Authors Note: I have some exciting news: Resonance will be ending in the next chapter or two. I am aiming for the next chapter but I may wind up with an epilogue as a teaser to things to come. I will be writing a sequel and working on prequel material to expand on the Autobot and Decepticon adventures and unveiling the mystery surrounding Phage-One/Pandora Endurus and her Creation Matrix.
On another note, I do have an Archive of our Own account under the same penname as Guardinthena. Over there, my TF fanworks are neatly organized into a series and numbered in chronological order. I am even adding my own illustrations into Resonance that can be viewed over on that account.
Phage-One was alone.
The Ark's golden halls were lackluster, as the interior lighting was dimmed to reflect that the world outside was swept up in the heavenly sphere of night. Through the quiet hall's Phage-One crept, curious where all the Autobot's had hidden themselves off too. Her search was slow but methodical. She investigated side hallways and peeked into every room she came across and yet there was not a wheel or wing of any Autobot to be found. The Labs were empty. So too was the Recreation Room, Ratchet's Medbay, the halls...
Becoming increasingly desperate, her feet carried her to the central heart of the Ark-the Command Center. Certainly she would find someone there on night duty. But when she arrived, she found not a single soul.
"Jazz?" She called into the impossibly large Command Center and slowly turned in a circle. " ...Ratchet? Anyone?"
A scuffle of pedes alerted her to one of the entrances to the Command Center. She stared into the darkness and swore she saw the shadows shift and move. Swore that she spied wings.
Just as a deer caught in oncoming lights, Phage seized up and only just managed to choke off the short scream that wanted to ripe from her throat in surprise.
It couldn't be, she thought. Not again. Stay calm. Aerialbots, she asserted to none but herself. It had to be the Aerialbots. Certainly it couldn't be the Decepticon Seekers. Not again. Impossible, wasn't it? The Decepticons wouldn't pull the same trick twice. And yet...
Too anxious to call out in case the shadow did not belong to one of the five Aerialbots or Powerglide, she strained her audios to detect the faintest of sounds. And indeed, she heard a noise. A voice. Low. Whisper quiet. Calling to her with a high nasal accent in a singsong tone. The shadow on the wall lifted its arm and with its long slender digits, signaled her to approach. "Come to me, little sprite. Come to me..."
Starscream.
Phage-One bolted down a separate hallway. She knew he gave chase. Could feel his presence. Could hear the distinct shrill thrum of his anti grav boosters on his pedes. He could catch her if he wanted too but he was enjoying the chase and told her as much as his voice drifted after her, taunting and sickly sweet.
So she ran and did not stop. And as she ran, the golden halls of the Ark gave way to dark, grey dismal walls that were wrecked. Where the metal sheets were ripped away, tubes and wires hung as the exposed innards of the vessel, the supports the bones. When she ran down one such hallway that paralleled the outside, to her great shock she spied through dirty windows that the Ark was not entombed within its volcanic cavern, but that she was lunar side. Phage nearly came to an abrupt halt, but she stumbled and kept running, now starkly aware that the grey walls were not the beautiful living walls of the Ark. These walls were cold, dead walls of a lifeless facility on Earth's moon. In her adrenaline induced state, she reasoned she must have passed through a spacebridge that had transported her to the moon base. The theory seemed sound to her and she ran with the logic as assuredly as her feet thumped through the structure seeking escape.
It was then, done with her quick scattered observations of her surroundings, that she fixed her optics back ahead and screamed. Skywarp materialized in front of her via his portal once again and lunged. She screeched to a halt, flinging herself back to avoid his reaching servos and tried to scramble back. But Starscream drifted after her at the end of the dark hall, his approach marked by his hellfire optics and the glow of his thrusters. Phage-One did the only reasonable thing left and phased through the wall to escape the duo.
When she came out the other side she found herself held back. Tubes and wires from the innards of the structure clung to her. The more she fought to shed them off she became more entangled. The hold tighter. Too late she realized she was not caught up by tubes and wires, but Soundwave's omni-snakes.
Her screams were cut off as one of the omni-snakes wrapped over her open mouth. The rest pulled her back into the wall where the shadows and silver-grey metal came alive and poured over her and around her and into her with an indiscriminate all consuming will. Her scream was muted as the hungry wall incorporated her into its mass and transformed her into a grotesque macabre sculpture. So intimately entwined with her very frame, the structure began to feed off of her matrix to power itself. As the facility fed, her consciousness stretched until she and the structure became one and the same in a horrifying symbiote relationship. From her matrix, her essence, the terrible place came alive in hellish acid light, vile living shadows and the living metal that comprised its walls that was ever hungry and ever consuming.
Phage-One startled awake.
It took her priceless moments to cycle air through her systems to calm her rattled nerves and a few more to register she was in the safety of her quarters nestled deep within the Ark. Once where she was finally clicked in place, and that she was indeed safe, she came to the unsettling realization that she was lying flat on her back spread eagle in the cool dark quiet of her berth. Her legs and arms were helplessly entwined in the bedsheets whilst her attention was transfixed on the ceiling overhead.
Hadn't she been in the Medbay?, she wondered. What was she doing in her quarters? Who had carried her here? -Scratch the thought. More important than the other questions, Who had security to override her passcode to her personal quarters and why?
Movement from her peripheral caught her immediate attention. She jerked half out of the berth, ready to roll on to the floor and leap into a defensive stance. And then just as abruptly she stalled up entirely. She was befuddled and quite a bit surprised to find Optimus Prime sitting in her common room, occupying her couch and coffee table with a slew of datapads. Their optics locked through the opened doorway. The moment stretched into one spark pulse. Two. Three...
Optimus broke the spell with a simple yet elegant question, "Nightmare?"
"Yes." She responded in a loud, hoarse whisper.
He nodded sympathetically. "Energon?"
Phage-One slowly sat up. She slipped her arms from the bedsheets and wrapped the sheet around her as if it were extra armor. "Yes. Please."
And just like so, Optimus placed the datapad he had been reading gently down on her coffee table and stood up. Phage-One watched him as he moved out of view towards the back of her common area where the energon dispenser was located. Once he was out of view, her omni-hair shot up into the air, coiling and twisting to reflect the confusion marking her face. She had to still be dreaming, right? She pinched the exposed synthplasmic skin of her waist and grimaced.
She was, indeed, awake.
In a flash, Phage slipped from her berth and trailed the sheet around her frame. Her omni-hair flattened low as she peered quizzical around the corner of her doorframe. The Prime's back was to her as he fetched them both a glass of energon. She jerked back around the corner, glancing down and to her left. Her features contorted, omni-hair lifting off her back and coiling once again. She gesticulated lively with her hands as she muttered wordlessly to herself, 'What in the actual bloody hell...He was decapitated and...How long have I been out?' She peered back around the corner to triple check that it was, indeed, Optimus Prime in her quarters.
Yes. Absolutely. There was no misidentifying the back of that frame, even changed as it was.
The Prime had a completely new set of exodermal armor forged for himself?, she wondered. The new look was very fetching on him. Huffer had certainly outdone himself with the design for bioluminescent seams and Cybertronian geometric meandering decor. Very futuristically regal.
Phage-One pulled herself back around the corner and shook her head to clear out the fog. She then ran her hand over her omni-hair in a loosing battle to tame the now lively mane and straightened up. Focused, she adjusted the sheet around her frame before she slipped across the common area and took a seat on the corner of her couch. The bedsheet twisted around her frame as she turned and sat.
"Optimus...?"
"Hm?" He responded over his shoulder strut.
"Why are you here?" She asked gently.
"Ah. Yes, that. I am guarding you against any further Autobot idiocy." He stated grumpily.
Phage-One blinked. Then, her subtle confusion died and was replaced by sickening realization. Rather than address what Prowl had done, she tried to avoid the subject altogether. "You've been here the whole time?"
"Well, yes." Admitted Optimus bashfully as he returned with their drinks. "What better deterrent could you have against unsolicited visitors than the Prime himself?"
"So noble of you." She teased fondly.
"I thought so too. Your energon."
"Thank you." She expressed kindly as she took the glass. When their digits brushed an electric jolt jumped from Phage-One to Optimus Prime. "Pardon." She gasped as she pulled her glass sharply to her breast. Prime hesitated a brief period, noting the little arc of green electricity crackle up the back of his servo before losing its charge and dissipating. Phage too marked its path quietly. Without a word, Prime moved to sit down, leaving a respectable space between the two of them.
In those brief seconds, a surprisingly easy yet comfortable silence enveloped them that made her recall what simple, pleasurable domestic life was like. In a jolt, she realized it was a craving she had nursed for a long while and yet could not put a name too and now, finally, could. As she came to this simple understanding she came back around to the surrealism of her situation. As strange as it was to have found Optimus Prime casually lounging in her living space, she found that she really couldn't mind it if her days would start out so gently. It was simple, and calm, and quiet and...gave her a sense of security that she desperately wanted.
Bewildered yet processing her predicament, she sipped intermittently from her energon as she took stock of the array of datapads on her coffee table and stole fugitive glances Optimus Prime's way. "So." He began abruptly as he settled onto her couch, breaking her train of thought. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Hm?" She caught his gaze and became trapped within it. "About what exactly?" She scoffed abruptly into her drink, a wry smile on her lips. "I believe there was a lot we had to discuss." She perked up again and looked at Prime in wonder. "Do you...remember what happened?"
"I do."
"Ah!" She chirped and cast her attention back to her drink. She curled up into the corner of the couch and handled the glass in both her slim servos. "That does make this simpler."
"Invariably, Endurus."
Invoking the designation triggered something deep within her. She stalled up at the title and sat up a little straighter. Unbeknownst to Phage-One, the ring of her optics ignited with a soft green light that shown as a stark contrast against the deep azure blue. She slowly turned her attention back on the Prime and caught a a certain glint in his liberty blue optics. She wasn't sure what to say. And then he retracted the battlemask into his helm to drink from his glass and she really did not know what to say. She drank in the rare sight of his full face, stunned at the difference that the battle mask made. Without it, she was floored at just how fresh faced and handsome Optimus Prime was, taking particular note of his strong chin and luscious mouth.
"Excuse me if I am overstepping, but did you want to discuss the nightmare you just had, Endurus? I know that they can be overwhelming at times..."
She was not sure when, if ever, she would get use to seeing his mouth move versus his battle mask that bobbed up and down whenever he spoke. She was so use to the latter that the former, though mundane, was made strange and new on Optimus Prime. She forcibly tore her gaze away from his mouth and focused it back into her glass of energon.
"You...want to hear about it?"
"If I didn't, would I have asked?"
She blinked, stunned by how sincere his words were. It left her cloven, and reflecting on the stark contrast between how Optimus was dealing with her and the first time she had had a nightmare at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's quarters. Sideswipe had slept through it and it wasn't until the morning that she was berated by Sunstreaker for disturbing his recharge and Sideswipe had not stood up for her. Rather, he had expressed that if she was having nightmares than she should indulge in a glass of engex, because that always did it for them.
The simple contrast between how the Twins had dealt with her nightmares versus how Optimus had just handled it left her re-analyzing a great many things and wondering why she had put up with the emotional neglect for so long.
Optimus adjusted his seating. "Endurus?"
"Well, I just..." Eloquence fled her glossa as she stumbled for words. "This is perhaps the most we have spoken in a good long while. I mean physically talked, one-on-one like this and you..." She floundered, her lively hand gestures falling by the wayside. "Here you are."
"Here I am." She was thrown off a moment by the words echoed back at her. She recalled that she had said the same to him when they had discovered her matrix.
Her fingers tap danced along the length of her glass. "You genuinely want to know how I am."
"I genuinely always do want to know how my cogsmechs are. From my top officers down to the vorners. Especially when they have gone through as much as you have in such a short period. Is that really so strange?"
"Yes...? But, in a good way. Romantic in the old sense. It's...been a long time since I heard real, honest-to-goodness sincerity."
"I'll have to correct that."
"Hah! Well..." She drawled on before falling back to the topic of the original question. "The nightmare I had. It was..." she tried and failed to begin and scrubbed at the left side of her face as if that would be enough to chase away the lingering tendrils of the dream. "Just a common nightmare. Everything catching up and my brain trying to process events."
"Whether it was a matrix vision or not, I am here to listen if you want."
Sideswipe had never asked about her dreams. He just rolled over when they did happen and she never offered to discuss them. She hesitated only a fraction of a klik. "Just... Another dream of Starscream chasing me through the Ark. Everyone was gone, as they were when Megatron lured the Autobots out on that false raid."
"You are having nightmares over that?" Interrupted Optimus in surprise before his features crumpled in dismay. "I am sorry. I should have had the foresight to see-"
"Optimus, please." She said gently. "You have apologized at least a dozen times since it happened."
"And a dozen amenities more I will have to make until the nightmares cease."
"Optimus." She stressed softly. "Please. There was no way too have known."
A dissatisfaction settled between them over the sour topic, but both trudged through it in their own quiet way, Optimus Prime with a unsatisfied grumble and Phage by turning aside from the issue altogether. Her thoughts turned back to the root of the subject and her face crumpled in concentration and then mild confusion as one does when trying to grasp and then explain dream logic. "About the nightmare. It changed. Normally I wake once Starscream is about to catch me, but this time it went further. This time, as I was running through the Ark it transitioned into another place entirely. The moon's surface, I believe. Dream me thought I jumped through a spacebridge in the Ark and came out the other side on an unfinished base on the moon. I was ambushed there by Skywarp and his stupid teleporting ability again and...I fled." She shrugged. "I phased through the wall of the base and...was...caught. By Soundwave and his omni-snakes. Or it was the base itself? Or perhaps a horrid cumulation of both? Whatever it was, it dragged me back into the innards of the wall where the machinery entwined with my body until I was wholly H.R. Giger'd into the facility."
"H.R. Giger'd?"
She drew in a sharp breath and squared off with Prime. "I was made a living macabre sculpture that powered the moon base."
"I see." Murmured Prime into his glass. "Well, there is no moon base. Or space bridges within the Ark proper. So you can rest easy." Phage nodded along knowingly as she nursed her glass. "Do you feel it is a matrix vision?"
"No. As I said, I believe it is just my brain finally processing everything. Just...so much has happened in the last..." She paused suddenly then and blinked owlishly at Prime. "How long have I been out?"
"Three days."
"Three days!"
"You desperately needed recharge."
"I suppose I did. ...Did I have any visitors?"
"Some." Replied Optimus languidly. "Ratchet and Wheeljack stop by regularly for checkups. Your familial unit has been especially worried about you. They come by daily hoping you will wake. In fact, you just missed them. Bumblebee, Spike and Sparkplug stepped out to grab lunch approximately an hour ago and should be returning soon. And, of course, Jazz stops by too, but he has been particularly busy with his additional responsibilities. I do not doubt the entirety of the crew wants to offer you well wishes but Ratchet would likely scrap every mech if they swarmed your quarters. As a matter of fact, moving you to your quarters was done specifically for privacy reasons."
"No one else?" She pried.
"Huffer." Optimus recalled which confused her until he explained. "I have a datapad around here somewhere for a work request. He discovered you did not have a helmet and was considering some designs that he wanted your confirmation on before proceeding."
"Oh."
He studied her carefully. "You were expecting Sideswipe and Sunstreaker."
Her cheeks tinted a light shade of blue. "Was I that obvious?"
"No. I am just aware of the situation. They have not visited."
"Not once?"
"No."
She tried to be understanding and hoped for the best. Face pinched, she asked tightly; "Have they been on patrol?"
He cast her a long and sympathetic look. "The Ark has been on high alert since your return. As such, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have been pulling double guard duty."
"Oh!" She offered a brisk nod to Prime's brusque responses and said, "I see." Optimus was about to say something when she burst abruptly out with; "So, you had a new body forged in three days? -You look amazing by the way. Loving the whole bioluminescent seams and the meandering design. Very regal. Huffer outdid himself."
One of his thick optical ridges arched high. "I am glad you brought that up, Pandora Endurus..." Optimus said sympathetically before his thick optical ridges knitted together in polite confusion. "Or is it Phage-One?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does, in fact." He said carefully. "I will explain why in a moment. Firstly, I believe it is necessary to catch you up on recent events. Do you remember Prowl coming to you in the Medbay and what transpired thereafter?"
"Yes..." she said slowly, her optical ridges sloping to meet over her olfactory. "I lost control and...Oh! I know you said not to tap into my matrix, Optimus! But Prowl woke me up and kept going on about how the Decepticons would be launching another attack soon and- They haven't, have they?"
"Why would the Decepticons attack?" Optimus questioned her gently. "When Jazz and the Extraction Team had blown up portions of their base? You knew they would be unable to retaliate for months."
"Damn it." She hissed, cursing her own gullibility as she buried her face in her servo.
"Do not blame yourself too harshly." Optimus said soothingly. "Once Prowl discovered what Bumblebee had reported was true, he manipulated you. He was fully aware that you were mentally impaired from medicinal drugs from the Disentanglement procedure and sleep deprivation. He admitted fully to his wrongdoings willfully when I interrogated him later."
She gaped at Prime, angry and struggling to process that Prowl could betray her in such a profound way and struggling to comprehend that it has happened at all. Even in that moment, she had a difficult time processing that it had happened at all. Only one question roared within her processor: "Why."
"From what I gathered, he was afraid."
"That came across when we were talking."
Optimus offered a noble nod. "Yes. He sought to protect the Autobot's in the only way he knew how. Unfortunately, it meant betraying your trust. His actions have had wider effects than he realized and damaged what trust the Autobot's had in him in a leadership position. No Autobot is going to trust a leader who uses interrogation and fear tactics to get what they want. He had to be punished accordingly."
"What punishment?"
"I am unable to give you that information."
Shamefaced, she looked aside. "The way he explained it all made sense at the time."
"I daresay it did."
"He brought up the new combiner we saw and the size of the Decepticon seabase not being comparable to the size of their forces and... I believed him."
"Functionally. You would have no reason otherwise. In fact, all of what Prowl relayed to you was truth. He just used it in such a way to manipulate you to achieve his goals."
The conversation lapsed then into a sudden silence. The lull in conversation gave her time to process her shock as she tried to process the event and could not wrap her head around the fact that Prowl had betrayed her in such a profound way. After a time, she numbly shook her cranium and switched tracks. "I tried to heal you. I did. It seemed the best course-" Realization hit her with the force of a runaway train. Her mouth dropped open. Her optics doubled. "I did that." She said at last as her optics swept him quickly cranium to pede and back.
Optimus nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I healed your frame and it did that." And she gestured at last to him with wide optics and dumbfounded amazement.
"I told you your matrix is flaunting."
Her demeanor shifted at his insinuation of anthropomorphizing her matrix. "It's a crystal, Prime. Not a person." She petulantly remarked.
"It's a powerful relic." Optimus countered straightaway with no patience for her flippant remarks.
Phage pursed her lips, sunk into the crux of the couch and nursed her glass of energon between her hands. "I know that." She said sullenly.
"Phage-One." He stressed. "I am trying to have a serious talk with you. You have to understand, your matrix- you healed more than just me. When you lost control multiple optic-witness accounts collaborated that an energy burst from your frame. And that you made a remark about seeing lights...?"
"Oh, yes. They were...I don't really know how to describe it. Ribbons of energy hanging in the air. I was very much reminded of the northern lights-if northern lights flowed from the earth instead of hung in the air."
Optimus nodded along. "From the ground, you say? Then Huffer's hypothesis may be right after all."
"What do you mean?"
"There was no way for any of us to know. And we are still running on Huffer's theory and, now, your account. But it seems that the Ark was resting on a dormant leyline."
"A what!"
"Am I saying that correctly? That is the term Spike used when we explained what an energy node was."
"Yes. Leyline. But-What."
Optimus made a noise of confirmation and carried on as though admitting to such things should have been as mundane as discussing choice of tea with breakfast. "I was just as surprised." He expressed, missing what she was really shocked about. "I wasn't aware Earth had leylines. We called them something different on Cybertron though, energy nodes to be precise, but that is besides the point. Huffer suggested that when you began channeling, you must have connected with the dormant energy source and completely overloaded. The shockwave that burst from your frame had far reaching effects. One example, the energy burst struck every Autobot present within the Ark. All have been affected similarly to myself."
"Everyone?" She gasped. "Are they alright?"
"Yes. Better than at peak efficiently. I doubt anyone has felt better than the day they activated. And the Ark-"
"What about it?" She asked anxiously, straightening in her seat.
"It has been fully restored, minus the rock we have to clear from the halls, but the structure of the vessel is repaired. When you are up to it...and Ratchet permits...I can give you a tour. Until then, what is immediately important is that should we spend the time to cut the rock away from the outer hull and transform the cave into a proper hanger, we could finally leave Earth."
Flabbergasted at the news, she sat speechless and transfixed for all of five seconds before worry began to etch across her features. "You're...planning to leave?"
"Not for the foreseeable future. But the choice is, once more, within our power to do so if we so chose." His cranium tilted ever so slightly to study the worry lines etching deeper onto her brow. "What are you worried about, Phage? Earth is our second home. We have no intention of abandoning her."
"But if you did leave, if Cybertron was found or some other event pushed the Autobots to leave... You would take me with you, right?"
Optimus nearly burst into laughter. Instead, he drew back, startled and chortled. "Leave you? Why would we leave you?"
"I am not Cybertronian."
"Oh, Alo Ata... The Autobots and I would never leave you behind."
Warmth blossomed in her chassis at hearing his personal nickname for her. She offered him a small smile for the reassurance and he mirrored it in turn. "Never?" She asked quietly.
The gentle smile gracing Optimus Prime's mouth slowly melted into a serious frown. The shadow of painful memories and deep regrets flickered across his optics. "If I have anything to say about it. If I have control over events-then yes. You would be the first aboard. You have the word of a Prime and the honor of the Autobots. We would never leave you behind, Endurus. And if by some black twist of fate you were, I would come for you personally."
She tried to hide her watery optics by focusing her attention on her glass of energon. "That's..." She tried and failed to find the right words, then turned a coy gaze back on him. "You bequeath me great honor, Optimus Prime. Do I even deserve it?"
"After all you have done? Of course, Endurus." His jaw set and his optics began hard as steel. "Do you really still have no concept of your importance to the Autobots? ...To me?"
She ducked her cranium to hide the vibrant blush burning across her cheeks. "Oh, stop." She said and lightly kicked at his thigh good-naturedly, which triggered a kneejerk reaction from the Prime to snatch at her leg. His digits caught only the sheet as she swiftly folded her leg back up against her frame. The two exchanged a tense, wordless challenge over the matter. Slowly, softly, she continued. "Am I that important? Three days ago Prowl...I don't have words for what Prowl did. I still cannot process it. Important? When the Autobots had me under investigation? Certainly, this is bad comedy."
Gradually, Optimus let the sheet drop as his strong features darkened under a stormy conscious. His gaze diverted briefly to the datapads on her coffee table before fixing again on her. "You do not understand. You have been in deep recharge recovering from your ordeal. There has been major changes in the last three days. Therebare things I must show you... There is... so much we have to discuss. So much...I have had days to plan this out and I still feel I am lacking..."
She quirked a slim optical ridge his way. "Whatever we must discuss, just take it slowly and I am sure we will cover everything."
He looked sharply at her then and quietly agreed with her logic with a single sagely nod. "What I have to tell you would be best done in bits and pieces. You seemed excited enough at the topic of energy nodes. I daresay the rest I have to discuss would overwhelm you completely if done altogether."
"That sounds reasonable. If I may, I would like it if we could come back around to the leylines bit again at some point, if you please. We have barely begun and I feel I already missed much."
"Yes." Mused Prime slowly. "Spike and Sparkplug were just as curious. I am not sure what to explain about them to you. We called them energy nodes on Cybertron, as I mentioned earlier. They were areas of highly concentrated energy that we harvested for power or sectioned of as sacred areas. The one beneath the Ark was dormant until you touched on it with your channeling."
"I have so many questions right now."
"I daresay you do."
"What kind of energy is it? How did I even touch on it when I was channeling? Why could I do that?"
"All very good questions. If you want to understand energy nodes it would be best to discuss that topic with the likes of Huffer, Perceptor or Jetfire. As for how you touched on it that I can explain, but the discussion would be lengthy and really a topic that we must discuss during your training otherwise I will be completely derailed in what I must tell you now. Which of course is the mass miracle you performed and the shift in the Autobot's perception of you, why your status has changed. It has been three days and there is so many wires to uncross..."
"The beginning is best."
"Which beginning." Grumbled Prime nanokliks before he decided on an appropriate one himself. "Hm...Well, due to the rampant chatter flying around the Ark, I had to call an emergency, mandatory meeting of all Autobots to set the record straight. The crew now knows what you are and what you possess."
"The major change you mentioned?"
"One of many." Elaborated Optimus brusquely. "There was no dodging that debris. And, ultimately, it was for the best that everyone knew. The abrupt change in your social status came then when I explained that there was little difference between your matrix and ours. None that I could detect in our limited time together. The meeting became...interesting after that."
It was a certain tone in his voice and grievance in his face that perked Phage's attention. "Optimus Prime!" She could not keep the smile off her lips or the good-natured titter out of her words. "Are you using the pretense to guard me to hide in my quarters from the crew?"
"No." He replied too quickly and too sharply.
A flash of one of her rare smiles, a giggle at his blatant denial, and another playful nudge to his hip plate found her the loser in their earlier unspoken bet. Optimus Prime's servo flashed out and caught her ankle before she could retract it. She yipped in surprise, and then cast him doleful eyes when she could not retract her pede from his ironclad grip. When she caught his gaze, his optics were dark and intense.
"Optimus."
He blinked and let go of her ankle abruptly. As she retracted it back under her, a mischievous smirk on her lips, Optimus Prime looked aside and occupied himself with admiring her quarters. "Maybe I am keeping myself secluded." He admitted begrudgingly.
"Secluded, is it?"
"Yes." Insisted Optimus. "One does that when they are on medical leave."
"Hm."
"It has been a nice little sanctuary away from the madness brewing outside."
"If you think it's tranquil now, just wait. I normally have background music playing."
"Not rock."
"No. No. Usually naturescapes or gentle orchestra. Helps to calm the mind and focus. I find storm or sea the best."
"I have been here for three days and am only learning of these amenities now?"
"Well, the host has been out."
"Such poor service."
She shot him a flashing grin over his dry humor. "I could fix it now."
"Whatever pleases you."
It did please her. Optimus tracked her as she stood, the bedsheet falling around her frame and left forgotten on the sofa as she made a short search to locate a remote. Soon, Phage's quarters were filled with the soothing, calming sounds of rainfall. She did not stop there. She made short work of fetching a candle from a shelf and proceeded to light it.
"Apologies." She began to say, casting him fugitive glances over her shoulder strut. "I just realized these sounds and smells may not be soothing to you."
She just missed the small smile twisting his mouth as she worked. "Why wouldn't they be? They remind me of my second home."
She flashed him a brilliant smile then over her shoulder. It still shone, though bashfully dimmed, as she returned to her place on the couch. A fast easiness settled between them that reminded her of gentler years she had spent riding with Optimus Prime in his cabin on long scenic drives through the countryside. It was not long before her attention became wrapped up in the neatly organized datapads on her coffee table. "What is all this anyway? Light reading or business?"
"Hm?" He asked, tearing his optics off her and looking to his stacks of datapads. "Oh. Oh, yes! I am doing research."
"Research? Can I help?"
"Not unless you can decipher ancient codex, which," Optimus expressed as he passed her a tired gaze, "I know you cannot."
"Ah. No. Sorry I couldn't be of help."
"You and most of the Autobots." He sighed. "It is unfortunate that there are so few of us who can."
"And what, pray tale, has the great Optimus Prime chosen to research in ancient, forgotten dialects?"
"Religious texts and ancient mythologies from Cybertron."
"Ah." Her olfactory crinkled up as her optical ridges sloped to join at the middle of her forehead. "Whatever for?"
"You." Her head snapped around to shoot him a pointed, baffled glare. "There were some interesting ideas thrown around at the meeting." Optimus straightened, jerked from his reprieve and shot her a look. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Distract me so easily."
"It's my charm." He shook his cranium fondly. "What was discussed at this meeting?"
"I was getting to that before you distracted me."
"And?" She pressed. "You said you told the crew I had a manufactured matrix and, I presume, the name it bequeathed me?"
"I had to." Explained Optimus Prime. "The Autobots needed answers after the mass miracle. And with Bumblebee's account... I just remembered. I should warn you that, at the meeting, Jazz coined a new alias for you that the Autobots seem to have taken to it."
"Another?" She sighed in exasperation. "Please tell me you mean Phage-One."
"I said a new alias. Not designation. Given the recent discovery of your apparent Primehood, Jazz took to calling you Primeling during the meeting to avoid the rampant confusion over your dual designations."
"Primeling?" She spluttered.
"Means 'little prime.'" He teased.
"I got that." She pouted.
"In addition, the Autobots have primed your matrix the Creation Matrix in parallel to my Matrix of Leadership."
"Creation Matrix?"
"Mm."
Phage-One was pensive as she thought it over. "Why Creation Matrix?"
"You will see why in the coming days." She shot him a perplexed, concerned look. "I promise. As I was saying, during the long and arduous meeting I held with the crew," began Optimus as he reached over and picked up the datapad he had been reading before, "Sideswipe made an interesting remark."
"Sideswide?"
"Yes. He purposed: What if your Creation Matrix had been stolen?"
"Stolen? From whom?"
"That's the thing, isn't it? He suggested humanity itself. It sounded far-fetched, and some of the Autobot's laughed, but you know Sideswipe. He doubled down and asked me directly, if they were to believe my account of my time with you, that if you are showing all the same Signs of Affinity as the Matrix, than shouldn't the origin of your Creation Matrix be revealed through the Imprints in yours? If it was made by the Lazalt, it should have Lazalt imprints-but that isn't the case. This I have seen firsthand."
Her optics grew wide and large. "There are only humans."
"Exactly."
"But." She said, her face contorting into a semi permanent baffled expression. "The Lazalt stole my matrix from humanity? That doesn't make sense."
"Not with the pieces of the puzzle we possess. There is a larger picture we have yet to grasp. But I believe Sideswipe hit the mark true. It inspired Skids to purpose his own theory."
"That ties back in with your choice of reading?"
"Hm, yes. He purposed that the technology we are finding, the precursor sites, the technology to grow photonic crystals, all of it, echoes our own. Given that Cybertron was passing through your Sol System four million years ago, and the modus operandi of both factions at that time was to strip mine star systems we came across to fuel our rogue world..."
Her face lit up. "Skids theorized the precursor sites are Cybertronian in origin?"
Optimus nodded. "It is very highly possible. The survivors of the factions would have found the photonic stash in the Artic Circle and began harvesting it."
"But Earth isn't strip mined..."
"True. Which begs the question: why? Standard protocol is to dispose of important resource materials if they are to fall into Decepticon servos. The same protocols exist for the Decepticons. Given that the sites are still standing, and operational, implies one of two things: either threats to the sites were fought off and secured or something went terribly wrong."
"Is it common for Cybertronians to leave technological remnants behind so haphazardly?"
"It happens." Optimus admitted with a distinct distaste. "Perhaps more than I care to admit to myself. It is, however, more typical that sites will remain intact if they are deemed of high importance. It would be easier for us to return again and use them that way."
Phage processed the information quietly before saying, "So, the working theory is that Cybertronians, the ones left behind on Cybertron, did begin operations to strip mine our star system. And something happened. Something catastrophic that they had to abandon standard procedure and, potentially, evacuate? Because if something terrible had not happened, Earth would not exist in the state that it does. Likely, I presume, it would be as dead as Mars."
"That is safe to assume."
"And these sites, over time, fell into other hands. Humanities to be precise, and, perhaps, the Lazalt's?"
"That is Skids working theory, yes."
"So the Creation Matrix is of Cybertron."
"Yes and no. We are running with Skid's theory that the Creation Matrix is from Earth but created via Cybertronian technology and, potentially, harvested from the mines in the Artic and transported to a site similar to the Peruvian one that we are as of yet unaware of."
"So, the Cybertronians left behind started forging matrices using the Decepticon technology? Why?"
"I do not believe they were attempting to create matrices." Optimus said. "If we are running with Skids's theory, which we are, than I believe they were simply creating charged photonic crystals. Think of them as potent batteries. Cybertron was nearly bled dry since the last system we had come across, so it is reasonable to assume that would be one of the first steps they began." She nodded along as he explained. "Given our new working theory, I have already sent a few small teams out to reinvestigate the Peruvian site and the Artic Mine. They are charged with taking samples were applicable. When Jetfire returns with his team from the Artic, we can compare those crystals to your Creation Matrix."
"It doesn't make sense." Phage said at last. "If the Cybertronians were making batteries, how does one accidentally create a manufactured matrix unless they intended to? How does one even create a manufactured matrix? You said Megatron's Heart only empowered him-so that goes to the battery theory right? How does one create a...living matrix? Furthermore, if Cybertronians created it, than shouldn't I have some imprints of Cybertronians?"
"Perhaps you haven't delved deep enough into the imprints to find them?"
Phage squeezed her optics between her thumb and pointer digit. "Great. How do imprints even get in a matrix? And how does the Creation Matrix have imprints of humans from all over the world? I presume the thing is roughly the size of my head or a little smaller? Hard thing to travel with."
"I do not have answers for that but perhaps, as I help guide you with your training, you will be able to discern that truth through the imprints themselves."
Her slim olfactory crinkled up in distaste at the thought of suffering through the lives of additional imprints and tried to change the topic. "What does this have to do with your reading material?"
"I was about to get to that. You see, Skids theory got Bluestreak thinking."
"Sounds like I missed an amazing think tank meeting."
"Indeed. Once Skids suggested the possible Cybertronian connection, Bluestreak made his own...unique connection to very, very old religious writings and mythologies from the First Age of Cybertron."
Her face drew wane. "That...sounds old."
"Archaic." Optimus Prime corrected. "By around eleven million Earth years." She gaped at Prime, her brain wholly unable to grasp the age of Cybertronian culture. Nonetheless, Optimus continued. "Besides myself, Bluestreak and Beachcomber are two of the most knowledgeable Autobot's when it comes to various religious histories. What Bluestreak purposed has...shaken the Autobot's."
"Shaken a grounded starship full of war machine veterans? What could that possibly be?"
A fleeting smirk touched Prime's mouth before smoothing back over. He fixed her to her spot under his piercing gaze. "Well, firstly, how much have you learned about our religion?"
"There is a god called Primus."
"Well," sighed Optimus Prime, "that is a start at least. Hm... Well, I am currently researching the foundation. So what better than the first of all beginnings? Of all the religion's Cybertron has had, we are going to focus on the one that matters to our topic, and the most important: the Primus religion. It is dualistic at its foundation: good versus evil, order versus chaos, light versus dark. There is no middle ground in this ideology. It is or is not. Most Cybertronians subscribe to this religion and it reflects in our culture as a philosophical mindset, even down to the factions I am afraid. In this religion, Primus is viewed as the Lord of Light and Order. His twin brother, Unicron, is his polar opposite. He is the Dark God of Destruction and Chaos.
"Now during the Meet, Bluestreak enlightened the crew by explaining that, in the earliest religious texts from the First Age of Cybertron, Primus was described as the Lord of the Light Gods and Unicron was the Overlord of the Dark Gods. He then put the question to the Autobots: Who were the members of the wider pantheon. It was at that point that Beachcomber started to argue with him. Nothing physical, mind you. Beachcomber would not hurt a fly. But he is a devote follower of the Primus religion and had never heard of this. As you can imagine what Bluestreak was saying sparked quite the heated debate between them that I had to cut it short to hurry Blue's point along."
"Given that it was Bluestreak, I don't think that helped you much, did it?"
"Not exactly. But we got there in the end. He reminded me, and the Autobots, that this early proto-religion was all but erased by the works of the Keeper. -He was a zealot who came about sometime in the Second Age and began preaching that Primus and Unicron were the last of their pantheon. This ideology morphed again much later into what most mechs, such as Beachcomber, identify as the Primus religion we have today: that there was and had only ever been Primus and Unicron. Now, when Beachcomber challenged Bluestreak on his knowledge, ol' Blue admitted that he had spent vorns seeking answers in religion and, as things do, one thing lead to another and another until he was chasing after whispers of rare texts-which inevitably lead him to a copy of the original Covenant of Primus that detailed the wider pantheon."
"I'm sorry, Optimus. I have to interrupt, but, what does all of this have to do with me?"
"Not you exactly, but the Creation Matrix."
"And?"
"I am getting there. Have patience and enjoy the road, Phage." Optimus hmmed and hawed. Phage could practically view the inner workings of his mind as he tried to untwist the myrid colored wires all tangled into a great confusing knot. "Have you ever heard of rarified energon?"
"No." Phage drawled, now eyeing him through a pinched stare. "Is it suppose to be refined energon or something?"
"No." Prime echoed and abruptly rubbed at the back of his neck cables. "Rarified energon is a very rare, very unique strain of energon with a curious alias. It is sometimes called the Blood of the Conjunx. And where the energon you know is blue, rarified energon is green. And it is potent." Phage straightened in her seat then at his carefully chosen descriptors. "As Cybertron free spun through the universe on its rogue-world course, we would occasionally stumble upon small miniscule deposits of it. Not enough to be of much help on a scale we wanted, but enough that we could repower key facilities for a time. And, interestingly, Bluestreak brought up the topic of Rarified Energon to validate his theory."
"How...?"
"Well, Bluestreak was tracking Rarified Energon siting's. It interested him. And he had noted that the deposits kept growing in size. He proposed at the Meet that we may have miss-categorized the Artic Mine as photonic crystals when it could actually be a huge cache of Rarified Energon, which of course upset Jetfire."
"As...interesting as that is, I am sure, I still do not see where Bluestreak was going with that."
"In the proto-Primus religion, one of the Light Gods listed was Primus's conjunx endura."
"His wife? Primus has a wife?"
"Long lost to time, unfortunately. For all of Bluestreak's excellent memory, he cannot recall her designation. Only that the text detailed her and what became of her in the final conflict between Primus and Unicron."
"Final conflict between Light and Dark gods? I think I am beginning to grasp why the Keeper went around preaching that Primus and Unicron were the last."
Optimus shot her a stern gaze before he continued with his narration. "Final conflict is a bit misleading. Primus actually tricked Unicron into shedding his celestial body and imprisoned him at the core of a dead world. Unfortunately, Primus's deceit was not without his own sacrifice. He lost his form too and was imprisoned, the same as Unicron, in the core of a dead world. But, as the new age Covenant of Primus explains, Unicron's will was so great, his essence so twisted and evil that he reshaped the proto-world into his new material body. And Primus, being that they were twins, knew of Unicron's intents to continue the conflict and so reshaped his own prison, using Unicron's methods, into what would become Cybertron."
"Creation myth and origin stories, lovely stuff. When does the discrepancy come in that Bluestreak was harping on about at the Meet?"
"You are so impatient today, Phage. Stay calm. I am nearly there." Optimus chided gently. "The story I just told you, in its terribly cut and dry form, is what every mech in the Golden Age onwards knows. The discrepancy, as you so put it, between the original works and what mechs such as myself grew up learning of, and what Bluestreak could recall and recounted to the crew was this: The battle between the brothers had been so violent, so terrible, that they were destroying entire universes. Into the midst of that terrible conflict Primus's conjunx endura threw herself to stave off a mortal blow that would have slain Primus outright and was damaged herself in return. So gravely injured in fact that, at Primus's behest, she fled into the omniverse to heal, or was terminated and transcended? Bluestreak was fuzzy on the last bit of details but implied that Primus came up with his last ditch plan after his conjunx was damaged or terminated, and he finally woke up to the destruction he and his brother had wrought. The discrepancies in the stories end there."
"Why remove her at all? I don't understand what was so controversial about that."
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing to you and I. But..." and he trailed off, shaking his cranium in dismay. "I cannot even begin to explain why it was removed, Phage. Because in doing so I would have to explain how the Golden Age was so corrupt, so rusted from the inside out... You could not comprehend the levels of it, Phage. You couldn't. Your world has never seen the like."
"World World II...?"
"Never. Seen. The Like." Stressed Optimus through a tight grimace. "The smallest taste, that may explain the rewriting of holy works- the high elites, the Council of Cybertron, were making femmes obsolete. By the time Megatron began his rebellion to overthrow them, the majority of Cybertronians had only seen femmes on the screen, or holopads. Few actually had met one in person. Please, think on that a moment."
Her moment's pause coalesced into an uncomfortable grimace. And, as she usually did, tried to bypass and bury the uncomfortableness by inquiring, "And the rarified energon?"
"You haven't figured that part out yet yourself? The alias of it is Blood of the Conjunx, Phage. Bluestreak purposed at the Meet, what if it really was the blood of Primus's Conjunx Endura? And what if we have been slowly following her blood trail across our universe and at the end of that trail we will find the missing Light Goddess. And that, what if, the Creation Matrix echoes the Matrix so much because it is of Her."
"No." Phage declared sharply, catching Optimus by surprise as she stood abruptly from the sofa. "No. No. No. I see where Bluestreak is going with this. And no." The energon in her glass sloshed crazily and nearly split as she carried on in her animated way.
"Calm." Optimus warned.
"He kept asking in the elevator if my matrix could create sparks whose they would belong too. So you see? He's trying to make reason of everything."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"There is when he's drawing parallels between holy texts and real life: You and Megatron locked in an eternal struggle and then here I come with no warning and prevent the final fatale blow by tricking Megatron and nicking your spark. And now they find I am something akin to a Prime but not a Prime. No!" She interrupted loudly. "I am not a Prime."
"Correct." Optimus returned sassily and clicked the final four words. "We've been over this, you are an Endurus."
She slapped one hand over her face and dropped back onto the couch. Behind her hand, she muttered; "Damn it, Op."
"Have you settled down now? If you are going to get worked up like this I cannot continue this discussion. Ratchet would have quite a few choice words with me and I would like to avoid that, if you please. Thank you. It is only Bluestreak's input on the matters at large, Phage. They have yet to be proven one way or another."
"Did everyone at the Meet catch amnesia and forgot how I came into possession of the Creation Matrix and cyber ascended?" Lamented Phage. "Heavens! I am not the Chosen of some lost goddess of your pantheon! I cannot believe I have to say that."
"Of course no one forgot." Said Prime soothingly. "Once Bluestreak had finally finished his theory on events, it did indeed nearly cause a fight amongst the Autobot's with Jetfire, Ratchet and Trailbreaker the most outspoken on the matter."
"Thank goodness." Phage interjected.
"The only way I found to calm the Autobots was to confirm that I had myself read the same." Phage jerked up to stare at him in surprise but Optimus was glancing at the datapad in his servo in consernation. "Moreso, I told my Autobots that I had the original ancient holopad that details it. I know I have the text that mentions it."
Her face grew wide and pale and amazed all at once. "You have an ancient text in your private collection that is eleven million years old?"
"Yes." Grumbled Prime. "And I can't find it. I've been scouring my private collection for days. I even enlistened Bluestreak, Beachcomber, and Skydive to help me scour the Ark library, in case I have misremembered where I read it. So far we have turned up nothing and it has been driving me..." His words trailed off as Phage-One reached her servo into her subspace pocket and pulled out an ancient datapad that was thick as a brick, the casing old and tarnished and engraved in Cybertronian filigree geometric design. Optimus stalled up, staring hard at the datapad then up at Phage herself. "I loaned it to you."
"You loaned it to me." She confirmed. "Because I wanted to grasp Cybertronian culture and where better to start than with understanding a religion of a people?"
Optimus reverently took it from her grasp before glaring. "And yet, you have not read it."
"No." She admitted sheepishly. "I haven't found the time."
He turned it over to inspect every nook and crevice. "This was what you had suggested to use to smack Rumble with!"
"I did say it was thick enough to be used as a weapon."
"Thank Primus you did not." Exclaimed Prime in a rush. "It very well may be the last copy in existence! It likely is. And you were going to use it as an impromptu weapon..."
"Use what you got." She chimed impishly.
"Not ancient texts." He sighed.
"Fine. Next time give me an energon cube and a cloth." He quirked one of his thick optical ridges at her. "I've been wondering if I could utilize an energon cube as a molotov cocktail. Always wanted to try."
Prime shook his cranium fondly. "Damn it, Phage."
"What?" She teased.
"Holopads, laser scapels, keys, molotov energon cocktails..."
"Use. What. You. Got."
Optimus shook his cranium before turning his attention back to the holopad. He exmained it in critical detail over once more before activating the datapad. "You know, Bluestreak's theory was merely his own input, Phage. Interesting and educational as it was. I thought you would like to hear how the whole meeting went, but I did not realize it would rile you so."
"It was educational. And I would like to learn more about Cybertronian culture. It's just...No." Optimus smirked and chortled. "What did you mean, 'it has yet to be proven one way or another.' What did you mean by that?"
He looked up from the ancient datapad and locked optics with her, each searching the other over trying to decipher where the miscommunication had happened. Finally, it was Optimus Prime who had the epiphany. "Oh."
"What's 'oh?'"
"Oh." Optimus repeated somewhat bashfully. "I glazed over an important bit about Cybertronian religion."
"And what's that?"
"I will tell you if you promise to remain calm and allow me to explain or else I will cut it short."
"I suppose." She said tiredly.
"Suppose?"
"Yes, yes." She said in a rush. "I will...try to remain calm."
"Good enough then. The Primus religion is the dominant religion on Cybertron because it is based on fact."
"I'm sorry, what?"
Optimus forced a sigh through his vents before giving her a hard look. She settled down quickly enough. "Cybertron is Primus."
"And Earth is Gaia."
"What?" Asked Prime sharply.
"Mythologies, Op. Creation stories. Myths."
The Prime gave her a strange look before Optimus pinched his optics shut. "We're having a communication breakdown again. Phage. There is a sacred temple in the Heart of Cybertron, the Primus Basilica, and there, upon the wall, is the face of Primus."
"And every Christian church has Jesus on the cross. What's your point?"
"No. Phage, it's-It is his face."
She stared. And stared, unable to take what he was saying and process it. "That they claim." She said at last. "Obviously it was created by someone."
Another sigh pushed through his vents. "It's true, Phage. Cybertron is the body of Primus. Cybertron is or was a colossal transforming mech on a scale none can imagine. Have you never wondered how Cybertron was rocked from her orbit in our far off star system?"
"The War."
"Megatron and the Decepticons found Primus's thrusters and activated them. The problem was that they were buried deep within Cybertron and the energy output from the thrusters ripped apart the upper shelves of the planet. Doing so annihilated entire cities, killing millions and ejecting us from our star system into a cold eternal winter. Do you not recall images we have shown you of Cybertron? I know you know what damage I am referring too." She sat staring at him for so long, processing the news for so long, that Optimus began to grow worried. "Phage?"
"Cybertron is... a massive transforming machine that Cybertronians built megacities on top of?"
"Yes. The evidence we had was irrefutable."
"But, Cybertron is the size of Saturn."
"Yes."
Her left optic twitched involuntarily. She turned sharply away from him then and focused on the far wall. "So,"she stressed as she processed the information, "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." Optimus cocked one of his thick optical ridges her way, fulling grasping the Earth reference. "A stage five civilization known as the Quintessons,"
"Hypothetically."
"Hypothetically the Quints, or another hereofto unknown race, constructed a fleet of transforming Death Stars. Over time, as their civilization, presumably, disappeared from the face of the universe, these relics were left behind and, over time, reshaped by cosmic means, and found again by... the Quints, if they were not the orignal Stage Five civilization in this scenario. -You must tell me more about them later." She suddenly interrupted herself to ask him, whisper quiet, before continuing with her monologue. "The Quintessons found a sentient race of bio-chanic entities living on one of these warworlds that the natives called Cybertron. The Cybertronians were inevitably enslaved by the Quintessons, but these ancient Cybertronians knew in part that their planet was a transforming machine, and worshiped it as a god, when it was not. Over time they chose to reshape their religion in a way that fit their design, and so forgot about the fleet of Death Stars, save Unicron, because every good story needs a villain. And here we are, millions and millions of years later, and Bluestreaker and Beachcomber?-Good lord,- believe that Earth could be one of these primordial Death Stars?"
"That was a good summary of events."
"What do you think?"
"About what exactly? We have covered many things."
"About Bluestreak or Skids theories. What do you believe?"
"Phage. I have already said Skids' is our working theory. It is the most plausible scenario and a lead on our lost brethren after the Ark crashed."
"But what do you think about Bluestreak's ideas?"
"Phage. Can I tell you a secret?" She looked askance at him, taken aback by the sudden request. He leaned close and whispered in conspiratorial tones; "I am not religious." She gaped wide optic at him as he drew back, a smug grimace on his mouth as he drank from his glass. "I said before, Phage, that the Primus religion is dualistic, its very philosphoical foundation operates as ones and zeros. I do not subscribe to the mythical aspect of its tutoring, that Primus and Unicron were celestial gods in a time primordial, but I do acknowledge that Primus is Cybertron. I have seen the proof and witnessed it firsthand. I have seen things most Cybertronians could never imagine, but I believe it is of a lost high science we cannot comprehend on a fantastical scale. Much of what you have already expressed. That aside, I think this conversation has come to its end."
"What? No!"
"You are much too worked up over this topic and I have only just scratched the surface of what we need to discuss. How you are receiving the news now, do you see why we never fully discussed these things with you before? Any of the Witwicky's? You are human. And these matters, I fear they threaten your sanity. So we will cut it here. Any further discussion and I fear what Ratchet would say."
"But-"
"I love your curiosity, Phage. I do. But you only just woke up from a three day recharge. After a harrowing series of events. Give yourself time to rest and process. Everything I need to discuss with you will take time. And in bite sized pieces. I expect you to get angry. I expect push back. The takeaway from this part of the discussion I need you to maintain is this: Cybertroninan religion, the Primus religion, is based in fact and truth. I can provide you hard evidence of Cybertron, the damage the thrusters caused, images of the Primus Basillica. I could provide you my firsthand account with its mysterious priests. Whether or not you see these relics as remnants of forgotten warworlds built by a long ago people or view Primus as a celestial entity is of your own personal decision. It does not change the fact that within the heart of Cybertron exists Primus and that somewhere out in the universe is his counterpart: Unicron, and, if we are to believe what is transcribed in this holopad," Optimus expressed as he held up the ancient holy work, "other such worlds exists. Despite all that, we are not banking on Bluestreak's suggestions, interesting of a theological discussion as it was. We are investigating the precursor sites with new optics under the premise that they were Cybertronian in origin to recharge Cybertron and, perhaps, for reasons unknown, the Decepticon matrix operations were revived and consequentially abandoned. There is so much I have to explain. So much I thought Ratchet had already began teaching you. And more. Oh, there is so much more wrapped up in all of this. I will explain it all to you in time."
Tiredly she rubbed at her optics and then at her temple. "I think I need rest." Phage groaned.
"If that is what you need. I will still be here, translating this text."
She stood slowly and collected her bedsheet in the crook of her arm with no great hurry. Once she was at the entrance of her recharge chambers, Phage hesitated and glanced over her shoulder strut. "Optimus?"
He glanced up the from archaic holopad. "Yes?"
"I just had a thought. Why have you wasted days speculating on theories and wild ponderings?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why not ask the one person on Earth who can answer all of our questions."
Optimus Prime straightened in his seat. "Who?"
Her mouth quirked up at a corner. "Shrapnel."
Immediately, Optimus Prime stood up, his optics having doubled in size as the realization hit him. Phage continued as he turned aside from her and touched his antenna to send a comm. "Optimus!" She called after him. "The Insecticons have walked this Earth since the Ark and the Nemesis crash landed. I know Bombshell messed with her head, but if she still retains any information we would be in luck. Do you suppose she's told Megatron anything? ...Are you contacting Jazz or Prowl?"
"Excuse me, Phage-One." She buried her wry smile in her glass of energon, and gingerly finished the remains, content to study the Prime as he quickly left her quarters. She caught a glimpse of him beginning to pace the hallway outside, his thick optical ridges weighing heavily on his brow and talking fast into his commlink before the door leisurely slide shut.
Three Days Prior...
The Decepticons slowly trickled into the Repair Bay, their craniums downcast and their gait sluggish. There was no glory in defeat. No honor to be had. Shrapnel observed the pilgrimage to the individual repair chambers from a shadowy corner of the Repair Bay, paying particular interest when Soundwave trudged in holding Frenzy's wretched and blackened frame in his arms. Around his pedes swarmed Rumble and Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, the former of whom had chosen to ride on Ravage's backside and the later who click-clacked along at the back of the group.
Just then a long, haunting cry echoed from the watery world outside the safety of their base. It tore Shrapnel's attention away from the group and fixed it to a spot on the ceiling. Her face became pinched with worry and gnawing fear. All too aware of the monstrosity that circled outside, she wrapped her arms around herself in meager comfort. When the cry died down, she glanced around the length of the Repair Bay and noted that she was not alone in her concerns, but when her attention fell back again on Soundwave and his group of minicons, Rumble caught her gaze and flipped her a crude gesture. Keeping one optic on them, Shrapnel turned aside and sought out Thundercracker for protection.
The large Seeker was not hard to find. He was stationed resolutely within the midst of the Repair Bay, hovering protectively over Megatron and Skywarp. Ever the stoic warrior and honorable patriot, thought Shrapnel dreamily.
She saddled up beside him without molestation, and announced her presence by placing her slim servo on Thundercracker's lower backside. She teased him with little electrical discharges from her digit tips as she came around into view. Thundercracker spared her a passing glance of acknowledgement before returning his attention back to their lord.
/Rumble still appears to be angry with me./ She messaged over the comms.
Thundercracker cast the group a cursory glance over his shoulder strut. Soundwave was preoccupied with placing Frenzy's frame on a medberth and prepping a terminal with instructions. Rumble however was still glaring after Shrapnel. He caught Thundercracker's optic and signaled that he was going down.
A low rumble churned at the back of Thundercracker's throat. He rolled his optics as he turned back to Shrapnel. /He'll get over it./
"How is Lord Megatron...Megatron...Megatron..."
Thundercracker looked worriedly down at his commander. He had remained as Thundercracker had left him on the floor of the Repair Bay, bent and humbled and brooding.
"Quiet." Answered Thundercracker. "But alive."
"I don't understand." Shrapnel began, "My little Alicean was so reserved...so concerned...I observed... How could she lash out like that? I thought she was bright...bright...quite...alight... Against Lord Megatron...Megatron?"
"Calm, Nelle." Rumbled Thundercracker with his deep chocolate vocal chords. "Your tick is acting up."
Rather than pausing to collect herself, a trick Thundercracker had helped her to figure out to do when she became too agitated to have a proper conversation, Shrapnel instead grew frustrated. She grimaced, flashing her denta, as her visor flared.
"My Lord?" Thundercracker tried once again, not daring to touch his Commander for fear of backlash as before. "Can I do anything for you?"
A secondary sound echoed throughout the seabase coming from within its halls and out all at once. It attracted the attention of all within the Repair Bay to cast their optics skyward. The noise was deep, mechanical and robust, gears whirling to life and a great massive thing rushing through the ocean outside. The noise was unmistakable. So familiar to every Decepticon that it had become background noise to the daily grind. But they were on high alert, tense with the wild Piranacon swimming outside that the telescoping tower was but another frightening noise beyond their walls.
"Starscream." Thundercracker grumbled with disdain. "Damn coward is fleeing the base again via the tower."
Just as the Decepticons began to return back to their tasks at hand of repairing themselves or aiding their cogsmechs, Piranacon announced his presence once more with another nerve wracking roar. The Decepticons tensed at the cry, then startled in alarm when a calamitous racket erupted outside their halls. Klaxon alarms blasted. Red lights angrily flashed on and off. The seabase moaned and groaned. The metal and gears and telescoping shafts of the tower whined piteously against a vicious seige. And then, to every Decepticon's dismay, the inevitable shriek and implosion of the tower collapsing.
In the distance of bowels of the seabase roared the thunderous drum of millions of gallons of ocean water flooding their seabase yet again. Immediately safety protocols were triggered across the base, and the Repair Bay door slammed shut and pressurized. Rumble's sharp voice cut through the klaxon alarm, rising in panic. "The tower was next to the command center!"
Before he had finished the sentence, the Repair Bay plunged into complete darkness. Out of the pitch black, crimson optics and bands of visors glared back.
"Wait for it." Intoned Thundercracker's voice in the dark. Not a single mech stirred. Waiting, tense. Shrapnel's little servo on his backside dug in. And then, the emergency power kicked on. Light and power flooded the Repair Bay. The Decepticons blinked and glanced around.
"We're trapped!" Echoed Rumble's shaky voice. "Starscream's gone and doomed us down here!"
"What better place to be trapped than the Repair Bay?" Challenged Thundercracker.
"How about not being trapped down here at all." Rumble shot back. "What are we gonna do? Starscream left the Combaticons out there! Dirge and Thrust are missing and has anybody seen the Stunticons since earlier?"
"Stay calm." Thundercracker ordered.
"How can anyone stay calm! Even your little electric bug knows we're screwed!"
Sure enough Thundercracker could hear Shrapnel had gone into a fit at his side. She was muttering at a rapid pace and her eerie echoing ticks were little more than a constant stream of whispers that droned on like the steady beat of a beetles wings.
"We dealt with Piranacon before, we can do it again. Just stay calm. Soon, his emergency disengage protocol will tick down and the Seacons will be forced to disengage once again. When they do, that's when we can pick them off."
"Yeah yeah, good idea, TC. Okay." Said Rumble anxiously between deep calling breaths. "It's okay. Just like last time. It'll be just like last time."
"Statement: Lord Megatron headed the capture of Piranacon last time." Piped up Soundwave.
"I know." Grit Thundercracker as he immediately knelt down beside his commander. "You finish repairs while I work on Megatron." He turned his attention back to his commander then. "I know you heard all that, Megatron. Lord Megatron...?" Thundercracker prodded gently. "We need you."
Still beside him, Shrapnel was muttering and echoing her own self ceaselessly.
A low and gravelly noise rolled at the back of the Decepticon Commander's throat. Incrementally, Megatron cast his crimson sun optics on Thundercracker. "Do you?" He spoke at last, challenging Thundercracker's plea. "It was my poor leadership skills that landed us in this predictament. I held back on Phage when I should have gave no quarter, simply because she reminded me of someone I knew a long, long time ago. I allowed Starscream into our midst from the start of my career. I and many others have suffered for it ever since. We are still suffering for Starscream's continued existence within our faction. And why? Why do I put up with him and his blatant transgressions time and time again? I do not have a clear answer for you. Even when he has trapped us down here, likely of his own stupidity than malevolent scheming. So why, pray tell, would you continue to ask for my aid?"
Thundercracker met Megatron's weary gaze with his own quiet yet intense conviction. "Why?" Questioned Thundercracker. "Because when I look at you, I do not see Megatron, Emporer of the Cybertronian Stellarite, I see the designationless mine worker suffering away for the Elite's whims. When I look at you, Megatron, I do not see the energon thirsty gladiator or general, I see your rage when the Elite threw you to the gladiatorial pitts to terminate or break your own moral code. When you fly into your rages in combat I join you or else I might break to think what was done to Cybertron's hero. I do not see the proud Lord of Kaon, but the humble mech that became Megatronus, the autodidact."
"You pity me?"
"Never. I have only the highest respects to a mech you can go from nothing and achieve everything. Not just once, but as many times as he strives for it. And you are that mech. You came from the humblest of beginnings and became the first chosen Emperor of Cybertron. It is important to remember the mech behind the regalia to truly appreciate where he stands. And you, Megatron, achieve success when all bets are down and there is nothing left to lose. I was honored to see it firsthand when we reactivated on Earth. We had nothing left and yet it was through your most modest of beginnings that you guided us and helped us to achieve all of this. Your knowledge of metals and minerals, your engineering know how. Your sheer determination to survive and thrive. I was honored to see that firsthand. Honored to assist you when required. I was honored to have the opportunity to sit with you on long nights after back breaking work or battle, sometimes both, and share energon with you and get overenergized with you and trade old war stories with; too hear firsthand your accounts of how you did the things you did, or even that one story you regalled us with, how the young Lord of Kaon found he had a knack for hunting and taming Cybertron's wild beasts and you pranked Starscream on one such hunt."
"I do miss those days."
"That is the mech I am asking. The mech who seizes opportunity by its wings and soars to the top every time. That is the mech we all have faith in. That is the mech I am asking for help."
When Thundercracker came at last to the end of his entreat, Megatron had locked optics with him, seeking something within him that he had sought before. The large Seeker refused to back down and remained stoic before his embittered lord until finally, at long last, Megatron asked, "Are you done?"
"Yes."
"I usually only have to endure such sappy speeches when I have to talk to Prime. And then, usually, I am the one having to give Optimus Prime a swift kick in his aft to get him going. Pitts, what am I doing?"
"My...lord?"
He sighed heavily and struggled to his pedes. "Stand aside Thundercracker or get in line. There is so much work to be done, starting with wrangling the Seacons back in their cages. Again."
"Let me tend to Skywarp and then I'll follow." Grinned Thundercracker.
"Megatron's up!" Cheered Rumble from across the Repair Bay.
He took quick stock of the Decepticons loitering about the Repair Bay. Noted Soundwave had got Frenzy's repair bay going and the minicon's frame was currently being coated in the mercuial synth-met and repairing his frame to pristine condition. Then he eyed Skywarp out cold on the floor, sized up his damages and focused his attention squarely back on Thundercracker. "You have half a breem to get Skywarp up and functioning. If you can't manage that than he needs to be left behind."
"Understood."
"Good. Now grab his arm and help me carry him to a bay."