[AU] Oubliette - Chapter Eighteen
Universe: G1/IDW AU
Series: Crown the Empire
Characters: Optimus, First Aid, Metalhawk, Sky-Byte, Ultra Magnus, Springer, Jazz, Soundwave, Laserbeak, Starscream, Grimlock, Cyclonus, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings this chapter: None
Commission fic for NK
Mood Music: "Safe and Sound," Taylor Swift ft The Civil Wars
Oubliette
Chapter Eighteen
Optimus woke groggy with an intense feeling of weight to his frame. It was hard to leverage himself off the berth, and even harder to get his processor to focus. It felt as though he had to wade through a mire to find some semblance of coherency.
His systems reported a persistent need for recharge, though he had gotten a full cycle's rest like Ratchet was constantly yelling at him to do. Perhaps it was the fault of the inhibitors, keeping him from cycling down properly. He would nix their use tonight, Optimus decided.
A busy day awaited him, the first of which being his scheduled meeting with Onslaught. He would have lamented the earliness of it, but point of fact, it was nearly mid-afternoon. He had recharged far longer than he should have.
Optimus forced himself off the berth. He stumbled around the tiny habsuite, fumbled a cube of energon from the dispensary, and chugged it down without regard to taste. There was opportunity to flavor it, but considering all of the supplements Ratchet prescribed, there was no concealing the taste. Better to choke it down as fast as possible.
As the processor fog started to lift, he reviewed his plans for the day. Meeting with Onslaught, first and foremost. Then he needed to go over the plans for the move to Polyhex with Ultra Magnus along with the completion of integrating the two Autobot teams into one force. There would be a reshuffling of staff.
Optimus anticipated a lot of whining.
Beyond that, there was the matter of funeral arrangements. Optimus had received word that the offline Autobots had been tossed into a room and left to rust. It was unconscionable but unsurprising. Some had been stripped for parts, the dry datapad had read. Others were in appalling condition. Worse were the ones missing, ones Optimus knew the Decepticons had taken, but whose bodies were not present.
It was something he intended to address with Starscream as soon as negotiations with the Neutrals were done. If Starscream did not know, Optimus suspected Shockwave would. And Optimus would have his answers. Bad enough that the Decepticons had abused his Autobots while they were alive. Optimus would see them find peace in the Allspark.
The war had not granted much opportunity for caring for the dead. But they had the chance now and Optimus did not want to squander it. He also had plans to eventually build a massive memorial to commemorate those who had given their sparks, and to remind everyone of the heavy price paid.
Hopefully, it would help inspire everyone to work together. That it would shame those trying to cause issues. Millions upon millions of Cybertronians had died. Optimus would not let it happen again.
With a small sigh, Optimus finished off his energon. Clarity returned, leaving him with no more excuse to delay. He wouldn't be making a fool of himself at least.
Optimus subbed his datapads and left his quarters, partially surprised that Soundwave wasn't immediately lying in wait for him. He'd gotten so used to the quiet mech's morning greetings. Though it certainly wasn't required of Soundwave, Optimus just found himself unexpectedly disappointed.
Nevertheless, his chronometer reminded him that he was on the verge of being late. So Optimus picked up the pace and forced himself back into the world, dim as it was. They would need to find an anchor point for Cybertron soon, else they would be forever relying on Earth to sustain their planet.
He managed to make it to his scheduled meeting with Onslaught. The Combaticon commander had gone through the appropriate methods, submitting a request through Soundwave, and so Optimus was obligated to oblige. He had an inkling of what Onslaught intended but best to acquire confirmation.
Optimus departed the Xantium and met Onslaught on neutral ground, so to speak. They were outside the Decepticon command center, but the open area was a relief to Optimus.
More surprising was that Soundwave was there, waiting for them. So this was the reason Soundwave had not waited outside Optimus' door.
“Soundwave to witness,” he informed them as both Optimus and Onslaught gave him a curious look. “Per protocol.”
Ah. Optimus had nearly forgotten about that portion of the treaty.
He dipped his helm. “Thank you, Soundwave,” he said and redirected his attention to Onslaught. “Commander,” he acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”
“I do not wish to be a Decepticon,” Onslaught said, folding his hands behind his back. “Starscream has been made aware of this and ceded all rights to command over me. The loyalty coding has been stripped from myself and my team as a whole. We are free agents.”
“Congratulations,” Optimus replied and he meant it. He also assumed that his Autobots had something to do with Onslaught's freedom. “Am I to assume that you wish to petition to join the Autobots?”
Onslaught shook his helm. His visor flared before dimming. “No. I wish to be recognized as an established neutral and free agent. Not to join Metalhawk's ilk, but with the freedom to travel between the three factions and offer our services to whomever wishes it.”
“Mercenaries?” Optimus frowned behind his mask. They didn't have much of an economy.
“Of a sort. I am aware we have no monetary economy at the moment, but fuel and repairs and supplies are resources of worth,” Onslaught explained. “We are willing to trade our skills. Right now, we are also one of the few fighting units on this planet who are fully trained and fully repaired.”
He had a point, Optimus had to admit. Most of the Decepticons were either in the Decepticon medical center or imprisoned. As were most of the Autobots, at least those that had been of Prime's forces. Ultra Magnus had brought with him a team of seven or so Autobots, but they were not all soldiers and they were occupied with filling in the slots left empty by Optimus' forces and providing defense for the Autobots as a large. He had also left half his soldiers on Earth.
They were all overworked.
“A neutral party with an assorted selection of talents and a communication system that is unhackable,” Optimus murmured. A thought percolated at the back of his processor. “I think I may have something that would suit your skillset. Though I do ask, are you opposed to working separately?”
He was thinking, of course, of borrowing Swindle. Everyone was short on resources that couldn't be found on Cybertron, and it was no secret that Swindle had useful connections. Given the freedom to exploit them, Swindle would probably flourish and be less likely to cause trouble.
He also made a mental note to have Jazz keep an optic on Vortex. Optimus had heard enough rumors to be concerned. Though given how well Bluestreak had been treated, these rumors might very well be false. Still. Trust but verify. It was a creed that Jazz bore as well.
“No. You may approach them separately. So long as it doesn't conflict with any jobs we might have as a team, they are free agents,” Onslaught answered.
Soundwave stirred beside Optimus. “Blast Off opposed to Earth?”
Onslaught's visor gleamed with an undercurrent of humor. “You'll have to ask him that.”
“Fair enough.” Optimus understood immediately what Soundwave meant by that. A team was needed to go back to Earth to repair the space bridge from the other side.
Blast Off was the only living spaceworthy mech available. They could always take the Xantium as Optimus had originally planned, but a fully-functional team would be more productive. Not to mention that Blast Off was something of an engineer and Vortex knew his way around mechanics. The entire Combaticon team would be a formidable asset.
“Your terms are acceptable,” Optimus added. “Are you currently working for Starscream or are you seeking employment?”
“We're open for business.” A small laugh escaped the Combaticon commander. “And as it stands, when it comes down to it, I would prefer to work with Autobots.”
Optimus couldn't blame him for that one. “Understood. We actually have a few tasks that I think would suit your team. Contact Ultra Magnus. I'll have him prepare a few options for you.”
“Much obliged. Thank you, Optimus Prime, for this opportunity.” Onslaught tipped his helm in a nod and offered his hand to Optimus.
They shook.
“You're welcome. As a down payment, I also suggest you report to the Xantium's medbay. I know your team is in good repair, but it never hurts to have a fully-fledged medic give you a once-over,” Optimus offered.
Onslaught chuckled. “It can only help. I will inform my team. Thank you.” He tipped his helm toward Soundwave in acknowledgment. “Commander.”
“Title unnecessary. No current rank,” Soundwave replied.
Something in Onslaught's visor shifted. “My mistake,” he drawled. His field was perfectly neutral but Optimus suspected there was something deeper in the exchange.
Decepticon politics had always been far more complicated than Autobot ones.
Onslaught excused himself, leaving Optimus and Soundwave alone. “Should I ask what that parting comment was about?” Optimus asked as he turned toward Soundwave.
“Politics complicated,” Soundwave said at length. “Respect exists, but wariness remains. Onslaught, also, perceptive.”
Optimus cycled his optics. “Perceptive how?”
Soundwave shifted his weight, though Optimus could not tell if it was from discomfort or embarrassment. Soundwave had taken to keeping his field tightly reined which Optimus appreciated, but it also made the notoriously unreadable mech even more difficult to fathom.
“Similarities exist,” he said with an edge of someone who was admitting something. “Onslaught, quote, 'takes one to know one'.”
Well, that was frustratingly vague. Optimus suspected Soundwave was being so on purpose because he knew Soundwave was capable of articulating himself more clearly. Perhaps this was a topic that caused him some discomfort.
Best to let it drop for now. Optimus was well aware of topics that caused discomfort.
“I see,” he said and cycled a ventilation. “I am due a meeting with Ultra Magnus next. I trust you are accompanying me?”
“Affirmative.”
Well, Optimus supposed, they would have to get used to Soundwave's presence sooner or later. He could trust Ultra Magnus to hold his temper. It was Springer who was the wild card. Perhaps one of Ultra Magnus' other soldiers would be present instead.
“Then let us go.” Optimus turned away from the Decepticon compound and headed back to the Xantium. He'd spend the majority of the past few days traveling all around Iacon. “Magnus has never tolerated tardiness.”
Soundwave's chassis echoed a noise that might have been a chuckle. Or maybe Optimus imagined it.
0o0o0
Later that evening, Optimus dragged himself back to the Xantium, thinking only of energon and recharge and solutide, perhaps not even in that order. After all, tomorrow was set to be equally exhausting as he had the meeting with Metalhawk.
First Aid commed him the moment he set a pede on the entrance ramp, however. There was a long, shameful moment where Optimus actually considered ignoring him. However, he couldn't shake the possibility that it might be an emergency. He answered, and then sighed when First Aid asked him to come in for a check up.
“I was about to enter recharge, First Aid,” Optimus said as he continued into the ship, each pede dragging as though he didn't have the energy to spare to lift it.
“It will only take a second,” First Aid replied. His tone was both concerned and earnest. “Ratchet made me promise I'd get you in here.”
That sneaky... Optimus cycled a ventilation. “Very well. I'll be there in a moment.” Optimus closed off the comm and rubbed at his forehelm again. At least it would spare him the trouble of getting up early tomorrow to visit the medbay and its inhabitants.
He altered his course, aiming instead for the medbay. So much for collapsing onto his berth. At least First Aid's comm indicated that perhaps Ratchet was allowing himself some much-needed rest. Optimus could only hope. He didn't want to have to intervene.
The medbay was near the ramp at least so Optimus didn't have to detour very far. He did brace himself, however, for the inevitable assault to his field. Some of the recovering Autobots were incapable of restraining their fields, he'd come to learn, and it was none of it pleasant. So Optimus drew his own field tightly and cycled a ventilation before he entered the medbay.
The odor, at least, had improved. Less the pervasive stench of decay and rust and broken things, it was now crisp and medicinal and much, much quieter. No more emergency surgeries. No more frantic dashes to restrain patients who did not understand that they were safe now.
Every time Optimus walked through these doors, he experienced a fresh surge of loathing for Megatron. Sometimes, it carried over to the troops who'd willingly gone along with Megatron's misconduct as well.
Thank Primus they were Starscream's problem now and Optimus didn't have to struggle with what was legal, moral, or ethical. Because he didn't know if he could be an impartial judge right now. He honestly didn't know. He no longer had the Matrixs wisdom to draw upon either.
First Aid came into view, stepping out of one of the private rooms. What little Optimus sensed of his field was fatigue and grief, but his visor still lit upon sight of Optimus.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as the tickle of a scan was immediately tangible.
Optimus almost chuckled. First Aid had learned from his mentor very well. Ratchet tended to accompany all greetings with a reflexive scan.
“Ratchet didn't leave me much choice,” Optimus said, inclining his helm. “How are your patients?”
First Aid tensed, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. “I'm going to discharge Hound tomorrow. Jazz is taking custody of him. I have already released Mirage. And Grimlock has custody of Swoop. As for everyone else...” His visor turned bleak. “We need a processor specialist for Red Alert, and as much as I want nothing more to do with my former master, I need to talk to him to figure out how we can help Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. I was there for half of it and I still don't know what he did.”
First Aid's tension grew, his plating clamped so tightly to his understructure that he had to be in pain.
“Are they stable?”
“For now.” First Aid ex-vented slowly and lifted his helm. “Ratchet and I agreed to put them in stasis. It's better for their systems and their sparks. They could stay like that indefinitely...” He rolled his shoulders, causing his arm tires to set off into a creaking spin. “It's not ideal, but it's better than endless suffering. I don't even know how much they understand of what's going on.”
Optimus worked his intake. “It may be for the best,” he said. “Those three are the only patients who remain?”
“Yes. Ratchet released Perceptor this morning. He and Wheeljack are looking after him, but Ratchet doesn't see any reason to be concerned.” First Aid tilted his helm. “So if you let me get those scans, sir, you can be on your way, too.”
“Of course. Lead the way.” Optimus did not usually have a problem with medbays but for some reason today, it made him feel twitchy. Perhaps it was the fatigue.
He followed First Aid to a diagnostic room and sat in the only chair available for his frame size.
“It's only a few scans,” First Aid said as he tapped Optimus' wrist port in request for him to cycle it open. “I promise to be quick.”
Optimus sighed and allowed the panel to slide aside, First Aid opting to connect to the distal medical port with a datapad instead of his own cable. Optimus was relieved. While it was one violation Megatron had never forced on him while he was conscious, he still had an aversion to others being in his system.
Optimus tried to get comfortable and not twitch as he felt the internal tickle of First Aid's scans. He had a feeling neither he nor First Aid were going to like whatever First Aid uncovered.
“You are not recharging well, I see,” First Aid observed aloud. There was a hint of censure in his vocals. “You are using the inhibitors but not often enough.”
Optimus cycled a ventilation. “I do not like how foggy they leave my processor when I online.”
“So the lack of recharge is preferable?”
“Both are unacceptable. I have not found a workable solution.”
First Aid made a noncommittal noise and lapsed back into silence, going over the data the scanners were giving him. Optimus tried not to fidget like a youngling.
“You need more rest,” First Aid said after another moment.
Optimus almost laughed. “Tell Ratchet I will do so as soon as all of the political landmines have been uncovered. I need one more day.”
“I will let him know.” Humor touched First Aid's vocals for the first time.
The scan completed and Optimus braced himself for the disconnect. First Aid's touch was quick and professional, though there was little he could do to mitigate the after-effect of the scan. Optimus would feel as though his lines were crawling for a little while longer.
“You're healing at least,” First Add said as he scribbled something on the datapad. “Not as fast as we'd like, but I suspect the lack of rest and recharge is to blame. You're drinking the medical grade energon with the supplements Ratchet suggested?”
“I am.”
“It's a start,” First Aid observed and he made a few more notes before clicking off the datapad and subspacing it. “Thanks for coming in, sir. Hopefully this will help Ratchet rest easy, too. He worries. Even though he says he doesn't.”
Optimus smiled behind his mask. “I know, First Aid. I have known Ratchet for many, many centuries. Thank you for your support. And might I suggest that you get some rest of your own. No one is critical, yes?”
“Yes,” First Aid admitted, somewhat grudgingly. He clutched his datapad as though it were a physical support. “Though I really should--”
“You can set their berths to alert you if anything changes, yes?” Optimus continued. He would not see any of his medics fall apart for lack of rest and recharge. He would not.
First Aid's shoulders dipped a bit further as he cycled a ventilation. “Ratchet told me not to let you rationalize me into resting.”
Optimus managed a chuckle. “I suspect he told you that because he knew I would anyway. Set the monitors to alert you and rest, First Aid. You don't have to fall into a deep defrag, but you do have to remember you are no more healthier than the rest of us, even if you aren't as visibly scarred.”
First Aid's intake worked. His visor gleamed. His field wavered. He clutched his datapad tight enough that the metal creaked as he bowed his helm.
“Work is... easier,” he said, after a long moment, static lacing his glyphs. “It is a distraction I need right now, sir. But I will try to remember to take care of myself, too. After all, I am needed.”
“Yes,” Optimus said with a dip of his helm. “You most certainly are.”
There was a time Optimus Prime would have comforted one of his soldiers with a casual hand on the shoulder or upper back, those that invited such comfort at any rate. There was a time he would extend his field, allow all the wisdom and peace the Matrix offered to provide such to them as well. There was a time Optimus Prime could comfort just by being himself.
He hated, right now, that he could offer none of these things. And that he had no alternative solutions, or words to offer.
“Thank you, sir,” First Aid finally said and he hugged his datapad to his chestplate. “I, um, I need to get this data uploaded for Ratchet. And I did interrupt you on your way to recharge.”
It was a dismissal, as politely as First Aid could word one. Optimus understood. Sometimes, privacy was needed to pull oneself together.
He rose to his pedes slowly, well aware that his size often caused him to loom and as of late, tended to make his smaller Autobots flinch. Even Ratchet, one of his oldest and dearest friends, cringed if Optimus moved too quickly.
“Thank you for your care,” Optimus said with a dip of his helm.
First Aid could not smile, but there was a hint of appreciation in the short burst of his field. He turned and headed for the tiny medical officer's office, previously unoccupied, and Optimus excused himself from the medbay. He set an immediate course for his habsuite, feeling the weight of the fatigue on his shoulders.
Along with the guilt. Seeing First Aid in so much pain and being unable to help made him wonder just how much he deserved the loyalty of his troops.
Soon, Optimus had to remind himself. Soon the treaty discussions with the Neutrals would be complete, everyone would begin to rebuild in their selected locations, and they could all concentrate on healing.
He only had to get through the politics first.
0o0o0
A new day dawned and with it, their official meeting with the Neutrals. Optimus wouldn't claim that he was dreading it, but there was absolutely no excitement involved. There were far too many strong personalities getting together for his comfort. But the faster they got this done, the faster everyone could focus on the more important task of recovering and rebuilding.
Soundwave once again met him outside his habsuite with a cube of energon. It had become a routine and no matter how much Optimus told him it wasn't necessary, Soundwave persisted. Optimus stopped trying to convince him otherwise.
The cassette of choice today was Ravage, perched at Soundwave's pedes and regarding Optimus with an incisive look that felt assessing.
Optimus greeted them both, accepted the cube, and together, they headed toward the neutral location that had been selected for the meeting. It was in Iacon's central courtyard, firmly in Decepticon territory, but the location was both secure and open. None of the factions would feel trapped, there was plenty of room for escape, and there was plenty of room for all of the factions to bring as many members as they felt would be comfortable.
There were eleven mechs crowded around the meeting area with no furniture present. No one, apparently, was supposed to be comfortable.
On the Decepticon side was Grimlock, Starscream, Cyclonus and their new CMO, a flashy grounder by the name of Knock Out. Optimus had only seen him in passing, but something about the way the mech smirked made him think he and Ratchet would either become the best of snarky friends or worst enemies.
Metalhawk's second in command was a former Decepticon by the name of Sky-Byte (who had not in fact died as Ricochet aka Jazz had claimed) and his third was Skids, a mech who had been only vaguely familiar to Optimus until Jazz had pulled him aside and explained that Skids used to be an Autobot. Was in fact a former member of Jazz's Spec Ops division until he went missing. They thought him dead. Metalhawk's CMO was Ambulon, a mech with a shoddy paintjob and a perpetual frown.
Optimus brought with him Ultra Magnus, Jazz, and Ratchet. Soundwave tagged along as well, but he still bore no badge. He did not identify himself as a neutral. Ratchet, however, took one look at Knock Out and spun on a heelstrut, claiming he had better work to do than argue politics. Optimus didn't even try to convince him to stay. He would only be a comm call away if necessary.
“Well,” Starscream said as he planted his hands on his hips and looked down his olfactory sensor at a frowning Metalhawk, “since everyone is finally here, can we get this started and over with? I am busy.”
Optimus sighed. He had the feeling he was going to be spending most of his time as a peacemaker. “Starscream, a certain degree of politeness would be appreciated.”
“If you could remind Metalhawk of that, maybe we'd all get along.” Starscream sneered.
Optimus pinched his forehelm ridge. His helm was starting to ache and he suspected recharge shortage was not to blame. He felt Soundwave shift beside him.
Grimlock growled. Starscream cut him a look, but he folded his arms and said nothing further. Perhaps Grimlock had tamed him after all.
“I have been nothing but cordial,” Metalhawk said frostily. “But I also will not tolerate you casting aspersions on me or my people.”
Optimus held up both hands. “Gentlemechs, please. We're all exhausted. The faster we complete negotiations, the faster we can all move on to what is important.”
Silence descended but no one argued. Thank Primus.
“Very well,” Metalhawk said as he inclined his helm. “Now I take it that you two have a peaceful accord?”
“We won't negotiate unless we are certain that there is no risk of the Autobots and Decepticons returning to their war,” Sky-Byte added, his resonant vocals pleasing to the audials.
“I understand.” Optimus fought the urge to grit his denta. There was something rather snide in the Neutrals' tones. He understood Starscream's irritation all the sudden. “Yes, we have signed a treaty.”
Grimlock folded his arms over his chest, mimicking his second, though it had the effect of making him look larger. “Me Grimlock sign agreement. Autobots and Decepticons allies now.”
Optimus swung his gaze toward Grimlock. There must be a reason the mech had reverted to that speech pattern. He would ask later.
“Allies,” Metalhawk repeated as though the term were distasteful to him.
“It means that we outnumber you,” Starscream said, raising his vocals a touch so that they echoed in the courtyard. “That we are working hand in hand and you can't bully us into anything. We will not be forced off the planet we fought to protect.”
“You destroyed this planet!” Sky-Byte said, taking a harsh step forward. His plating flared and fluttered.
“I seem to remember you fighting alongside us,” Cyclonus said in a mild tone. His frown was the deepest of those present. “You may have discarded your badge, Sky-Byte, but that does not make you any less culpable.”
“We are all to blame,” Ultra Magnus said, his even tone matching Cyclonus' and easing the tension by a few degrees. “Those of us who stayed, those of us who left, we are all to blame. But we are here now to repair the damage we have done. Let us not worsen matters by fighting about the past.”
Sky-Byte fell back. Cyclonus' gaze dropped away. They were not mollified, but the issue was at least dropped. Optimus was immediately grateful for Ultra Magnus' ability to remain calm no matter what storm was passing over him.
“Grimlock is correct,” Optimus said after a cycled ventilation. “The Autobots and Decepticons will govern each other separately, but we are united when it comes to the care of Cybertron. With that in mind, Metalhawk, we do caution you to remember that you will be incapable of trying to force us away from our home.”
Sky-Byte growled warningly in his chassis but Metalhawk raised a hand, silencing him with a single look.
“Understood, Prime,” Metalhawk said with a minute dip of his helm. There was respect in it, but little concession. “As we are most interested in returning to our homeworld, it is in all of our best interests that we work together and come to an accord.”
“Then we agree.” Optimus looked toward Grimlock.
The Dinobot snuffled loudly but jerked his helm up. “Me Grimlock cooperate,” he said.
Some of the tension eased from the gathering. Grimlock kept his arms folded, but Starscream and Cyclonus relaxed by degrees. Knock Out, who had never tensed in the first place, smirked.
Of the Neutrals, Sky-Byte still looked on edge. Skids had effected a lazy disinterest that nearly matched Knock Out's own. Ambulon hadn't looked up from his datapad.
“Let's get down to business,” Starscream said, easily capturing everyone's attention. He waved one clawed hand in a circular gesture. “Iacon is ours. It belongs to the Decepticons. The Autobots have agreed to occupy Polyhex. Which means, Metalhawk, that you and yours can set up camp wherever you want, so long as it's not in one of those places.”
Metalhawk twitched, his frown deepening. There was little love lost between he and Starscream apparently. “How gracious of you. What of the space bridge?”
“It is in the process of being rebuilt,” Jazz said with a lazy drawl. He smiled, but no one returned it. “We've got our top mechs working on it. But rumor has it you might have a resource we can tap into.”
“Brainstorm,” Skids offered as he stretched his arms over his head, cables flexing and popping, almost as though he were showing off.
“Yeah,” Jazz said, visor shifting toward Skids as though he were measuring the former Autobot's worth. “Him. Word is he's good with a little direction. Well, we got plenty of direction.”
“The sharing of resources is the first important step in building bridges of good faith,” Metalhawk said with an agreeing hum. His winglets quivered as he cast Starscream an askance look. “I shall ask Brainstorm, but we are not a military unit, I can't command it of him.”
Skids grinned. “You have Perceptor, right? Then it's easy, boss. Just tell Stormy that the greatest analytic mind ever is working for the Autobots and he'll jet on over.” He chuckled and winked at Jazz.
“I will be sure to mention it,” Metalhawk said dryly. He tapped his fingers against his thigh armor. “Now what of energon?”
“We'll have more as soon as the space bridge is up and running. Right now, we have sufficient reserves to fuel every member of all three factions for the next month,” Starscream answered.
Sky-Byte tilted his helm. “Month?”
“Cybertron without solar cycles,” Soundwave said, speaking up for the first time. “Month, human definition.”
“We run on human time. We set our cycles to Earth, where all of our fuel production is,” Starscream clarified. “Tethering Cybertron to a sun is a future project, but we must consider immediate need first.”
“Interesting.” Sky-Byte made a thoughtful hum. “That is quite the difficult task but of great importance. We have many brethren who seek to return but without a stable orbit, Cybertron will not be able to support a growing population.”
Optimus nodded. “Yes. But let us focus on the present population first. Otherwise we might return to the same conditions that let to war in the first place.” He would not see a rush of Cybertronians return to the planet only to have them squabble over resources.
Optimus would leave before he returned to war. Barring that, he would rather offline.
“Of course,” Metalhawk said and he lifted his hands, pressing his palms together as he addressed Optimus directly. “Now I am given to understand you are in need of a processor specialist?”
Optimus' optics narrowed. “State the source of your information.”
“We have been sharing medics, Prime. Also, your security director's condition is no secret.” Metalhawk inclined his helm. “I have learned of Trepan's fate. As it just so happens, I have an associate of his amongst my crew. One of his former students.”
Starscream snorted. “And what concession will he cost us?”
“None.” Metalhawk smiled as he gestured with one hand. “I'll consider it a gesture of good will. Say the word and I'll have Chromedome examine Red Alert. I cannot guarantee a cure, but he may be able to help.”
Optimus glanced at Ultra Magnus who inclined his helm in a barely registered motion. Optimus did not want to appear overeager. He wanted to help Red Alert, but he couldn't afford to do so at all costs.
“Very well,” Optimus said. “We accept your assistance in this matter as well.” Building bridges, after all. Wasn't that what Cyclonus had said?
“Are there any other matters that need to be addressed?” Ultra Magnus asked as he looked up from his datapad.
Optimus wasn't sure which of the two was taking more extensive notes: Ultra Magnus or Soundwave. And Ravage, Optimus was certain, was recording the whole thing. Which might prove beneficial in the future if anyone tried to make a false claim.
Optimus glanced at Metalhawk and Grimlock, but neither leader offered a topic for consideration. It seemed they had exhausted all of the important details. Smaller matters could be discussed at a later time. Or perhaps they could arrange some sort of weekly court for the three factions to address concerns with each other?
Yes, Optimus would propose that to both Metalhawk and Grimlock. But later, when he could do so separately. Fatigue was rearing its ugly helm and he was quite done with negotiations. He felt he hadn't been able to think clearly for the past week and all he wanted to do was not navigate a political minefield for a day.
Perhaps he might even indulge in that rest Ratchet kept trying to inflict upon him.
“It seems there are not,” Optimus said at length. “Then we are at an accord? We will all agree to sign a treaty?”
No one argued. Optimus dared cycle a ventilation of relief.
He stepped back and watched Ultra Magnus distribute copies of the three-faction treaty to Grimlock and Metalhawk. The Neutrals were the only ones to look it over as the Autobots and Decepticons had already discussed it at length. Unless Metalhawk chose to contest a stipulation, there was nothing they felt needed changing.
Optimus rubbed at his forehelm. His entire frame ached. He wanted to rub at his lower backstrut as well, but feared it would be seen as a weakness. His field was prickly from the effort of holding it in, but even Optimus knew better than to let anyone get a taste of his subconscious. It was not a pleasant sensation.
He felt a presence nearby and glanced to the side, noticing that Soundwave had inched closer to him, well within field-contact distance, but not touching him. Nor had he reached out with the intention to read Optimus' field. He felt both silent guardian and silent support, not unlike Jazz on Optimus' other side.
It was almost odd how out of everyone, Soundwave had been the most persistent presence in Optimus' life since Megatron's death and the abrupt end to Autobot captivity.
“This will do,” Metalhawk said finally, though there was a reluctance in his tone. Optimus doubted it had anything to do with the treaty and more to do with the fact he was agreeing to work with Autobots and Decepticons.
All three faction leaders signed the treaty and with that, legally, they were allies. They were legally sharing Cybertron. They were legally obligated to help each other.
Primus help them all.
The meeting broke apart soon after.
Metalhawk departed, promising to contact Ratchet later in order to help Red Alert. Grimlock, too, stomped off claiming that he had to check on Swoop. Starscream was the one who approached the Autobots afterward, though he waited until Ultra Magnus excused himself to properly file the legal documents. Cyclonus and Knock Out were also dismissed.
“What ya want, Screamer?” Jazz asked, tone casual but the gleam to his visor proving that he was watching the Seeker like a turbohawk.
Starscream gave him a scathing look. “I have requested repeatedly that you not call me that.”
“Where's the fun in that?”
“Jazz,” Optimus warned.
His Special Ops commander grinned and tipped his helm in a shallow bow. “My mistake, Air Commander Starscream. What brought ya slithering over?”
Starscream twitched, but mercifully, he didn't engage. He focused on Optimus instead. “Since I have no little spies at the moment, Prime, I'm coming to you. I can't be the only one who doesn't trust Metalhawk any further than I can throw him. We need to be careful.”
Optimus folded his arms over his chest. “I am aware of that. But we have the upperhand right now. What makes you think Metalhawk will risk that?”
“Key phrase: right now,” Soundwave said and he tilted his helm, visor regarding Starscream with interest. “Overall, Neutrals outnumber Autobots and Decepticons. Two to one.”
Starscream nodded and jabbed a thumb toward Soundwave. “The walking boombox is right. If we don't have a handle by the time all those cowards come crawling back to Cybertron, they'll overrun us. And then see if they don't try to lock us all up, Bot and Con.”
He had a point, as much as it pained Optimus to admit. It was also a fair theory. The Neutrals unequivocally blamed Autobot and Decepticon alike. There had been a sharp sense of anger in Metalhawk's words and concessions, as though he were barely keeping himself from doing damage. He had no love for any mech not Neutral.
Optimus suspected the entire negotiation would have gone a lot differently if Metalhawk had had better support. He would have been less likely to concede.
“We'll keep an optic on him,” Jazz said, all trace of teasing gone from his vocals. The hard edge to his visor hearkened back to the war room and plots of infiltrating the Nemesis.
Optimus cycled a ventilation. “Nothing that would violate the terms of the treaty, Jazz.”
“Of course not, boss bot. What kinda amateur do ya think I am?” Jazz beamed and strutted right up to Soundwave, knocking his knuckles against his dock. “Whaddya say, Sounders? Wanna loan me a tiny bot or two?”
Ravage rustled her armor plates. The color in Soundwave's visor flattened.
“Discussion later,” he said in a dark tone. “Soundwave will consider.”
Jazz barked a laugh. “That's what I love about ya, Soundwave. Such a sense of humor.” He half-turned toward Optimus and half-lit his visor, Jazz's version of a wink. “Don't worry. We'll make sure to catch any trouble Metalhawk might try to cause.”
“Be sure that you do,” Starscream said. He tossed Optimus a look and then kicked on his thrusters, rising into the air. “I'm not losing this chance, Prime,” he said, and then he was gone, shooting up into the sky with a distant gleam of metal.
“Always has to put on a show,” Jazz muttered as he crossed his arms over his bumper. He shook his helm. “Well, guess that means I better get going, too. Things to do. Ops to arrange. You know how it is.” He lifted a shoulder toward Soundwave. “Call me later, yeah?”
“Possibility exists.”
Jazz barked a laugh, tossed Optimus a salute, and scampered off toward the Xantium, and the makeshift tents surrounding it. The next couple of days would be filled with packing up and shipping out as the Autobots prepared to move to Polyhex.
Optimus turned toward Soundwave who seemed to be waiting for him. “Well, I do not know about you, but I am beyond exhausted. I believe I'll retire for the rest of the day. You are more than welcome to do so yourself.” Point of fact, Optimus didn't even know where Soundwave was recharging. Perhaps still in his quarters in the Decepticon stronghold?
“Understood,” Soundwave said. He fell into step beside Optimus as Optimus turned toward the Xantium as well.
Optimus cycled a ventilation, feeling some of the tension ease out of him. The political work was partially done. Now would come the easier part of rebuilding. He dared believe that meant peace was at hand.
He never thought he'd lived to see it. He'd hoped. He'd prayed. But a part of him had always feared he wouldn't survive the war.
“Future bright,” Soundwave intoned as he matched Optimus step for step.
Optimus glanced over at him, finding that Soundwave was looking down at Ravage, something in the look hinting of fondness.
“Yes,” Optimus agreed with a small smile behind his mask. “The future is looking very bright indeed.”
****
a/n: And that's the end of Oubliette, but not the end of the story, nor the end of Crown the Empire.
We have two sequels coming up next, Reign and Salvage, which will run concurrently. I will either start posting in January or February, depending on if I can get them finished in time.
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading! This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/318258.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Series: Crown the Empire
Characters: Optimus, First Aid, Metalhawk, Sky-Byte, Ultra Magnus, Springer, Jazz, Soundwave, Laserbeak, Starscream, Grimlock, Cyclonus, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings this chapter: None
Commission fic for NK
Mood Music: "Safe and Sound," Taylor Swift ft The Civil Wars
Oubliette
Chapter Eighteen
Optimus woke groggy with an intense feeling of weight to his frame. It was hard to leverage himself off the berth, and even harder to get his processor to focus. It felt as though he had to wade through a mire to find some semblance of coherency.
His systems reported a persistent need for recharge, though he had gotten a full cycle's rest like Ratchet was constantly yelling at him to do. Perhaps it was the fault of the inhibitors, keeping him from cycling down properly. He would nix their use tonight, Optimus decided.
A busy day awaited him, the first of which being his scheduled meeting with Onslaught. He would have lamented the earliness of it, but point of fact, it was nearly mid-afternoon. He had recharged far longer than he should have.
Optimus forced himself off the berth. He stumbled around the tiny habsuite, fumbled a cube of energon from the dispensary, and chugged it down without regard to taste. There was opportunity to flavor it, but considering all of the supplements Ratchet prescribed, there was no concealing the taste. Better to choke it down as fast as possible.
As the processor fog started to lift, he reviewed his plans for the day. Meeting with Onslaught, first and foremost. Then he needed to go over the plans for the move to Polyhex with Ultra Magnus along with the completion of integrating the two Autobot teams into one force. There would be a reshuffling of staff.
Optimus anticipated a lot of whining.
Beyond that, there was the matter of funeral arrangements. Optimus had received word that the offline Autobots had been tossed into a room and left to rust. It was unconscionable but unsurprising. Some had been stripped for parts, the dry datapad had read. Others were in appalling condition. Worse were the ones missing, ones Optimus knew the Decepticons had taken, but whose bodies were not present.
It was something he intended to address with Starscream as soon as negotiations with the Neutrals were done. If Starscream did not know, Optimus suspected Shockwave would. And Optimus would have his answers. Bad enough that the Decepticons had abused his Autobots while they were alive. Optimus would see them find peace in the Allspark.
The war had not granted much opportunity for caring for the dead. But they had the chance now and Optimus did not want to squander it. He also had plans to eventually build a massive memorial to commemorate those who had given their sparks, and to remind everyone of the heavy price paid.
Hopefully, it would help inspire everyone to work together. That it would shame those trying to cause issues. Millions upon millions of Cybertronians had died. Optimus would not let it happen again.
With a small sigh, Optimus finished off his energon. Clarity returned, leaving him with no more excuse to delay. He wouldn't be making a fool of himself at least.
Optimus subbed his datapads and left his quarters, partially surprised that Soundwave wasn't immediately lying in wait for him. He'd gotten so used to the quiet mech's morning greetings. Though it certainly wasn't required of Soundwave, Optimus just found himself unexpectedly disappointed.
Nevertheless, his chronometer reminded him that he was on the verge of being late. So Optimus picked up the pace and forced himself back into the world, dim as it was. They would need to find an anchor point for Cybertron soon, else they would be forever relying on Earth to sustain their planet.
He managed to make it to his scheduled meeting with Onslaught. The Combaticon commander had gone through the appropriate methods, submitting a request through Soundwave, and so Optimus was obligated to oblige. He had an inkling of what Onslaught intended but best to acquire confirmation.
Optimus departed the Xantium and met Onslaught on neutral ground, so to speak. They were outside the Decepticon command center, but the open area was a relief to Optimus.
More surprising was that Soundwave was there, waiting for them. So this was the reason Soundwave had not waited outside Optimus' door.
“Soundwave to witness,” he informed them as both Optimus and Onslaught gave him a curious look. “Per protocol.”
Ah. Optimus had nearly forgotten about that portion of the treaty.
He dipped his helm. “Thank you, Soundwave,” he said and redirected his attention to Onslaught. “Commander,” he acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”
“I do not wish to be a Decepticon,” Onslaught said, folding his hands behind his back. “Starscream has been made aware of this and ceded all rights to command over me. The loyalty coding has been stripped from myself and my team as a whole. We are free agents.”
“Congratulations,” Optimus replied and he meant it. He also assumed that his Autobots had something to do with Onslaught's freedom. “Am I to assume that you wish to petition to join the Autobots?”
Onslaught shook his helm. His visor flared before dimming. “No. I wish to be recognized as an established neutral and free agent. Not to join Metalhawk's ilk, but with the freedom to travel between the three factions and offer our services to whomever wishes it.”
“Mercenaries?” Optimus frowned behind his mask. They didn't have much of an economy.
“Of a sort. I am aware we have no monetary economy at the moment, but fuel and repairs and supplies are resources of worth,” Onslaught explained. “We are willing to trade our skills. Right now, we are also one of the few fighting units on this planet who are fully trained and fully repaired.”
He had a point, Optimus had to admit. Most of the Decepticons were either in the Decepticon medical center or imprisoned. As were most of the Autobots, at least those that had been of Prime's forces. Ultra Magnus had brought with him a team of seven or so Autobots, but they were not all soldiers and they were occupied with filling in the slots left empty by Optimus' forces and providing defense for the Autobots as a large. He had also left half his soldiers on Earth.
They were all overworked.
“A neutral party with an assorted selection of talents and a communication system that is unhackable,” Optimus murmured. A thought percolated at the back of his processor. “I think I may have something that would suit your skillset. Though I do ask, are you opposed to working separately?”
He was thinking, of course, of borrowing Swindle. Everyone was short on resources that couldn't be found on Cybertron, and it was no secret that Swindle had useful connections. Given the freedom to exploit them, Swindle would probably flourish and be less likely to cause trouble.
He also made a mental note to have Jazz keep an optic on Vortex. Optimus had heard enough rumors to be concerned. Though given how well Bluestreak had been treated, these rumors might very well be false. Still. Trust but verify. It was a creed that Jazz bore as well.
“No. You may approach them separately. So long as it doesn't conflict with any jobs we might have as a team, they are free agents,” Onslaught answered.
Soundwave stirred beside Optimus. “Blast Off opposed to Earth?”
Onslaught's visor gleamed with an undercurrent of humor. “You'll have to ask him that.”
“Fair enough.” Optimus understood immediately what Soundwave meant by that. A team was needed to go back to Earth to repair the space bridge from the other side.
Blast Off was the only living spaceworthy mech available. They could always take the Xantium as Optimus had originally planned, but a fully-functional team would be more productive. Not to mention that Blast Off was something of an engineer and Vortex knew his way around mechanics. The entire Combaticon team would be a formidable asset.
“Your terms are acceptable,” Optimus added. “Are you currently working for Starscream or are you seeking employment?”
“We're open for business.” A small laugh escaped the Combaticon commander. “And as it stands, when it comes down to it, I would prefer to work with Autobots.”
Optimus couldn't blame him for that one. “Understood. We actually have a few tasks that I think would suit your team. Contact Ultra Magnus. I'll have him prepare a few options for you.”
“Much obliged. Thank you, Optimus Prime, for this opportunity.” Onslaught tipped his helm in a nod and offered his hand to Optimus.
They shook.
“You're welcome. As a down payment, I also suggest you report to the Xantium's medbay. I know your team is in good repair, but it never hurts to have a fully-fledged medic give you a once-over,” Optimus offered.
Onslaught chuckled. “It can only help. I will inform my team. Thank you.” He tipped his helm toward Soundwave in acknowledgment. “Commander.”
“Title unnecessary. No current rank,” Soundwave replied.
Something in Onslaught's visor shifted. “My mistake,” he drawled. His field was perfectly neutral but Optimus suspected there was something deeper in the exchange.
Decepticon politics had always been far more complicated than Autobot ones.
Onslaught excused himself, leaving Optimus and Soundwave alone. “Should I ask what that parting comment was about?” Optimus asked as he turned toward Soundwave.
“Politics complicated,” Soundwave said at length. “Respect exists, but wariness remains. Onslaught, also, perceptive.”
Optimus cycled his optics. “Perceptive how?”
Soundwave shifted his weight, though Optimus could not tell if it was from discomfort or embarrassment. Soundwave had taken to keeping his field tightly reined which Optimus appreciated, but it also made the notoriously unreadable mech even more difficult to fathom.
“Similarities exist,” he said with an edge of someone who was admitting something. “Onslaught, quote, 'takes one to know one'.”
Well, that was frustratingly vague. Optimus suspected Soundwave was being so on purpose because he knew Soundwave was capable of articulating himself more clearly. Perhaps this was a topic that caused him some discomfort.
Best to let it drop for now. Optimus was well aware of topics that caused discomfort.
“I see,” he said and cycled a ventilation. “I am due a meeting with Ultra Magnus next. I trust you are accompanying me?”
“Affirmative.”
Well, Optimus supposed, they would have to get used to Soundwave's presence sooner or later. He could trust Ultra Magnus to hold his temper. It was Springer who was the wild card. Perhaps one of Ultra Magnus' other soldiers would be present instead.
“Then let us go.” Optimus turned away from the Decepticon compound and headed back to the Xantium. He'd spend the majority of the past few days traveling all around Iacon. “Magnus has never tolerated tardiness.”
Soundwave's chassis echoed a noise that might have been a chuckle. Or maybe Optimus imagined it.
0o0o0
Later that evening, Optimus dragged himself back to the Xantium, thinking only of energon and recharge and solutide, perhaps not even in that order. After all, tomorrow was set to be equally exhausting as he had the meeting with Metalhawk.
First Aid commed him the moment he set a pede on the entrance ramp, however. There was a long, shameful moment where Optimus actually considered ignoring him. However, he couldn't shake the possibility that it might be an emergency. He answered, and then sighed when First Aid asked him to come in for a check up.
“I was about to enter recharge, First Aid,” Optimus said as he continued into the ship, each pede dragging as though he didn't have the energy to spare to lift it.
“It will only take a second,” First Aid replied. His tone was both concerned and earnest. “Ratchet made me promise I'd get you in here.”
That sneaky... Optimus cycled a ventilation. “Very well. I'll be there in a moment.” Optimus closed off the comm and rubbed at his forehelm again. At least it would spare him the trouble of getting up early tomorrow to visit the medbay and its inhabitants.
He altered his course, aiming instead for the medbay. So much for collapsing onto his berth. At least First Aid's comm indicated that perhaps Ratchet was allowing himself some much-needed rest. Optimus could only hope. He didn't want to have to intervene.
The medbay was near the ramp at least so Optimus didn't have to detour very far. He did brace himself, however, for the inevitable assault to his field. Some of the recovering Autobots were incapable of restraining their fields, he'd come to learn, and it was none of it pleasant. So Optimus drew his own field tightly and cycled a ventilation before he entered the medbay.
The odor, at least, had improved. Less the pervasive stench of decay and rust and broken things, it was now crisp and medicinal and much, much quieter. No more emergency surgeries. No more frantic dashes to restrain patients who did not understand that they were safe now.
Every time Optimus walked through these doors, he experienced a fresh surge of loathing for Megatron. Sometimes, it carried over to the troops who'd willingly gone along with Megatron's misconduct as well.
Thank Primus they were Starscream's problem now and Optimus didn't have to struggle with what was legal, moral, or ethical. Because he didn't know if he could be an impartial judge right now. He honestly didn't know. He no longer had the Matrixs wisdom to draw upon either.
First Aid came into view, stepping out of one of the private rooms. What little Optimus sensed of his field was fatigue and grief, but his visor still lit upon sight of Optimus.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as the tickle of a scan was immediately tangible.
Optimus almost chuckled. First Aid had learned from his mentor very well. Ratchet tended to accompany all greetings with a reflexive scan.
“Ratchet didn't leave me much choice,” Optimus said, inclining his helm. “How are your patients?”
First Aid tensed, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. “I'm going to discharge Hound tomorrow. Jazz is taking custody of him. I have already released Mirage. And Grimlock has custody of Swoop. As for everyone else...” His visor turned bleak. “We need a processor specialist for Red Alert, and as much as I want nothing more to do with my former master, I need to talk to him to figure out how we can help Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. I was there for half of it and I still don't know what he did.”
First Aid's tension grew, his plating clamped so tightly to his understructure that he had to be in pain.
“Are they stable?”
“For now.” First Aid ex-vented slowly and lifted his helm. “Ratchet and I agreed to put them in stasis. It's better for their systems and their sparks. They could stay like that indefinitely...” He rolled his shoulders, causing his arm tires to set off into a creaking spin. “It's not ideal, but it's better than endless suffering. I don't even know how much they understand of what's going on.”
Optimus worked his intake. “It may be for the best,” he said. “Those three are the only patients who remain?”
“Yes. Ratchet released Perceptor this morning. He and Wheeljack are looking after him, but Ratchet doesn't see any reason to be concerned.” First Aid tilted his helm. “So if you let me get those scans, sir, you can be on your way, too.”
“Of course. Lead the way.” Optimus did not usually have a problem with medbays but for some reason today, it made him feel twitchy. Perhaps it was the fatigue.
He followed First Aid to a diagnostic room and sat in the only chair available for his frame size.
“It's only a few scans,” First Aid said as he tapped Optimus' wrist port in request for him to cycle it open. “I promise to be quick.”
Optimus sighed and allowed the panel to slide aside, First Aid opting to connect to the distal medical port with a datapad instead of his own cable. Optimus was relieved. While it was one violation Megatron had never forced on him while he was conscious, he still had an aversion to others being in his system.
Optimus tried to get comfortable and not twitch as he felt the internal tickle of First Aid's scans. He had a feeling neither he nor First Aid were going to like whatever First Aid uncovered.
“You are not recharging well, I see,” First Aid observed aloud. There was a hint of censure in his vocals. “You are using the inhibitors but not often enough.”
Optimus cycled a ventilation. “I do not like how foggy they leave my processor when I online.”
“So the lack of recharge is preferable?”
“Both are unacceptable. I have not found a workable solution.”
First Aid made a noncommittal noise and lapsed back into silence, going over the data the scanners were giving him. Optimus tried not to fidget like a youngling.
“You need more rest,” First Aid said after another moment.
Optimus almost laughed. “Tell Ratchet I will do so as soon as all of the political landmines have been uncovered. I need one more day.”
“I will let him know.” Humor touched First Aid's vocals for the first time.
The scan completed and Optimus braced himself for the disconnect. First Aid's touch was quick and professional, though there was little he could do to mitigate the after-effect of the scan. Optimus would feel as though his lines were crawling for a little while longer.
“You're healing at least,” First Add said as he scribbled something on the datapad. “Not as fast as we'd like, but I suspect the lack of rest and recharge is to blame. You're drinking the medical grade energon with the supplements Ratchet suggested?”
“I am.”
“It's a start,” First Aid observed and he made a few more notes before clicking off the datapad and subspacing it. “Thanks for coming in, sir. Hopefully this will help Ratchet rest easy, too. He worries. Even though he says he doesn't.”
Optimus smiled behind his mask. “I know, First Aid. I have known Ratchet for many, many centuries. Thank you for your support. And might I suggest that you get some rest of your own. No one is critical, yes?”
“Yes,” First Aid admitted, somewhat grudgingly. He clutched his datapad as though it were a physical support. “Though I really should--”
“You can set their berths to alert you if anything changes, yes?” Optimus continued. He would not see any of his medics fall apart for lack of rest and recharge. He would not.
First Aid's shoulders dipped a bit further as he cycled a ventilation. “Ratchet told me not to let you rationalize me into resting.”
Optimus managed a chuckle. “I suspect he told you that because he knew I would anyway. Set the monitors to alert you and rest, First Aid. You don't have to fall into a deep defrag, but you do have to remember you are no more healthier than the rest of us, even if you aren't as visibly scarred.”
First Aid's intake worked. His visor gleamed. His field wavered. He clutched his datapad tight enough that the metal creaked as he bowed his helm.
“Work is... easier,” he said, after a long moment, static lacing his glyphs. “It is a distraction I need right now, sir. But I will try to remember to take care of myself, too. After all, I am needed.”
“Yes,” Optimus said with a dip of his helm. “You most certainly are.”
There was a time Optimus Prime would have comforted one of his soldiers with a casual hand on the shoulder or upper back, those that invited such comfort at any rate. There was a time he would extend his field, allow all the wisdom and peace the Matrix offered to provide such to them as well. There was a time Optimus Prime could comfort just by being himself.
He hated, right now, that he could offer none of these things. And that he had no alternative solutions, or words to offer.
“Thank you, sir,” First Aid finally said and he hugged his datapad to his chestplate. “I, um, I need to get this data uploaded for Ratchet. And I did interrupt you on your way to recharge.”
It was a dismissal, as politely as First Aid could word one. Optimus understood. Sometimes, privacy was needed to pull oneself together.
He rose to his pedes slowly, well aware that his size often caused him to loom and as of late, tended to make his smaller Autobots flinch. Even Ratchet, one of his oldest and dearest friends, cringed if Optimus moved too quickly.
“Thank you for your care,” Optimus said with a dip of his helm.
First Aid could not smile, but there was a hint of appreciation in the short burst of his field. He turned and headed for the tiny medical officer's office, previously unoccupied, and Optimus excused himself from the medbay. He set an immediate course for his habsuite, feeling the weight of the fatigue on his shoulders.
Along with the guilt. Seeing First Aid in so much pain and being unable to help made him wonder just how much he deserved the loyalty of his troops.
Soon, Optimus had to remind himself. Soon the treaty discussions with the Neutrals would be complete, everyone would begin to rebuild in their selected locations, and they could all concentrate on healing.
He only had to get through the politics first.
0o0o0
A new day dawned and with it, their official meeting with the Neutrals. Optimus wouldn't claim that he was dreading it, but there was absolutely no excitement involved. There were far too many strong personalities getting together for his comfort. But the faster they got this done, the faster everyone could focus on the more important task of recovering and rebuilding.
Soundwave once again met him outside his habsuite with a cube of energon. It had become a routine and no matter how much Optimus told him it wasn't necessary, Soundwave persisted. Optimus stopped trying to convince him otherwise.
The cassette of choice today was Ravage, perched at Soundwave's pedes and regarding Optimus with an incisive look that felt assessing.
Optimus greeted them both, accepted the cube, and together, they headed toward the neutral location that had been selected for the meeting. It was in Iacon's central courtyard, firmly in Decepticon territory, but the location was both secure and open. None of the factions would feel trapped, there was plenty of room for escape, and there was plenty of room for all of the factions to bring as many members as they felt would be comfortable.
There were eleven mechs crowded around the meeting area with no furniture present. No one, apparently, was supposed to be comfortable.
On the Decepticon side was Grimlock, Starscream, Cyclonus and their new CMO, a flashy grounder by the name of Knock Out. Optimus had only seen him in passing, but something about the way the mech smirked made him think he and Ratchet would either become the best of snarky friends or worst enemies.
Metalhawk's second in command was a former Decepticon by the name of Sky-Byte (who had not in fact died as Ricochet aka Jazz had claimed) and his third was Skids, a mech who had been only vaguely familiar to Optimus until Jazz had pulled him aside and explained that Skids used to be an Autobot. Was in fact a former member of Jazz's Spec Ops division until he went missing. They thought him dead. Metalhawk's CMO was Ambulon, a mech with a shoddy paintjob and a perpetual frown.
Optimus brought with him Ultra Magnus, Jazz, and Ratchet. Soundwave tagged along as well, but he still bore no badge. He did not identify himself as a neutral. Ratchet, however, took one look at Knock Out and spun on a heelstrut, claiming he had better work to do than argue politics. Optimus didn't even try to convince him to stay. He would only be a comm call away if necessary.
“Well,” Starscream said as he planted his hands on his hips and looked down his olfactory sensor at a frowning Metalhawk, “since everyone is finally here, can we get this started and over with? I am busy.”
Optimus sighed. He had the feeling he was going to be spending most of his time as a peacemaker. “Starscream, a certain degree of politeness would be appreciated.”
“If you could remind Metalhawk of that, maybe we'd all get along.” Starscream sneered.
Optimus pinched his forehelm ridge. His helm was starting to ache and he suspected recharge shortage was not to blame. He felt Soundwave shift beside him.
Grimlock growled. Starscream cut him a look, but he folded his arms and said nothing further. Perhaps Grimlock had tamed him after all.
“I have been nothing but cordial,” Metalhawk said frostily. “But I also will not tolerate you casting aspersions on me or my people.”
Optimus held up both hands. “Gentlemechs, please. We're all exhausted. The faster we complete negotiations, the faster we can all move on to what is important.”
Silence descended but no one argued. Thank Primus.
“Very well,” Metalhawk said as he inclined his helm. “Now I take it that you two have a peaceful accord?”
“We won't negotiate unless we are certain that there is no risk of the Autobots and Decepticons returning to their war,” Sky-Byte added, his resonant vocals pleasing to the audials.
“I understand.” Optimus fought the urge to grit his denta. There was something rather snide in the Neutrals' tones. He understood Starscream's irritation all the sudden. “Yes, we have signed a treaty.”
Grimlock folded his arms over his chest, mimicking his second, though it had the effect of making him look larger. “Me Grimlock sign agreement. Autobots and Decepticons allies now.”
Optimus swung his gaze toward Grimlock. There must be a reason the mech had reverted to that speech pattern. He would ask later.
“Allies,” Metalhawk repeated as though the term were distasteful to him.
“It means that we outnumber you,” Starscream said, raising his vocals a touch so that they echoed in the courtyard. “That we are working hand in hand and you can't bully us into anything. We will not be forced off the planet we fought to protect.”
“You destroyed this planet!” Sky-Byte said, taking a harsh step forward. His plating flared and fluttered.
“I seem to remember you fighting alongside us,” Cyclonus said in a mild tone. His frown was the deepest of those present. “You may have discarded your badge, Sky-Byte, but that does not make you any less culpable.”
“We are all to blame,” Ultra Magnus said, his even tone matching Cyclonus' and easing the tension by a few degrees. “Those of us who stayed, those of us who left, we are all to blame. But we are here now to repair the damage we have done. Let us not worsen matters by fighting about the past.”
Sky-Byte fell back. Cyclonus' gaze dropped away. They were not mollified, but the issue was at least dropped. Optimus was immediately grateful for Ultra Magnus' ability to remain calm no matter what storm was passing over him.
“Grimlock is correct,” Optimus said after a cycled ventilation. “The Autobots and Decepticons will govern each other separately, but we are united when it comes to the care of Cybertron. With that in mind, Metalhawk, we do caution you to remember that you will be incapable of trying to force us away from our home.”
Sky-Byte growled warningly in his chassis but Metalhawk raised a hand, silencing him with a single look.
“Understood, Prime,” Metalhawk said with a minute dip of his helm. There was respect in it, but little concession. “As we are most interested in returning to our homeworld, it is in all of our best interests that we work together and come to an accord.”
“Then we agree.” Optimus looked toward Grimlock.
The Dinobot snuffled loudly but jerked his helm up. “Me Grimlock cooperate,” he said.
Some of the tension eased from the gathering. Grimlock kept his arms folded, but Starscream and Cyclonus relaxed by degrees. Knock Out, who had never tensed in the first place, smirked.
Of the Neutrals, Sky-Byte still looked on edge. Skids had effected a lazy disinterest that nearly matched Knock Out's own. Ambulon hadn't looked up from his datapad.
“Let's get down to business,” Starscream said, easily capturing everyone's attention. He waved one clawed hand in a circular gesture. “Iacon is ours. It belongs to the Decepticons. The Autobots have agreed to occupy Polyhex. Which means, Metalhawk, that you and yours can set up camp wherever you want, so long as it's not in one of those places.”
Metalhawk twitched, his frown deepening. There was little love lost between he and Starscream apparently. “How gracious of you. What of the space bridge?”
“It is in the process of being rebuilt,” Jazz said with a lazy drawl. He smiled, but no one returned it. “We've got our top mechs working on it. But rumor has it you might have a resource we can tap into.”
“Brainstorm,” Skids offered as he stretched his arms over his head, cables flexing and popping, almost as though he were showing off.
“Yeah,” Jazz said, visor shifting toward Skids as though he were measuring the former Autobot's worth. “Him. Word is he's good with a little direction. Well, we got plenty of direction.”
“The sharing of resources is the first important step in building bridges of good faith,” Metalhawk said with an agreeing hum. His winglets quivered as he cast Starscream an askance look. “I shall ask Brainstorm, but we are not a military unit, I can't command it of him.”
Skids grinned. “You have Perceptor, right? Then it's easy, boss. Just tell Stormy that the greatest analytic mind ever is working for the Autobots and he'll jet on over.” He chuckled and winked at Jazz.
“I will be sure to mention it,” Metalhawk said dryly. He tapped his fingers against his thigh armor. “Now what of energon?”
“We'll have more as soon as the space bridge is up and running. Right now, we have sufficient reserves to fuel every member of all three factions for the next month,” Starscream answered.
Sky-Byte tilted his helm. “Month?”
“Cybertron without solar cycles,” Soundwave said, speaking up for the first time. “Month, human definition.”
“We run on human time. We set our cycles to Earth, where all of our fuel production is,” Starscream clarified. “Tethering Cybertron to a sun is a future project, but we must consider immediate need first.”
“Interesting.” Sky-Byte made a thoughtful hum. “That is quite the difficult task but of great importance. We have many brethren who seek to return but without a stable orbit, Cybertron will not be able to support a growing population.”
Optimus nodded. “Yes. But let us focus on the present population first. Otherwise we might return to the same conditions that let to war in the first place.” He would not see a rush of Cybertronians return to the planet only to have them squabble over resources.
Optimus would leave before he returned to war. Barring that, he would rather offline.
“Of course,” Metalhawk said and he lifted his hands, pressing his palms together as he addressed Optimus directly. “Now I am given to understand you are in need of a processor specialist?”
Optimus' optics narrowed. “State the source of your information.”
“We have been sharing medics, Prime. Also, your security director's condition is no secret.” Metalhawk inclined his helm. “I have learned of Trepan's fate. As it just so happens, I have an associate of his amongst my crew. One of his former students.”
Starscream snorted. “And what concession will he cost us?”
“None.” Metalhawk smiled as he gestured with one hand. “I'll consider it a gesture of good will. Say the word and I'll have Chromedome examine Red Alert. I cannot guarantee a cure, but he may be able to help.”
Optimus glanced at Ultra Magnus who inclined his helm in a barely registered motion. Optimus did not want to appear overeager. He wanted to help Red Alert, but he couldn't afford to do so at all costs.
“Very well,” Optimus said. “We accept your assistance in this matter as well.” Building bridges, after all. Wasn't that what Cyclonus had said?
“Are there any other matters that need to be addressed?” Ultra Magnus asked as he looked up from his datapad.
Optimus wasn't sure which of the two was taking more extensive notes: Ultra Magnus or Soundwave. And Ravage, Optimus was certain, was recording the whole thing. Which might prove beneficial in the future if anyone tried to make a false claim.
Optimus glanced at Metalhawk and Grimlock, but neither leader offered a topic for consideration. It seemed they had exhausted all of the important details. Smaller matters could be discussed at a later time. Or perhaps they could arrange some sort of weekly court for the three factions to address concerns with each other?
Yes, Optimus would propose that to both Metalhawk and Grimlock. But later, when he could do so separately. Fatigue was rearing its ugly helm and he was quite done with negotiations. He felt he hadn't been able to think clearly for the past week and all he wanted to do was not navigate a political minefield for a day.
Perhaps he might even indulge in that rest Ratchet kept trying to inflict upon him.
“It seems there are not,” Optimus said at length. “Then we are at an accord? We will all agree to sign a treaty?”
No one argued. Optimus dared cycle a ventilation of relief.
He stepped back and watched Ultra Magnus distribute copies of the three-faction treaty to Grimlock and Metalhawk. The Neutrals were the only ones to look it over as the Autobots and Decepticons had already discussed it at length. Unless Metalhawk chose to contest a stipulation, there was nothing they felt needed changing.
Optimus rubbed at his forehelm. His entire frame ached. He wanted to rub at his lower backstrut as well, but feared it would be seen as a weakness. His field was prickly from the effort of holding it in, but even Optimus knew better than to let anyone get a taste of his subconscious. It was not a pleasant sensation.
He felt a presence nearby and glanced to the side, noticing that Soundwave had inched closer to him, well within field-contact distance, but not touching him. Nor had he reached out with the intention to read Optimus' field. He felt both silent guardian and silent support, not unlike Jazz on Optimus' other side.
It was almost odd how out of everyone, Soundwave had been the most persistent presence in Optimus' life since Megatron's death and the abrupt end to Autobot captivity.
“This will do,” Metalhawk said finally, though there was a reluctance in his tone. Optimus doubted it had anything to do with the treaty and more to do with the fact he was agreeing to work with Autobots and Decepticons.
All three faction leaders signed the treaty and with that, legally, they were allies. They were legally sharing Cybertron. They were legally obligated to help each other.
Primus help them all.
The meeting broke apart soon after.
Metalhawk departed, promising to contact Ratchet later in order to help Red Alert. Grimlock, too, stomped off claiming that he had to check on Swoop. Starscream was the one who approached the Autobots afterward, though he waited until Ultra Magnus excused himself to properly file the legal documents. Cyclonus and Knock Out were also dismissed.
“What ya want, Screamer?” Jazz asked, tone casual but the gleam to his visor proving that he was watching the Seeker like a turbohawk.
Starscream gave him a scathing look. “I have requested repeatedly that you not call me that.”
“Where's the fun in that?”
“Jazz,” Optimus warned.
His Special Ops commander grinned and tipped his helm in a shallow bow. “My mistake, Air Commander Starscream. What brought ya slithering over?”
Starscream twitched, but mercifully, he didn't engage. He focused on Optimus instead. “Since I have no little spies at the moment, Prime, I'm coming to you. I can't be the only one who doesn't trust Metalhawk any further than I can throw him. We need to be careful.”
Optimus folded his arms over his chest. “I am aware of that. But we have the upperhand right now. What makes you think Metalhawk will risk that?”
“Key phrase: right now,” Soundwave said and he tilted his helm, visor regarding Starscream with interest. “Overall, Neutrals outnumber Autobots and Decepticons. Two to one.”
Starscream nodded and jabbed a thumb toward Soundwave. “The walking boombox is right. If we don't have a handle by the time all those cowards come crawling back to Cybertron, they'll overrun us. And then see if they don't try to lock us all up, Bot and Con.”
He had a point, as much as it pained Optimus to admit. It was also a fair theory. The Neutrals unequivocally blamed Autobot and Decepticon alike. There had been a sharp sense of anger in Metalhawk's words and concessions, as though he were barely keeping himself from doing damage. He had no love for any mech not Neutral.
Optimus suspected the entire negotiation would have gone a lot differently if Metalhawk had had better support. He would have been less likely to concede.
“We'll keep an optic on him,” Jazz said, all trace of teasing gone from his vocals. The hard edge to his visor hearkened back to the war room and plots of infiltrating the Nemesis.
Optimus cycled a ventilation. “Nothing that would violate the terms of the treaty, Jazz.”
“Of course not, boss bot. What kinda amateur do ya think I am?” Jazz beamed and strutted right up to Soundwave, knocking his knuckles against his dock. “Whaddya say, Sounders? Wanna loan me a tiny bot or two?”
Ravage rustled her armor plates. The color in Soundwave's visor flattened.
“Discussion later,” he said in a dark tone. “Soundwave will consider.”
Jazz barked a laugh. “That's what I love about ya, Soundwave. Such a sense of humor.” He half-turned toward Optimus and half-lit his visor, Jazz's version of a wink. “Don't worry. We'll make sure to catch any trouble Metalhawk might try to cause.”
“Be sure that you do,” Starscream said. He tossed Optimus a look and then kicked on his thrusters, rising into the air. “I'm not losing this chance, Prime,” he said, and then he was gone, shooting up into the sky with a distant gleam of metal.
“Always has to put on a show,” Jazz muttered as he crossed his arms over his bumper. He shook his helm. “Well, guess that means I better get going, too. Things to do. Ops to arrange. You know how it is.” He lifted a shoulder toward Soundwave. “Call me later, yeah?”
“Possibility exists.”
Jazz barked a laugh, tossed Optimus a salute, and scampered off toward the Xantium, and the makeshift tents surrounding it. The next couple of days would be filled with packing up and shipping out as the Autobots prepared to move to Polyhex.
Optimus turned toward Soundwave who seemed to be waiting for him. “Well, I do not know about you, but I am beyond exhausted. I believe I'll retire for the rest of the day. You are more than welcome to do so yourself.” Point of fact, Optimus didn't even know where Soundwave was recharging. Perhaps still in his quarters in the Decepticon stronghold?
“Understood,” Soundwave said. He fell into step beside Optimus as Optimus turned toward the Xantium as well.
Optimus cycled a ventilation, feeling some of the tension ease out of him. The political work was partially done. Now would come the easier part of rebuilding. He dared believe that meant peace was at hand.
He never thought he'd lived to see it. He'd hoped. He'd prayed. But a part of him had always feared he wouldn't survive the war.
“Future bright,” Soundwave intoned as he matched Optimus step for step.
Optimus glanced over at him, finding that Soundwave was looking down at Ravage, something in the look hinting of fondness.
“Yes,” Optimus agreed with a small smile behind his mask. “The future is looking very bright indeed.”
****
a/n: And that's the end of Oubliette, but not the end of the story, nor the end of Crown the Empire.
We have two sequels coming up next, Reign and Salvage, which will run concurrently. I will either start posting in January or February, depending on if I can get them finished in time.
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading! This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/318258.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.