Rated: M for adult themes: language, violence, mental rape, character death, mech erotica, torture, gore, and suicidal ideation. This varies from chapter to chapter, so read at your own risk.

Important Note: I started this series of fics before Revenge of the Fallen hit the theaters. This is an A.U. 2007 movie verse fic, NOT a ROTF/DOTM/AE/LK/BB or whatever follows fic.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this work of complete fiction is Velocity/Sira and Hardcore. They are mine. Everything else is copyrighted and owned by some really rich people. I make no money from this but wish I could.

XxxX

Full Velocity: Apocalypse Code

Chapter 6: Smoke Signals

XxxX

Wrapping the patchwork blanket around her shoulders, Velocity padded toward Optimus. Their bond acted like a homing beacon; she could almost close her optic shutters and walk to him. Currently, he sat on the ground, one knee pulled up with an arm resting on top, reclining against a heavy stack of crates at the front of their building. A relaxed confidence whispered in the air as he watched the base activity.

"Good morning, sexy," she purred, recalling their activities from last night. It wouldn't take much to convince her to another round.

Optimus turned toward her, a brow arch raised in question, but then a smug smile curled the corner of his mouth. He knew what he did. Reaching to her, his electrical field hummed warmly, inviting her to his lap.

She flopped onto him, snuggling against his chest, remaining cocooned in her blanket. Purring with contentment as his massive arms wrapped around her, forestalling any escape attempts she might have. She had no intention of trying.

Their behavior turned several heads, human and equine. A chestnut gelding tied to a post snorted his displeasure, and the humans grooming him stared.

Velocity buried her face in Prime's chest, embarrassment creeping along her circuits. She hated the attention. Optimus rested his chin on the top of her helm and clicked soothingly.

Turning to avoid mumbling into his painted flames, she commented, "You like watching them, the horses."

A deep cycle of his vents and his arms tightened slightly around her. "I do. I find them fascinating, alert, intelligent, powerful, yet gentle and graceful creatures."

To the femme, it sounded like he described himself. Shifting to get a better look at the makeshift corral, Velocity brushed away the earlier embarrassment. Morning sun glowed on shiny, well-brushed steeds as several men unloaded hay for them and toted water to fill the troughs. As a herd, the animals headed to their breakfast, the scent of dried grass and horse droppings heavy in the air, mingling with warm metal, oils, and the ozone of mechanoid. She inhaled, enjoying the smells. She relished this and didn't want this to end; Optimus rarely just relaxed.

"Why are humans who know how to care for livestock looked down upon?" Optimus asked. "Shouldn't the knowledge of caring for and understanding other species be held in the highest regard? On Cybertron it is."

"It isn't the knowledge that is disparaged. It is because people who have such knowledge are typically from rural areas and considered less – sophisticated, worldly, or educated."

"Hmm," The renowned orator stated.

Something stirred behind his optics and in his processor. Velocity didn't have to see the shifting blue light to know he wanted to talk. They had shared nights like this when they were simply friends. Long rambling discussions where one topic bled into another. She realized she missed those nights.

"Before – did you ride horses?"

The femme blinked several times. Since waking up in a metal body, he barely asked her about her life before. "Me, ride a horse? Absolutely not," she scoffed. "I couldn't get near one. My scent or how I moved told them I had sharp teeth and claws."

Optimus shifted, and she looked up to find him staring at her, his optics dark with thoughts. He parted his lips as if to say something, then closed them. Returning his focus to the horses, he remained silent, but his fingers played along her back, absently fiddling with her blanket.

After a few seconds, she turned her gaze away. Definitely something on his mind, but she left him to his thoughts. Eventually, he would say what he needed, most likely in a more private place. His chin rested on her helm again, and he vented a contented sigh.

The shadows grew and shifted as the rosy lights of morning hardened into full day. People began to stir; without electric alarm clocks, most humans reverted to their natural circadian rhythm of waking around dawn and going to bed near dark. Sleepy soldiers and civilians made their way to the mess hall for the primary meal of the day. Most glanced at them before quickly turning away; romantic moments were becoming more open and common among the Autobots. If the rumors were true, most humans appreciated that she and Optimus did not awaken the base at odd hours with their passion - unlike Ironhide and Chromia. The most she and Optimus offered spectators were very rare snuggle sessions. Originally, she objected to his public displays, but Optimus ended all arguments when he stated, "I wasted vorns fretting how others viewed my love for Elita and never touched her in public." After that, the Prime held and touched her whenever he wanted and encouraged her to do the same.

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, and Velocity left her thoughts to find the source of humor. Following her mate's gaze, a smile spread along her lips. The young man saddling the bay gelding had to continuously push the horse's head away as the beast repeatedly flopped his wide lips against the man's neck.

A shadow spread over them, and the femme glanced toward Ultra Magnus, blocking the sun. So content within Optimus's embrace, she did not notice the General's approach.

Optimus looked up at the Autobot, his expression neutral, but a hint of defiance glowed in his optics. Velocity wondered what had occurred between the two of them.

Stiffly the mech addressed his leader, "Prime, they have made contact, and it is nearly time."

Nodding in understanding, Optimus held her tighter and said, "We will be there shortly." He did not move to get up.

Velocity watched the exchange, curious and concerned. The words were simple, but a deeper meaning hid within them.

Ultra Magnus nodded and spun on his ped, disappearing behind their building.

"He doesn't like me," the words fell from her vocals before she could stop them.

The Prime rattled out a long sigh. "Like is not a word often associated with Ultra Magnus. He has nothing against you, but your bond to me disrupts the Autobot hierarchy, and he doesn't believe I should show my devotion to you in public."

Velocity blinked, her mind churning as she picked at all the nuances within Optimus's words. "So, he is a prude who thinks I am a threat. Got it."

A grunt rumbled through Optimus. "I told him to shove both his concerns about my personal life and his adherence to obsolete propriety up his exhaust port."

Propping herself on stiff arms, the femme stared at her mate; only a foot separated their helms. "You did not?" she asked with shock.

"Oh, I did," Optimus answered. "And we need to join the others."

XxxX

They strolled through the base, side by side. Optimus, proud and noble, his helm held high, and his strides shortened and slowed so she did not have to jog to keep up. To Velocity, walking next to him, seeing all eyes and optics turn toward them, made her more self-conscious, she wanted to tuck herself into his shadow and fade into the background as old insecurities whispered in her thoughts.

With the arrival of more Autobots, a new facet of Optimus began to show, the Prime. She thought she had seen that side of him but now realized she had witnessed only a glimmer. Now, the raw power that emanated from him buzzed and stung; his cold serious demeanor could freeze a star. For her, he immediately softened, welcoming her into his presence. Velocity did not know what had changed other than the new arrivals. Did he have enemies within the Autobot ranks? Was someone challenging him for the Primacy? Whatever the situation, it affected him deeply. Mostly, he appeared distracted, sometimes struggling to talk to her, his processor in another place, fogged with other thoughts.

"Have you talked to Agent Simmons?"

The question startled her, and she stiffened defensively. "No." Velocity slowed her stride and fell behind the Prime. She did not want to discuss Simmons.

Optimus stopped and turned to her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned. "You need to visit him. And I can assume you have not talked to Sam or Mikaela or seen the baby?"

Velocity looked at her peds, hoping an asteroid would plummet from space and end her discomfort. "I doubt any of them want to see me." She could not remember what happened the day the Decepticons captured her; being around her former friends pulled terror and panic from deep within her, but no memories to anchor the feelings. She read the reports; Simmons accused her of trying to kill him, but she did not know the why of her actions.

Some things were just better allowed to stay buried.

Cupping her chin in his hand, Optimus gently forced her to look at him. "You need to talk to him. He needs a friend; he needs you."

XxxX

The hastily erected building sat away from the base and the nearby town, a buffer between people and the energon run generators. Random pieces of sheet metal and plywood kept out the weather while fans circulated the air. Florescent bulbs hung overhead, raw and harsh; their incessant hum sat her on edge. Thick black power cables crossed the floor like sleeping vipers, some leading to a large bank of monitors pulled from the Parhelion. Velocity missed the old base, with its open spaces and casual comfort, but it no longer exists - like her home in the Appalachians. She, like everyone else, had to make do with whatever they could cobble together from the remnants of a destroyed nation.

Velocity stood beside Optimus; the discomfort of their earlier conversation carved a frown across her features as she sulked.

The Prime bumped against her, his electrical field cool and soothing, an attempt to change her mood.

It didn't.

Glancing around, the femme watched Ironhide check the cables, muttering unintelligently to himself. Chromia sat off to the side, perched on an oversized crate, one leg dangling casually, but her optics scrutinized everything. Slipknot wandered in, still limping, and took a place next to Smokescreen. Her team member offered a nod of greeting, and she returned it with a weak smile.

Humans began arriving; the Base Commander and the mayor of Indian Springs walked at the head of the human entourage, showing equal importance and power. Something had definitely happened while she was gone; before, those two fought like rabid dogs. Finally, Ultra Magnus stomped in, data pad clutched tightly in his hand, his energy field crackled with tension.

"Ironhide status report," the Autobot general snapped.

"Either we are ready, or we're gonna fry our afts," the old mech announced.

"Hopefully, we can avoid the latter," Optimus commented dryly, and everyone, metal and organic, shifted, putting space between themselves and the snaking cables on the floor.

Velocity slipped closer to Optimus. Then realized she pressed against him and moved away slightly. His fingertips brushed along her back.

"Power on." Ironhide coupled two cables together, and a deep hum filled the air as the knobs and keys on the control panel began to flicker and blink to life.

If she had fur, it would have stood on end. The power flooded her senses, leaving a sharp taste in her mouth, and pounded along her circuits. Velocity growled a sharp warning showing her dental plates as she wrapped her arms around her chest.

Optimus bumped against her; his hand pressed firmly on her shoulder. The touch anchored her, and the threats died in her vocals.

Looking up at her mate, the femme found a question in his features. "I am fine. I don't like it, but I'm fine," she grumbled.

A nod and the Prime focused on the monitors.

Velocity followed his gaze, and Cosmos's masked face filled the screens. Bright optics twinkled with barely contained excitement. "Autobot Command, can you hear me?"

"We can hear you loud and clear. Nice to see you, Cosmos." Optimus broke the physical contact with her as he walked toward the image of the space-faring mech.

As one of the few Autobots designed for space flight, Cosmos ferried information, orders, and small supplies between the Parhelion and Creech AFB. More than once, the Autobot had crashed when he miscalculated his entry and flew into the Null Zone, the disruption killing his nacels, and sending him tumbling into the desert.

Velocity offered him a smile and a little wiggle of the fingers as a greeting; she truly liked the odd Autobot.

"All right, let's see if this works." Cosmos typed rapidly on an offscreen control panel, and the screen split into four sections. One quadrant remained dark, one contained Cosmos, one showed a map of the United States, and the fourth offered the image of a dour-looking mech with pale optics.

"How is the audio for everyone?"

The dour mech offered a silent thumbs-up.

From the speakers, Wheeljack chimed in, "Sorry about the vid; we are having some tech issues."

From there, introductions were made. Videoless Wheeljack had a small group of humans, all military; Velocity ignored the names. General this, Staff Sargent that, no one that she needed to worry with. The somber mech was a science officer named Perceptor, and his voice offered much more expression than his features. Finally, Optimus introduced their group, and Velocity understood all of this title sharing and name exchanging established who's-who for the humans, giving them a sense of the importance of this endeavor.

If she could have, Velocity would have yawned. Instead, she crossed her arms and attempted to feign interest, at least looking toward the monitor while she zoned out. A spider crawled over the edge of the screen and disappeared, a shiny line of silk marking his progress. The femme wondered what kinds of tasty bugs might arrive, enthralled by the lights. The arachnid poked its fuzzy little legs back over the edge, and they moved wave-like as it continued its search. How many spider miles did it crawl a day? Did it know all the other spiders in the area? Were some friends? Did it accidentally catch a friend in its web and think, "Sorry, Carl, but I can't untangle you, and I'm hungry. I'll miss you. Bon appetite."

"…the iron ore content of the granite in Cheyenne mountain acted like a Faraday cage and protected the sight. That, along with the location on the front range, lack of seismic activity, plentiful resources, and a nearby city with existing infrastructure, makes this my first choice for relocation," Wheeljack's words startled Velocity, and she wished she had paid attention.

"I second the idea," Perceptor calmly agreed from his portion of the screen.

"What do you mean move? Are you just going to pack up and abandon…" The mayor started, his face turning a livid red.

"No," snapped Optimus, shutting down the impending tirade. Softer, he added, "We are not abandoning anyone. We are looking for a suitable place to secure your government." But his fingers played with a tire on his leg. "Perceptor, can you explain why you readily agree with Wheeljack since this is not something that happens often."

All eyes and optics turned to the monitor. If the Autobot did not like the attention, he did not show it. Velocity wondered what expression Wheeljack currently wore.

"Please note the map of the United States," Perceptor began. "There are three primary sections presented in blue. The largest is at Creech Air Force Base, another at Colorado Springs, and here," a cursor marked a tiny blip, "in the West Virginia mountains. The blue represents Active Zones or places where disruptors are deactivated. The newest Active Zone appeared in the last week and has grown in a pattern mimicking the intentional removal of the disruptors.

"We know Autobots control two of the Active Zones, and if my hypothesis is correct, Prowl controls the third. Prime, you sent him to try and find the President and/or part of the government; I believe he has done so and is setting up a base camp."

"Why not use D.C.?" the mayor huffed. Velocity had the same question, but probably for different reasons.

"That is the second item I would like to report." A shadow of emotion crossed the scientist's features. "On the Parhelion, we can monitor atmospheric emissions once they pass out of the Null Zone or reach a high enough altitude. Please note the oddly shaped magenta areas on your east coast."

The map of the United States grew and focused on a strip from Maine to Georgia.

Everyone stared, and Velocity watched the magenta areas and noticed they began in the ocean, beyond the influence of the Null Zone. Bright pink faded to yellow, then white shimmered and waved slowly—probably a real-time feed.

"Unfortunately, the Null Zone blocks our sensors, and we can only monitor what the prevailing wind blows into active areas and make assumptions based on that.

"You are looking at radiation plumes comprised of Cesium one-thirty-four and Cesium one-thirty-seven. Without on-the-ground verification, I can only base my assumptions on these readings. The most likely scenario involves breaches in core containment in many or all of your nuclear reactors, creating catastrophic meltdowns across the country."

One of the red areas east of D.C. lit up brighter than the others, and Preceptor continued, "This sector is emitting over twenty-five thousand Roentgen per hour. There are seven more within one-hundred miles of your capital city. Five Roentgen is lethal to humans, so I would presume this is why Prowl has not chosen to settle in Washington D.C..."

The gathered people shifted, and murmurs filled the air. A few prayers mingled with explicatives while the reality of what they all looked at sank in.

While she had no idea what a Roentgen was, Velocity knew what radiation could do. She had seen images from Hiroshima and Chernobyl. People had died horrible deaths, their bodies literally falling apart on a molecular level for weeks or months. The lucky ones expired within hours. The survivors suffered rare diseases and risked mutations in their children if they could have any.

She had heard enough. The burn of anger sizzled from her core outward. She wanted someone to pay, anyone, and she didn't care who. Curling her hands into fists, she spun on her ped and left the claustrophobic building.

One plaintive "Velocity" called after her, and she ignored Optimus, afraid her rage might take control.

XxxX

Marcus scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, stirring the heavier chunks of vegetables and meat to the top. Through the steam, he could see Isabella staring at him. "What?"

The woman had not touched her meal and continued to frown. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, she resembled a Nordic goddess, the reason for his initial attraction to her, but the goddess came with strong opinions.

"I can't believe you allowed that thing to come here. We are trying to rid the world of those robots, and you cozy up to one."

Slowly, Marcus rested his spoon on the edge of his bowl. He glanced around the room, taking in the curious and furtive glances from the others. The school's cafeteria became quiet, and fortunately, only the officers, the leaders of this revolutionary group, ate with him, and he could talk openly.

Moving a candle out of the way, Marcus reached for a loaf of bread and tore off a piece. He took his time, letting the shadows dance over the painted cinderblock walls and dark windows.

"Have you read Sun Tzu?" he quietly asked, then sopped the bread in his bowl. He tossed the broth-soaked morsel into his mouth and chewed slowly.

Her silence answered his question.

Marcus smirked, and calmly straightened his posture while taking in his generals, making sure they paid attention. "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself, but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know nothing of yourself, nor the enemy, you will succumb in every battle.

"I know that alien hiding in the maintenance building is correct. We cannot take on the Autobots by ourselves. Every one of the Cybertronians we have killed were smaller, weakened, and alone. Our weapons are not enough to stop the Prime's mate, much less the Prime. That is where our new friend comes in. We feed him, help him repair himself, and let him kill the femme. The Prime will turn his vengeance against Hardcore and not us. If Optimus kills the Decepticon before the shock of bond separation gets him, I don't really care.

"I know us, and I am getting to know the enemy. So, Isabella, in the future, I would suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself." Marcus met the woman eye-to-eye, challenging her.

Isabella stood; her six-foot frame towered over everyone seated at the long table. "Marcus Aurelius and we all know that isn't your real name; you are wrong. This path you are on will destroy you and us. What do you think will happen when the Prime dies? Do you think the Autobots will just pack up and leave? No, they will seek revenge, making their leader a martyr." She picked up her bowl and tray, taking them to the kitchen for disposal.

"I think you just broke up," Jerome mumbled into the glass of water raised to his lips. No one chuckled at the joke.

XxxX

Author's Notes:

Marcus quoted The Art of War by Sun Tzu.