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wyntir_knightI have been away from this story for far too long. Unfortunately, the Decepticons aren’t talking to me right now, no matter how much I beg, plead, and bang my head against the keyboard. However, Optimus has been in a very chatty mood.
Therefore I have made a change to my intended order and bring you the Autobots rather than the Decepticons. Chapter 14 will likely also be Autobot oriented while they get their stuff together, and then I’m hoping to get the Decepticons in working order and to get two of the storylines merged into one.
So, assuming I still have any readers on this particular story, please let me know what you think. I’m always open to opinions and critique!
Chapter 13
Optimus lay on his recharge berth staring at the ceiling. He had been plagued by horrible dreams for over a week and his lack of recharge was beginning to tell on him. Theoretically he could function on energon alone with little or no sleep, but that was only in ideal conditions. Ever since he had come back from the dead, ever since he had regained the Matrix, his CPU had been working over time and he needed several hours of undisturbed down time. Optimus had had his recharge cycle interrupted every night that week and as a result, he was not functioning at peak performance.
Finally he had given up on the notion that his nightmares were being induced by stress and tried to communicate with the Matrix. There was obviously a message that it was trying to pass on but was being garbled. For the last several hours he had tried almost every method he knew of to contact the Matrix and had been stymied each time. It was like the Matrix itself was blocking all his attempts. He was about to make another attempt when his communicator chirped.
“Perceptor to Optimus Prime. Come in please.”
Optimus sighed and sat up. “Yes Perceptor?”
“Optimus, if you have a moment, please come down to my lab. We may have a potential problem on the horizon.”
“I’ll be right down, Perceptor. Optimus Prime out.”
His problem with sleep and the Matrix would have to wait.
***
Optimus entered Perceptor’s lab and found Hot Rod and Marissa Faireborn already there, both looking grim and uncomfortable. A hologram of Cosmos floated above a communicator. The minibot looked nervous.
“What’s the problem, Perceptor?” Optimus asked.
“Captain Faireborn brought some images to my attention late last week. Earth Defence picked up pictures of a strange cloud that appears to be heading in our direction from the Omicron Kappa sector.” Perceptor brought up a fuzzy image of a red and black smudge. “Under normal circumstances I would say that the cloud in these images poses no threat. Due to Omicron Kappa’s distance and the speed at which light travels, these images would represent something that is millions of years old.” He pressed a button and a new picture of a larger smudge came onto the viewscreen. “However, this image was taken a week later. We should not be seeing any change in the object. For us to see this drastic a change implies that the object is moving at an incredible speed.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you,” Prime said, confused.
“It means that the cloud is a lot closer than these images show and it’s headed in our direction,” Cosmos said. “I was facing that Omicron Kappa two weeks ago and there was absolutely no sign of anything. And I’m still not seeing it but it keeps showing up in pictures.”
“We had originally thought that Hubble was broken again, but all the diagnostics are showing that it’s in full working order,” Faireborn said. “Something is heading this way and we don’t know what it is.”
Optimus remained silent for a long time looking at the smudge in the pictures. Something pulled at the back of his mind, like he was missing something incredibly important.
“Perceptor, can you improve the quality on these images? All I see is a smudge,” he said.
“Of course Optimus. Unfortunately the original images are of a poor quality, however, I can increase the resolution somewhat,” Perceptor said, pressing buttons and turning knobs.
Suddenly the image came into sharp focus, showing a distinct cloud the colour of molten rock. Shapes seemed to move within the cloud, shifting and changing, like a living, organic thing. Optimus stared at the image in stark silence. Where the others saw a cloud he saw the horde from his dream.
“YOU CANNOT STOP US!” a voice screamed inside his mind.
Optimus felt his vision begin to grey. The walls started to close in, and suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet him.
***
Optimus opened his optics and looked around. He was lying in a depression in the street. A black sky dotted with pale stars filled his view, but they were not the stars he should be seeing from Earth. A deep and eerie silence filled his audios. He sat up, and as he looked around he realized that he was back on Cybertron, or at least a strange facsimile of it. The colours were wrong, too bright and too dull at the same time, and the angles were skewed just slightly. The entire effect left him filled with an inexplicable vertigo, like he would fall at any moment. He closed his optics for a moment, and when he opened them again things seemed to come together properly, his equilibrium returned, and he was able to stand. Somehow, on some level he realized that he was inside the Matrix, that he had somehow made contact.
Picking a direction at random, he began to walk. As he moved away from the depression, the once empty streets began to fill. Everywhere he looked he saw bodies littering the ground and he began to smell the stench of rotten metal and the ozone of fused wiring. And as he looked up, the sky became the colour of molten rock and the severed head of Unicron floated into view.
“Why have I been brought here?” he demanded of the empty air.
Suddenly Hot Rod stepped out of a nearby doorway and leaned on the wall.
“I never thought you were thick, but really, what part of ‘Chosen One’ do you not grasp?” Hot Rod asked.
“Hot Rod?” Optimus asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Nope. Try again,” Hot Rod said. “I took this form to make you feel more comfortable, but I can choose anyone you like.”
Hot Rod’s form shifted and blurred until Sentinel Prime stood before him.
“Would you prefer this?” Sentinel said. “Or maybe this?” His form shifted again until he was Prima.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Prima said. “It all amounts to the same thing.”
“I … Who are you? I don’t understand,” Prime said, swaying slightly on his feet.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Prima Nova said, stepping out from behind Prima. “I got that you didn’t get it when the messages had no impact on you.”
“The message came through completely garbled. None of it made any sense!” Optimus said, feeling more than a little defensive.
Suddenly Sentinel appeared behind him and gave him an open hand slap to the back of the head.
“The messages made perfect sense, you just refused to listen to them,” he said, moving to stand next to Prima.
“I did listen! I did everything I knew how to do to interpret those messages!” Optimus protested.
“Oh really?” Rodimus said, stepping out from behind Sentinel. “You did everything you could, did you? You tried and tried to interpret the dreams all by yourself. The one thing you didn’t do was GIVE ME BACK TO MY RIGHTFUL BEARER!” Rodimus yelled, suddenly standing a foot away from Optimus.
“But you, I mean Rodimus gave the Matrix back to me,” Optimus said, stumbling back from the force of Rodimus’ anger.
“That was not his choice to make,” Prima said, stepping forward. As she moved closer to Optimus, all the other Primes were absorbed into her, until only Prima and Optimus remained. The cybertronian street shimmered like a distant mirage, and disappeared, leaving Optimus and Prima alone in a stark black room standing in a pool of light.
“Neither you nor Rodimus get to make that choice. Even the Council of Elders doesn’t make that choice,” Prima said. “You were created to be soldiers, to fight the war against the Chaos Bringer. Each Prime was chosen for a specific purpose and you fulfilled yours. You died Optimus. Quintesson interference does not change that in any way. You died and the Matrix moved on.”
“I was never supposed to come back, was I?” Optimus asked softly. “Somehow I always knew that.”
“No, you were not supposed to come back, but you were also not supposed to die on that far off world,” Prima said, reaching out and brushing Prime’s cheek. “Events occurred that even we could not have foreseen and now it is time to evolve to meet the repercussions of those events.”
“Hot Rod isn’t ready for this. He needs to be trained, to be groomed for this position. From everything I’ve gathered he nearly lost his mind last time,” Optimus said. “You said yourself that changes have to be made. Why don’t you let me keep the Matrix, at least until Hot Rod is ready for the responsibility?”
Prima smiled. There was sadness there, but also a touch of humour. “Have you so quickly forgotten what it was like for you at the beginning? Optronix was no more ready for the Matrix then, than Hot Rod is ready for it now.”
“That was different. Sentinel was dead. There was no other Prime to take the Matrix. I’m still alive! And I had help. I had Magnus, Kup, and Ironhide.” Prime’s voice caught as he named his oldest friend.
“And Hot Rod will have help as well. Just as before, he has Magnus, Kup, and Springer to guide and advise him. And, assuming that you stop fighting me,” Prima said sternly, “you will also be there to help him. Rodimus will have something no other Prime in history has had. He will have a former Herald as his guide.”
“Former Herald?” Optimus said. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“And that is why you must give up the Matrix,” Prima said. “That is why you must return it to its rightful owner. You cannot possibly understand.”
“Then tell me!” Optimus cried. “Just tell me and be done with these riddles!”
Suddenly the shadows surrounding the circle of light deepened and Prima became darker and more menacing, until Optimus found himself standing at the feet of Primus himself.
“You will do as you are told or I will rip the Matrix from you!” she yelled, her voice deep and resonating with the force of a thousand hurricanes.
Optimus cowered away from the force of that scream, from the anger of the god before him. Then, as quickly as the anger came, it dissipated, and Prima stood before him once more.
“Optimus,” she said softly, “death means the loss of the Matrix. It is how it must be. But you must understand that the loss of the Matrix does not mean death. You will not revert to Optronix, for he no longer exists. And your position within the Autobot forces does not concern me. Your mortal politics are a matter best dealt with among yourselves. Pass the Matrix back to Rodimus for I have plans for him. You cannot prevent that by will or stubbornness.”
“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? This would not be the first time that our enemies tried to confuse us, trick us,” Optimus said.
“You don’t know that I am telling the truth. The fact of the matter is that you do not know anything at all. This is just something that you have to take on faith,” Prima said.
Optimus closed his optics. He knew, deep inside, that Prima was telling the truth. He also knew, however, that he was fighting as hard as he was out of fear rather than concern. He was afraid of what was going to happen. He was afraid that there would be no place for him in this new order. And he was desperately afraid of being made redundant.
He felt Prima’s soft hands on his face and when he opened his optics she was looking at him with the sympathy and love a parent has for her child.
“You do a disservice to your people. They are better than you give them credit,” Prima said.
“I know,” said Optimus. “I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am afraid of what’s coming.”
“I am afraid that I cannot help you with that. Fear is something you have to face on your own,” Prima said. “Regardless of your fear, have you made your choice?”
“I didn’t think I had a choice?” Optimus said before he could stop himself.
“You always have a choice,” Prima said darkly. “The repercussions of those choices vary, however. So yes, Prime. You have a choice. You can choose to give over the Matrix willingly. You can choose to keep it. Or you can choose to have me take it from you forcibly. I do not wish to employ the third method, but I will if you wish it to be so. … So, Optimus Prime. What is your choice?”
Optimus sighed in resignation. “I will go back; I will hand over the Matrix, assuming that Hot Rod will take it; and I will deal with the repercussions as they occur.”
“Good. You’ve chose the far harder path, but I expected nothing less from you,” Prima said.
Suddenly the floor opened up and Optimus tumbled into darkness.
Therefore I have made a change to my intended order and bring you the Autobots rather than the Decepticons. Chapter 14 will likely also be Autobot oriented while they get their stuff together, and then I’m hoping to get the Decepticons in working order and to get two of the storylines merged into one.
So, assuming I still have any readers on this particular story, please let me know what you think. I’m always open to opinions and critique!
Optimus lay on his recharge berth staring at the ceiling. He had been plagued by horrible dreams for over a week and his lack of recharge was beginning to tell on him. Theoretically he could function on energon alone with little or no sleep, but that was only in ideal conditions. Ever since he had come back from the dead, ever since he had regained the Matrix, his CPU had been working over time and he needed several hours of undisturbed down time. Optimus had had his recharge cycle interrupted every night that week and as a result, he was not functioning at peak performance.
Finally he had given up on the notion that his nightmares were being induced by stress and tried to communicate with the Matrix. There was obviously a message that it was trying to pass on but was being garbled. For the last several hours he had tried almost every method he knew of to contact the Matrix and had been stymied each time. It was like the Matrix itself was blocking all his attempts. He was about to make another attempt when his communicator chirped.
“Perceptor to Optimus Prime. Come in please.”
Optimus sighed and sat up. “Yes Perceptor?”
“Optimus, if you have a moment, please come down to my lab. We may have a potential problem on the horizon.”
“I’ll be right down, Perceptor. Optimus Prime out.”
His problem with sleep and the Matrix would have to wait.
Optimus entered Perceptor’s lab and found Hot Rod and Marissa Faireborn already there, both looking grim and uncomfortable. A hologram of Cosmos floated above a communicator. The minibot looked nervous.
“What’s the problem, Perceptor?” Optimus asked.
“Captain Faireborn brought some images to my attention late last week. Earth Defence picked up pictures of a strange cloud that appears to be heading in our direction from the Omicron Kappa sector.” Perceptor brought up a fuzzy image of a red and black smudge. “Under normal circumstances I would say that the cloud in these images poses no threat. Due to Omicron Kappa’s distance and the speed at which light travels, these images would represent something that is millions of years old.” He pressed a button and a new picture of a larger smudge came onto the viewscreen. “However, this image was taken a week later. We should not be seeing any change in the object. For us to see this drastic a change implies that the object is moving at an incredible speed.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you,” Prime said, confused.
“It means that the cloud is a lot closer than these images show and it’s headed in our direction,” Cosmos said. “I was facing that Omicron Kappa two weeks ago and there was absolutely no sign of anything. And I’m still not seeing it but it keeps showing up in pictures.”
“We had originally thought that Hubble was broken again, but all the diagnostics are showing that it’s in full working order,” Faireborn said. “Something is heading this way and we don’t know what it is.”
Optimus remained silent for a long time looking at the smudge in the pictures. Something pulled at the back of his mind, like he was missing something incredibly important.
“Perceptor, can you improve the quality on these images? All I see is a smudge,” he said.
“Of course Optimus. Unfortunately the original images are of a poor quality, however, I can increase the resolution somewhat,” Perceptor said, pressing buttons and turning knobs.
Suddenly the image came into sharp focus, showing a distinct cloud the colour of molten rock. Shapes seemed to move within the cloud, shifting and changing, like a living, organic thing. Optimus stared at the image in stark silence. Where the others saw a cloud he saw the horde from his dream.
“YOU CANNOT STOP US!” a voice screamed inside his mind.
Optimus felt his vision begin to grey. The walls started to close in, and suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet him.
Optimus opened his optics and looked around. He was lying in a depression in the street. A black sky dotted with pale stars filled his view, but they were not the stars he should be seeing from Earth. A deep and eerie silence filled his audios. He sat up, and as he looked around he realized that he was back on Cybertron, or at least a strange facsimile of it. The colours were wrong, too bright and too dull at the same time, and the angles were skewed just slightly. The entire effect left him filled with an inexplicable vertigo, like he would fall at any moment. He closed his optics for a moment, and when he opened them again things seemed to come together properly, his equilibrium returned, and he was able to stand. Somehow, on some level he realized that he was inside the Matrix, that he had somehow made contact.
Picking a direction at random, he began to walk. As he moved away from the depression, the once empty streets began to fill. Everywhere he looked he saw bodies littering the ground and he began to smell the stench of rotten metal and the ozone of fused wiring. And as he looked up, the sky became the colour of molten rock and the severed head of Unicron floated into view.
“Why have I been brought here?” he demanded of the empty air.
Suddenly Hot Rod stepped out of a nearby doorway and leaned on the wall.
“I never thought you were thick, but really, what part of ‘Chosen One’ do you not grasp?” Hot Rod asked.
“Hot Rod?” Optimus asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Nope. Try again,” Hot Rod said. “I took this form to make you feel more comfortable, but I can choose anyone you like.”
Hot Rod’s form shifted and blurred until Sentinel Prime stood before him.
“Would you prefer this?” Sentinel said. “Or maybe this?” His form shifted again until he was Prima.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Prima said. “It all amounts to the same thing.”
“I … Who are you? I don’t understand,” Prime said, swaying slightly on his feet.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Prima Nova said, stepping out from behind Prima. “I got that you didn’t get it when the messages had no impact on you.”
“The message came through completely garbled. None of it made any sense!” Optimus said, feeling more than a little defensive.
Suddenly Sentinel appeared behind him and gave him an open hand slap to the back of the head.
“The messages made perfect sense, you just refused to listen to them,” he said, moving to stand next to Prima.
“I did listen! I did everything I knew how to do to interpret those messages!” Optimus protested.
“Oh really?” Rodimus said, stepping out from behind Sentinel. “You did everything you could, did you? You tried and tried to interpret the dreams all by yourself. The one thing you didn’t do was GIVE ME BACK TO MY RIGHTFUL BEARER!” Rodimus yelled, suddenly standing a foot away from Optimus.
“But you, I mean Rodimus gave the Matrix back to me,” Optimus said, stumbling back from the force of Rodimus’ anger.
“That was not his choice to make,” Prima said, stepping forward. As she moved closer to Optimus, all the other Primes were absorbed into her, until only Prima and Optimus remained. The cybertronian street shimmered like a distant mirage, and disappeared, leaving Optimus and Prima alone in a stark black room standing in a pool of light.
“Neither you nor Rodimus get to make that choice. Even the Council of Elders doesn’t make that choice,” Prima said. “You were created to be soldiers, to fight the war against the Chaos Bringer. Each Prime was chosen for a specific purpose and you fulfilled yours. You died Optimus. Quintesson interference does not change that in any way. You died and the Matrix moved on.”
“I was never supposed to come back, was I?” Optimus asked softly. “Somehow I always knew that.”
“No, you were not supposed to come back, but you were also not supposed to die on that far off world,” Prima said, reaching out and brushing Prime’s cheek. “Events occurred that even we could not have foreseen and now it is time to evolve to meet the repercussions of those events.”
“Hot Rod isn’t ready for this. He needs to be trained, to be groomed for this position. From everything I’ve gathered he nearly lost his mind last time,” Optimus said. “You said yourself that changes have to be made. Why don’t you let me keep the Matrix, at least until Hot Rod is ready for the responsibility?”
Prima smiled. There was sadness there, but also a touch of humour. “Have you so quickly forgotten what it was like for you at the beginning? Optronix was no more ready for the Matrix then, than Hot Rod is ready for it now.”
“That was different. Sentinel was dead. There was no other Prime to take the Matrix. I’m still alive! And I had help. I had Magnus, Kup, and Ironhide.” Prime’s voice caught as he named his oldest friend.
“And Hot Rod will have help as well. Just as before, he has Magnus, Kup, and Springer to guide and advise him. And, assuming that you stop fighting me,” Prima said sternly, “you will also be there to help him. Rodimus will have something no other Prime in history has had. He will have a former Herald as his guide.”
“Former Herald?” Optimus said. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“And that is why you must give up the Matrix,” Prima said. “That is why you must return it to its rightful owner. You cannot possibly understand.”
“Then tell me!” Optimus cried. “Just tell me and be done with these riddles!”
Suddenly the shadows surrounding the circle of light deepened and Prima became darker and more menacing, until Optimus found himself standing at the feet of Primus himself.
“You will do as you are told or I will rip the Matrix from you!” she yelled, her voice deep and resonating with the force of a thousand hurricanes.
Optimus cowered away from the force of that scream, from the anger of the god before him. Then, as quickly as the anger came, it dissipated, and Prima stood before him once more.
“Optimus,” she said softly, “death means the loss of the Matrix. It is how it must be. But you must understand that the loss of the Matrix does not mean death. You will not revert to Optronix, for he no longer exists. And your position within the Autobot forces does not concern me. Your mortal politics are a matter best dealt with among yourselves. Pass the Matrix back to Rodimus for I have plans for him. You cannot prevent that by will or stubbornness.”
“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? This would not be the first time that our enemies tried to confuse us, trick us,” Optimus said.
“You don’t know that I am telling the truth. The fact of the matter is that you do not know anything at all. This is just something that you have to take on faith,” Prima said.
Optimus closed his optics. He knew, deep inside, that Prima was telling the truth. He also knew, however, that he was fighting as hard as he was out of fear rather than concern. He was afraid of what was going to happen. He was afraid that there would be no place for him in this new order. And he was desperately afraid of being made redundant.
He felt Prima’s soft hands on his face and when he opened his optics she was looking at him with the sympathy and love a parent has for her child.
“You do a disservice to your people. They are better than you give them credit,” Prima said.
“I know,” said Optimus. “I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am afraid of what’s coming.”
“I am afraid that I cannot help you with that. Fear is something you have to face on your own,” Prima said. “Regardless of your fear, have you made your choice?”
“I didn’t think I had a choice?” Optimus said before he could stop himself.
“You always have a choice,” Prima said darkly. “The repercussions of those choices vary, however. So yes, Prime. You have a choice. You can choose to give over the Matrix willingly. You can choose to keep it. Or you can choose to have me take it from you forcibly. I do not wish to employ the third method, but I will if you wish it to be so. … So, Optimus Prime. What is your choice?”
Optimus sighed in resignation. “I will go back; I will hand over the Matrix, assuming that Hot Rod will take it; and I will deal with the repercussions as they occur.”
“Good. You’ve chose the far harder path, but I expected nothing less from you,” Prima said.
Suddenly the floor opened up and Optimus tumbled into darkness.
