Optimus awoke with a start, his spark pulsating quickly. He sat up, still seeing Ultra Magnus's prone form lying on a medical berth. He was injured badly, hardly conscious. What was the Prime supposed to do? The younglings were helpless now! He needed to get back home. But he was still stuck on Earth. Checking his internal chronometer, he saw that it was early morning. Ratchet would be awake already.
The Prime sighed and got up. He was heading down the hall when his audial pinged. It was imperative he get to the meeting room immediately. The government representatives wanted to speak with him. He only hoped Lennox would be there. He was one of their oldest friends, and he made meetings bearable.
He changed his route and headed left. When he entered, he was surprised to see Prowl, Ironhide, and Kup were already there. They were focused on the Cybertronian-sized monitor. Ironhide nodded at him.
"What's going on?" Optimus asked.
"You okay, Optimus?" Lennox asked from the raised platform. "We've been trying to get you here for an hour. We were about to send Hide to get you."
Ironhide raised his optical ridges and Optimus muttered in Cybertronian. "Dreams. Didn't get the pings. Sorry." Ironhide nodded almost imperceptibly, and Optimus spoke to Lennox in English. "Better see Ratchet about it. Only got the last one."
Lennox's eyebrows came together. That was a safe answer for the other representatives. Optimus had several phrases he used with humans when strange or alien experiences happened to himself or his comrades. Lennox was one of the few he trusted with those sorts of things, but the human knew better than to ask with so many high-ranking officials. So he nodded and turned to the screen.
"So what's going on?" Optimus asked. The other mechs parted and let him through. He froze when he saw Cybertronian glyphs on the screen. He traced his optics up and down the screen, unable to believe what he was seeing.
A message to all Cybertronians on Earth. From Primus, the Ancient Cybertronian and head of Cybertron, appointed by and using the authority of the Great One. This message is a declaration that all mechs under the command of either Optimus Prime or Megatron, as well as any others, are to return to Cybertron within the next year, Earth time. As of now, you have no choice in the matter. You have spread this war to a planet that had nothing to do with it, and that is unacceptable. Below are a list of names and frequencies of every single mech on the planet to ensure that every bot on Earth leaves within the next year. Any who remain will be forced with extreme measures to leave. Contact may be maintained to ensure protection of humankind from any rogue attacks. Conditions will be monitored.
As soon as he read the words, an overwhelming ache to go home engulfed him, and Optimus gripped Ironhide's shoulder. He looked from the screen to Lennox. How could he explain?
"We've got it translated," Lennox assured him. He stirred his coffee.
"Does this Primus have the authority to do this?" a sharply dressed older man asked. His name was Archie Summers, and he always projected a stern, no-nonsense air.
Optimus stared at him for a moment then nodded. "He's one of the most powerful Cybertronians anywhere."
He looked back toward the message. Ironhide clicked behind him, concerned. Kup and Prowl shifted but said nothing. Optimus knew that they were dying to get away from the humans and talk about the message, but their stern, cold, military expressions remained in place.
Lennox took a large drink of coffee. "It was broadcast at midnight, our time. The signal came from deep space. Its origin is unknown. Even with your technology, we're unable to pinpoint the source."
Optimus said nothing, rereading the message. At the bottom was the Ancient symbol for Primus, the same one that had been found in Silverstorm's room. He was itching to get away and discuss it with the others, to spread the news to his homesick, travel-weary mechs that they would finally get to go home. But he repressed that desire. He would have to get through this meeting first. So he tore his gaze away from the spark-swelling message and began to answer questions from the governmental representatives about the likelihood of deception, the identity and authority of Primus, and everything the message meant for both the humans and the Cybertronians.
Six hours later, the Autobots were finally released from the meeting, and they hurried back to their part of the base, bursting with the news. But when they got there, they discovered that the message was already known by every single mech there. The entire rec room was buzzing about it. When Optimus walked in, Ratchet hurried over.
"The humans got the message, too?" he demanded in Cybertronian.
Optimus nodded. "Why weren't you there?"
"Emergency surgery for a human," Ratchet said, waving his hand. "My holoform was wrist-deep in a torso when I was pinged, and I told Hide I couldn't make it."
"And you, Bee?" Optimus asked.
Bumblebee growled, the sound of gears grinding in his vocalizer. "Helping Ratchet. I was with the one who had the electro-spasms."
"So is it true?" Hot Rod asked, staring between Optimus and Kup. "Is it really from Primus? Are we really going home?"
"It's definitely the same symbol that was burned into Silverstreak's wall," Prowl said, adjusting his optical shield. "As to whether it's really from Primus, I'm not sure."
"It is from Primus," Optimus said, a little surprised that the Autobots would have the same questions as the humans.
"How do you know?" Ratchet asked.
Optimus hesitated. He had assured the humans in a roundabout way. It had been convincing for the organic creatures, but he couldn't do the same thing for the Cybertronians. As much as he was loath to discuss his past with the temple and serving there, he realized the time had finally come. He crossed his arms and stared at the wall.
"I recognize his handwriting," he said stiffly.
There was a long pause. Only Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Ironhide knew about him working in the temple. They accepted the story immediately.
"Of course," Ratchet said. He took a long drink of a yellow energon cube.
"What do you mean, of course?" Prowl asked. He wasn't being rude. He was sincerely trying to piece together a puzzle he had only a few pieces of. "How could he recognize the handwriting of a mech who hasn't been heard from in a million orns?"
Kup tapped his finger on the table. "You work in the temple back before the war?" he asked shrewdly.
Optimus nodded, his optics still on the wall. "Yes. I was a praiser. I sang songs and made music."
"You were allowed in the temple?" First Aid asked, sounding awed.
"Yes."
"Wow," he sighed. "You're lucky. Did you ever see Primus?"
"I saw his spark. Once. When he chose me as a Prime," Optimus said, his optics slowly turning pink despite his best efforts.
"Was it really pretty?"
Optimus turned to look at Wheeljack, who was staring eagerly at him. His discomfort ebbed away. They all gazed at him, transfixed, desperate to hear about Primus. They were in the same position as he was. A little lower, actually. He'd actually heard the great mech, seen parts of him. But how to explain without getting into the sticky emotions that surrounded his thoughts of Primus? How was he supposed to answer their questions without being reminded of the bitter anger and despair that lay at the center of his spark? He thought back to the moment he took off the optical guard that had blinded him only to see the spark of Primus. The wonder and fear and amazement that had gripped him was burned into his memory. That was safe enough to talk about. He smiled.
"It was rainbows of light all wrapped together in spark form," he admitted softly. "I've never seen anything like it before or since."
There was an excited murmur. Then Perceptor sighed.
"I wish I could see that."
"I'm not sure you will," he began then froze.
A strange floating sensation gripped Optimus, and he stiffened for a moment then his head dipped. Ratchet stood up quickly, alarmed, and First Aid took a step forward. But before anything else could happen, Optimus looked up to reveal golden optics and a pleasant smile. Ratchet, Ironhide, and Bumblebee recognized what was happening immediately.
"Primus!" Bumblebee gasped. He leaped to his feet and stared intently at Optimus, who had turned his golden optics to look at him. He tilted his head, something that Optimus never did. The yellow mech hesitated. "You are Primus, aren't you?"
"Of course. And you're Bumblebee." The voice was so different from Optimus's typical voice that the mechs gaped at him, a pleasant tenor instead of the deep tone of Optimus. He scanned Bumblebee up and down, a frown creasing his face. "You're supposed to be younger."
"The war forced us to make certain… sacrifices," Ratchet said uneasily.
"You were not the ones who made the sacrifices," Primus said through Optimus. "Bumblebee and Hot Rod and all of the mechs who never got to experience the wonder and joy of sparklinghood made the sacrifices, and they were never asked if it was a sacrifice they were willing to make. Your decisions to take away key points of their development have had a profound effect on their lives. Take Bumblebee's childish clinginess toward Silverstreak, still calling him Sam despite the many times Silverstreak asked him to stop. He wants things to be the same and holds on tightly to what he knows because he never learned naturally how to grow up and move on. And take Hot Rod's insecurity about who he is. Why? Because he has been told what to be since the moment he was created and has never had the chance to explore what he wants."
Silence reigned and Primus tapped Optimus's chin thoughtfully as he scanned the room. "I know that Optimus was against it. And so we're you, Ratchet. You foresaw some of the damages. But you've grown used to the deficiencies. That must be remedied once you all return to Cybertron."
"You said we would get to come home soon," Ironhide said.
Primus smiled at Ironhide through Optimus. "Indeed. Just be patient. In an Earth solar cycle, you will be on your way home. I await you eagerly." Optimus's face suddenly went slack, and he swayed. Primus swallowed and spoke as though from far away, faint and distant. "I must go now. I'm so tired… Catch him."
Ironhide was the only one to register the warning, and he lunged forward as Optimus's optics turned blue and his body fell like a marionette that had all its strings cut. He caught Optimus before he hit the ground. Optimus groaned and his optics flickered. Ratchet hurried over to kneel beside his Prime.
"Optimus?" he asked gently.
"Again?" Optimus asked, his deep voice back to normal. He reached a shaking hand up to grip his head.
"Yes. Again. Second time," Bumblebee said from above him.
Optimus attempted to sit up, but Ratchet pushed him back down. "Not until you stop shaking."
Exhaustion made Optimus want to recharge, but it wasn't his own exhaustion. Toward the end of the experience, a surge of weakness and tiredness had swept over the connection from Primus's side of the connection. Was Primus pushing himself too far?
"Most likely," Primus said in his head, but it cut in and out like a badly tuned radio.
"Stop it," Optimus admonished. "It's not healthy."
Then he froze, waiting to be scolded for daring to speak that way to Primus himself. But Primus only laughed in his head and withdrew back to Cybertron. Optimus allowed himself to be helped into a chair and sipped slowly on the medical grade energon that First Aid set in front of him. His thoughts were on Ultra Magnus and Primus and the new Prime. Then he wondered, not for the first time, what was going on with Silverstreak. He knew that in less than a year, he would be headed back home with his team. But what would they find when they got back?