and look up at the stars—something you couldn't really do outside in the open, since you risked getting flattened by a Decepticon bomb. Just past that area, then, was a highly underutilized atrium; and just past that was a set of stores that nobody bothered to go near. Good enough place to sit and talk about Optimus Prime and his Crisis of Face.

I summed things up for Nautica, whilst also informing her that I was under strict orders not to tell anyone else. "But those orders mostly came from Prowl so I feel a moral duty to ignore them."

"And Ratchet already knows."

"Yeah, but that's apparently beyond my power to prevent. I'd probably have had to do brain surgery if I wanted to keep it a secret from him."

"Awfully nice of the rest of the Central Committee to recommend you see him, then."

"My guess is? Prowl's so convinced nobody else can make the hard choices, that you could say 'I'm manipulating you' to his face and he'd still ignore it. Which begs the question of why he's our Chief Strategist."

"Answers the question of why he didn't go to Earth though, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" I said.

"I…well I assume…hmm, how to word it." Nautica tapped at her chin. "If Earth was brand-new terrain, and so far as I can tell that's exactly what it was, then Prowl's…erm…"

"Prickish nature?"

"Rigid—I was going to say rigid—his inflexibility probably isn't going to help much." She looked around, just to make sure we were truly alone, then dove right in. "But you're…you're saying that the Central Committee has tried this sort of intervention before? And it hasn't worked?"

"I'd assume it hasn't, if they sent me."

"Right yes, sorry. But they didn't tell you what failed the last time?"

I shook my head. "I honestly don't get it. First, Ratchet's asking me about my preconceptions of the whole Earth thing, like there's an excuse buried in there that I'm not seeing. Then I say—I tell him—if I had to guess what Prime would be doing in light of…well, everything on Earth, I'd guess he'd be doing what he's doing right now. Except that was the 'worst answer in the universe' apparently, except it wasn't, because I could've said…I dunno."

"You could've said he'd—he'd be jumping off the plateau o-or going on a suicide run!"

"Jeez Nautica," I said. "Don't sound so excited by that."

"Sorry I'm not I—no I think I'm starting to understand! Keep talking keep talking—I'm on the verge of getting it."

I blinked. "Uh, 'kay. Cool. Go team?" In fairness, I wouldn't have gone with her if this wasn't the sort of thing I'd been hoping would happen. Especially with the rock business. I continued, "So uh…I guess I just didn't see what the big deal was. And, I dunno, I'm getting kinda mixed messages on the whole thing. If Ratchet's just doing what High Command wants me to do, but gently, then he sure seems to be focusing a lot more on Prime and his…whatever. His self-immolating views than on the fact that Prime might've—scratch that, definitely—violated the Autobot Code. And locked himself out of the Matrix? That wasn't very clear to me."

"Right—but the Ratchet thing makes sense!" Nautica said. "Because he's not on the same page as High Command! He's trying to make sure his friend didn't turn cruel or vicious or whatever, and you were supposed to cut through that worry for both of them!"

I blinked again. "Oh god, you're right!" I said. "It makes perfect sense! Except I say that: please continue explaining. For uh, for the sake of any confused eavesdroppers."

"High Command is worried about the Autobot Code; and they—the Central Committee especially—are worried about their friend. But none of them were on Earth!" Nautica was pounding her fists together, emphasizing every point. "Ratchet was, and that means Ratchet saw the full brunt of Optimus's personality change! Ratchet's worried that Optimus might be forever different—that here, on Cybertron, he'll have the same approach to combat that he did on Earth—but he's too loyal to his friend to voice that worry outright. Or, maybe loyal's not the right word: he's worried that if someone so close to Optimus starts expressing concerns, that that's it: the Decepticons win. Because what's a better propaganda coup than the Autobot Chief Medical Officer claiming that Optimus Prime—our mystically appointed leader—is all of a sudden unfit for command!"

I blinked a third time. Forcefully. Getting hit in the back of the head with a rock is one thing; getting hit in the brain module by a dissection that developed is a whole other thing.

"Wow," I said. "Okay, that…that actually does make sense. Hey, none of that involves quantum mechanics—what gives? Since when're you good with this stuff?"

"I read books!" Nautica said. "I read plenty of books. I've read more books this week than you have in your entire life, Mr. Theoretician." Nautica's face darkened after she said that, though. "But…I'm also around here. I've seen it in the way people act: if Optimus hasn't changed, he's sure going around acting like…well, like we should think he has."

"Mmmm, Ratchet did say something about how other people could see it. How others could notice it. But that was more about him being one-to-one the same as the whole Autobot Cause, I thought."

"There might be some truth in that," Nautica said. She immediately raised her hands. "I don't mean—not like that. I just mean, maybe Optimus is worried about that too. On top of everything else."

"On top of everything else…" I rested my head on my hand. "Which includes all the stuff High Command is worried about. And Prowl too, I guess. If everyone around here's walking scared, then Prowl's not wrong to worry about unit morale."

"And you said…you said Ratchet said Optimus was preventing himself from seeking help." Nautica tapped her chin again. "That's not good either. We're bigger than just one person, but a lot of people look to Optimus for strength. Him torturing himself won't do us any favours."

"Neither would violating the Autobot Code."

"Right, I agree," Nautica said. "Just so long as we remember there's a person under there."

"Hey hey hey," I said. "I'm not Prowl. I'm not Shockwave. I'm not…who else is a cold, unfeeling jerk? Doesn't matter—I'm not saying that's the most important part, 'cos that's clearly part of the problem. I'm just saying it also won't do us any favours."

We sat there for a bit, tapping our chins or resting our heads in our hands.

"There has to be some connective tissue here," Nautica said.

"My bets on the Matrix," I said.

"Why's that?"

"Just a guess." I lifted my head from my hands. "Kidding—well, sort of. It's a hunch, but Ratchet and Prime got into it about choices, and how Prime doesn't get to choose what sort of bot he is. And then there's the whole morality lock thing."

"Right, yeah, I could see that. It crosses a number of variables: moral responsibility, autonomy, symbolic leadership."

"Yeah so…any idea how that all fits together? With uh…with everything else? What High Command's tried before and what Ratchet's worried about and…all that?"

Nautica tapped her chin again (must be a quantum mechanic thing). "We could just ask him?"

"Who?"

"Optimus."

"Mmm."

"Mmm?" Nautica leaned in a bit closer. "I, um…the face you're making. I'm assuming you have objections."

"No no," I said. "No, it's fine."

"It's clearly not fine."

"Well, no, it's not, because I made a joke about being stuck in a crap time loop and, yippie, here we are again."

"Crap time loop?" Nautica leaned back again. "I'm not—I don't think I follow."

"Ugh," I said. Then I steepled my hands in front of me. "So…when I came in, and I was with the world's…I'm trying to think of a snarky thing to say here. Something to the effect of, he forgot how to smile so he could do more medicine."

"Ratchet, right."

"Yeah." I sighed again. "Anyway, this was his plan. It uh…it…okay, see, the only analogy coming to mind is a reference to what happened on Earth and I don't think I'm in the mood for that kind of joke just yet. So you catch my drift."

Nautica paused for a second, kept staring at me, definitely like she was analyzing me. "Did…can I ask? Did you say something and then Optimus snapped at you? I only got a brief summary, not the full transcript."

"Yeah, you can ask," I said, "and no, no I don't think so. Probably the worst judge of that but I think…" And think I did, back to the conversation. "This is gonna sound evasive or…or something, but I think we can fairly firmly put the blame on Ratchet. He tried to referee the conversation and I'd say that's the most involved ref I've ever seen."

"As in he…he probably set Optimus off?"

"Well, Prime kept apologizing for dragging me into this—or that Ratchet dragged me into this, only a partial truth, really—and Ratchet kept threatening to kick the tar out of Prime every time he moped, so you could…you could say that, yeah." Something was dawning on me, something that the homunculus stuck inside my brain module was none-to-happy to witness. Luckily I trusted Nautica enough to ask this question without, shall we say, opening myself up to some nasty words delivered at highly inconvenient times (translation: Prowl would've eaten me alive if I asked him this).

I said, "If you were an eavesdropper, would you say I sound like I'm trying to weasel my way out of this?"

"God no!" Nautica said. Then she paused and I could tell she was forcing herself to think about that answer. "I…no, no I don't think so, Skids. I think—if it had gone so poorly already, I can understand being a bit skeptical of walking right up to Optimus all over again."

"Good, 'cos I'm skeptical of walking right up to Optimus all over again. At least I think I am. Which raises some questions about…well, about the Central Committee's whole theory around sending me."

"And that was…that was because you were disconnected from Earth and, and Prime's history—right?"

"Yeah, except, am I? I mean, is anyone wearing an Autobot badge really that disconnected? We're wearing…I don't actually know who's face we're wearing, but we all know the big red and blue bot at the front. Nobody's really that neutral."

"'Till All Are One,'" Nautica said. "For a lot of people, that means more than just the promise of an afterlife. It means your question can only be answered in the negative."

"Sure but, for me, I'm talking more about hero worship. Accidental hero worship. Accidentally, involuntary hero worship. But add any verb you like, it's still hero worship. And it uh, it complicates being distant."

"Is distant what you want?"

I shook my head. "I had this talk with Ratchet already. And then all that stuff before you started throwing rocks at my head happened. Theory's more my thing, but I'd say that counts as empirical evidence."

Nautica tapped her chin again. "Well…maybe, though Ratchet's problem might be less closeness and more the fact he was telling Optimus things. 'Notice this, feel that, see what you're doing'—that sort of thing. Perfectly necessary in situations where a person is oblivious, but…I don't think Optimus is oblivious to what's going on."

"Trapped sounds closer to the truth," I said. I tapped my chin this time, because those ticks leak, I guess. "So what you're saying is if we're doing this, we've got to keep those things to ourselves and just open the ears—right?"

"I'd be reasonably confident that's the case, yes."

I threw up my hands. "Perfect—that's got my full support. It's unpredictable and theoretician-like and best of all, we don't have to shoot anyone."

"Well that's always…wait we? You've said that twice now."

"Three times, actually."

"Yes but we...?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm all for it, so long as I'm not going alone."

"But this is your mission!"

"Which Ratchet joined—even though nobody asked—and also according to Section 35(d) of the Autobot Code, I can deputize whoever I want whenever I want. So consider yourself deputized."

"That's not what Section 35(d) says," Nautica said. "There is no Section 35(d). The Autobot Code stops at Section 34."

"I consulted the universe now c'mon!" I grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "If Prime has a schedule then we're gonna want to adhere to it. Otherwise he'll clamp up and I'll have to listen to Prowl be smug."

"All right all right, fine I'm coming!"

I wasn't dragging Nautica along, but I was definitely moving at a far faster pace than her. And I'm sure you're wondering, you're saying: Skids, why the rush? After all, you were mighty apprehensive about this whole thing to start. In fact, you outright told us you tried to refute each and every one of the Central Committee's arguments for why you needed to get involved.

And I say: fair play to all that. But three things had changed.

One: I had backup.

Two: I had the chance to rub Prowl's nose in it.

Three: Nautica had gone and done the only guaranteed way to get a theoretician excited for an impossible task like this.

She'd made me curious.

(***)

One thing you'll realize real quick is that we pretty much forgot our plan right away. If nothing else, let that fact show you how honest this whole account is. If I wanted to embellish—and if I could get away with it and not get myself on Nautica's eternal scrap-list—oh, you'd better believe I would have.

I don't think I am, so, yeah, keep that in mind.

Optimus was back in his spot—the one overlooking a plateau of purple and stars and all that. I won't lie to you: seeing him return to that spot not, what, an hour after we'd had our confrontation (or, more accurately, Ratchet and Optimus had their confrontation), managed to hammer more than a few things home.

Routines—they're supposed to give you some comfort, a bit of normalcy. So when you're in the middle of a war and your leader's sticking to a routine—a solitary, isolating, dour routine—it's hard not to notice. It's hard not to notice and, once you've done that, you start to gain an understanding of what the people most frequently around Optimus had to be thinking.

So, yeah, Nautica was right. I believed her from the onset, obviously, but this was fairly convincing empirical proof.

Nautica and I stood on the edge of the hill behind the plateau and did our best to not try and push one another down it.

"God," Nautica said. "You go first."

"Nuh-uh," I said. "I've played this game already. Time for a fresh start."

"I'm not the one talking though…?"

"Yes you are! I'm not—what'd you think I just brought you along for moral support?"

"Yes, actually. I one hundred percent did, because—to quote some pompous theoretician—this isn't quantum mechanics. I'm not good at this sort of thing."

"Paraphrasing. You're paraphrasing a pompous theoretician which, uh, ouch, by the way."

"Hardly the time for a fight about semantics."

"It's not semantics, because I made it very clear I was being sarcastic and that, actually, your insights were a welcome contribution."

"So, by definition, if we're discussing the intentions of what you said then we are discussing semantics—formal semantics, by the way—which I think you'll find proves my point about—"

"Oh my god please st—"

You'll notice that our conversation got cut off there. That'd be because, while we were having a go at the Trionic Method, a very large red and blue Autobot had scaled the hill and was standing right in front of his. Stealthy bugger, that leader of the Autobots. And intimidating too, it should be said. You don't really notice how big he is relative to the average Autobot until he suddenly appears in front of you with no warning.

No, neither Nautica nor I acted particularly dignified when we realized Optimus was in front of us. And no, for the sake of my continued friendship with her, I'm not planning on going into detail about how undignified we acted. Let's just say I discovered how to reach the upper stratosphere without rocket boots and Nautica cleared through the entire Old Cybertronian lexicon of swear words before I re-entered orbit.

Yeah, we'll just say that.

Once we'd pulled ourselves together, we stared up at Optimus. Optimus stared back down at us. He looked a bit cross. And big.

See, the thing about theories are, they're great right up until you have to test them. Not just because then they get all vulnerable—which is a shame—but because not all empirical work gets to be done behind safety glass. And while Optimus was—and still is—a beacon of light for all Cybertronians…well he had developed something of a taste for faces, according to popular rumour.

So we were having thoughts like that, too.

"Skids," Optimus said. "You're back." He looked over at Nautica. "And I'm starting to suspect you've dragged someone else into this, too."

"Define 'this'," Nautica said.

"The conversation that I'd been having with Skids and Ratchet, previously." He looked back at me. "I remember none of us enjoying it all that much."

"I can back that statement up," I said. "But you'll recall I said High Command, uh, asked me to be here."

"And you'll recall I said, I'd handle High Command."

"I can back up that statement too."

I bravely said nothing after that.

"Skids," Optimus said, "I've no confidence that our conversation will go any better than the last. I do not think it wise to go down this route again."

I sighed.

"The thing is, Prime—the thing is…actually, no, y'know what?" I turned to Nautica. "I'm throwing you under the bus. Tell Prime what you told me."

"Skids…" Optimus said.

"I…what I said before?" Nautica said. "What did I say before?"

"About the—y'know. What you said earlier, the thing right before 'we could just ask him.' Remember?"

"Oh, god, Skids—I've no idea how to word it."

"Just wing it. I mean, it sounded pretty good to me."

"Skids," Optimus said.

"No just—just listen a sec, Prime. Because, look, Nautica? She's been here. She's been around you. And I think…I think you should listen to what she has to say. It's…it gets to the heart of the matter a hell of a lot better than I could."

"You'll chime in when I invariably go off-script, right?" Nautica said.

"'Course but, hey, you'll do fine. I'll add the uh, the theory stuff. The stuff that'll probably make more sense once you give Prime your observations."

"Skids," Optimus said, one last time. "I've already said—"

"Yeah yeah Prime, I hear ya—but just listen, all right? Listen first and then tell us off."

It only then dawned on me that I'd told Optimus Prime to shut it. But, he did shut it. And that gave Nautica some room to outline her excellent—and, frankly, more necessary than either of us realized at the time—observations.

She said:

"We've…noticed things."

Silence. We all let that sink in.

"Okay wing it a bit more," I said.

"Does it have to be exact? If it's supposed to be exact then, sorry, but my brain module's been pancaked by several unexpected turns of events."

"You said it! You're the one that came up with it! I don't know if it's—just trust yourself, all right? I believe in you—I sure as hell believe in you."

And all through that, Optimus didn't interrupt. The significance of that? Well, it didn't dawn on us until later too.

So Nautica took a second, and then said this:

"A lot of us—the one's that have been around here, with you, since you got back from Earth—we've noticed that you…carry yourself differently. It's like you're trying to tell us—with your body language, your tone, you're…well you're everything—that we should treat you different. That you were changed forever on Earth and the Optimus that came back isn't someone we should trust.

"And…Ratchet's concern, what he and probably most of the Central Committee—heck most of High Command, no doubt—what they worry about is that they can't really approach you about this. They can't be seen to…to agree with your own assessment, because if there are any Decepticons watching, they'll seize on that.

"So you're left with nobody to talk to about this, because your closest friends see what you're struggling with but feel they have to blame something else. Not someone else—they still blame, err, you, for um…for lack of better phrasing—but they put it all on you becoming conceited. O-or…I don't know, there's a phrase that'd do it."

"Selfishly selfless," I said. "Ratchet's phrase."

"Selfishly selfless—god, yes, that works," Nautica said. "They blame that, and you're left with your own concerns. You think nobody sees the issue, or nobody cares. And maybe this perception you have—this idea that the Autobot cause has become synonymous with you—maybe that's a part of you trying to explain why people you know are observant, people who know you, simply can't see what you're going through. And maybe you're partially right, but, like them, you're off about the reason why they've done it. They don't literally think that the real Optimus Prime died—they just think Megatron's given them no other choice."

"Right, excellent," I said. "Thanks Nautica. And so this is where the Matrix and the morality lock come in, I think: you're stuck—like Nautica said—with nobody to talk to, and you and the Central Committee are basically brushing past each other on the way to find an explanation, so nothing's been solved. The real problem—that hasn't been solved at all."

"And the real problem," Nautica said, "which you alluded to when talking to Ratchet (Skids filled me in on the details) is that the morality lock on the Matrix prevents you from feeling free in your choices. If I had to guess, having such an objective, ready-made evaluation of your morality—with no ambiguity—it's left you feeling empty. You don't think you've made any moral progress or discovery on your own, because the Matrix always makes that discovery for you."

"You know what's right and wrong but you know you didn't make that choice. You know the Matrix told you and you're just following the pain in your chest."

"But, Optimus, if…if I can, that's a bit…silly, isn't it? Because you did still make a choice! You chose to keep following the Matrix—to keep subjecting yourself to its lessons. You chose to want to do good, because otherwise, you would've long-since tossed it aside."

"Right. I mean, it's not like the Matrix gave you a boost in strength. It's not like you can't build a Cybertronian with planet-destroying capabilities. And as for wisdom, I think you're learning an awful lot, Prime. You're just selling yourself short. I mean, think about it: if you weren't internalizing those lessons, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Right," Nautica said.

"Right," I said.

I looked at Nautica; Nautica looked back at me. We were feeling pretty proud of ourselves, getting all that out.

Then Optimus said this:

"And what, do you think, is the real problem?"

That dropped the sense of satisfaction off a cliff, if you can believe it. Not because of the tone or anything—Optimus sounded more neutral than anything else—but because…well, just imagine hearing that. Hard to be proud of yourself after someone says something like that, isn't it?

'Course it was around then that the both of us (I could tell from Nautica's face and my own reflection—plus this weird ability we have where we can hear our own thoughts—that we'd both clued in at around the same time) realized that we'd gone and forgotten that whole "listen to Optimus, avoid being Ratchet" thing bakc at the market.

I said: "Um…"

"The real problem is," Optimus said, "that on Earth, I did things that violated everything I know about what's right and what is wrong. The Matrix reminded me—consistently—that what I was doing was wrong. But I did them anyways." He turned around, looked out over the wastes. "That, is the real problem."

And that was when I, more or less, officially lost my cool.

"WHAT? Oh for the love of—that makes no sense! You told Ratchet—I was right there when you were saying it—you told him that the Matrix didn't give you a choice!"

"I told him I didn't have an escape," Optimus said. "I meant that I couldn't hide behind ignorance. Everyone else has the chance to pretend their actions weren't as bad as they thought, or were bad in the short run but led to good things later on. I don't have that option: there's nowhere to hide for me."

"Optimus," Nautica said, "we all have that problem. I don't…I'm sorry, that sounds harsh or dismissive or…but it's not meant to be." She moved closer to Optimus; a brave thing I definitely did not do. "Every single one of us has to recognize that we've done evil, and live with it somehow. It's the price of being at war. Some might say it's the price of being alive."

"Not to the same extent," Optimus said. "Not with the same visceral clarity."

"No," Nautica said, "I suspect that's true. But a difference in degree is not a difference in kind."

"And besides," I said, "that's…I hate to say it, but dealing with a guilty conscience? That's something so common around here you'd probably have to hit light speed to find someone without one. Hell, I'd bet even a good chunk of the Decepticons have that problem."

"I don't think Skids is trying to sound dismissive there either."

"No, no definitely not. I just mean…it's just more common than worrying about whether the Matrix is making decisions for you."

Another pause. We waited for Optimus to say something. Something deflating. Something like last time.

We weren't wrong.

"If I can ignore the Matrix," Optimus said, "then I start to question what I'd be without it. If I hadn't had the reminders—if the Matrix hadn't spoken to me, evaluated me, told me what I'd done—I can't help but worry that I would've made so many wrong choices. If we switched spots, Skids, Nautica…if either of you had the Matrix, and I didn't, would I still have made the right choices? I can't ever know that for sure, but I can suspect my will to do evil is strong enough, if I can ignore the very thing that's been guiding me for so many years."

"Optimus," Nautica said, "that's…I'm sorry, but, that's still not all that different to what Skids said. If you're going to ask yourself that, then—and I'm being honest when I say I've asked myself this many times—then I should ask what choices I would've made without the Autobots. Without people around me. Without you, quite frankly."

She stepped in front of Prime, looking him straight in the eyes. "If Primus is just a myth and the Matrix little more than a sophisticated moral machine, the universe is still watching us." She gestured around. "We're still the universe, and we'll always have to question whether, absent those eyes, we'd have acted differently. But we care, and the very fact we care says quite a lot. It shouldn't be underestimated."

Optimus's shoulders were slumping, like his servos were about to give. I'd never seen that before; it was so hard not to notice, given the contrast with how he usually stood. How he usually presented himself.

"I fear that it's different, Nautica," he said. "I'm deathly afraid that it's different."

And then…it hit me. The way he'd been acting like people should see him, well, differently. The posture. The isolation. The weariness. The subtext. And, yes, process of elimination: there was a question nobody had asked him, and since nothing had worked so far, what was the harm in asking it now? No, better than that: we'd said we'd listen to Optimus. I had—we had. Our whole hope that the conversation was moving in a positive direction had been dashed twice. We'd listened and it'd impacted us. And what was a very loud and very persistent thought that popped into my head? Well, maybe—just maybe—it was a tiny fruit of wisdom grown from a seed I'd not actually seen get planted.

"Prime," I said, "Can…can I ask? Are you…are you just tired? Tired of leading the Autobots?"

Optimus turned and stared. Nautica did too. I'd have turned and stared too, quite frankly, if I wasn't privy to everything going on inside my head. That was like asking if gravity was tired of holding the planets together. But that was the point: it made sense to ask and…well, nobody'd ever asked him that before, seemed like.

And then I saw it on Nautica's face that she'd quickly picked up the trail too, even though as far as I knew, I was the only person inside my own head (quick folks, those quantum mechanics are).

"Look, Prime," I said. "That's not—okay, two things. First: that doesn't negate everything else. All your other worries, everything Nautica's said to you—what I'm asking doesn't mean those things aren't happening or aren't real. Second: it's not meant to be a dismissive question. I'm being genuine. Are you just…are you just exhausted?"

Optimus had moved to right where I was standing; Nautica followed.

"Uh, Skids?" she said. "You keep saying 'just'. I think…I think I where you're coming from, but maybe um…maybe rephrase it a bit, y'know?"

"More to the point," Optimus said, "Skids—think very carefully what you're asking."

I held up my hands, back away a bit. "Woah, easy there Prime—"

"ENOUGH," he said. "Enough. I don't need the honorifics every single sentence and I don't need to have this discussion. Are we clear, Skids? Are we clear?"

Yeah, so, just because I had a revelation doesn't mean things became smooth all of a sudden.

Nautica, though, had stepped around Optimus, next to my side. "Optimus, please—we're trying to help."

"And that's it, isn't it? You're tired and feel like you're on your last legs, and the reason you're trapped—the reason you snapped at Ratchet when he said, 'Orion Pax is dead'—it all stems from the fact you don't think you're allowed to be." I turned to Nautica. "That does make sense, right? I'm not just making it up."

"No, it makes sense," Nautica said, looking back at me. "It…I think it's all coming together for me too. The question is...the question, Optimus, is if it makes sense to you. We wanted to try and listen to you—honestly and truly listen. So tell us, please—honestly and truly—if we did a good enough job of that."

We both turned to Optimus, who's posture had gone from rigid military commander back to what I'd seen before. You could even see it in his optics: the lights were dim.

"The Decepticons—Megatron—he has to deal with usurpers every waking moment of every day. There are days, Skids—Nautica—there are days where I wish I had that trouble. But I know if that happened, I'd be passing a terrible burden onto someone else. I know that would be an evil act in of itself."

"Did the Matrix tell you that?"

Optimus's optics narrowed.

"No no wait—that…phrasing aside, that was a genuine question. Did you ever think about passing leadership onto someone else, and did the Matrix tell you that was evil?"

"I didn't need it to," Optimus said. He raised a hand, cut me off. "I know, I know—I understand that doesn't fit well with what I've said before. And I truly believe that so many of you have the capacity to be great leaders. I just don't want anyone else to suffer."

"You don't want yourself to suffer either though, right?" Nautica said. "It's okay to admit that, you know. It's okay to say it hurts; it's okay to say that you've been stretched beyond your limits."

"And then what?" Optimus said. "Step down? Take a sabbatical? We don't have the luxury—the Decepticons would seize on that with all their might."

"So we'll stop them," Skids said. "And y'know what? If the Decepticons try to make something of it—if Megatron gets on his bully pulpit and tries to paint you as a coward or us as disorganized or what-have-you—we've got a ready made response: we're not Decepticons. We don't need a single leader to hold our hands. We can let him breathe and—y'know what?—we'll still kick your tailpipes from here to Luna 2."

"More importantly, it's what's good for you," Nautica said. "Optimus, you said—just minutes ago—that you were afraid what you were going through was different than what any other Autobot goes through. And you're right, it is…because what you've experienced is unimaginably intense…and you're never able to get a break from it."

She grabbed Optimus's hand, held it against his spark. "Knowledge is freeing—I truly believe that. But right now, neither you nor the Matrix are letting yourself sit down and gain an understand, some semblance of acceptance—maybe even peace. You're consistently being battered by the intensity of your own decisions. You have to have the compassion to let yourself grow from it."

She stepped away from Optimus, but waited to make sure he kept his hand over his spark. "The Matrix is just a receptacle so we can't blame it; the only one who can change course is you."

"It's too easy. In war…it shouldn't be that easy."

"Optimus," Nautica said. "Whatever happened on Earth—whatever you did—you're not going to find out what you need to do next in this condition. Not like this; not the way you're treating yourself."

Optimus did hold his hand to his spark, for a little while longer. But then he looked away and let his hand drop. "People would look at me different. They'd treat me different."

"You're still Optimus Prime," I said.

"That's the problem. If Nautica is right…"

"Some of us will treat you different," Nautica said. "Some of us. But not all of us. Skids and I won't. Skids and I, I think, we understand. As best that we possibly can." Nautica took another step back, closer to me this time. "I don't...I don't know if we did a good enough job listening, Optimus. But we're trying, as imperfect as we are."

"And, god, are we imperfect," I said. "So's everyone else. So's High Command. That's probably why it's taken everyone so long to ask you a simple question."

Silence, for a good long while. Eventually, Optimus spoke.

"I'll consult High Command. I'll…I'll think about it, and I'll consult High Command."

"It's gotta be your decision, though," I said. "Even if they say no, if you want to do this…it's your right to."

"For logistical reasons," Optimus said, "I'll consult High Command. But…I'll think about what you've said."

And then Optimus sped off, leaving Nautica and I on the plateau.

I turned to her.

"Do you…d'you think that went well?"

Nautica paused, looked at the ground. "I don't know, Skids. I'm willing to hope."

"In theory, that's what Autobots are all about."

She smiled a bit at that. "I like to think it's more than a theory, too."

It'd be a little while before Nautica and I got our answer...but we did, eventually, get our answer.