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Sentinel saw death approaching in the purple glow of the heating cannon. He had no doubt that his Armor would not hold. He couldn't fly away, he couldn't run. He was going to die!
But a red-and-blue frame shielded him, paying the price with a hole near his spark chamber. Orion Pax couldn't stay on his feet. He fell into the abyss… if not for D-16 grabbing him.
How tragic. He had shot the wrong one. And now, only his grip was keeping the miraculously still-living Pax from being shattered to pieces.
Sentinel saw an opportunity.
If these two were so close, why not let them die together? In one swift motion—just as swiftly as he had once turned his blade against those he had faithfully served—he fired.
Two bots, with nearly identical gaping holes in their frames, fell down to the scream of a pink femme and the too-quiet venting of her yellow companion.
Sentinel smirked with the last of his strength. He had spent almost all the energy he could scrape together in his battered, fallen body.
It's just… he had been so frightened by the strength and fury of D-16 that he had completely overlooked another problem. An old, numerous, and deadly problem.
He had a second to realize he was surrounded by Seekers, fifty cycles they had lived on the fire of hatred for him—for taking their Primes and their home.
In a way, he was lucky, for too many servos wanted to reach him. He was torn apart, quickly and mercilessly. The crowd watched this with jubilation, horror, or silent and cruel acceptance.
But no one tried to stand in their way.
Soon, nothing remained of Sentinel but gray scrap. And only one thing was not scratched, blown up, or trampled.
A purple cog.
Starscream snatched it and had carefully held onto it ever since.
"...We should bury this with Megatronus."
The moment he said it, the cog tore itself from his hand and flew into the abyss—the same place where the two miners had perished.
…Was it a sign that the avenged Primes were now resting in peace?
Maybe not, thought Starscream, looking at the Matrix, shining in Orion Pax's chest.
Pax—Prime?—was looking at him. Or at his energon-covered hands?
Orion- Optimus didn't make it in time. Sentinel was killed. Some small part of him felt a selfish relief knowing it wasn't his friend who had done it—the friend who, while falling, had wrapped himself around him, so that the impact of the landing would hit D instead of him.
————
"They are exhausted. I'm surprised they're online at all, but considering this is the High Guard… I can only be impressed by such resilience."
Ratchet sighed, looking at the new—true?—Prime. And this very Prime, along with his right hand? Guardian? Friend? Ah, whatever. They had dragged in dozens of soldiers, survivors of the last fifty "peaceful" cycles on the surface, who had periodically attacked the Quintessons and Sentinel's squads during this, and who knew how they managed to scrounge up scraps of energon and stay alive. Maybe they were just too stubborn.
Notably, all these soldiers were extremely unhappy with the prospect of being in a med bay.
"Thanks, doc! Well, we gotta go now." Exclaimed… Skywarp?
Ratchet's optic twitched.
"First, don't call me doc. Second, you are not going anywhere."
He intercepted the flier, who was already casually heading for the exit, and glared sternly at those who were already getting up to follow him.
A discontented murmur spread through the ward.
"What do you mean?"
"Stay?Hell no!"
"We're perfectly fine!"
Skywarp gave him a measuring look. Ratchet had a feeling he was a talker, so he prepared to argue with a bunch of difficult patients, especially the black and purple one in front of him, but…
The flier was no longer there. He had literally vanished. Teleported.
Outlier.
Probably one of the last of the old generation. It was clear now that Sentinel had quietly been getting rid of everyone who had abilities. And new outliers he de-cogged and shamelessly lied that they had disappeared with the energon flow.
"See, doc?" A voice came from behind him. "I can teleport! Which means I'm perfectly fine. Just like the others. You pumped us full of energon, what more do you need?"
"What more do you- You have so many untreated injuries from starvation! Your nanite count is practically zero!"
Before Ratchet could speak, a panicked voice from the next ward reached them—his assistant's.
"No, wait! Your treatment isn't finished! You-"
"Don't order me around!"
Ratchet winced at the sound of a damaged vocalizer.
"Starscream." Spoke Optimus Prime, greeting the commander of the High Guard who had appeared in the doorway, with the young doctor standing awkwardly behind him.
"Optimus." The flier nodded and shifted his gaze to Ratchet. He heard the damaged voice again. "Medic, restoring all the minor damage will take a lot of time. Time we don't have. The Quintessons-"
"The defense systems from the time of the Thirteen are being restored right now. And patrols under the control of the Elita and Megatron have been sent to the surface. We will know about an attack when it announces itself." Optimus spoke in a confident and calming manner that reminded Starscream too much of Prima. "You will be more useful if you rest."
"Argument is valid. The Guard needs to continue treatment. It is a necessity." Spoke Soundwave, who had entered the ward silently.
Right now he was the picture of the best health in the High Guard. His abilities were too important, so during their time on the run, he received a double portion of energon and didn't work unless absolutely necessary. He had to conserve as much energy as possible. Such was Starscream’s order.
And despite this, Soundwave felt more exhausted than ever. The rest of the Guard was even worse off. They all needed at least some recharge.
"Logical." Shockwave added unjoyfully (having entered almost as silently), closing his single optic with his remaining servo.
All the fliers in the ward turned to Starscream. Megatron had defeated him, meaning he stood higher, but Megatron wasn't here right now. And though it couldn't be seen, in the other wards, the Guard members also perked their audials, awaiting the command.
"...We'll stay. Behave yourself."
Well, there couldn't have been any other answer.
Somewhere in a neighboring ward, a few fliers shrugged and stepped away from the window they had been ready to use as a door just a second ago.
————
"Your voice has stopped recovering."
"I know, Shockwave. No need to mention it."
Shockwave moved his antennas back—one of the few expressions of his almost non-existent mimicry.
"But why? After the nanite injections, it should have-"
"I ordered them to leave it at this stage." Starscream folded his arms over his chest.
He didn't expect Shockwave to nod and drop it. He always had a bit too little emotional intelligence.
"But why?" Shockwave threw up his hands, raising his antennas.
"It will serve as a reminder to me."
"Ah, you and your love for symbols."
————
The first one Ratchet—what a terrifying civilian, really—released from the med bay was Soundwave.
And the first thing he did after that was ask the new Prime for permission to train outliers.
With the return of cogs, many bots not only learned to transform but also discovered unusual abilities. And if using them wasn't so hatd… controlling them was an entirely different matter.
Recently, there have been many reports about accidents because someone didn't get used to transformation, got scared and released a sound wave, accidentally broke something, accidentally electrocuted a passerby, launched themself into a wall with boosters etc.
Primus knew the newcomers needed a teacher.
And, oh, how young those he trained were. It awakened old memories of his first days under the guidance of Megatronus and the other Primes. And his students, just like he once did, asked questions and listened, listened, listened. They asked to be told about the time before Sentinel—about the Thirteen, about the Quintessons, about the High Guard. And though Soundwave wasn't the best storyteller, he really tried.
It's good that Starscream joined him later. True be told thought, this mech was too fond of embellishing some events and adding unnecessary drama, but it made younglings to adorably open their intakes, so Soundwave didn't correct anything.
————
Megatron stared tensely at the sky. The Quintessons hadn't magically appeared right after Sentinel's death. They hadn't appeared the next day either, but that only worried him more.
Part of the planet's defense systems had already been restored (damn you Sentinel, you dismantled everything!), so squads—to one of them he was a head—were covering the gaps that weren't yet closed.
How long had they been at this? Not that long actually. But it felt like a whole cycle!
At least we have more people now.
When Sentinel's betrayal was revealed, and the lies came to light, many of those who served him renounced their former leader and pledged allegiance to Optimus.
Ah, how easy it would have been if all of Sentinel's entourage had done just that. But some of them had known about the Quintessons, and about the decogging, and about a host of other crimes of the false Prime that were now coming to light. Worse still, some had helped Sentinel with all of it.
Such traitors needed to be identified as quickly as possible, before they decided to help the Quintessons. And while Megatron and Elita plus B protected Cybertron from the external threat, Optimus and Soundwave dealt with the internal one.
In fact, it was Megatron himself who had suggested this division. Soundwave's role was obvious, but Optimus… Megatron had pressed on the necessity for the new Prime to be close to the people, to earn their trust. The necessity to be a pillar. He had pressed on his archivist skills, which would obviously help in sorting through the unlocked criminal databases. And he wasn't even lying! Over so many cycles of delving into the archives, Orion had learned much—he would have gotten to the truth, if only Sentinel hadn't rewritten history before he was even born.
But that wasn't the reason Megatron had suggested Optimus stay underground for now, while he himself went to the surface.
The truth was... it was too hard for him to be near Optimus, because of what he had almost done.
If not for Sentinel's shot, he might indeed have let Orion fall.
And he was the only one who understood that.
Megatron hated himself for it.
He had paid for it with a shot in the back, and Primus should have left him as he was. But he had been granted an undeserved second chance.
Megatron buried his helm in his servos. He was distracted by the unnaturally hoarse voice of the newly appointed Air Force Commander.
Through the gaps between his digits, he glanced at Starscream, who was enthusiastically explaining something to a group who was on the surface for the first time. Wait, what was he talking about?
"To catch them, it's quite effective to hover high in the air and then drop down. Although you have grounders… You'll have to lie in ambush, blend with the landscape, and then jump out! Or you can set traps-"
Starscream caught the perplexed gaze of Megatron's orange optic.
"Is that how you partisaned against the Quintessons?" The former miner asked thoughtfully.
"What? No! I was talking about harvesting energon! About hunting!"
Megatron blinked. Right. The High Guard could hardly mine energon from the ground, given how few lives ventured to the surface. They either starved, hunted the wild life of the surface, or stole from Sentinel.
But now energon, as in the old days, flowed through channels, forming whole rivers and lakes. No need to hunt, unless Optimus lost the Matrix.
And he wouldn't lose it. Megatron would make sure of that. It was the least he could do.