Thank you for feedback Hex-16! I'm glad you feel that way and I'm excited to introduce his Minicons into my story. I appreciate you helping me find those errors. They've been corrected ;)
Orion stepped up to the crate Ratchet had pointed out, noting that its bulky frame was filled to the brim with energon cubes. He pressed a small button on the side, and a soft hum emitted from beneath the crate as its hovering function activated. The crate lifted just slightly off the ground, ready for him to guide it.
He maneuvered it out of the supply area and into the hallway, where multiple rooms lined the corridor, each containing its own patient. The archivist moved toward the first room where an orange bot lay in a berth, looking worse for wear, missing both arms.
"Good evening," Orion greeted warmly, lifting an energon cube from the crate. "Ratchet asked me to bring this to you."
The mech smiled weakly. "Ah, Ratchet, huh? Guess I must be in good servos then."
The librarian smiled, holding the energon cube up to the patient's intake, tilting the cube to allow the medical grade energon to slide down his throat. He patiently stood there until the cube was emptied, placing it on a stand to the side as the mech drifted into recharge.
Quietly leaving the room, he continued down the hallway, distributing cubes to each patient and offering a kind word where he could. Some bots were barely able to lift their servos to take the energon, while others managed faint smiles and murmured their thanks.
Many of them seemed surprised by the attention, and more than one mentioned how infrequent it was for someone to take the time to speak with them beyond a quick diagnosis or instructions from the medic.
Orion came down to one of the last rooms, and inside there was a femling with bright, golden optics. Her frame, colored black of the night, highlighted with pink streaks, was dented and marred, riddled with horrific burns and holes that had been welded shut.
"You're not a medic, are you?" she asked, tilting her helm.
The archivist shook his helm, smiling, wondering what had happened to her. "No, not officially, though I help out when I can. I work in the Hall of Records, actually."
The young bot's optics widened, impressed. "You work with all the archives? It must be amazing to see all that knowledge!"
Orion's smile widened slightly. "It is. The archives hold pieces of Cybertronian history—knowledge that could shape our future if used correctly. I like to think we're preserving what matters, for those who will come after us."
He held out an energon cube to the youngling, who hesitantly took it. She looked down at the medical grade energon, frowning. "I don't like this energon, it tastes weird," she complained, holding it back out to him.
Orion gently pushed it back to her. "You should take it, it'll help you recover faster. You'll be out of this hospital in no time."
The femling frowned. "I don't want toooo," she whined, pouting. "This hospital is better than outside."
The archivist frowned slightly, opening his intake but she cut him off before he could even get a word out.
"I don't want to go back there," she looked down, derma trembling. "I don't want to go back. It's awful. Everybody's mean to me. Nobody wants me." A lubricant fell down the delicate metal of her faceplate and her fields flared out with pain and anger. "Not even my Carrier."
Orion resisted the urge to move out of range of her EM field, spark twisting painfully as the cold realization that she had been orphaned hit him. Unsure of how to proceed, Orion placed a servo on hers, keeping his own disturbed field reeled in tightly.
The femling looked up at him and then leaned against him, plating rattling and trembling as she sobbed, clutching at the seams of his plating. "I just want my Sire…" she mumbled, cooling fans clicking on.
The archivist sat there, unsure of what to do or say, until her sobs subsided and she hummed lowly, relaxing against his frame. Orion, careful not to do anything that could trigger the femling, reaching over to grab the energon cube lying on the bed.
"You should drink this," he finally said, holding it out to her.
The young bot's faceplate scrunched up in a look of disgust, but she swallowed down the contents of the container. She stuck out her glossa afterward, handing the cube back to him. "That's gross."
Orion hesitantly smiled. "Not the best energon."
The femling started to speak but only a string of incomprehensible words came out. Her optics dimly flickered and there was a distinct hum that signaled her slipping into forced recharge, drained of all energy.
Leaving the younger bot in stasis, Orion continued his work, finishing at the last room. Turning around, he nearly ran into Ratchet, who was holding a datapad, looking down at the empty crate.
"You finished already?" the medic asked, folding his arms.
Orion nodded, unable to keep a small, pleased smile from spreading across his faceplate. "Yes, my friend. I made sure each patient received one."
Ratchet nodded in acknowledgement and vented, looking at the femling, who lay peacefully on the berth. "Bots in here… don't often get the chance to talk with someone willing to listen. It matters to them, even if they don't say it."
Orion blinked, turning to look at the youngling. "I enjoyed speaking with them—and helping, even in a small way."
Ratchet nodded, glancing one last time at the bot. "My shift's almost over, we can meet outside."
The archivist tilted his helm slightly, watching as his friend walked away. He turned back to the youngling, venting, spark heavy with the knowledge that the femling would have to go the care centers created to help abandoned bots like her. He headed back to the supply room, deactivating the grav-lift and headed outside.
The medic was already waiting outside when he finally arrived. Orion waved at his friend, walking alongside him as they headed down the streets of Iacon, away from Vector Point Clinic. The two mechs moved in comfortable silence at first, each of them tired but content from the long solar cycle of work.
After a while, Orion broke the silence. "Thank you for letting me help today," he said with a small smile, recalling his reorganizing work from earlier and Ratchet's tendency to "fix" his organization. "I wasn't sure if I'd be much help other than handing out energon cubes this time around."
Ratchet huffed. "Primus, Orion, you're practically made for this work. You care more about those patients than half the bots around here. You're lucky you don't have to be there every solar cycle. Some of the bots…" he paused, then shook his helm, muttering, "They don't make it easy, I'll tell you that."
"Seems like you handle it just fine, though," Orion commented. "It's no small feat, considering how busy you were."
Ratchet huffed, giving him a sidelong glance. "Fine? You should see me when the supply shipment gets delayed. I'd rather wrestle a turbo fox."
The librarian smiled faintly. They walked in silence once again, following the winding streets down into familiar territory. Orion recognized it as the street Ratchet's apartment was located.
"I can't believe you do this every night," Orion finally said, looking over at his friend. "I'd be exhausted if I were in your position."
"Exhausted doesn't quite cover it," Ratchet replied, venting. "But someone has to do it. If not me, who's left to tend to all those broken-down mechs? Besides, I suppose it keeps me out of trouble."
Orion raised an optical ridge. "Trouble? Somehow, I can't picture you causing any of that."
His friend gave a mock scoff. "Oh, I could be a menace if I wanted to. Just ask the new assistants; they've seen me at my worst."
They walked in silence for a few more blocks, and then Ratchet pointed ahead. "There's my apartment."
Orion glanced at the building his friend gestured to. It was tucked between two taller structures. He gave a respectful nod and extended his servo. "Goodnight Ratchet."
Ratchet shook his servo firmly. "Take care of yourself, Orion." The medic gave him a final nod before heading toward the entrance, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a string of curses.
The archivist watched him disappear inside, before turning and making his way home through the quiet streets. After a short walk, he arrived at his own building and made his way up to the sixth floor. His quarters were modest, like many of his castes in Iacon.
Locking the door behind him, he stepped out onto his small balcony, staring down at the streets below. The city was calmer now, with only a few mechs moving along the roads, bathed in the dim lights overhelm.
Orion settled into the chair he kept on the balcony, feeling his vents cycle warm air in his frame to battle against the coolness of the night. He pulled out his datapad from his subspace, powering it on with the push of a button. The screen lit up, and he began typing, recording the events of the solar cycle.
➢ This morning, I met a bot who came up to me begging for help, energon deficient. I had a few credits with me and bought him an energon cube to prevent him from going into stasis lock. I hope that he is alright.
He paused, spark twisting painfully at the memory of what happened at Trion Square.
➢ Just a few breems later, I was heading to Vector Point Clinic to help Ratchet with his shift, when an attack happened at the square. Sentinel's statue was blown up and I believe that the bot underneath it perished, even though I do not wish it so.
His digits hovered over the keys as he remembered the dying bot and the stern femme.
➢ The most difficult klik came shortly after. I wanted to help them, but a femme named Arcee prevented me from checking on them. She was only doing her duty as an officer to keep a civilian away from a crime scene. Still, I can't shake the feeling that there was something more I could have done.
His optics drifted across the cityscape, servo absently tapping the datapad's edge as he remembered the walk with Ratchet.
➢ After that, I made it to the medical facility. I helped him with the patients—at least, I tried to. I did learn how to weld a wound shut, though under my friend's watchful optics. He gave me reorganization duty, though he later undid all of my work, because of his controlling tendencies when it comes to things like this. At least he trusted me to distribute energon cubes to those who hadn't received any.
Orion let out a quiet vent, re-reading the entries he had typed.
➢ I met a femling in Vector Point Clinic. She had the brightest of optics and the purest spark I could see. She was severely damaged, but stable, and although I wanted to know what happened to her, I didn't ask. She had a breakdown on me and I was unsure of how to deal with it. I simply allowed her to spill her lubricants and gave her an energon ration.
But the one thing that bothers me is how could a carrier simply abandon their sparkling like that? And where was her Sire?
Orion was tempted to write more but wasn't sure what else to say. Deciding that he could add more later, he got up from his spot and headed inside, setting the datapad on a small table in front of his couch and headed over to his kitchenette.
From the energon cabinet, he selected a cube and walked over to the couch, settling into the well-worn cushions. He grabbed his datapad and connected to the DataNet, scrolling through the news, seeing dozens of report of the demolished statue. And the death of one bot.
Orion skimmed over it, reading the headlines and some of the statements from council representatives and various senators. No word from Sentinel himself. He scrolled further until he grew tired of reading the same thing over and over again.
He reached out to the stack of datapad on his table, pulling out one of Megatronus's works. His brother's collection was something he'd read through time and time again, thoroughly enjoying each read. He especially enjoyed his friend's poetry, seeing the works as raw expressions of thoughts, fragments of dreams and ideals given life through prose.
This book was the only copy—something that Megatronus had gifted him nearly three cycles ago. He remembered the look of uncertainty on his brother's faceplate as he handed the datapad over, not speaking a word of what it was. It was the only time that he had ever saw his friend look unsure.
Orion had managed to read over half the book in the past cycles when he had the time, usually during his downtime after his sessions with Megatronus, if he wasn't exhausted from sparring. Thankfully, there hadn't been any sparring last time.
The archivist powered the datapad, watching as the loading bar popped on screen. After a couple of nano-kliks, it loaded into the last poem he had read—Afterlight. Orion remembered that it was about life in the mines—it was touching piece of work.
He swiped to the next poem, surprised at the name of the next one. It was called Orion. The mech blinked, unsure if his optics were playing tricks on him. But no, the poem was named after him.
In the quiet hall of memories and tales,
Where records slumber in silent rows,
There walks a spark, noble and bright,
Searching for truth amidst the hollow prose.
Orion paused, stunned. Megatronus had written this about… him. When the gladiator had first given him this collection, he hadn't expected to find anything personal in it; after all, Megatronus was rarely one to share his thoughts openly. There was poems about the life of a miner, but it never really gave insight on his friend's thoughts.
But this poem—this was the one that had caught him off guard.
He walks among the ancients' words,
Untouched by greed, unspoiled by wrath,
Guided by light and boundless hope,
With pedesteps cast in wisdom's path.
Orion felt a warmth from his spark spread through his frame, heating every wire. His cooling fans clicked on, but he manually shut them off. He remembered the times he'd spent with Megatronus, seeing a passion and fierceness that burned brighter than any bot he'd known.
But in this poem, there was something gentler, something he didn't often see—a softer side that Megatronus hid from all, even him. The archivist knew that his friend cared deeply for him, and Orion him, but he never realized how deeply this ran and what his friend truly thought of him.
Yet in his optics, I see the stars,
A longing bright, a love unchained,
To shape this world, to mend its scars,
For every spark that's wrongly blamed.
Oh, keeper of forgotten lore,
You guard the past, the stories told,
Yet in your spark burns something more,
A fire fierce, a spark of gold.
Walk on, dear friend, for there awaits,
A time when dreams take form in truth,
A Cybertron that knows no hate,
Built by the brave, the kind, the youth.
Orion offlined his optics for a klik, absorbing the final stanza. He could almost hear Megatronus's voice. It was as if his friend was saying, "Keep going. Don't give up, no matter what." And in that thought, Orion found a quiet strength. Megatronus believed in him. Perhaps, he thought, he could live up to that vision.
He set the datapad down, leaning back into the cushions, optics focused on the ceiling as he processed everything the solar cycle had held. Taking a sip from his energon cube, he felt its warmth spread through his fuel lines.
His HUD lit up with a notification of a call from Megatronus incoming. Orion answered the number, greeting his friend. "Megatronus."
"Orion," the gladiator replied, "I know it's late, but there's something we need to discuss. I need you in Kaon tomorrow."
"Of course," he responded, curious as to why his friend was contacting him this late. "Is everything alright?"
Megatronus hesitated for a nano-klik. "It's… nothing to worry about," he said. "I want us to go over our plans for the rally. We need to accelerate the timeline."
"Accelerate?" the archivist repeated, confused. "Is there a reason for the rush?"
"Opportunities are arising, and it's important that we take advantage of them." He paused, adding, "The rally will need to make a stronger impact. I want to make sure we're on the same page."
The archivist hesitated, staying silent for a long klik. "I understand," he replied finally. "I'll be there tomorrow."
"Good," Megatronus said. "And Orion… get some rest. I'll see you soon."
Orion smiled softly. "I will, Megatronus."
I'm not the biggest fan of poetry and I'm not the best at it. Hope that Megatronus's poem to Orion wasn't that bad...
Let me know what you think :)