The title is from the National Arbitration and Peace Congress of 1907, "These vast armaments on land and water are being defended as a means, not to wage war, but to prevent war... there is a safer way ... it requires only the consent and the good-will of the governments. Today they say ... If you want peace, prepare for war. This Congress says in behalf of the people: Si vis pacem, para pactum, if you want peace, agree to keep the peace."

I have no words. I just wanted to write this.


Theodore Galloway was born to upper-middle-class academics on the east side of Los Angeles. He had attended Groton and, upon graduation from boarding school, had been accepted to Columbia University, his mother's alma mater. Unlike his classmates, who reveled in their carefree college days, Theodore Galloway slaved away at his studies and graduated summa cum laude. After Columbia, he spent two years serving as aide de camp to the senior Senator from California before applying and being admitted to Yale Law School. From there, he clerked at the DC Circuit Court and, as a result of his connections, became a legal analyst at the United Nations.

However, this distinguished academic and professional career was not enough for Theodore Galloway.

During his time on the circuit court, he had married the granddaughter of one of America's most distinguished families. While this afforded him access to a certain comfortable income, it left him almost perpetually insecure next to his wife's wealthy and distinguished relatives. He was a man with vision, a man with dreams. He had worked hard to climb America's social ladder, even without his wife's help. And damn it all, he wanted to be recognized for his talents!

After over a decade at the UN and a stint at a private military contracting firm, several strategic moves within Galloway's political party led to his appointment as the youngest-ever civilian national security adviser. At last, Galloway felt that he had been given the opportunity that he deserved! And when he became aware of the activities of a little-known and highly classified extraterrestrial strike team, he felt he heard the hand of destiny knocking on his door. Covert operations had hurt the United States before, especially when they involved clandestine devil's bargains. He was not about to let this one slide.

Galloway had worked every political lever he could find to get his foot in the door of Diego Garcia. And what he had found was worse than he had imagined. These aliens had not only withheld crucial military technology, they had effectively made the US military dependent on the tactical decisions of their own alien chain of command. So, not only were American troops working with mechanical alien combatants who refused to give Americans the ability to defend themselves, but they seemed to almost be taking orders from them!

It was ridiculous, and it flew in the face of everything Galloway believed about the right and proper operation of the United States military.

After his visit to Diego Garcia, Galloway had gone home and told his wife that he was on the verge of stopping "something outrageous" and that she would be proud of the work he was doing to protect the country's interests.

He could hardly believe that it had gone so wrong.

If anything, his fears about the Autobots bringing Decepticons to American soil were validated by the unfortunate incident that had resulted in their leader's deactivation. He had acted as quickly as he could to prevent further casualties. While he may have over-enjoyed the power he exercised in locking down NEST's operations, he had done so only out of the sincere belief that it was the best strategy to protect the country's interests.

Still, as they say, "pride goeth before the fall."

All semblance of control had slipped through his fingers the minute the dissembling Major Lennox had forced him to jump out of an airplane before proceeding to disobey Galloway's direct orders by stealing the dead Cybertronian's body. Miraculously, the world hadn't ended. Galloway supposed that, on that front, all was well that ended well. At least that was not on his conscience. Still, as far as his career was concerned, he felt he would have been better off dead.

In the chaos of the Decepticon incursion and the alien leader's reanimation, somehow, all blame for the incident in Egypt had landed on his thin shoulders.

That was how he found himself in his present situation, seated in a cold metal folding chair across a card table from General Morshower, behind whom towered an all too familiar glowering alien machine.

The general eyed him coolly, lounging back in his seat as though he were completely unbothered by the strange arrangement. After a moment, Morshower began to speak with his distinctive Texan drawl.

"It is my understanding, Mister Galloway, that you have been asked by the White House to say a few words to my friend here…" he gestured with a sweeping hand toward the metal giant behind him. "I don't believe the two of you have ever been properly introduced. So I thought this little meeting would let us get through a few pleasantries before we got down to business."

Galloway nodded mutely. He knew when it was time to admit defeat, and this meeting was his last and only chance to save what remained of his shattered career.

He had been promised a revolving door pathway back into the lobbying world and a means of saving his own face if he would meet with the Autobot leader and successfully smooth over the "diplomatic disaster," as the President called it.

In other words, he had been ordered to grovel.

Privately, he thought the only real reason the President considered it a "disaster" was because the petulant mechanical creature had refused to meet with him for some White House fête celebrating earth's survival.

It was petty and childish but, admittedly, effective. Galloway had to give the alien grudging respect for his understanding of human psychology.

And so, here he was, about to provide an apology to an extraterrestrial machine that had brought warfare to American soil for the first time since 9/11.

"This," Morshower began, "is Optimus Prime. He is the leader of the Autobots and their sovereign head of state. He is older than our ancestors and the only reason you are still breathing. As I am sure you now understand, if he had wanted to take control of this planet by force, we could have done nothing to stop him."

Galloway swallowed and said nothing. He had to grudgingly admit that he had underestimated the Autobot's offensive capabilities.

"Optimus Prime, this is Teddy Galloway," the General intoned, glancing up at the robot as Galloway cringed at the mocking diminutive. "Teddy is an over-educated, insecure paper pusher who almost cost all of us our lives."

The robot's blue eyes gleamed above him. The expression on the rigid face seemed to change as it studied and stared at Galloway.

"There is no need for name-calling, General." The vibrating bass of the Autobot's voice echoed around them. It seemed tense and controlled, begrudging but sincere.

Galloway glanced up, surprised by the comment. After a moment, though, it made sense. The machine was putting on airs of civility.

"On the contrary, Optimus. I am not calling names. I am merely reminding our friend Galloway of the facts." The General shot Galloway a pointed look. "I could sit here and mediate this conversation. But given the situation, I believe I would only be a third wheel." The General's voice was parched with dry irony. "So, gentlemen, I'm going to leave you two alone now because I think you have a few things to talk about."

The chair scraped as the General stood.

"Wait!" Galloway cried, panic flashing over his face. "What are you doing?!" He had thought this was supposed to be an official conference, but now he was being left alone at the mercy of an unfeeling alien machine.

Morshower's eyes were hard. "I am leaving you to sort out your differences. I will not return until Optimus sends word that he is satisfied with your conversation."

Suddenly, Galloway wondered seriously if this was meant to be an execution. He glanced up at the alien fearfully. Perhaps the US Government had thought that offering him up for death would mollify the Autobots. It wasn't the most far-fetched idea he'd ever heard.

If that was the case. He couldn't run. There was nowhere to go. Fear began to mount in his mind as he sat, rooted to the spot.

Galloway's furtive eyes helplessly followed the stoic General's shape as he walked away. When the door to the hangar closed like the thud of a gallows, silent prayers began forming in Galloway's pounding heart. If he was to die Gestapo style, he hoped at least that the Autobots would not be so cruel as to take his family as well.

There was a great crashing noise as the monster dropped to its knees before him, leaving shattered concrete cracked beneath its weight. It leaned forward, its face dwarfing his slight frame.

"Please…" Galloway said weakly, staring up at the robot's iron visage, "Please… don't hurt me…and if you must hurt me…please don't hurt my wife…please…"

"So now you are afraid of me?" The metal monster boomed. Galloway's bones rattled as the room vibrated with the sound of its voice.

"I am…" He half-whimpered, staring up at the giant, frozen, rooted with fear. "And…and I'm sorry… I am sorry…that is why I am here," he blathered desperately, "I'm here to give an official apology….for my actions…after the…incident in New Jersey…just please…please, please don't kill me!"

"I do not wish to kill you." The robot said curtly. But Galloway didn't hear him. Or maybe he simply didn't believe him.

"Please... I am sorry..." Galloway continued to stammer. "I am grateful for you and for your Autobots…"

"Will you be quiet!" The robot snapped, leaning back and pinching the bridge of its nose. It was such a human gesture as if Galloway's words themselves were giving him a headache.

Galloway fell silent, clutching the metal chair beneath him as if he might fall out of it. Sweat beaded on his brow. His heart pounding in his chest as he waited for the alien's judgment.

"You dishonor me and my lineage. You threaten my people with expulsion. You hold my soldiers at gunpoint. Imprison them. And you then deny them their right to grieve my remains. I want to know why. The truth. Not your prevarications. Why?"

Galloway stared up at the titan, considering his next words.

It was at that moment that he realized that he had nothing left to lose. If an alien machine was going to kill him, there was nothing he could do about it.

Emboldened by the thought of being so close to death, for one of the first times in his career, he spoke with perfect candor:

"You brought the Decepticons here...You brought this battle to earth. And once you had, you overstepped my chain of command! You ordered our soldiers around and made us dependent on you. You claimed to want our freedom, but you kept our government at your mercy!" He watched as the robot's face began to harden.

Galloway flinched as the Prime gave a growl, his jaw clenching.

"May I remind you that the Decepticons arrived on this planet long before we did." The alien intoned. "And furthermore, because of the Fallen, you have now seen the full destructive might of Cybertronian technology. Are you still so insistent on possessing our weaponry for your own annihilation?"

"For our protection!" Galloway stammered. "The knowledge of your ion cannons alone would have put us eons—"

"I am not technology!" The titan snapped, smashing a metal hand on the fractured concrete beneath his feet.

Galloway jolted in fear and fell with a clang as his chair tipped over.

"I am a living thing, not something to be studied or torn apart. Our technology is something on a level that you should not comprehend, let alone desire! I have witnessed the destruction of one planet, and I bear responsibility for that destruction. Why would you risk bringing that upon your own people?"

"We could at least make a stand—" Galloway tried weakly as he stumbled to his feet, now covered in white concrete dust.

"You once asked who I was to tell you what was best for your species's interests. I tell you now, that I am a Prime." The alien interrupted gravely, stressing the significance of that mysterious word as it turned its great regal head to regard him. "The last Prime. The last there will ever be. Because I allowed our people to be consumed by war on a scale your kind can hardly even imagine. Because even with all our technology, I lost the war for Cybertron…"

The last part was said so quietly as to seem almost as if it came from another being.

Galloway fell silent, his tongue leaden in his mouth.

"If I believed your people could do better than I, then I would give you the technology without a thought…but I will not be the author of another planet's destruction."

The giant's shoulders shrank as if under a great burden.

As absurd as it was, the Prime's voice sounded almost… heartbroken...

Galloway's hands were still shaking with adrenaline, but it seemed clear that now, at least, his life was not in danger.

The human paused, staring up at the robot. Looking at him, really looking at him, possibly for the first time. The General's comment that Optimus was the reason he was still alive suddenly resounded in his conscience. And perhaps for the first time, Galloway felt a twinge of regret for having met the Autobot with such hostility.

There was something noble in the alien's demeanor that gave the human an inexplicable urge to swallow back a feeling of generalized shame.

After a few moments, Galloway cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before daring to speak, "I have no doubt that you have acted with the best of intentions," Galloway was surprised to find that he meant the sentiment sincerely as the Autobot shot him a glance but did not interrupt him, "but not all Transformers are like you…Prime." The honorific sounded strangely appropriate on his tongue…even if he had tacked it on at the end.

"If you had stayed…" Galloway paused to find a word, "…deactivated… what would we have done about the sun harvester in Egypt?"

"If you believe that our technology alone would have been sufficient to stop that particular catastrophe, then you were not paying attention." The alien rumbled.

"The point is…" Galloway insisted, though his voice remained embarrassingly shrill. "…humanity was utterly helpless because you denied us weapons to defend ourselves."

The Autobot looked irritated but remained silent, giving Galloway tacit permission to continue. "What do we do if you decide to leave this planet? I know what you alone are capable of on the battlefield, and I mean this as a compliment, but I would hate for us to be at the mercy of something like you."

The Autobot looked thoughtful, as if considering Galloway's words. After a moment, he sat back, almost like a large child, resting on his haunches.

"So long as I and my Autobots are around, that will not come to pass…" the Cybertronian said gravely, "… and I do not mean this to overstate my position, but I can assure you that it is more likely your nation will cease to exist than that we will cease to defend this planet."

Galloway nervously straightened his tie and began to dust the concrete from his suit.

"And what assurances do we have of that...?" He ventured. The words were pointed, but his voice was suddenly devoid of the contempt that he had been unable to hide in their previous interactions.

"You will have to take it on faith," Prime said gently, regarding him with a look that was strangely kind.

"There is no other planet in this universe where we would rather make our home. You are a young species. In time, you will grow. And perhaps then we can revisit this conversation. I have seen immense goodness in your kind. And I am convinced that each and every one of you has the capacity for justice. For peace."

The Prime paused. An unidentifiable glint in his eyes.

"Yes, even you, Theodore Galloway."

The human faltered, momentarily speechless at the surprisingly gracious comment.

The alien sighed. "But that goodness will be extinguished if we provide you with our weapons of war…I only hope that I can persuade you not to make our mistakes. The vain squabbles for power in which you yourself have played a part do nothing to ameliorate my concerns. For with the power to destroy others also comes the power to destroy yourselves."

"Well," Galloway said bitterly, "you don't have to try to persuade me…I'm out of a job…"

The Prime gave him a look that was almost amused. "Deservedly so, I'm afraid."

The former director made a noncommittal noise. For a moment, the two lapsed into silence as Galloway considered the alien's words. There was a certain begrudging logic within Prime's observations.

"I am sorry, Prime," Galloway said after a moment. It wouldn't satisfy the White House for him to leave without having at least said the words. "I am sorry for the manner in which I approached our alliance with your species."

Though the Autobot had not swayed him, he found within himself that there was an element of remorse for the disrespect that he had (admittedly) shown to the alien leader. The alien had almost died for them, after all. Even Galloway could appreciate that.

"In time, Theodore Galloway, you will mean those words. But, for now, your accountability is sufficient." The Prime stated matter of factly. "You may tell your President that I will accept your apology in the spirit in which it was given."

Galloway raised an incredulous eyebrow at the phrasing. It seemed the alien could be something of a cheeky bastard.

After a moment, the Prime got to his feet with a grace that seemed unnatural for a being so large. It was only then that the sight of his stupefying height reminded Galloway that the giant had been kneeling.

Galloway flinched as the sound of an opening door signaled the return of General Morshower, who strode into the hangar with a satisfied look on his face. Though he didn't doubt that Optimus might have silently summoned him, it wouldn't have surprised Galloway if the smug son-of-a-bitch had been watching the whole thing.

No further words were exchanged as the General grabbed Galloway by the arm of his dust-covered suit and led him somewhat roughly for the helipad. As they left, Galloway looked over his shoulder at the center of the hangar, his gaze fixed on the paradoxically eloquent and terrifying titan that watched him with equal intensity.

How painful it must have been to see one's homeworld destroyed...The thought of it boggled the mind. Suddenly, all of Galloway's crusades and ambitions, including his present fall from grace, felt small beside the weight of cares that must have rested on the Autobot's shoulders.

And for just a moment. A very tiny moment.

Theodore Galloway could almost see Prime's point of view.


I know it's not really laugh out loud funny but I figured there was an element of humor in it. So...anyway. Would love a read and review. Same continuity as my other "Optimus and his relationship with humans" vignettes: My Legacy (Sam), Caring Comes in Cobalt Crayons (Epps), To See Gods Bleed (Lennox), and It Blesseth Him That Gives (Cade). As a side note, I realize this piece isn't very self-reflective because I don't think of Galloway as being very self-reflective.