It's been a while. This is a one-shot that might lead to a story I'm writing? I don't know yet, but I figured there's no harm in putting it out there and seeing if there's a response.
Prologue
"This will crush him, Vector."
"It will give him hope."
"Hope? You think he needs hope? The whole of Cybertron is dying. The people are suffering! He needs help, not hope."
"Half of Cybertron has already lost faith in the idea of a Prime."
"They believed the Matrix to be lost forever, before him!"
"And he will win them back. They can look to him for the future."
"I'm sorry, but did him admitting it felt like a burden make you think the Matrix feels to him what it felt like to any of us?"
…
"It is a burden, yes, but one he can carry. He must. And what is the point of carrying such a heavy toll without a sliver of hope?"
"This could upset the balance."
"Leige is right. What if that is not the path he is on?"
"It will be. It has to be."
"You think it will be."
"What if he doesn't care?"
…
"It should be done."
"What?!"
"What?!"
"What?!"
"Alpha Trion…"
"He's right."
"Are you out of your processor, Amalgamous?"
"You will need to be careful though. Upset anything too far and this will have the adverse affect. It will be all for naught."
"I know how to play with space, Trion."
"It is not space Alpha Trion worries about. It is time."
"Prima is right. Time has never been a fan of being toyed with. Be careful when you fold it, and do not linger longer than you must."
"I know how to bend the very thing I am the master of, Micronus."
…
"A female is not a tool to be wielded by your servo."
"She will not be a tool, Solus."
"He will be all she has ever wanted."
"And she will be his salvation."
"This is a bad idea."
"No, Nexus. This will be how he accomplishes that which the twelve of us could not. This… will be the way he saves our race."
The Matrix of Leadership was no stranger to the idea of pain. Though in and of itself not sentient enough to compute pain, nor did it possess the receptors needed to experience the sensation, it had spent its fair share of time with the Original Thirteen. All of them had gone through pain of every kind, tremendous amounts towards the end, and it had been there with them, intertwined with their life forces, through all of it. It was also a product of Primus, and had returned to him after the events with Megatronus Prime had transpired. It could feel everything He felt. Primus, the one being who knew pain better than anyone in the galaxy. Primus had given up his entire life, his spark, to keep Cybertron safe and birth its people, just to watch bot after bot spit in the face of his gift. The very beings he loved so much, his children, creating a divide between their own people. Out of greed. Out of self interest. Out of corruption. It was sparkbreaking, the strongest form of pain the Matrix had ever encountered. And then, the loneliness. After Primus went quiet and the Primes went down, and it was just the Matrix by itself for so long, locked away while they waited for what seemed like forever? With no hope in sight for so long of a new Prime to be born? That was pain, in a whole new way.
Orion Pax was no stranger to the idea of pain. Although his job as an archivist couldn't exactly be described as a job that put him in the line of danger, he'd seen it all over Cybertron. He'd felt it in his relationships, in his interactions with the broken world around them, in the way his spark clenched when he interacted with those whose T-Cogs had been taken from them, those forced to mine until their gears striped just to make enough to eat tonight, those told they were less than simply because of who they were born to; he knew pain in the way he was sure there was a way to solve this problem but he could never really find it. In the way the bots around him told him to give up because it was never going to change. He'd felt it in the way Megatronus had changed on him after spending aons becoming so close. Two best friends – brothers, really. They'd been so close to being on the same page, so close to changing the world for the better together, and then with one bullet all of it was gone. The physical pain was immense, yes, but the betrayal? The way all of his dreams and ideas had wilted away in those following seconds to nothing? The way he knew in an astro-second that the strongest bond he had ever felt was shredded to pieces? He was certain there was nothing like it.
And when the two forces who were no stranger to pain came together?
That was a pain Optimus Prime would not wish on anyone. Ever. It was a torture that he wasn't sure how long he would be able to endure. It had been barely any time at all since the war started. Or maybe, it had been too long since the war started. When did the war really start? Was it when Megatronus started refusing to listen to reason over his own revenge scheme? Or when Orion didn't stop him from any of his radical lines of thinking? Was it when Megatronus shot Orion in the chest? When Orion fell to the core of Cybertron, half blown to pieces with no chance of re-onlining, as good as dead, and emerged equipped with the Matrix of Leadership seated securely in his spark chamber? When Optimus Prime forbid Megatron from stepping foot into Iacon ever again? Or when Megatron took over Kaon? Did it really matter anymore? Optimus wasn't really sure.
All he knew was he couldn't recharge. He'd been trying, Primus knew he'd been trying, but recharge eluded him. It was the middle of the night, he could hear the sounds of snoring around him, in the rooms surrounding his on the floor of the Tower, and he wished he was a part of that. The Matrix of Leadership sat in his chest, throbbing with an ache he didn't know it could feel. A pit, like the feeling of being stuck in the dark and never knowing if someone is coming to rescue you.
Loneliness.
The Matrix pulses suddenly, the faint blue light softly illuminating the space around him, and he startles slightly. This wouldn't be the first or second or even third time the Matrix was keeping him awake, but it's never been like this. Like it was responding to something, like it was doing something it wanted him to know about.
His chest plates retract out of the way, hissing slightly, and he reaches up from where he's laying as the Matrix floats up, landing in his servos. He barely notices as his digits wrap around, barely feel the coolness of it in his touch as it connects with him on a level he's never felt before. Not that he could be shocked – it had been like this before, when the Matrix picked him. It was a connection that transcended any kind he had ever been a part of before – like the Matrix was allowing him into itself, rather than the other way around. Like it was sentient enough to have wants and desires, and this was it letting Ori-Optimus in on its own little secret.
That was when he realises, mostly with a start, that he's no longer in his quarters. He's not in Iacon – if he was going to be honest, he wasn't even sure that he was on Cybertron anymore. The ground beneath him was soft, and making a squish noise every time he adjusted his weight. It was…organic. He'd scarcely had encounters with organic matter, but it wasn't the first time he'd touched it before. This much of it, though? This is a lot all at once.
He lifts a ped and turns it slightly, taking note of how some of it sticks to his metal and refuses to budge, even when he tries to shake it off.
He must actually be recharging then, and dreaming? Cybertron didn't have this much organic fauna around. Maybe he had been recharging and this dream was the Matrix showing him something it wanted him to know. Except, he had been given messages from the Matrix before, and it never felt like this. This felt different. This felt…real, and yet a dream all at once. Like he was existing on a whole other plane than his physical form. Like he was beyond what he knew to be possible.
A scream catches his attention, pulling him from his thoughts, but it doesn't sound panicked. It isn't energon curdling, it doesn't make his spark clench in worry. Instead, it sounds like whoever it's coming from is… laughing. Amused. It gives him a moment of peace, to know that while he is at the mercy of the Matrix, in the midst of his pain, something, somewhere is so at peace that they feel the freedom to laugh.
He looks up, finally taking in his surroundings just in time for something – someone – to come racing around the corner, looking over its shoulder. He couldn't see them, not really, not in any specific detail, but he could see what they were. Who they were. Its small, coming up to the middle of his shin, with light coloured armor covering the arms and the bottom of its legs. The torso is painted a bright red colouration, the top of its legs a dark blue. Like him. Light yellow strands cover it's helm, and flow down its back.
It finally turns its little helm just in time to realise it's about to collide with his leg, and its brakes apply as quickly as it can. Its little legs stop, and Optimus watches as it looks all the way up. Though he can't make out details, he can feel its optics rove over him, ascending over his legs, his pelvis, his torso, chest, up his neck to his face, and then it stops there, and their optics connect.
It's a femme. She's blurry, impossible to make out, but he can just tell, somewhere in the back of his processor he knows. A sparkling, but an adult? Both at the same time, which he knows shouldn't be possible, but he can't tell which one she is because he sees both – a youngling with inquisitive optics and a big smile, curious enough to have a million questions but mischievous enough to be determined to find the answers no matter what; an adult femme with a kind gaze and welcoming atmosphere, gentle enough to make anyone feel comfortable being vulnerable but tough enough to know her worth and stand her ground - smart enough to think for herself, but humble enough to be willing to learn.
And she's staring up at him, smiling wide. A giggle comes from her vocal processor.
"Wow," she gasps, "You're huge! Look, Bee, look how big this guy is!"
He can't tear his eyes away from hers. The ache that was in his chest earlier is gone. Instead, a warmth blooms in its place. A sensation of belonging, of safety. Like the Matrix of Leadership was… feeling. Feeling something that isn't pain. For the first time in its existence.
From somewhere beyond their view, someone yells, "C'mon Ol! We're loading up!"
The two of them look up and in that direction. When She looks back that way, She sees nothing but trees, the pathway that brought Her here in the first place. But when Ori-Optimus looks up, his optics land on him.
Vector Prime. The guardian of time and space. His twin swords, the Blades of Time, are in his servos rather than their usual spot on his back, but they're pointed down at the ground. A smile graces his silver, gold, and purple features. Safeguard stands at his side, coming up to his knee joint. The Mini-Con has his arms crossed, his miniature blades strapped his back as he watches silently beside the former Prime.
"No," the sound of Her voice pulls Optimus's optics back down to the ground, "Don't roll out without me!"
She turns and takes off back the way She came, running right between Vector's legs as if She doesn't even see him. There's an ache that starts up again, like a pit that grows the farther She moves away.
"Can I bring my friend?" He hears Her as She calls out, getting farther and farther away, "I just met him, but I don't wanna leave him here alone!"
Another disembodied voice responds, "Leave your imaginary friend, we gotta go! We can come back another time for you to find him, or he'll find you later!"
She doesn't say anything, just runs further into the natural, organic fauna around them, and Optimus loses sight of Her.
"Wait!" He calls out without thinking, taking a step after Her, but it's no matter.
She's gone before he can find Her again.
Vector Prime watches him intently for only a small few seconds, his gaze fond – as if remembering moments with an old friend that he never thought he'd see again. Like he's watching a brother that he loves and had to leave behind. Safeguard looks up at him and mumbles something softly, something Optimus can't make out, then warps away, leaving the former bearer of the Matrix alone with the current one. Optimus opens his mouth to say something, to ask what he's doing here, but Vector shakes his helm softly. Like he knows it'll stop him from saying anything. The air around the former Prime distorts, and then with a flash of colours, the Guardian of Space and Time disappears too.
And then it's just Optimus Prime and the Matrix of Leadership. Their pain. Their loneliness. Their sorrow.
And for a very, very long time, it feels like it stays that way.
"Optimus, are you certain?"
The table before him is surrounded by his most trusted comrades. Mechs and femmes that, in another life, he might even call friends. Elita One. Jazz. Ironhide. Ratchet. Chromia. Prowl. Ultra Magnus. Even more of them. Bots whose servos he had before and would again be willing to put his life in. Some had been with him since he was Orion Pax. Some had been with him since his first day with the Matrix of Leadership. Some had only joined when the war became inevitable. They all wanted to do the right thing, and he had welcomed them with open arms.
He nods, reaching out and turning the hologram before them of their galaxy to a different angle, "Indeed. Under no circumstances can we allow Megatron to come into possession of the All Spark."
"With all due respect, Prime, in the time it would take to select a small strike team, prepare them, and get the group of you off-planet, Megatron could have already found it. And it would take him eons to get back, eons we could spend rebuilding Cybertron. Why don't we let him bring the All Spark back to us, and then form a strike plan from that."
Chromia had a point, but he knew that would not be Megatron's plan. Megatron would stop at nothing to rule the universe. The very thing they had worked so hard to tear down, only for Megatron to become exactly the same.
"Obtaining the All Spark would only be the beginning for Megatron," Optimus reminds them, "He would travel from galaxy to galaxy, turning every single form of sentient life he can find into his own personal slave force until he could guarantee his victory over us upon his return. We wouldn't stand a chance. We must cut him off before he can reach the All Spark."
Optimus reached out and, with two digits, zooms the hologram out, away from the image of Cybertron, away from their galaxy. He pokes at a smaller galaxy formation, about four and a half light years away from them.
"Our intel confirms that after the All Spark was ejected, it landed on a small planet here. Prowl?"
The Second in Command's door wings twitch slightly as he begins, "This star system is the Milky Way. It houses a servoful of planets, each with at least one lunar orbit, and a young sun. The planet the All Spark landed on is this one," he double taps what looks like a tiny clump of dirt, and it zooms in to offer a closer view of the small, blue and green marble, "We don't know how old it is, but we do know there are indigenous life forms, one of which seems significantly more evolved than the rest. They are not advanced enough to be space faring yet, but they do seem to have their own social structure, and have begun creating cities. They are organic in nature, and thus far our interactions have proven them to be fairly docile unless they feel cornered or threatened."
Prowl reaches down and touches the holo-pad, and the picture changes from their planet to the various appearances of the life form Prowl spoke of. They pop up as small, looking significantly softer than Cybertronians.
"As far as we can tell, they are unaware of what their planet houses. Currently, they call themselves Man, but an empire ago they referred to their species as Anthropos. That tells us they are still evolving, and will likely continue to do so. In the time it will take us to get there, they will likely be far more advanced, but that information will be shared as it comes in."
Ironhide crosses his arms and shifts his weight, "I say we let 'em fight Megtron. Maybe they'll even surprise everybot and deal with bucket head for us-"
"That," Optimus cuts his Weapons Specialist off from the rest of his sentence, "Is an unacceptable option. I will not allow Megatron to harm another form of life that is not his to harm."
He lifts a hand and pulls the hologram of the Man life form closer to him, until it rests on the palm of his servos. The image switches from what they had discovered is a mech Man with dark hair and olive coloured skin to a femme Man. This femme had lighter hair, dark eyes, and lighter metal complexion than the mech Man did. She was smaller than him, covered in a cloth like fabric that spanned her whole torso and obscured her legs from view, but left two bumps underneath her shoulders, as well as her shoulder joints, bare to view. There were dark yellow, metallic bands wrapped around her upper arms, similar to the colour that one of his bets frontliners, Sunstreaker, painted himself. He had never seen her before, that was a given, and yet he felt a pull. A familiarity shot through him. This specific hologram was probably offlined by now. Maybe she wasn't the one he'd seen, maybe this femme Man was simply the one that looked most like Her, but he knew this was the path they needed to be on to find Her, and so did the Matrix. He could feel it. And he would not let Megatron hurt Her, ever.
"I will leave Cybertron," he announces to the bots before him, leaving no room for discussion, "I will assemble a strike team of the best mechs and femmes in our ranks. We will travel down to this... Earth, and stop Megatron. No matter the cost," he turns his servo over and pushes the hologram away; it spins in a spiral as it approaches the center of the table once again, and switches back to a picture of the planet, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. Megatron can not be allowed to continue his reign of tyranny and destruction, especially off world."
The group around him is silent, digesting the implications of his words.
And, of course, its Jazz who breaks the silence.
"Ain't no way I'm missin' out on this, Prime."
FIN