[AU] Oubliette - Chapter Seventeen
Universe: G1/IDW AU
Characters: Optimus, Ultra Magnus, Springer, Jazz, Soundwave, Laserbeak, Starscream, Grimlock, Cyclonus, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings this chapter: None
Commission fic for NK
Mood Music: "What a Wonderful World," Joseph William Morgan
Oubliette
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn't that Starscream's demands were ridiculous. Most of them were downright reasonable and expected. It was just that no one wanted to make even a single concession to a Decepticon. It didn't matter that Megatron wasn't leading them anymore. It was a visceral reaction.
“We've passed the point of reconciliation, at least in the near future,” Ultra Magnus said as he peered at his datapad. “Given time, perhaps, we may function as one people but for now, it is best that we stay separate.”
No one argued otherwise.
“Shared living space unfeasible,” Soundwave said. He reached up, patting Laserbeak on the helm. “Nearby cities suitable for rebuilding. Choice available.”
Jazz nodded slowly. He pressed his palms together, fingertips touching. “If I had ta choose, I'd say Polyhex if we can't kick the Cons out of Iacon. They left it relatively intact and some of the facilities are still useful.”
Optimus frowned. It did seem rather backward to leave the Cons in Iacon while the Autobots left for Polyhex, but was better than trying to live in the vicinity of the Decepticons.
“Who says we have to stay next door to the Cons? Why can't we hit the other pole?” Springer asked, raising both orbital ridges. “Kalis is in far better shape than Polyhex and we don't have to live within sight of Starscream.”
“And how will we share resources?” Jazz pointed out, tipping a pede toward the triple-changer. “Do ya have any idea how long it takes to construct and program a space bridge? Are ya willing to have the Constructicons trundle on over to build one for us?”
“It is not feasible,” Ultra Magnus admitted. His stylus scritched at a fast pace across his datapad. “The wisest course would be to remain in Iacon but even I know that is the unwelcome option. Polyhex would be less objectionable at least.”
Optimus nodded his agreement. “We don't have to leave immediately. We can scout the surrounding area and decide the best place to make our own.”
“Already done.” Jazz pressed a button and tapped his datapad across the table, activating some type of hologram.
A map of the surrounding area sprang to life, nearby cities highlighted with an approval rating. No doubt each had been evaluated for residency. Polyhex was indeed at the top of the list, but Kalis was a close second.
“The metrotitan at Kalis?” Optimus asked.
Jazz shook his helm. “Either deep in stasis or offline. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. Something about the city gave me the creeps.”
Hmm. If Jazz was uncomfortable, it was probably for good reason.
“I think Polyhex is the better choice then,” Optimus said. “We can look into rebuilding all of Cybertron later, but for now, we need a stable place to start.”
“Polyhex then?” Ultra Magnus asked.
Optimus nodded. “Unless there are other reasons to protest, yes.” He looked down at his datapad, marking the decision off. He trusted Ultra Magnus to update the treaty accordingly.
The treaty was over three hundred pages long. It delineated the details of almost every interaction that could possibly come into play between Autobot and Decepticon.
Of most importance, however, was how to deal with war crimes. For fairness' sake, neither side could prosecute the other for anything that happened during the war. Once the door was opened, they couldn't shut it. So Autobot and Decepticon alike were summarily pardoned.
This was for the sake of both factions.
Unfortunately, that also applied to anything that occurred before the signing of the treaty. Optimus could not call for the execution or punishment of the Decepticons imprisoned for their assault of the enslaved Autobots. But all the same, Starscream could not demand that they punish Cliffjumper.
Which wasn't to say that the guilty parties weren't going to face justice. As much as Optimus sympathized with Cliffjumper, he couldn't let the Autobots believe vigilantism was acceptable. Or personal vendettas. Though Optimus was also more concerned with helping Cliffjumper than causing more harm. Optimus had no doubts that Starscream had his own idea of punishment for the Decepticons guilty of assaulting the Autobots.
Post signing of the treaty, any offenders would be punished based upon the location of the crime. A Decepticon in Autobot territory who attacked an Autobot would be judged by the Autobot justice system. And vice versa. In other words, if they weren't home, they'd better be on their best behavior. Appeals could be made to their own faction if they felt the punishment was unjust.
Starscream had also pledged, in the treaty, to support the Autobots with energon until they could build their own energon manufacturing facilities. He had suggested that ownership of the energon refineries on Earth be joint. Guarded and run by both Autobot and Decepticon soldiers.
Optimus already had an idea of which of his Autobots he'd like to send to Earth. He held off on asking them, however, until the treaty was officially signed.
There were also guidelines for mechs who wished to defect. Optimus doubted that there was a single Autobot who wanted to flock to Starscream's banner, but just in case, there were now guidelines. Provided Starscream and Grimlock approved of them.
“Is there anything else?” Ultra Magnus asked, the designated note-taker and editor for this particular meeting. Not that anyone else was quick to volunteer.
Optimus skimmed the bullet points of the treaty. He couldn't see anything that was cause for debate. After several days worth of work, they'd found all of the weaknesses. At least in his personal opinion.
Jazz wasn't even looking at his datapad. It still sat in the middle of the table, hologram lightly turning in its display of the surrounding area. Springer was using his own datapad as a makeshift fan.
Optimus turned his attention to Soundwave who was paying equal attention to his datapad as Ultra Magnus, if not more. He'd offered several valuable insights into both the treaty and Starscream's thought process over the course of the morning. Laserbeak was now gone from his shoulder, no doubt folded into his dock to recharge.
“I think we've covered everything that needs be discussed,” Optimus said at length. “Which gives us just enough time for a break before we have to meet the Decepticons.”
“And you include Grimlock in that,” Jazz said. His pedes hit the ground with a thwock as he dropped them from the table.
“You must speak with him, Prime,” Ultra Magnus added as he gathered up his datapads, three times more than anyone else had brought.
“It's on my to do list.” Optimus tried not to sigh, but he feared it was audible in his tone. “Hopefully, I can pull him aside before the meeting begins.” Grimlock, he knew, was quite angry and Optimus did not blame him. He had failed.
Jazz rose to his pedes, stretching his arms above his helm with a popping of kinked cables. “I'm goin' to track down my mechs if any of ya need me.” He leaned over the table, snagging his holographic display.
“Just don't miss the meeting,” Optimus warned.
“I'm never late for anythin' that's important.” Jazz lit half his visor in a wink and was gone from the room before Optimus could formulate a response.
Ultra Magnus and Springer departed as well, leaving Optimus alone with his datapads and Soundwave. Optimus wanted nothing more than to slump, give in to the pain pulsing through his helm, perhaps slide into something like a nap against the table. But he didn't dare display such weakness with Soundwave all but hovering next to him. He rubbed at his forehelm, feeling an ache behind his optics.
Something tapped on the table.
Optimus lowered his hand and stared down at a cube of energon placed in front of him. It was the same disheartening shade of medical grade that Soundwave had brought to him earlier. But it was just enough of a serving to take the edge off his hunger without overstressing his shrunken tanks.
Soundwave had tapped a finger on the table to get his attention.
Optimus blinked and looked at the former Decepticon. A rare humor rose up within him. “Have you made it your personal mission to keep me energized?” he asked as he curled his hand around it.
Soundwave's expression remained unreadable. “Care needed. Soundwave obliged.”
“I can take care of myself,” Optimus retorted, only to wince. He sounded very much like a child, he realized.
Truth be told, Soundwave was partially right. It took all his effort to keep himself in motion, much less remember things like refueling properly.
“Have you made yourself my assistant then?” he asked.
“Duties not given.” Soundwave lifted his shoulders in a shrug that was far from nonchalant. “Duties assumed.”
“Mmm. I suppose that makes sense.” Optimus popped the seal on the energon and took his first sip. It was getting easier to choke down the awful flavor. “I'll find you something to do. Are you amenable to working with Jazz?”
“Jazz respected,” Soundwave said, and his visor deepened in hue. “Optimus Prime respected more.”
“You'd rather work with me?”
“Optimus Prime trusted more.”
Well, he supposed he couldn't blame Soundwave there. Optimus trusted Jazz with his very spark. But he was fully aware of what Jazz's unit was involved in and the things Jazz had done for the Autobots. He was sneaky, secretive, and conniving. That smile and bluster was all a cover. Optimus knew this very well.
Optimus nodded. “I understand. Once everything has settled, we will make sure to give you an assignment that suits. For now, you can sit in on the meetings as an adviser.”
“Acceptable,” Soundwave said.
That was reassuring. Optimus finished his energon and dispersed the field. He pushed to his pedes and rubbed at the base of his spinal strut where a kink in his cables had developed.
“I'm sure you have somewhere to be so I'll see you at the meeting with the Decepticons later,” Optimus said. “Thank you for all your assistance.”
Soundwave dipped his helm. “No gratitude necessary, but you're welcome all the same.”
Soundwave also took his leave and finally, Optimus was alone. He couldn't decide whether or not that was a good thing. It did give him the opportunity to ventilate and focus on the fatigue that had taken over his entire frame.
He was lagging. His HUD was telling him that much. He couldn't think as fast as he needed to and Ratchet's reminders to rest kept echoing in his helm.
Optimus rubbed his faceplate and left the conference room, the datapad tucked under his arm. He had no desire to return to the small habsuite Ultra Magnus had given him. But he remembered the Xantium having an observation deck.
He found it two decks up, barely wide enough for three mechs, but it had open air and a view of Decepticon-controlled Iacon. Optimus' spark flared within his chamber. There was nothing comforting about the sight of Iacon anymore. It had been his home once upon a time.
Megatron had forever changed that for him.
“Could be a better view, I guess. But beggars can't be choosers.”
Optimus glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz strolling out onto the deck, visibly nonchalant but undoubtedly, not so much underneath. Nothing Jazz ever did was casual. Especially not right now when he was technically still in mission-mode. He wouldn't drop out of it until both treaties were signed.
“I thought you were going to find your team.”
“I am. Wanted to talk to ya first.” Jazz pulled himself up onto the railing, his legs swinging as though he were a child on the playground.
Optimus gave him a slanted look. “About which matter?”
“Too many to count, let's start with an important piece of info I discovered.” Jazz propped an elbow on a knee. “Like how our Earth allies had a little help in forcing us to leave.”
Optimus leaned against the wall. “I suspected as much. Pretenders?”
“Nah. Bombshell. What worked once, worked twice.” Jazz cycled a ventilation, frown replacing his easygoing grin. “The Decepticon pullback was part of the plan. Make it more believable if the humans wanted us gone once it was clear the Cons were gone. Megatron might have been an idiot, but Starscream wasn't. He knew exactly how you'd react.”
Optimus bowed his helm, guilt clawing at his spark. “In other words, he knew I would do exactly what the humans demanded out of respect for their freedom to choose.”
Jazz, politely, did not comment on how frequently he'd cautioned Optimus on that very behavior. He could have been the first to point fingers and place blame, but he hadn't. He still believed in Optimus' ability to lead them. Optimus could not even begin to show his appreciation for that loyalty.
“And so the Decepticons ambushed us as we returned,” Optimus said. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunching. “It was a coordinated attack, the likes of which Megatron did not usually employ.”
“Starscream's idea. As was most of it. Seems like he finally learned how to get Megatron to listen to 'im.”
It was almost brilliant, Optimus reasoned. Starscream had spent so long appearing as nothing more than a repeat failure, that his success had come as a surprise. It had led everyone to underestimate him, even his own faction.
“And yet, in the end, it was he who helped us take down his lord and master,” Optimus mused aloud.
“Probably his endgame, if I had to guess.” Jazz shrugged. “Then again, I'm pretty damn sure Starscream didn't predict the route Megatron would take. Not for the reasons you'd think though. But unless his motivations are important to you, I'd let it drop.”
“You may have a point,” Optimus conceded. There might come a time when he could ask Starscream, but at the moment, it was better to focus on the treaty and stabilizing their residence on Cybertron. So long as Starscream treated his soldiers well and committed no atrocious acts against the Autobots, there would be nothing to address.
“Course I do.” Jazz stretched his arms over his helm, perfectly balanced on the bars. “So I also noticed that Soundwave is sticking pretty close to ya.” His tone was mild, but nothing Jazz ever said was coincidental.
Optimus inclined his helm. “Yes. He claims he trusts me.”
Jazz made a noncommittal noise. “And I suppose it don't have anythin' to do with the fact ole Sounders always attaches himself to the head honcho.”
“I cannot speak for him.” Optimus sighed and pinched his forehelm. “I have the choice to trust him. I choose to do so. For all intents and purposes, he was kind to me. He did not have to assist you in eliminating Megatron, but he did. For that, he deserves the benefit of an opportunity.”
“Not sayin' he doesn't. I'm just sayin' be careful.” Jazz rolled his shoulders in a shrug that was anything but casual. He hopped down from the railing, dusting off his arms. “Admit it or not, Prime, you're vulnerable right now. You're not one-hundred percent. We all know it, and you can bet Unicron's rusted undergarments that Soundwave does, too. He may not like Starscream but they got one thing in common: they know how to take an advantage when they see one.”
Optimus frowned, but he couldn't deny that Jazz was right. If not entirely then at least in part.
“I do not think it necessary, but I will be cautious nonetheless,” Optimus said. “Thank you.”
Jazz beamed. “No problem, OP.” He clapped his hands together, the tension in his field vanishing as though it hadn't been there at all. “Now I'm really goin' ta find my team and leave ya to your brooding. Don't get lost in your head, yeah?”
“I'll try.”
Jazz departed and at last, Optimus had his solitude. Not that being alone was what he wanted, but it felt a bit of an indulgence at the moment. From the moment he'd been caught by the triple-changers, he hadn't had any peace. He was either under Megatron's thumb or on display or unconscious in the medical center.
He'd never craved solitude before. Suddenly, it felt like an indulgence.
It felt unreal. Optimus suspected half his trouble recharging was because he expected to online still in chains. That this was all some sort of spark-felt dream that would be shattered upon waking. Megatron wouldn't be dead. The Autobots and Decepticons wouldn't be working toward peace. And Optimus would still be spiraling toward a point of no return.
It was hard to accept. He felt oddly disassociated from it. Ratchet would probably have something to say about that, but he had enough on his hands already. And problems of his own.
What would Ironhide have done? Or Prowl?
Primus, but he missed them. He missed each and every one of the soldiers Megatron had slaughtered. Omega Supreme and Skyfire. Inferno and the Aerialbots. Too many to name, all of them heavy on his spark.
Optimus sighed and braced his elbows on the railing, hanging his helm. There was no quick fix, he knew. Nothing but time and patience and understanding.
Hopefully, he would have enough of that now.
A reminder ping hit Optimus' neural net not long after. He roused himself from his meditative stupor and idly stretched his limbs. It was time to do battle with the Decepticons now, though this time his weapons would be words and a stylus. Much less chance of casualties.
He would also be facing Grimlock, Optimus acknowledged. It was something he'd always expected would happen sooner or later but not like this.
The meeting to discuss the finalized treaty was not to be held aboard the Xantium, but in a conference room Megatron had never used on the top floor of the Decepticon citadel. Optimus couldn't shake a crawling discomfort as he walked the familiar halls. He swore he could still feel the weight of the collar around his intake. He had to stop himself from shuffling - there was no weight around his ankles.
At least the conference room was open and airy. One whole wall was made of windows, the shutters pulled back to let in the pale light offered by the numerous floodlights. Eventually, they'd need to discuss that, too. Cybertron could not continue to aimlessly roam the universe.
The Decepticons had eschewed a table as well, preferring an arrangement of assorted chairs in the center of the room. It meant there was plenty of room to escape if need be and helped change the sensation of being trapped.
There were only two Decepticons present - Starscream and Cyclonus - and though Optimus knew that Grimlock had officially taken command of the Decepticons, he was loath to call Grimlock one. Granted, the Dinobot leader had stripped away all badges from his frame, but Optimus did not wish to give him a label he did not want.
Optimus, for his part, had initially only asked Ultra Magnus and Jazz to attend. He invited Soundwave later as a neutral party.
Starscream and Cyclonus were in deep conversation near the display screen while Grimlock was standing by the window, arms folded as he stared through the transteel. It was not a very inviting pose, but Optimus could not allow himself to be intimidated. Grimlock did not frighten him, or at least, Optimus had always thought so.
It never occurred to him until now how much larger and stronger the Dinobot leader was. Not unlike the supersoldiers or Megatron. Optimus shuddered.
No. Grimlock might have separated himself from the Autobots, but he was a good mech. Optimus trusted him.
Optimus stepped up beside Grimlock, though he kept an appropriate distance. “If I might have a moment of your time?” Optimus asked.
Grimlock half-shifted toward him, helm tilted. “Meeting's about to start,” he said, and gone was the dim-witted accent he had affected for the entirety of Optimus' experience with him.
It was, as Jazz had often postulated, a cover to hide his true intelligence. No mere semi-intelligent beast could have accomplished what Grimlock had.
“It will not take long,” Optimus assured him. “I won't try to convince you to return to the Autobots or ask you why. You owe me no explanations.”
Grimlock's visor dimmed as though he were listening. He unfolded his arms, frame tilting further toward Optimus.
“I only wish to apologize,” Optimus said. “In the past, I have treated you poorly and it was my decision that sent us all on this course. I am sorry for your loss. I would have prevented it if I could.”
“You were a fool,” Grimlock said. He faced Optimus fully, his field gave nothing away. His words were deliberate, as though carefully chosen. “But that is who you are. Optimism and hope. You do what you had to do and so did I.”
“I see.” Optimus lowered his gaze, resisting the urge to fidget. “For what it's worth, I think it is better for you this way. You will be a good leader, Grimlock. You are a good leader. And you are the firm hand the Decepticons need.”
Grimlock snorted. “Don't need you to tell me that.” He scratched at his jaw and gave Optimus a hard look. “Overlord killed Sludge. Shockwave tortured Swoop. They'll get what's coming to them. Don't give yourself too much credit.”
“You're not angry?”
Grimlock's field briefly spiked, giving Optimus a taste of the fury raging beneath and the cold promise he'd made. His visor darkened to a hue that Optimus realized fit in well with the Decepticons. He was a mech to be respected.
“Plenty angry. Plenty of blame to give, too.” Grimlock audibly cycled a ventilation and shoved a hand toward Optimus. “Don't hate you. Never did. Got better things to do.”
Optimus couldn't describe the relief that struck him. Anger he understood. Grimlock had every right. He only wanted Grimlock to know that he was sorry, that he realized he'd made mistakes and those mistakes had consequences.
“Thank you,” Optimus said and briefly shook Grimlock's hand. He subtly stepped back, out of the force and strength of Grimlock's field.
Once upon a time, he could have stood against it without any difficulties. Now, there was something unpleasant about a field stronger than his. He didn't know if his own could stand up to it.
“I look forward to working with you,” Optimus added.
Grimlock 's field rippled, almost invasive, half-confidence and half-sly humor. “You might think differently after today.”
Given that he was working hand in hand with Starscream, Grimlock probably had a point.
“I don't know about everyone else, but I do have other things to do this cycle. If we could get this meeting started, maybe I could actually salvage something from this day,” Starscream said, loud enough to catch everyone's attention.
Optimus resisted the urge to roll his optics.
He joined Starscream and the others at the gathering of chairs. Soundwave must have just arrived as Optimus hadn't seen him come in. He took the chair on one side of Optimus, leaving Jazz on the other. It all felt informal, despite the fact they were here to sign a treaty effectively ending a war that had lasted for millennia and decimated the Cybertronian population.
“I assume that you've completely delineated the command structure of the Decepticons?” Ultra Magnus asked with a pointed look at both Grimlock and Starscream.
That was what had drawn their last meeting to an immediate close. There had been tentative agreement that Grimlock was the new leader of the Decepticons, but dissent in the ranks (re: Starscream) meant that nothing had been approved. For all the fuss Starscream had put up about the Autobots having a legitimate leader, he'd dropped the ball when it came to the Decepticons. Probably because he was miffed he couldn't score the position for himself.
All those centuries of scheming and he still hadn't ended up with Megatron's throne.
“Yes,” Starscream answered in a tight tone. “Our regulations are clear. Grimlock is now Lord of the Decepticons. I am his second and Air Commander. Cyclonus will be third in command. We're still working out the particulars of the other positions. Decepticon command structure is somewhat different from the Autobots.”
Ultra Magnus inclined his helm. “That is acceptable. Thank you.” He produced a datapad from subspace and handed it to Starscream. “Here are the terms and conditions we've accepted, denied, or questioned.”
Starscream accepted it and gestured toward Cyclonus, who rebooted his vocalizer and produced a datapad of his own.
“Here's ours,” Starscream said, sounding distracted as he powered on the datapad and began to skim the contents.
“I trust that there is little dissent,” Optimus said as the two more politically minded mechs began to skim the revised treaties. “I feel we've already debated the most important aspects.”
“There is always room for improvement,” Cyclonus said.
No one commented. Silence fell as the proposals were absorbed and considered. Ultra Magnus forwarded his copy to Optimus, allowing him to peruse the Decepticon demands. There was nothing he could see that would be an issue. Starscream had sought clarity on a few points, but made no outrageous requests.
Optimus approved all of them and sent his comments to Ultra Magnus. Tucking away his datapad, Optimus glanced at Soundwave, but as always, there was little to read from the former Decepticon. His field was as enclosed as his expression.
“You'd really rather live in Polyhex?” Starscream asked, his shock spilling into the peaceful quiet.
“Are you so surprised?” Optimus asked, raising his orbital ridges. “We've already had one incident. I have no doubt there will be more if we try to force the Autobots into proximity with the Decepticons, whether or not they are guilty.”
“In terms of supplies, its an illogical move to make,” Cyclonus said, his fingers tapping over his datapad. “But if we have any hope of maintaining this truce and the sanctity of the treaty, I don't see where there is a better solution.”
“We'd prefer to stay here, but I suspect we'd have another war on our hands if we pushed it,” Jazz added with something of a sly grin. “So you just make sure your Cons don't come on our turf without a permit, and we'll extend the same courtesy.”
“There is a danger of such factional division only perpetuating the divide that led to the war,” Ultra Magnus commented with a deepset frown. “But our only other option would be to leave Cybertron entirely and we are functionally incapable of doing so at the moment.”
The Decepticons, after all, had slaughtered every last flight-capable mech among the Autobots. While they now had the Xantium, it had already been cramped for space, which was what prompted Ultra Magnus' original return to Cybertron in the first place. Between the survivors and colonists he acquired, his mechs were stacked two and three high in habsuites meant to berth one.
Which was even worse now because he was accommodating Optimus' Autobots. A few of Ultra Magnus' team had opted to camp outside the Xantium, in the shadow of the spaceship. A few, Optimus had learned, had even stayed behind on Earth. It didn't erase the fact that the Xantium was overburdened.
Not to mention the other issues of materials, medical supplies and energon.
Staying on Cybertron was necessary for their survival. Sharing a city with the Decepticons was not.
“Having a separate chain of command is expected then,” Starscream said, leaning back on his chair. He reclined as though he were comfortable. “Metalhawk will bitch if we don't give him legitimate faces to negotiate with.”
“I am Lord of the Decepticons,” Grimlock said, his deep baritone leaving no room for argument. “All decisions for the Decepticons will go through me.”
Optimus looked at Starscream. “And you are okay with us?”
Starscream scowled, giving Grimlock a sideways look that he returned with a smirk. “It is the best option for us,” he said.
Grimlock folded his arms over his chest, looking smug.
“Optimus will lead us,” Ultra Magnus said, keeping his tone firm as though in a desperate attempt to get the conversation back on track. “He will hold the title of Prime despite the lack of Matrix. Our revised codex will reflect the change.”
“There is some value to be found in tradition,” Cyclonus said, inclining his helm with approval. “Though progress is always acceptable. We do not want to make the same mistakes as our predecessors.”
“We can all revisit the command structure once it is feasible to integrate the factions,” Optimus said. He still envisioned a united Cybertron; it simply wasn't possible in the immediate future.
“Metalhawk insistent,” Soundwave said, fingers tapping on his datapad. “Demands immediate negotiation.”
“Or what? They'll attack us?” Starscream scoffed. “He's lucky we haven't booted him and his useless mechs off the planet. All they did was run and hide during the war and they think they can come back here and take it back once the fighting's done? Frag that.”
In this, at least, Starscream was not alone. There were few who disagreed with him. Optimus couldn't blame the Neutrals for preferring to stay out of the fighting. They had decimated the population after all. Megatron had made it so mechs were forced to make a choice.
He understood Starscream's anger, however. Both Autobots and Decepticons had lost a lot in the course of the war. Their efforts felt cheapened by the Neutrals returning to lay claim to what they hadn't fought to keep.
“Fortunately, they cannot match our combined strengths,” Ultra Magnus said. “We must be united against them.”
“And we are. Thanks to this.” Starscream wiggled his datapad. “So long as we all agree.”
Which was it boiled back down to, whether or not they could accept each other's compromises and demands.
Optimus found a few other things that Starscream had delineated, most notably his suggestion that getting the space bridge back up and running took priority over anything else. Without energon, they were all fragged and Earth was still the best resource. Megatron had made it that way.
Fortunately, repairing the space bridge would not be terribly difficult. The explosion had been meant to delay and disable, not destroy. Wheeljack was optimistic, especially if he could get Perceptor's help. Another mech, by the name of Bulkhead who was part of Ultra Magnus' crew, had been eager to lend a hand. Though Ultra Magnus had cautioned that he would need supervision.
“He's brilliant,” Ultra Magnus had admitted with an expression on his face that indicated exasperation. “A little overeager, perhaps. Gets distracted easily.”
Optimus despaired to hand him over to Wheeljack then. He hoped Perceptor would recover enough to rein in both enthusiastic engineers.
“Right then,” Starscream said, abruptly sitting up straight. “I think we've all had enough time to read our terms and conditions. Is there anything we have to settle before we can get to signing this treaty?”
No one offered an objection. They'd spent enough time in debates and rewrites that they should have argued all of the points by now.
“We're in agreement then,” Optimus said. He tucked away his datapad and shifted his gaze to Ultra Magnus. “I trust you have the finalized versions for us to stamp.”
“Yes, Prime.” Ultra Magnus handed over a datapad for Optimus' perusal. “Would it be better to sign in descending command order, Starscream?”
“You can put as much ceremony as you like around it.” Starscream flicked a dismissing hand. “So long as we get this done. We have factional issues to take care of.”
“Problems?” Optimus asked as he plugged into the pad and gave it his digital signature. He then passed it to Grimlock, who would return it to Ultra Magnus, then Starscream, then Jazz, then Cyclonus.
Starscream's wing flicked. “Scrapper's petitioned for release again. As we are in need of both medics and construction mecha, I am having a difficult time denying his petition.”
Nausea settled in Optimus' tanks. He understood Starscream's reasoning. But he also had a vivid memory of Ratchet's discomfort and pain.
“What measures are you considering undertaking?” Ultra Magnus asked, his stiff tone ripe with disapproval.
“We're still working on that.” Cylonus sighed. His field flicked through the room with an irritated edge. “They are useless if they can't transform. We'll remove their weapons as a matter of course. Tracking devices aren't entirely out of the question. And they'll board in the prison rather than house arrest. Anything more is still under discussion.”
“Slag has volunteered to be a warden.” Grimlock grinned, looking far too smug for anyone's comfort. “A flamethrower up the aft should be incentive enough to behave.”
“Besides. You worry about your prisoners, we'll worry about ours.” Starscream inclined his helm as his optics flashed. “And keep your Spec Ops pets to your territory, too. I don't want any of them snooping around.” He smiled at Jazz, but it was full of denta.
Jazz chuckled. “You won't even know we're there,” he purred and second to last to sign, detached his cable from the datapad and handed it to Cyclonus, who was suddenly far less eager to take it.
Starscream's engine growled. His optics narrowed.
“There remains the matter of the Neutrals,” Optimus declared, hoping to forestall any potential arguments. Jazz and Starscream mixed together as well as oil and energon, which was to say, not at all. “We've already discussed handling them together, when do we intend to do so?”
“Haste suggested,” Soundwave offered. “Metalhawk displeased. Also, loud and vocal. A threat to peace.”
“You can say that again,” Starscream muttered. His gaze shifted to Grimlock. “Well, Leader?”
Grimlock cycled a ventilation. “Two days,” he said. “Enough time to explain to our soldiers the particulars of the treaty.” The light behind his visor shifted to Optimus. “And to rest and recuperate for some of us.”
So. He had noticed how badly Optimus had begun to tremble. That was unfortunate. The last thing Optimus needed was for the Decepticons to see how weak he was.
“Agreed,” Ultra Magnus said before Optimus could argue otherwise. “I expect you will share your rations?”
“So long as you share your scientists,” Starscream replied sweetly. “Because if we don't get that space bridge up and running, we'll all gray out. Blast Off can only fit so many and he's refusing to offer his services to just anyone.”
With the Autobot airforce gone and both triple-changers dead, Blast Off was the only space-capable mech left on the planet. There was Ultra Magnus' ship and the Neutrals if they felt like cooperating, but Optimus wasn't going to put his faith in them. There were far too many engines to fuel right now.
“Everything will be shared that is feasible,” Optimus said, careful to keep his tone firm but not challenging. “And Starscream, please remember that some of our scientists are in no condition to render assistance at the moment.”
“I've not forgotten.” Starscream's wings twitched, a clear sign of his displeasure.
Jazz clapped his hands together. “Well, mechs, I'd say we're done for today, yeah? All's well that end's well, how about we go our separate ways and feel good about the treaty?”
Mercifully, everyone agreed, though the tension in the room remained thick and unappealing. Optimus shook hands, grabbed a copy of the datapad, and was the first out the door, which was probably unprofessional, but he wanted to return to the Xantium. He did not want to be in Decepticon-controlled Iacon, just around the corner from where Megatron had kept his berth.
Escape was not to be his, however, because lurking outside the door was Onslaught yet again. Optimus had to give him credit; he was persistent.
“There are procedures in place now,” Optimus said before Onslaught could even get a word or glyph out. He juggled the numerous datapads in his possession before producing one that could serve as explanation. “Submit a formal request and I'll set a time to meet with you.”
“To whom?” Onslaught asked as he took the pad and flicked it on. He sounded irritated, but Optimus was in no mood to soothe wounded pride.
To... whom? For a moment Optimus couldn't parse the question. Until he realized that for Onslaught to submit a formal request, he could need to address it to someone. It would be redundant to send such a thing to Optimus. What was the point of the process again?
He rubbed at his forehelm, the ache behind his optics growing stronger. “Ultra Magnus,” Optimus said. “He'll review your request.”
“Negative.”
The denial had not come from Onslaught.
Optimus blinked. Once again, Soundwave had emerged from the shadows, as silent as Prowl had been.
“Beg pardon?” Optimus asked.
“Does Soundwave hold rank?” Onslaught demanded.
“Not officially,” Optimus replied and ow, yes, the ache was devolving toward pain now. Ratchet's warnings about needing rest sounded less like a cautionary tale now. “His position is yet to be decided.”
“Ultra Magnus occupied with other duties,” Soundwave said. He came to a stop beside Optimus. “I am suited for this task.”
Optimus frowned. “I don't know whether that's fair--”
“Acceptable,” Onslaught interrupted with a sharp incline of his helm. “Your comm is the same?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then you'll have my petition by morning.” Onslaught tucked the datapad away and dipped his chassis in a shallow bow of respect. “I trust you'll find it favorable. Good evening.”
Optimus watched him go, confusion battling against the ache. He felt he'd missed something but the sudden bout of dizziness made it difficult to parse exactly what.
“Mutual respect,” Soundwave informed him as Optimus tossed him a look. “You indicated I need a task. One found.”
“Yes, but... I didn't intend to recruit you as my assistant.” Optimus frowned. “That seems a little beneath your skillset.”
Soundwave's visor dimmed. “Would rather I work for Jazz?” He touched his dock, perhaps indicating his cassettes beneath. “Special Operations?”
“No. I'd prefer you be happy in whatever you choose. I simply want to make certain you're not limiting yourself because you think you need my approval.”
Ah, what a mess.
Optimus wanted his hab-suite. He wanted his berth. And he wanted to recharge without memory purges or unwelcome arousal.
“We'll talk about this later,” Optimus added with an audible ex-vent that rattled far more than it ought.
His knee wobbled as he turned. He couldn't explain why his ventilations were suddenly so shallow, or why his processor was spinning, or the contents of his tanks turning sour. He was only fifty percent energized, which was the most he'd been in quite some time, and a Ratchet accepted level. But suddenly, it felt like too much.
Optimus swallowed down the impulse to purge.
It was hot here. Too hot.
“Tomorrow,” Optimus clarified with a suddenly dry mouth. “We'll figure out exactly what you can do tomorrow.”
He took a step and swayed. The ground was at once far away, and too close.
Soundwave shifted next to him, his field nudging against Optimus' in something that read as permission. And concern. He held out a hand as though he could read the wobble in Optimus' knee.
“Assistance needed?”
Optimus shook his helm, angling to avoid the hand Soundwave held out to him. Nothing personal. He simply didn't want any physical contact at the moment.
“No, thank you,” Optimus said in as polite a tone as he could muster. “I will be fine on my own.”
“Understood.”
Mercifully, Soundwave backed off. He took with him the concern in his field, and it left Optimus feeling oddly disconnected.
He offlined his optics, focused on ventilating for the span of a few seconds, and then gathered himself. He was stronger than this. He would not let Megatron's ghost defeat him.
“Good night, Soundwave.” Optimus tipped his helm in gratitude and started down the hallway, focusing intently on appearing composed. It didn't matter that he wobbled.
All he had to do was make it to his habsuite. Then he was free to collapse.
So long as no one could see him.
***
a/n: Second to last chapter before the end. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/317296.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Characters: Optimus, Ultra Magnus, Springer, Jazz, Soundwave, Laserbeak, Starscream, Grimlock, Cyclonus, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings this chapter: None
Commission fic for NK
Mood Music: "What a Wonderful World," Joseph William Morgan
Oubliette
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn't that Starscream's demands were ridiculous. Most of them were downright reasonable and expected. It was just that no one wanted to make even a single concession to a Decepticon. It didn't matter that Megatron wasn't leading them anymore. It was a visceral reaction.
“We've passed the point of reconciliation, at least in the near future,” Ultra Magnus said as he peered at his datapad. “Given time, perhaps, we may function as one people but for now, it is best that we stay separate.”
No one argued otherwise.
“Shared living space unfeasible,” Soundwave said. He reached up, patting Laserbeak on the helm. “Nearby cities suitable for rebuilding. Choice available.”
Jazz nodded slowly. He pressed his palms together, fingertips touching. “If I had ta choose, I'd say Polyhex if we can't kick the Cons out of Iacon. They left it relatively intact and some of the facilities are still useful.”
Optimus frowned. It did seem rather backward to leave the Cons in Iacon while the Autobots left for Polyhex, but was better than trying to live in the vicinity of the Decepticons.
“Who says we have to stay next door to the Cons? Why can't we hit the other pole?” Springer asked, raising both orbital ridges. “Kalis is in far better shape than Polyhex and we don't have to live within sight of Starscream.”
“And how will we share resources?” Jazz pointed out, tipping a pede toward the triple-changer. “Do ya have any idea how long it takes to construct and program a space bridge? Are ya willing to have the Constructicons trundle on over to build one for us?”
“It is not feasible,” Ultra Magnus admitted. His stylus scritched at a fast pace across his datapad. “The wisest course would be to remain in Iacon but even I know that is the unwelcome option. Polyhex would be less objectionable at least.”
Optimus nodded his agreement. “We don't have to leave immediately. We can scout the surrounding area and decide the best place to make our own.”
“Already done.” Jazz pressed a button and tapped his datapad across the table, activating some type of hologram.
A map of the surrounding area sprang to life, nearby cities highlighted with an approval rating. No doubt each had been evaluated for residency. Polyhex was indeed at the top of the list, but Kalis was a close second.
“The metrotitan at Kalis?” Optimus asked.
Jazz shook his helm. “Either deep in stasis or offline. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. Something about the city gave me the creeps.”
Hmm. If Jazz was uncomfortable, it was probably for good reason.
“I think Polyhex is the better choice then,” Optimus said. “We can look into rebuilding all of Cybertron later, but for now, we need a stable place to start.”
“Polyhex then?” Ultra Magnus asked.
Optimus nodded. “Unless there are other reasons to protest, yes.” He looked down at his datapad, marking the decision off. He trusted Ultra Magnus to update the treaty accordingly.
The treaty was over three hundred pages long. It delineated the details of almost every interaction that could possibly come into play between Autobot and Decepticon.
Of most importance, however, was how to deal with war crimes. For fairness' sake, neither side could prosecute the other for anything that happened during the war. Once the door was opened, they couldn't shut it. So Autobot and Decepticon alike were summarily pardoned.
This was for the sake of both factions.
Unfortunately, that also applied to anything that occurred before the signing of the treaty. Optimus could not call for the execution or punishment of the Decepticons imprisoned for their assault of the enslaved Autobots. But all the same, Starscream could not demand that they punish Cliffjumper.
Which wasn't to say that the guilty parties weren't going to face justice. As much as Optimus sympathized with Cliffjumper, he couldn't let the Autobots believe vigilantism was acceptable. Or personal vendettas. Though Optimus was also more concerned with helping Cliffjumper than causing more harm. Optimus had no doubts that Starscream had his own idea of punishment for the Decepticons guilty of assaulting the Autobots.
Post signing of the treaty, any offenders would be punished based upon the location of the crime. A Decepticon in Autobot territory who attacked an Autobot would be judged by the Autobot justice system. And vice versa. In other words, if they weren't home, they'd better be on their best behavior. Appeals could be made to their own faction if they felt the punishment was unjust.
Starscream had also pledged, in the treaty, to support the Autobots with energon until they could build their own energon manufacturing facilities. He had suggested that ownership of the energon refineries on Earth be joint. Guarded and run by both Autobot and Decepticon soldiers.
Optimus already had an idea of which of his Autobots he'd like to send to Earth. He held off on asking them, however, until the treaty was officially signed.
There were also guidelines for mechs who wished to defect. Optimus doubted that there was a single Autobot who wanted to flock to Starscream's banner, but just in case, there were now guidelines. Provided Starscream and Grimlock approved of them.
“Is there anything else?” Ultra Magnus asked, the designated note-taker and editor for this particular meeting. Not that anyone else was quick to volunteer.
Optimus skimmed the bullet points of the treaty. He couldn't see anything that was cause for debate. After several days worth of work, they'd found all of the weaknesses. At least in his personal opinion.
Jazz wasn't even looking at his datapad. It still sat in the middle of the table, hologram lightly turning in its display of the surrounding area. Springer was using his own datapad as a makeshift fan.
Optimus turned his attention to Soundwave who was paying equal attention to his datapad as Ultra Magnus, if not more. He'd offered several valuable insights into both the treaty and Starscream's thought process over the course of the morning. Laserbeak was now gone from his shoulder, no doubt folded into his dock to recharge.
“I think we've covered everything that needs be discussed,” Optimus said at length. “Which gives us just enough time for a break before we have to meet the Decepticons.”
“And you include Grimlock in that,” Jazz said. His pedes hit the ground with a thwock as he dropped them from the table.
“You must speak with him, Prime,” Ultra Magnus added as he gathered up his datapads, three times more than anyone else had brought.
“It's on my to do list.” Optimus tried not to sigh, but he feared it was audible in his tone. “Hopefully, I can pull him aside before the meeting begins.” Grimlock, he knew, was quite angry and Optimus did not blame him. He had failed.
Jazz rose to his pedes, stretching his arms above his helm with a popping of kinked cables. “I'm goin' to track down my mechs if any of ya need me.” He leaned over the table, snagging his holographic display.
“Just don't miss the meeting,” Optimus warned.
“I'm never late for anythin' that's important.” Jazz lit half his visor in a wink and was gone from the room before Optimus could formulate a response.
Ultra Magnus and Springer departed as well, leaving Optimus alone with his datapads and Soundwave. Optimus wanted nothing more than to slump, give in to the pain pulsing through his helm, perhaps slide into something like a nap against the table. But he didn't dare display such weakness with Soundwave all but hovering next to him. He rubbed at his forehelm, feeling an ache behind his optics.
Something tapped on the table.
Optimus lowered his hand and stared down at a cube of energon placed in front of him. It was the same disheartening shade of medical grade that Soundwave had brought to him earlier. But it was just enough of a serving to take the edge off his hunger without overstressing his shrunken tanks.
Soundwave had tapped a finger on the table to get his attention.
Optimus blinked and looked at the former Decepticon. A rare humor rose up within him. “Have you made it your personal mission to keep me energized?” he asked as he curled his hand around it.
Soundwave's expression remained unreadable. “Care needed. Soundwave obliged.”
“I can take care of myself,” Optimus retorted, only to wince. He sounded very much like a child, he realized.
Truth be told, Soundwave was partially right. It took all his effort to keep himself in motion, much less remember things like refueling properly.
“Have you made yourself my assistant then?” he asked.
“Duties not given.” Soundwave lifted his shoulders in a shrug that was far from nonchalant. “Duties assumed.”
“Mmm. I suppose that makes sense.” Optimus popped the seal on the energon and took his first sip. It was getting easier to choke down the awful flavor. “I'll find you something to do. Are you amenable to working with Jazz?”
“Jazz respected,” Soundwave said, and his visor deepened in hue. “Optimus Prime respected more.”
“You'd rather work with me?”
“Optimus Prime trusted more.”
Well, he supposed he couldn't blame Soundwave there. Optimus trusted Jazz with his very spark. But he was fully aware of what Jazz's unit was involved in and the things Jazz had done for the Autobots. He was sneaky, secretive, and conniving. That smile and bluster was all a cover. Optimus knew this very well.
Optimus nodded. “I understand. Once everything has settled, we will make sure to give you an assignment that suits. For now, you can sit in on the meetings as an adviser.”
“Acceptable,” Soundwave said.
That was reassuring. Optimus finished his energon and dispersed the field. He pushed to his pedes and rubbed at the base of his spinal strut where a kink in his cables had developed.
“I'm sure you have somewhere to be so I'll see you at the meeting with the Decepticons later,” Optimus said. “Thank you for all your assistance.”
Soundwave dipped his helm. “No gratitude necessary, but you're welcome all the same.”
Soundwave also took his leave and finally, Optimus was alone. He couldn't decide whether or not that was a good thing. It did give him the opportunity to ventilate and focus on the fatigue that had taken over his entire frame.
He was lagging. His HUD was telling him that much. He couldn't think as fast as he needed to and Ratchet's reminders to rest kept echoing in his helm.
Optimus rubbed his faceplate and left the conference room, the datapad tucked under his arm. He had no desire to return to the small habsuite Ultra Magnus had given him. But he remembered the Xantium having an observation deck.
He found it two decks up, barely wide enough for three mechs, but it had open air and a view of Decepticon-controlled Iacon. Optimus' spark flared within his chamber. There was nothing comforting about the sight of Iacon anymore. It had been his home once upon a time.
Megatron had forever changed that for him.
“Could be a better view, I guess. But beggars can't be choosers.”
Optimus glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz strolling out onto the deck, visibly nonchalant but undoubtedly, not so much underneath. Nothing Jazz ever did was casual. Especially not right now when he was technically still in mission-mode. He wouldn't drop out of it until both treaties were signed.
“I thought you were going to find your team.”
“I am. Wanted to talk to ya first.” Jazz pulled himself up onto the railing, his legs swinging as though he were a child on the playground.
Optimus gave him a slanted look. “About which matter?”
“Too many to count, let's start with an important piece of info I discovered.” Jazz propped an elbow on a knee. “Like how our Earth allies had a little help in forcing us to leave.”
Optimus leaned against the wall. “I suspected as much. Pretenders?”
“Nah. Bombshell. What worked once, worked twice.” Jazz cycled a ventilation, frown replacing his easygoing grin. “The Decepticon pullback was part of the plan. Make it more believable if the humans wanted us gone once it was clear the Cons were gone. Megatron might have been an idiot, but Starscream wasn't. He knew exactly how you'd react.”
Optimus bowed his helm, guilt clawing at his spark. “In other words, he knew I would do exactly what the humans demanded out of respect for their freedom to choose.”
Jazz, politely, did not comment on how frequently he'd cautioned Optimus on that very behavior. He could have been the first to point fingers and place blame, but he hadn't. He still believed in Optimus' ability to lead them. Optimus could not even begin to show his appreciation for that loyalty.
“And so the Decepticons ambushed us as we returned,” Optimus said. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunching. “It was a coordinated attack, the likes of which Megatron did not usually employ.”
“Starscream's idea. As was most of it. Seems like he finally learned how to get Megatron to listen to 'im.”
It was almost brilliant, Optimus reasoned. Starscream had spent so long appearing as nothing more than a repeat failure, that his success had come as a surprise. It had led everyone to underestimate him, even his own faction.
“And yet, in the end, it was he who helped us take down his lord and master,” Optimus mused aloud.
“Probably his endgame, if I had to guess.” Jazz shrugged. “Then again, I'm pretty damn sure Starscream didn't predict the route Megatron would take. Not for the reasons you'd think though. But unless his motivations are important to you, I'd let it drop.”
“You may have a point,” Optimus conceded. There might come a time when he could ask Starscream, but at the moment, it was better to focus on the treaty and stabilizing their residence on Cybertron. So long as Starscream treated his soldiers well and committed no atrocious acts against the Autobots, there would be nothing to address.
“Course I do.” Jazz stretched his arms over his helm, perfectly balanced on the bars. “So I also noticed that Soundwave is sticking pretty close to ya.” His tone was mild, but nothing Jazz ever said was coincidental.
Optimus inclined his helm. “Yes. He claims he trusts me.”
Jazz made a noncommittal noise. “And I suppose it don't have anythin' to do with the fact ole Sounders always attaches himself to the head honcho.”
“I cannot speak for him.” Optimus sighed and pinched his forehelm. “I have the choice to trust him. I choose to do so. For all intents and purposes, he was kind to me. He did not have to assist you in eliminating Megatron, but he did. For that, he deserves the benefit of an opportunity.”
“Not sayin' he doesn't. I'm just sayin' be careful.” Jazz rolled his shoulders in a shrug that was anything but casual. He hopped down from the railing, dusting off his arms. “Admit it or not, Prime, you're vulnerable right now. You're not one-hundred percent. We all know it, and you can bet Unicron's rusted undergarments that Soundwave does, too. He may not like Starscream but they got one thing in common: they know how to take an advantage when they see one.”
Optimus frowned, but he couldn't deny that Jazz was right. If not entirely then at least in part.
“I do not think it necessary, but I will be cautious nonetheless,” Optimus said. “Thank you.”
Jazz beamed. “No problem, OP.” He clapped his hands together, the tension in his field vanishing as though it hadn't been there at all. “Now I'm really goin' ta find my team and leave ya to your brooding. Don't get lost in your head, yeah?”
“I'll try.”
Jazz departed and at last, Optimus had his solitude. Not that being alone was what he wanted, but it felt a bit of an indulgence at the moment. From the moment he'd been caught by the triple-changers, he hadn't had any peace. He was either under Megatron's thumb or on display or unconscious in the medical center.
He'd never craved solitude before. Suddenly, it felt like an indulgence.
It felt unreal. Optimus suspected half his trouble recharging was because he expected to online still in chains. That this was all some sort of spark-felt dream that would be shattered upon waking. Megatron wouldn't be dead. The Autobots and Decepticons wouldn't be working toward peace. And Optimus would still be spiraling toward a point of no return.
It was hard to accept. He felt oddly disassociated from it. Ratchet would probably have something to say about that, but he had enough on his hands already. And problems of his own.
What would Ironhide have done? Or Prowl?
Primus, but he missed them. He missed each and every one of the soldiers Megatron had slaughtered. Omega Supreme and Skyfire. Inferno and the Aerialbots. Too many to name, all of them heavy on his spark.
Optimus sighed and braced his elbows on the railing, hanging his helm. There was no quick fix, he knew. Nothing but time and patience and understanding.
Hopefully, he would have enough of that now.
A reminder ping hit Optimus' neural net not long after. He roused himself from his meditative stupor and idly stretched his limbs. It was time to do battle with the Decepticons now, though this time his weapons would be words and a stylus. Much less chance of casualties.
He would also be facing Grimlock, Optimus acknowledged. It was something he'd always expected would happen sooner or later but not like this.
The meeting to discuss the finalized treaty was not to be held aboard the Xantium, but in a conference room Megatron had never used on the top floor of the Decepticon citadel. Optimus couldn't shake a crawling discomfort as he walked the familiar halls. He swore he could still feel the weight of the collar around his intake. He had to stop himself from shuffling - there was no weight around his ankles.
At least the conference room was open and airy. One whole wall was made of windows, the shutters pulled back to let in the pale light offered by the numerous floodlights. Eventually, they'd need to discuss that, too. Cybertron could not continue to aimlessly roam the universe.
The Decepticons had eschewed a table as well, preferring an arrangement of assorted chairs in the center of the room. It meant there was plenty of room to escape if need be and helped change the sensation of being trapped.
There were only two Decepticons present - Starscream and Cyclonus - and though Optimus knew that Grimlock had officially taken command of the Decepticons, he was loath to call Grimlock one. Granted, the Dinobot leader had stripped away all badges from his frame, but Optimus did not wish to give him a label he did not want.
Optimus, for his part, had initially only asked Ultra Magnus and Jazz to attend. He invited Soundwave later as a neutral party.
Starscream and Cyclonus were in deep conversation near the display screen while Grimlock was standing by the window, arms folded as he stared through the transteel. It was not a very inviting pose, but Optimus could not allow himself to be intimidated. Grimlock did not frighten him, or at least, Optimus had always thought so.
It never occurred to him until now how much larger and stronger the Dinobot leader was. Not unlike the supersoldiers or Megatron. Optimus shuddered.
No. Grimlock might have separated himself from the Autobots, but he was a good mech. Optimus trusted him.
Optimus stepped up beside Grimlock, though he kept an appropriate distance. “If I might have a moment of your time?” Optimus asked.
Grimlock half-shifted toward him, helm tilted. “Meeting's about to start,” he said, and gone was the dim-witted accent he had affected for the entirety of Optimus' experience with him.
It was, as Jazz had often postulated, a cover to hide his true intelligence. No mere semi-intelligent beast could have accomplished what Grimlock had.
“It will not take long,” Optimus assured him. “I won't try to convince you to return to the Autobots or ask you why. You owe me no explanations.”
Grimlock's visor dimmed as though he were listening. He unfolded his arms, frame tilting further toward Optimus.
“I only wish to apologize,” Optimus said. “In the past, I have treated you poorly and it was my decision that sent us all on this course. I am sorry for your loss. I would have prevented it if I could.”
“You were a fool,” Grimlock said. He faced Optimus fully, his field gave nothing away. His words were deliberate, as though carefully chosen. “But that is who you are. Optimism and hope. You do what you had to do and so did I.”
“I see.” Optimus lowered his gaze, resisting the urge to fidget. “For what it's worth, I think it is better for you this way. You will be a good leader, Grimlock. You are a good leader. And you are the firm hand the Decepticons need.”
Grimlock snorted. “Don't need you to tell me that.” He scratched at his jaw and gave Optimus a hard look. “Overlord killed Sludge. Shockwave tortured Swoop. They'll get what's coming to them. Don't give yourself too much credit.”
“You're not angry?”
Grimlock's field briefly spiked, giving Optimus a taste of the fury raging beneath and the cold promise he'd made. His visor darkened to a hue that Optimus realized fit in well with the Decepticons. He was a mech to be respected.
“Plenty angry. Plenty of blame to give, too.” Grimlock audibly cycled a ventilation and shoved a hand toward Optimus. “Don't hate you. Never did. Got better things to do.”
Optimus couldn't describe the relief that struck him. Anger he understood. Grimlock had every right. He only wanted Grimlock to know that he was sorry, that he realized he'd made mistakes and those mistakes had consequences.
“Thank you,” Optimus said and briefly shook Grimlock's hand. He subtly stepped back, out of the force and strength of Grimlock's field.
Once upon a time, he could have stood against it without any difficulties. Now, there was something unpleasant about a field stronger than his. He didn't know if his own could stand up to it.
“I look forward to working with you,” Optimus added.
Grimlock 's field rippled, almost invasive, half-confidence and half-sly humor. “You might think differently after today.”
Given that he was working hand in hand with Starscream, Grimlock probably had a point.
“I don't know about everyone else, but I do have other things to do this cycle. If we could get this meeting started, maybe I could actually salvage something from this day,” Starscream said, loud enough to catch everyone's attention.
Optimus resisted the urge to roll his optics.
He joined Starscream and the others at the gathering of chairs. Soundwave must have just arrived as Optimus hadn't seen him come in. He took the chair on one side of Optimus, leaving Jazz on the other. It all felt informal, despite the fact they were here to sign a treaty effectively ending a war that had lasted for millennia and decimated the Cybertronian population.
“I assume that you've completely delineated the command structure of the Decepticons?” Ultra Magnus asked with a pointed look at both Grimlock and Starscream.
That was what had drawn their last meeting to an immediate close. There had been tentative agreement that Grimlock was the new leader of the Decepticons, but dissent in the ranks (re: Starscream) meant that nothing had been approved. For all the fuss Starscream had put up about the Autobots having a legitimate leader, he'd dropped the ball when it came to the Decepticons. Probably because he was miffed he couldn't score the position for himself.
All those centuries of scheming and he still hadn't ended up with Megatron's throne.
“Yes,” Starscream answered in a tight tone. “Our regulations are clear. Grimlock is now Lord of the Decepticons. I am his second and Air Commander. Cyclonus will be third in command. We're still working out the particulars of the other positions. Decepticon command structure is somewhat different from the Autobots.”
Ultra Magnus inclined his helm. “That is acceptable. Thank you.” He produced a datapad from subspace and handed it to Starscream. “Here are the terms and conditions we've accepted, denied, or questioned.”
Starscream accepted it and gestured toward Cyclonus, who rebooted his vocalizer and produced a datapad of his own.
“Here's ours,” Starscream said, sounding distracted as he powered on the datapad and began to skim the contents.
“I trust that there is little dissent,” Optimus said as the two more politically minded mechs began to skim the revised treaties. “I feel we've already debated the most important aspects.”
“There is always room for improvement,” Cyclonus said.
No one commented. Silence fell as the proposals were absorbed and considered. Ultra Magnus forwarded his copy to Optimus, allowing him to peruse the Decepticon demands. There was nothing he could see that would be an issue. Starscream had sought clarity on a few points, but made no outrageous requests.
Optimus approved all of them and sent his comments to Ultra Magnus. Tucking away his datapad, Optimus glanced at Soundwave, but as always, there was little to read from the former Decepticon. His field was as enclosed as his expression.
“You'd really rather live in Polyhex?” Starscream asked, his shock spilling into the peaceful quiet.
“Are you so surprised?” Optimus asked, raising his orbital ridges. “We've already had one incident. I have no doubt there will be more if we try to force the Autobots into proximity with the Decepticons, whether or not they are guilty.”
“In terms of supplies, its an illogical move to make,” Cyclonus said, his fingers tapping over his datapad. “But if we have any hope of maintaining this truce and the sanctity of the treaty, I don't see where there is a better solution.”
“We'd prefer to stay here, but I suspect we'd have another war on our hands if we pushed it,” Jazz added with something of a sly grin. “So you just make sure your Cons don't come on our turf without a permit, and we'll extend the same courtesy.”
“There is a danger of such factional division only perpetuating the divide that led to the war,” Ultra Magnus commented with a deepset frown. “But our only other option would be to leave Cybertron entirely and we are functionally incapable of doing so at the moment.”
The Decepticons, after all, had slaughtered every last flight-capable mech among the Autobots. While they now had the Xantium, it had already been cramped for space, which was what prompted Ultra Magnus' original return to Cybertron in the first place. Between the survivors and colonists he acquired, his mechs were stacked two and three high in habsuites meant to berth one.
Which was even worse now because he was accommodating Optimus' Autobots. A few of Ultra Magnus' team had opted to camp outside the Xantium, in the shadow of the spaceship. A few, Optimus had learned, had even stayed behind on Earth. It didn't erase the fact that the Xantium was overburdened.
Not to mention the other issues of materials, medical supplies and energon.
Staying on Cybertron was necessary for their survival. Sharing a city with the Decepticons was not.
“Having a separate chain of command is expected then,” Starscream said, leaning back on his chair. He reclined as though he were comfortable. “Metalhawk will bitch if we don't give him legitimate faces to negotiate with.”
“I am Lord of the Decepticons,” Grimlock said, his deep baritone leaving no room for argument. “All decisions for the Decepticons will go through me.”
Optimus looked at Starscream. “And you are okay with us?”
Starscream scowled, giving Grimlock a sideways look that he returned with a smirk. “It is the best option for us,” he said.
Grimlock folded his arms over his chest, looking smug.
“Optimus will lead us,” Ultra Magnus said, keeping his tone firm as though in a desperate attempt to get the conversation back on track. “He will hold the title of Prime despite the lack of Matrix. Our revised codex will reflect the change.”
“There is some value to be found in tradition,” Cyclonus said, inclining his helm with approval. “Though progress is always acceptable. We do not want to make the same mistakes as our predecessors.”
“We can all revisit the command structure once it is feasible to integrate the factions,” Optimus said. He still envisioned a united Cybertron; it simply wasn't possible in the immediate future.
“Metalhawk insistent,” Soundwave said, fingers tapping on his datapad. “Demands immediate negotiation.”
“Or what? They'll attack us?” Starscream scoffed. “He's lucky we haven't booted him and his useless mechs off the planet. All they did was run and hide during the war and they think they can come back here and take it back once the fighting's done? Frag that.”
In this, at least, Starscream was not alone. There were few who disagreed with him. Optimus couldn't blame the Neutrals for preferring to stay out of the fighting. They had decimated the population after all. Megatron had made it so mechs were forced to make a choice.
He understood Starscream's anger, however. Both Autobots and Decepticons had lost a lot in the course of the war. Their efforts felt cheapened by the Neutrals returning to lay claim to what they hadn't fought to keep.
“Fortunately, they cannot match our combined strengths,” Ultra Magnus said. “We must be united against them.”
“And we are. Thanks to this.” Starscream wiggled his datapad. “So long as we all agree.”
Which was it boiled back down to, whether or not they could accept each other's compromises and demands.
Optimus found a few other things that Starscream had delineated, most notably his suggestion that getting the space bridge back up and running took priority over anything else. Without energon, they were all fragged and Earth was still the best resource. Megatron had made it that way.
Fortunately, repairing the space bridge would not be terribly difficult. The explosion had been meant to delay and disable, not destroy. Wheeljack was optimistic, especially if he could get Perceptor's help. Another mech, by the name of Bulkhead who was part of Ultra Magnus' crew, had been eager to lend a hand. Though Ultra Magnus had cautioned that he would need supervision.
“He's brilliant,” Ultra Magnus had admitted with an expression on his face that indicated exasperation. “A little overeager, perhaps. Gets distracted easily.”
Optimus despaired to hand him over to Wheeljack then. He hoped Perceptor would recover enough to rein in both enthusiastic engineers.
“Right then,” Starscream said, abruptly sitting up straight. “I think we've all had enough time to read our terms and conditions. Is there anything we have to settle before we can get to signing this treaty?”
No one offered an objection. They'd spent enough time in debates and rewrites that they should have argued all of the points by now.
“We're in agreement then,” Optimus said. He tucked away his datapad and shifted his gaze to Ultra Magnus. “I trust you have the finalized versions for us to stamp.”
“Yes, Prime.” Ultra Magnus handed over a datapad for Optimus' perusal. “Would it be better to sign in descending command order, Starscream?”
“You can put as much ceremony as you like around it.” Starscream flicked a dismissing hand. “So long as we get this done. We have factional issues to take care of.”
“Problems?” Optimus asked as he plugged into the pad and gave it his digital signature. He then passed it to Grimlock, who would return it to Ultra Magnus, then Starscream, then Jazz, then Cyclonus.
Starscream's wing flicked. “Scrapper's petitioned for release again. As we are in need of both medics and construction mecha, I am having a difficult time denying his petition.”
Nausea settled in Optimus' tanks. He understood Starscream's reasoning. But he also had a vivid memory of Ratchet's discomfort and pain.
“What measures are you considering undertaking?” Ultra Magnus asked, his stiff tone ripe with disapproval.
“We're still working on that.” Cylonus sighed. His field flicked through the room with an irritated edge. “They are useless if they can't transform. We'll remove their weapons as a matter of course. Tracking devices aren't entirely out of the question. And they'll board in the prison rather than house arrest. Anything more is still under discussion.”
“Slag has volunteered to be a warden.” Grimlock grinned, looking far too smug for anyone's comfort. “A flamethrower up the aft should be incentive enough to behave.”
“Besides. You worry about your prisoners, we'll worry about ours.” Starscream inclined his helm as his optics flashed. “And keep your Spec Ops pets to your territory, too. I don't want any of them snooping around.” He smiled at Jazz, but it was full of denta.
Jazz chuckled. “You won't even know we're there,” he purred and second to last to sign, detached his cable from the datapad and handed it to Cyclonus, who was suddenly far less eager to take it.
Starscream's engine growled. His optics narrowed.
“There remains the matter of the Neutrals,” Optimus declared, hoping to forestall any potential arguments. Jazz and Starscream mixed together as well as oil and energon, which was to say, not at all. “We've already discussed handling them together, when do we intend to do so?”
“Haste suggested,” Soundwave offered. “Metalhawk displeased. Also, loud and vocal. A threat to peace.”
“You can say that again,” Starscream muttered. His gaze shifted to Grimlock. “Well, Leader?”
Grimlock cycled a ventilation. “Two days,” he said. “Enough time to explain to our soldiers the particulars of the treaty.” The light behind his visor shifted to Optimus. “And to rest and recuperate for some of us.”
So. He had noticed how badly Optimus had begun to tremble. That was unfortunate. The last thing Optimus needed was for the Decepticons to see how weak he was.
“Agreed,” Ultra Magnus said before Optimus could argue otherwise. “I expect you will share your rations?”
“So long as you share your scientists,” Starscream replied sweetly. “Because if we don't get that space bridge up and running, we'll all gray out. Blast Off can only fit so many and he's refusing to offer his services to just anyone.”
With the Autobot airforce gone and both triple-changers dead, Blast Off was the only space-capable mech left on the planet. There was Ultra Magnus' ship and the Neutrals if they felt like cooperating, but Optimus wasn't going to put his faith in them. There were far too many engines to fuel right now.
“Everything will be shared that is feasible,” Optimus said, careful to keep his tone firm but not challenging. “And Starscream, please remember that some of our scientists are in no condition to render assistance at the moment.”
“I've not forgotten.” Starscream's wings twitched, a clear sign of his displeasure.
Jazz clapped his hands together. “Well, mechs, I'd say we're done for today, yeah? All's well that end's well, how about we go our separate ways and feel good about the treaty?”
Mercifully, everyone agreed, though the tension in the room remained thick and unappealing. Optimus shook hands, grabbed a copy of the datapad, and was the first out the door, which was probably unprofessional, but he wanted to return to the Xantium. He did not want to be in Decepticon-controlled Iacon, just around the corner from where Megatron had kept his berth.
Escape was not to be his, however, because lurking outside the door was Onslaught yet again. Optimus had to give him credit; he was persistent.
“There are procedures in place now,” Optimus said before Onslaught could even get a word or glyph out. He juggled the numerous datapads in his possession before producing one that could serve as explanation. “Submit a formal request and I'll set a time to meet with you.”
“To whom?” Onslaught asked as he took the pad and flicked it on. He sounded irritated, but Optimus was in no mood to soothe wounded pride.
To... whom? For a moment Optimus couldn't parse the question. Until he realized that for Onslaught to submit a formal request, he could need to address it to someone. It would be redundant to send such a thing to Optimus. What was the point of the process again?
He rubbed at his forehelm, the ache behind his optics growing stronger. “Ultra Magnus,” Optimus said. “He'll review your request.”
“Negative.”
The denial had not come from Onslaught.
Optimus blinked. Once again, Soundwave had emerged from the shadows, as silent as Prowl had been.
“Beg pardon?” Optimus asked.
“Does Soundwave hold rank?” Onslaught demanded.
“Not officially,” Optimus replied and ow, yes, the ache was devolving toward pain now. Ratchet's warnings about needing rest sounded less like a cautionary tale now. “His position is yet to be decided.”
“Ultra Magnus occupied with other duties,” Soundwave said. He came to a stop beside Optimus. “I am suited for this task.”
Optimus frowned. “I don't know whether that's fair--”
“Acceptable,” Onslaught interrupted with a sharp incline of his helm. “Your comm is the same?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then you'll have my petition by morning.” Onslaught tucked the datapad away and dipped his chassis in a shallow bow of respect. “I trust you'll find it favorable. Good evening.”
Optimus watched him go, confusion battling against the ache. He felt he'd missed something but the sudden bout of dizziness made it difficult to parse exactly what.
“Mutual respect,” Soundwave informed him as Optimus tossed him a look. “You indicated I need a task. One found.”
“Yes, but... I didn't intend to recruit you as my assistant.” Optimus frowned. “That seems a little beneath your skillset.”
Soundwave's visor dimmed. “Would rather I work for Jazz?” He touched his dock, perhaps indicating his cassettes beneath. “Special Operations?”
“No. I'd prefer you be happy in whatever you choose. I simply want to make certain you're not limiting yourself because you think you need my approval.”
Ah, what a mess.
Optimus wanted his hab-suite. He wanted his berth. And he wanted to recharge without memory purges or unwelcome arousal.
“We'll talk about this later,” Optimus added with an audible ex-vent that rattled far more than it ought.
His knee wobbled as he turned. He couldn't explain why his ventilations were suddenly so shallow, or why his processor was spinning, or the contents of his tanks turning sour. He was only fifty percent energized, which was the most he'd been in quite some time, and a Ratchet accepted level. But suddenly, it felt like too much.
Optimus swallowed down the impulse to purge.
It was hot here. Too hot.
“Tomorrow,” Optimus clarified with a suddenly dry mouth. “We'll figure out exactly what you can do tomorrow.”
He took a step and swayed. The ground was at once far away, and too close.
Soundwave shifted next to him, his field nudging against Optimus' in something that read as permission. And concern. He held out a hand as though he could read the wobble in Optimus' knee.
“Assistance needed?”
Optimus shook his helm, angling to avoid the hand Soundwave held out to him. Nothing personal. He simply didn't want any physical contact at the moment.
“No, thank you,” Optimus said in as polite a tone as he could muster. “I will be fine on my own.”
“Understood.”
Mercifully, Soundwave backed off. He took with him the concern in his field, and it left Optimus feeling oddly disconnected.
He offlined his optics, focused on ventilating for the span of a few seconds, and then gathered himself. He was stronger than this. He would not let Megatron's ghost defeat him.
“Good night, Soundwave.” Optimus tipped his helm in gratitude and started down the hallway, focusing intently on appearing composed. It didn't matter that he wobbled.
All he had to do was make it to his habsuite. Then he was free to collapse.
So long as no one could see him.
***
a/n: Second to last chapter before the end. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/317296.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.