To Have a Spark
Forbidden Cities
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
-Abraham Lincoln
"I'll...I'll do it."
Although he showed little reaction on the outside, the Prime fairly wailed with joy in his own mind. Renalt never saw the Prime take a tear from his own optic, nor did he witness Ratchet place it upon a slide. It was a gesture to be completed later, a thing saved for a time when the Prime was alone and with his own secret thoughts.
Renalt did note the gentle curling of the Prime's fingers. He did note the touch of Prime's other hand; two fingers coming to rest on a shoulder with the most feather-light of touches.
"I will not fail you, Renalt. I am going to put you down now, on the berth beside mine."
Any move Renalt could feel, the Prime described. He voiced it all, taking his movements slowly and smoothly. Although Renalt momentarily felt like he was being handled like a small animal, he did appreciate the spoken warnings – with them, he moved or remained still accordingly. When the Prime had deposited him onto a clearly Bot-sized berth, the teenager couldn't help but explore a little, learning the size of what he now found himself upon.
"They're huge..." The thought slipped out before he could hold it back. Above him, Ratchet stifled a chuckle.
"To you? Yes, we are, but we have learned to...watch our step," the medic replied. "Now, I'll need you to lie back and let me put this on your head, all right?" He smiled, allowing Renalt's hands to explore the helmet-fishbowl component of the Autobots' modified patch device.
"It...won't hurt, will it?"
"No, Renalt. It is based off of a human helmet in design. You see, the procedure we are about to undergo was intended for us. On the backs of our helms...heads...there is a small port. It is through this, that a cable is connected, thus opening the way for what we call a cortical psychic patch," Optimus supplied.
"It won't hurt you, will it?"
"It will not. If one of us was to actively fight against it, then yes, pain would be present. Are you certain you wish to consent?" If the Prime knew the custom of crossing one's fingers, he'd likely do it.
"If it won't hurt..." Renalt's reply was a little hesitant – pain on either end wasn't pleasant.
"It will not. Simply relax. I will guide you," Optimus smiled even if Renalt couldn't see it.
Renalt took a deep breath and held still as Ratchet lowered the device onto the human's head. It did feel a bit like a helmet, like one that didn't quite fit. Like it was a little large, giving him room to freely turn his head about if he so decided.
"There we go. Now lie back, Renalt. Lie back and just breathe," Ratchet directed.
This was it. There was no turning back now. Renalt did as he was instructed, though he couldn't stop the flutter of insecurity in his gut. This was something only science fiction had touched on – and barely, at that. He breathed, holding onto the meditation lessons the dojo had taught him before its untimely shut-down.
He could do this. He listened to the 'Bots' fading exchange as a semi-familiar heaviness came over him. Renalt likened it to the half-asleep, half-awake state deep meditation could put one into.
"Your turn, Optimus. You know the way. There, now you lie down too. That's it. Are you ready?"
The Prime nodded.
"Cortical psychic patch in three, two, one."
s=
He felt a rush. It was not of wind, but of something else, as if something had compelled him to be here with such force, Renalt wondered briefly if this was what the hands of the gods felt like. Renalt's bare feet touched a warm, metallic surface and Ratchet's words came back to beautifully haunt him. The words echoed in his own thoughts, then out into this world as if he had spoken them aloud.
The ground of Cybertron really did sing.
"Yes. It did," the Prime's voice sounded from somewhere above yet beside him. The mech knelt and offered an upturned hand. A finger brushed the human, letting him know he was close, very close.
Renalt climbed into Optimus' hand and immediately noted some stark differences. The hand beneath him felt a little smaller. Slimmer. The metal – flesh? – was unblemished by the scars of battle. His hand, all in all, felt younger somehow. Younger, cleaner, smoother. Reflecting on the differences, Renalt spoke in an almost idle fashion.
"Scholar's hands."
"Hm?"
"You have a scholar's hands."
"I suppose you could say that. I was a clerk before I was a Prime," the Prime slowly stood; the movement holding a grace only scholars could master. It was a different kind of grace, one separate from that of a veteran warrior. His gait was the same: Smooth, steady and it almost felt as if the Prime did not walk at all.
"A clerk? As in a librarian?" Renalt sounded almost incredulous. The innate curiosity in him, the same curiosity his grief tried to destroy, came flickering back.
"Yes. My workplace was called the Iacon Hall of Records. Come. I will show it to you."
The Prime described everything to him. He spoke of the things Renalt would never be able to appreciate through sight. He described the brilliant golden sunsets, the blazing of sunrises so red one might mistake them for the skies being bathed in human blood. He spoke of Iacon's domed splendour and the city's gleaming spires. He walked, carrying Renalt through the Iacon Halls without shame.
Passing through a back door of the Halls, Optimus carried his charge down a wide, open thoroughfare.
"We are almost to a bridge. The Benevolous Bridge, and an adjoining nature preserve," the Prime intoned.
"Benevolous? Must be a major city bridge. Is it?" Renalt lifted his head a little in curiosity. As the minutes drew on, the Prime smiled.
"Yes. It is an ancient bridge, one I repaired with an old friend a very long time ago. Age had made the bridge's superstructure become weak, so the Council decided to take it down. But without it, many Cybertronians wouldn't be able to visit the nature preserve."
"Were you able to fix the thing?"
"Yes. Here we are. We are crossing the Benevolous Bridge. Below is the chasm it spans across. I shall take you to the preserve," Optimus' optics glittered like tiny stars. He described the bridge in some detail then – the smooth, pleasant walkway supported by artful, yet practical struts and arches. Angular shapes decorated the railings and snaked into the ground as the bridge came to its end. Rounding a corner, the Prime passed through a set of impressive metallic gates. Now inside the preserve, the Prime couldn't help but smile.
"I almost wish your eyes worked, Renault. I wish to show you, not merely describe, the preserve."
"Words are a more potent ink to one such as me... Optimus, right?"
"Yes. Formerly, Orion Pax."
"Peace Hunter. That's...somehow fitting. Your name changed at some point, then," His curiosity was fully engaged now, burgeoning into rapt wonder.
"Indeed. I was made a Prime. I shall teach you further at another time. Let me show you the Alpha Preserve," Optimus' eyes cast to the Preserve's grounds.
He smiled at the familiar gardens and strange, abstract sculptures that towered over them. Smooth steps took him through a wide expanse of almost-fuzzy metallic grasses, cog-like "pebbles" and clusters of metallic flowers. Bending to one knee, the Prime carefully lowered his hand bearing Renalt.
"In front of you is a particular Cybertronian flower. It has a scent. Go ahead. And...listen," Prime smiled. Renalt's fingers delicately explored filigree-like leaves and paper-thin, metallic petals. He counted six of those large petals and from the centre of the blossom, the human smelled something cool and refreshing. Sharp, yet light, reminiscent of spearmint. The petals gave off a faint, pleasant trill.
"It sings!" Renalt couldn't stop the astonished cry from escaping his voice.
"It does. Did. Others are cultivated here, including a plant that resembles a flame. They shone like the rubies of your world," Optimus remained knelt for as long as Renalt examined the flower. He didn't try to pluck the thing, preferring to memorise its shapes and textures.
This was how the Prime knew and remembered his beloved Cybertron. This was what he had fought so long, so hard for. However, as long-lived, as wise as Cybertronians could be, they could also reach unfathomable depths of cruelty.
It was such cruelty, such darkness, that the Prime tried to steer the human away from. He didn't wish Renalt to hear the ugliness that had come to shadow the Prime's back. It wasn't something he could avoid.
"Iacon... It sounds glorious. Makes me want to pull out my tools again."
"Tools? You are an artisan?"
"I'm not too great with realistics, so it's debatable."
"Are you not a martial arts student?"
"I am. The style I was learning required aptitude in several areas – not just hand-to-hand combat. I began learning herbal medicines..."
"And toxins," the near-interruption was not a question.
"And toxins. Len was teaching me."
"That explains your knowledge of how to harm yourself so," the disapproval was evident beneath the Prime's gentle tone.
Renalt lowered his head and sighed. Yes, he did learn more than natural medicine. He learned, or had begun to learn, the darker side of Leonard's lessons – the poisoning side. The assassin's side. The side shinobi had become famous (or infamous) for. The Prime fell silent and turned down another direction in the halls of his own mind.
They left Iacon entirely.
The ground began to sing another song. It was a darker song, speaking of sadness, of loss, of misunderstanding. Of tyranny and oppression. Renalt could almost hear the shimmering spires twist and warp into something many would call ugly and he listened to the Prime reluctantly speak of this new place. This place that held a dark beauty was marred, corrupted from a freedom-fighting city into one in the grasp of a maddening tyrant.
It was here that he heard sounds from Optimus Prime that he'd never wish to hear again.
"Nooo!"A voice of the past echoed in the distance.
"...What was that?" A twinge of uneasiness slithered its way down Renalt's back.
"This...is Kaon. The city of regrets. Listen..."
Renalt listened. He heard the Prime howl in grief. He heard the shuddering, flicker-fizzling sound of Cybertronians' lives ending here and he smelled something familiar. Something wretched, something that held the sick, sweet odour of decay. The distant sounds of combat, gladiatorial and militant, echoed around them.
"Elita!" Somewhere in the distance, a vestige of Optimus Prime fell to his knees. Renalt heard the great titan drag a body into his arms. He heard the Prime wail and from above, he felt a wet drop fall onto his shoulder. Renalt paled as he turned his head up.
"I have been widowed for many centuries by now."
"What's going on here...?" the teenager wondered. He failed to stop a few tears from falling, learning that the Prime too, had a pain similar to his own.
"War, Renalt. You learned that I was an archivist. A librarian," the Prime lifted the hand holding Renalt up to face-level.
"I did."
"Our governance was corrupted in the high places. Some were treated more civilly than others. We had a caste system in place, one that no Cybertronian could rise within. The Prime of that age was Prime in name only, for our Golden Age had ended when I was still young. He allowed this to continue, ignoring those of lower castes. Until one, a gladiator, finally spoke against it. I agreed with him in the beginning. We fought for a mutual cause – Liberation and fair treatment of all Cybertronians. His chosen name was Megatronus, after one of our original Thirteen Primes. These Thirteen had been directly created by our own life-giver, called Primus."
"A god?"
"Ours, yes. I will tell you more of him later on, if you desire. What you hear now, is the city Megatronus had been sparked in. Born in. He and I together petitioned our ruling council for an audience, to speak on our ideas for a fairer, more prosperous civilisation."
"What happened?" Renalt was ensnared by the tale he was hearing. The dark sounds and smells around him only added to it, somehow making the tale that much sharper, that much more real.
"That was...That was when Megatronus revealed another side to himself. He shortened his name by the time the council had agreed to hear us. You see, the Prime of this age was, as I said, Prime in name only. A mere figurehead of what he should have been. Megatronus – now Megatron – believed the old guard ought to be removed by force, and that the name of Prime should fall upon him. We...disagreed. Although I did not wish such a title, it fell upon me..." the Prime trailed off, part of him not wishing to speak of his words and deeds at the Council meeting and part of him too humble to 'brag' of it.
The memory came though, somehow fusing this falling/fallen city into a hall too massive for any human to comprehend. Renalt heard voices. Some were muted, blending into the din of a clearly upset throng. Others were haughty, dripping with arrogance and a sense of elitism that made the human a little sick.
And then he heard the Prime speak.
"...honoured Council. To not see all as equals is to spit in Primus' own face. In your own faces, to separate yourselves from Cybertronian brethren. Are we not all from, and destined for, the All-Spark? Then why, I ask, do some receive greatness and others foulness? I cannot stand by and watch fellow Cybertronians suffer so. Were you in such a state, I would still be here, speaking for you. I speak, hoping that you may hear me. We are all children of the same Well. Should we not lift one another, rather than trample them down, walking upon their backs? Do we not always say 'Until all are one'? How can we be truly One, if the castes separate us so?"
Optimus Prime said nothing, though he silently wept as Renalt heard these words. Words powerful enough to silence the inhabitants of that hall. Words powerful enough to seed a spiteful severance. He heard Megatron roar in anger as this Council finally spoke. Megatron's fading pedfalls echoed over the words issued from those in the seats of power.
"Orion Pax. An archivist you may be, but do not return to your books. You, who speak the words a Prime should speak, go not to Iacon. Go now, to our Maker. Go now, and be the Prime you should be."