Work Text:
They were prisoners within the Ark.
Oh, yes, the humans loved to tell them they weren’t, that they were simply being held there for a little while longer, and honestly Optimus could not blame them. They were alien creatures, so much bigger than them. Even B-127, their smallest member by a wide margin, was easily at least five times larger than even their biggest human.
If he were being honest, Optimus found the humans’ terror to be completely logical, and he even tolerated it to a point. The humans that entered were allowed to come with their guns, because if that made them feel safe, he would accept it.
At least it helped moderately when he and his Autobots scanned the humans and adopted a more anthropomorphic shape. When their proportions matched theirs, the humans seemed less likely to accidentally let loose a bolt from their firearm. Poor Sideswipe did suffer one stray shot when he shifted from his Cybertronian mode to a more human shape the first time, but the soldier who had faltered had wound up getting scolded for it.
Well, Optimus assumed they were from what little he could understand. The event had happened before they had learned enough of the humans’ language to be able to communicate with them beyond basic miming, and even then they had little in common in ways of signs and shapes. But at least the Autobots’ continued patience and gentleness assured the little troops that they were not a threat.
Eventually, the humans brought in Professor Grove. A smaller-than-average human, from what Optimus could tell, with her plating painted with a dark complexion. She held what Optimus could only assume was the human version of a data pad, and she set them to work.
Professor Grove was a communications expert, a master of linguistics. She was determined to learn a way to bridge their language barrier, and Optimus was all too eager to put his best pede forward to learn on his own end.
While the natural Cybertronian language was impossible for the humans to learn to mimic, their own species was well-attuned for blending in with whatever environment they found themselves in. The more they assimilated themselves into the human culture, the more welcoming the humans became.
However, that didn’t change the fact that the humans made themselves at home throughout the Ark, patrolling the halls like they were the wardens of a jail larger than they could possibly fathom.
It didn’t help that the humans almost immediately started building a fortress outside the doors of the Ark, too. Tall metal walls that even he, strong as he was, would have issues knocking down surrounded the circumference. On one side was the mountain they had crashed into, on the other was the human militia, surrounding them.
Optimus pretended not to see the battlements along the wall, their turrets permanently pointed at the door.
“This is a problem.” Prowl said in their native language as another human patrol walked past their war room, peering up at them from behind their’ strange version of a visor. “There’s humans everywhere, acting like they own us. We can’t keep living like this, Optimus!”
“I know.” Optimus said mildly, inclining his helm. “I know we can’t. I hate it just as much as you all do, but we… we must endure. If we can prove to the humans we are not a threat, they will leave us alone.”
“You can’t keep being such an optimist about this,” Prowl hissed back at him. “They won’t even let us go outside without jabbing blasters in our faces. Hot Rod tried going on the roof last lunar-cycle, too! He tried to get a scan of the sky, but they have drones up there, too!”
“He’s right.” Chormia said, arms crossed firmly. “I know you want to see the best in them, but if we can’t even find out if this is the right planet, I don’t understand why we’re still dealing with this.”
“You’ve been repairing the ship where you can, correct?” Optimus asked, tapping his digits anxiously against the desk.
“Of course we have,” Ironhide huffed, standing so close to his conjunx that their pauldrons brushed against each other. “But the humans have started asking questions. They don’t like that we’ve been using our own supplies. I know you think this will all go away, but the more they try to control us, the less it will.”
It wasn’t the first time that Optimus remembered that Ironhide was the oldest out of all the bots in the ship, having lived through four different Primes’ eras before Optimus. If any of his Autobots knew what oppression looked like, it would be the red-clad mech before him.
“I hear you, Ironhide.” Optimus allowed, bowing his helm. “I… understand your concerns. I do not like their intrusion, either.”
“If we fire up the shields, I bet we can toss all the humans out before we fire up the engines.” Chromia offered, gaze growing hard and determined. “The three kliks it takes to get up to its full burn-cycle should be enough time for the humans to get out of range. And if it isn’t, oh well.”
“I do not condone their murder, either.” Optimus chided her. “Listen. This is not an ideal situation, but we are not leaving this planet yet. I need to be able to see the sky again, for myself.”
Prowl scoffed, irritation rolling off him in waves. “We can’t be basing our survival and freedom off of a random dream you had!”
“It was not random.” Optimus said, bristling. “It was a vision. It gave me my name, before I was even a Prime. Orion Pax was not born from an active imagination, but of Primus giving me a glimpse of what is to come.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Chromia said, with a twinge that sounded like she did not actually want to give any respect whatsoever. “You weren’t even a Prime yet. How are we supposed to trust that it wasn’t just a dream?”
“If I have held onto it for this long,” Optimus responded firmly, “then I am confident in its validity. Whatever planet bears the constellation, and calls it by its name… That is where the Allspark is. I will be honestly, my Autobots. I want to leave, too, but we cannot go before I am certain this is the wrong planet.”
“Optimus.” Ultra Magnus said, breaking his silent vigil for the first time.
Optimus raised his helm, meeting the elder bot’s gaze evenly.
“When you were first elected Prime, you asked me to keep your helm clear.” Ultra Magnus reminded Optimus. “You were unsure if the Matrix would cause you to rely too strongly on your emotions and disregard your logic sensors. Listen to me. You are beginning to fall down that path.”
Optimus felt his pauldrons stiffen, an argument building up at the back of his processor and pipes, threatening to spill out. However, he faltered before they could make themselves form in the stagnant air of the war room.
Ultra Magnus, after all, was correct. Even as much as Optimus longed to be right, he was risking the Autobots over this. His Autobots, as if they were collateral next to his own headstrong ways.
That his vision wasn’t just a random fantasy his processor had conjured up. He wanted to prove that his name wasn’t meaningless the way so many of his archivist peers had assumed. When he was younger, it had been a struggle to explain, over and over, that he was named after a constellation, but not one that could easily be found recorded in the archives.
While he had always known it meant something, and had never strayed from that belief, it was still difficult to get them to believe in him.
But his Autobots had never really doubted until now. They hadn’t complained when he launched the Allspark through a groundbridge with scrambled coordinates. They hadn’t complained when he let them through an exodus and then an exile from Cybertron. They hadn’t complained when he led them pointlessly to planet after planet, for him to stare at the sky and search tirelessly for Orion’s Belt.
They had faith in him. He knew that to be true.
The stress was getting to them now, and he could not easily blame them for that. Even if it hurt his spark, he could understand where they were coming from.
“I understand.” Optimus said, finally, bowing his helm. “As soon as we finish repairs, we can depart.”
“Hold on a nano-klik.” Jazz said, field extending out with a bid for attention. He did not often speak up, tending to observe and compile information. He was chatty and pleasant when directly referred to, but he was slow to add his opinion to conversations.
For this reason, every helm turned towards him in an instant, every audial pricked and optic watchful. The spy smiled, politely or proudly, Optimus couldn’t tell. “I actually think we might be a bit hasty. My team and I have come up with a solution. We might not be able to see Optimus’ stars from the Ark, so obviously, we got to get him out of the perimeter.”
Prowl sighed, pressing his knuckles to his olfactory sensor with a deep sigh. “Yes, Jazz. We know, and that is the problem.”
“Mirage and Hound have been practicing cooping their outliers.” Jazz continued pleasantly, as if Prowl hadn’t spoken. “If you’ve noticed Hot Rod acting weird lately, that’d be why.”
Ah. Well, that explained that.
“Mirage can turn Optimus invisible long enough to get him to the treeline, and Hound will keep an Optimus walkin’ and talkin’ among us. If he needs a break from maintaining the hologram, Mirage can take over for a bit. If they keep on alternating, we shouldn’t run into any problems. As long as one of them is in the room with the fake Prime at all times, it'll be solid.”
“Do you have a way to get him through the wall?” Ultra Magnus demanded, servo clenching around the handle of his hammer. “Because, invisible or not, that will prove a challenge.”
“Yes. We’ve got it handled.” Jazz rolled his optics. “I’ve got a scout near the Ark’s doors almost constantly. We already know it opens sometimes, but we’ve nailed it down to a precise science. Once every seven solar-cycles, the wall has this sliding door that allows a truck through. It carries supplies for the humans, and they take a little less than three joors to unload it. It’s gone again the same day.”
“Does the door remain open the whole time?” Optimus inquired, already certain he knew the answer, but wanting to be certain anyway.
“No.” Jazz said apologetically. “But there’s more than enough time for you to slip out with the truck when it leaves. When it comes, too, but the time of day is inconsistent and we wouldn’t be able to get Mirage and Hound to mobilize in time.”
“When does the truck next arrive?” Chromia pressed, curious.
Jazz’s smile grew strained and wry. “Tomorrow.”
(:)
“Time to go,” Jazz called the next day, knocking on the entrance to the bridge, servo on his hip. Optimus looked up, catching Hound and Mirage hovering behind the commander. “You all ready?”
“Yes.” Optimus said, turning away from B-127 with one last press of his servo to the scout’s helm. The younger murmured quietly, but let him go easily enough.
“Remember,” Jazz said, saluting a group of humans that wandered out of the bridge quietly, the organics glancing up at him and his troops as they left. “You won’t be able to come back for a week.”
“I know.” Optimus reassured with a nod. “Regardless if I find the constellation, I will be back then.”
“Good.” Jazz gestured to his troops, and they both stepped forward.
“You ready, big guy?” Mirage asked, puffing himself up with pride, clearly delighted at being chosen to help with such a big mission.
“I am ready.” Optimus reassured, offering him a small smile.
There was no visual cue for Mirage and Hound’s outlier activation, and even if there was, the two of them could easily disguise the tell with their outlier. Even knowing this, Optimus was mildly surprised when another version of himself peeled away from him.
The fake Optimus smiled at him, but their optics threatened to meet his, staring right through him and Optimus shuddered. He wasn’t even fond of watching recordings of himself, and this was, naturally, worse. “Oh,” he said softly. “I do not enjoy that.”
Hound’s expression pinched slightly, but he smiled regardless. “Tip,” he advised, “Don’t talk while you’re invisible. It ruins the illusion.”
“I’m already invisible?” Optimus blinked, looking down at his servos. He could still see them, but perhaps that was because he was in Mirage’s cube of effect. “Fascinating. I will make sure to remember that.”
“Well, we’ve got no time to gawk,” Jazz said busily, exchanging a look with the other two members. “Quickshadow said we’ve got maybe seven kliks, and we’ve already wasted half that just getting to you. Mirage, Optimus, shove off. We’ll maintain the illusion here.”
Mirage and Optimus both nodded, and the younger twisted to go.
“And Mirage, don’t talk to Optimus at all. Trust he’ll follow you, and he’ll signal when he’s leaving. I know you can sense everything in your cube, but don’t get cocky.” Jazz advised. “I’d see you off, but too many bots going to the entrance would make the humans nervous. Move fast.”
Optimus nodded, opening his intake to say something reassuring, but had to snap it shut just as quickly as another patrol of humans swept in. They really were everywhere.
His spark was alit with conflicting desires. On one servo, if the constellation was here, he would feel vindicated and justified, but they would be trapped under the humans’ militia until they located it. However, if it wasn’t, they could escape the humans but it meant that Optimus wasted his Autobots’ presence of mind for nothing.
At least, as soon as they located where the Allspark was on this planet, they could all leave.
If they could sneak him out now, then it opened up the opportunity to sneak more bots out later. Patrols of them, instead of just one bot at a time. The most complicated part would be sneaking them back in, but Jazz had said not to worry about it, so Optimus wasn’t. For now, in any case.
He and Mirage reached the Ark’s doors soon, the ramp permanently down to allow the humans easy access in and out of it. Mirage said nothing, just inclined his helm towards the gate, which the truck was already starting to drive towards. It was locked tight, but Optimus imagined it would open any klik now.
“Hey!” One of the humans called, and both helms snapped around to stare at the small woman who marched up to them, a ‘clipboard’ under her arm and a permanent grimace in place. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just keeping an eye on things, Petty Officer Buchanan.” Mirage muttered, taking a knee to stare down at her. “You said one of us was allowed to watch and observe–”
“Quickshadow’s handling that,” Petty Officer Buchanan snarked, pointing an angry finger towards the purple femme, who was seated on a few crates on the opposite side of the doors. Quickshadow waved with a polite smile, but her optics were studying the space around Mirage, probably trying to see even the slightest sign that Optimus was there, too.
“And, we know about your outlier,” Petty Officer Buchanan continued, checking her datapad. Optimus winced, forgetting that Mirage had accidentally boasted about it in the early solar-cycles and had immediately gotten it jotted down. Thankfully, he had only showcased the hologram part of it, so they didn’t know the full scope of it. “You’ve got the ability to make, excuse me, ‘mirages’, and according to Grove’s findings, you like to ‘cause trouble’. I don’t need you in my jurisdiction."
“But it’s boring inside?” Mirage offered, as the gate began to squeak open. His optics snapped to it, and then back down, smile strained as he tried to maintain his cheerfulness.
“Don’t care.” Petty Officer Buchanan said. “Take it back in there. Leave if you know what’s good for you.”
Mirage scoffed, field extending out with an urgent undertone as he continued to argue with Petty Officer Buchanan.
Optimus took the command for what it was, touching his shoulder briefly in farewell before stepping past the two of them. He was no scout, but he managed to keep his pede steps as quiet as possible as he walked down the ramp, heading straight for the gate.
The truck began moving just as Optimus reached it, and he followed behind it as closely as he could, wishing there was some way he could verify that Mirage’s trick was still working, but… Not a single eye turned to him. The humans continued to watch the entrance with weapons drawn and raised.
They were all perfectly aware of the window of time the gate was left open, and were nervous the Autobots would escape. And yet they were unaware as Optimus slipped out, heading straight to the treeline as the gate began to close behind him.
The truck did not pull over or stop, and no humans tried to attack as he dashed off. They didn’t see him.
Optimus didn’t know whether Mirage’s disguise had worn off or not until a small organic, perched high in one of the branches, twisted its helm to stare at him – its eyes were on the side of its head, and Professor Grove explained that meant this kind of creature would look without looking – and then abruptly spread its wings and flew away.
Optimus froze for a nano-klik, watching the sunlight shine through its feathers, its red wings bright against the green background until it had fluttered out of sight. Hazily, he remembered that this creature, this bird, was an animal. It could not report back to the humans that he was loose.
It was simply… scared.
Of him.
Optimus could not blame the bird, either. It was seeing something it could not possibly understand. It was seeing him.
And he had not even tried to approach carefully. Truthfully, it was his own fault.
“I’m sorry, little one,” Optimus said quietly, bowing his helm in shame. If the bird was nothing but an animal, he knew it could not understand him, but perhaps it could feel his guilt. “I’m so sorry that I scared you.”
He had to move on eventually. He kept his steps slow and careful, hating himself every step of the way whenever another bird started and flew off, or when he spotted some animals on the ground kick off and dart for the underbrush.
Terrified, he avoided stepping on any lower foliage, worried that little animals were within, that he would step on them and crush them. Optimus kept his pedesteps as careful as possible, taking it a step at the time.
Animals still startled and parted and left, and Optimus tried to make peace with it. He was bigger than any other land organic on their planet; he had been informed as much by the humans.
When he finally reached the edge of the woods, the Prime had to shamefully admit that he was relieved. No longer would he terrify and terrorize the native creatures of this planet. Maybe he would be forced to later, but for now, they were free of him.
As he broke free of the treeline, he found what he could only assume was a road a couple of steps away. Or, perhaps, it was what ended the forest. A vehicle snapped past him in a flash, and he took a fumbling step backwards, afraid for a hysterical nano-klik that it had seen him. Just like the truck, though, it didn’t slow or stop until it was out of sight.
Thank Primus. If Professor Grove’s warnings were anything to go by, the humans would not take his presence well. Even though he had copied their general shape and posture, he was still too big, too metal. But…
Silently, he watched another vehicle whiz by.
Perhaps there was something else he could scan, replacing his Cybertronian alt-mode and make him more palatable. He just needed to find something larger than these zippy vehicles. Thinking back to the supply truck, he knew bigger vehicles certainly existed. While he probably should have scanned the truck when he followed it out, the next best time to find a suitable alt-mode was now.
He would wait ten kliks by the road for another truck before he chose to reevaluate and make up a new plan. After all, if trucks were rare on this planet, he would hate to accidentally cripple himself and leave himself stranded.
He still had yet to find some place with a perfect, clear view of the sky yet, and even if he had a full seven days to do it – a humans’ week – he could not waste time sitting beside a road, hoping for something that would never come. He would spend a little while here before moving on to–
Something big lumbered by.
Optimus’ optics snapped to the truck as it drove by, a little slower than the smaller vehicles, but still decently fast. However, it remained in range for long enough that he could scan it over, feeling the familiar wash of new details fill him as his t-cog began to spin.
Optimus transformed, feeling wheels soften and doors break free from his plating, melding themselves to hinges. His entire frame shifted and warped around the Matrix of Leadership, slotting it into place within his cab. The soft glow it released illuminated the trees around him, and even though the sun was shining and bright, the blue remained, obvious and apparent.
Optimus had to coax it into concealing its glow, waiting anxiously until no more vehicles were on the road before sliding out.
His new alt-mode was not nearly as sleek as his Cybertronian one was. His former one had been built like a tank, ready to ram at a moment’s notice, filled with enough torque that anybot he rammed into would be reeling for long enough for him to transform and swing in using his battle axe.
This one was… shoddy. Not quite as carefully forged as his former one, some of the plating a bit more loose. It was less square, too, with more rounded sides and a further snout that both his tank and converter were pushed into, along with a majority of his wirings.
Similar to his Cybertronian alt-mode, his legs were extended behind him, his helm tucked alongside the Matrix. His arms, however, did not quite line up with his legs like they did on Cybertron. They were folded right underneath his front carriage, resting above his wheels and framing them.
As always, however, his sensors worked overtime, extending out around him and recording everything he saw. He would not be driving blind, even if typical earth vehicles had a human behind the wheel.
Optimus started to drive along the roads, letting them take him as far away from the Ark as he could, out of the lush woods and to something new.
(:)
Admittedly, Optimus was unfamiliar with Earth’s rules of the road. Professor Grove, despite being a wonderful resource for language and anything “human” that they so happened to ask, had yet to teach them how to properly integrate themselves into society. Which was only natural, truly. As long as they were not allowed off the Ark, such lessons were absolute nonsense. Still, he couldn’t help but wish they had learned a little bit about the outside world.
He learned from observing the cars that buzzed by him that the slower ones typically went on the right, and the faster ones veered left. While not a hard-and-fast rule – some cars broke it without care to swerve around him before pulling back over with honks that, somehow, sounded angry – it seemed to be the standard norm.
As soon as he figured out that, he set his processor to figuring out how they decided how fast they were going.
Thankfully, that was easier to figure out. His t-cog had copied much of the inner workings of the truck, including his speedmotor, complete with the humans’ set of glyphs for their numbers.
It was easy to cross compare his speed to the signs alongside the road and slow himself down accordingly. He did rapidly learn that very few cars obeyed the signs, despite the bold font of “speed limit” written above every number. He wasn’t too confused by that. Even being a Prime, he didn’t used to obey the road signs before the war himself.
It wasn’t from a burning desire to get somewhere faster, either, it was the simple exhilaration of wind against his frame as he rushed down the roads.
Now, however, he wanted to be obedient, no matter how much he wanted to hustle around for the sake of nostalgia if nothing else. Even though the vehicles on the slower side of the road seemed annoyed by his consistent speed and whipped by him, Optimus did not want to risk being discovered because he chose to be unruly.
Things that were a bit easier to understand were directional signs. They were fairly consistent with their markings. Upon comparing his Cybertronian chronometer against his new Earth one, Optimus quickly learned that a mile was about a third of the size of a league.
Exits off of what he quickly learned was called an “I” – why it was called that, he had no clue, and had no choice but to shelf his curiosity – were spaced about a mile apart. Sometimes they broke said rule, but he found he didn’t mind those exceptions. He appreciated the effort to be consistent, truthfully.
However, he found great annoyance in how many cities there were surrounding the area. Even though there were patches of forests, he found them terribly inconsistent. Most of what he came across were small clusters of short houses and stores, but even that was enough, he knew, to affect how the stars would look come the lunar-cycle.
Light pollution was a curse, truly, and even as packed as Cybertron had been during its prime, even they had sectioned off areas far from any type of cities or towns specifically for observing the stars. Space travel was part of their culture, after all.
This problem was only furthered by the number of clouds dotting the sky, threatening to swallow the stars by the time that nightfall came. Very few planets Optimus had gone to included clouds. Cybertron, itself, had only gained them once the war blackened the sky with its smog.
He did not know how natural Earth’s clouds were, if they would dissipate. He was pretty sure he heard Professor Grove telling young B-127 that they would eventually break down into water, and he knew from his studies that such a phenomenon did, indeed, happen on some planets, but it still sounded odd to him. He had yet to see it for himself.
Optimus hoped they would clear out before it was time to head back. He did not want to risk missing Orion’s Belt.
(:)
Optimus wound up stopping in another pair of woods for the lunar-cycle, traveling as deeply as he could into them before coming to a stop. He had yet to get commed by the Autobots, as they promised they would do in case of emergency.
Of course, they had no way of knowing if the humans could apprehend their signals, but Optimus was well-versed in the special ops’ ways of encrypting their messages in a way that not even Soundwave could locate their signals. He doubted humans would be able to catch any comms sent his way as long as they kept them brief.
But, his communication systems didn’t buzz, and he felt a strange kind of peace spread through his spark. As long as they were fine, he was too.
He found a clearing in the woods that allowed him a glimpse of the sky. Not enough to be satisfying, but he studied all the stars he could see above him, moving so slowly it was almost imperceivable. They shifted and twinkled, boring down on him.
Although he knew it was impossible to see Cybertron’s star from here, even with a clear view of the sky, he looked for it anyway.
He cracked open a cube of energon – having packed his rations for the next seven days in his subspace before heading out – and sipped on it as he observed and searched. Yet, no row of three made themselves known, no matter how much he overlayed his memory files with the sight above him.
Optimus sat down, servos resting palms-up on the ground, and let the sweet lull of recharge grab him and pull him under.
(:)
He woke up to an animal sniffing him. Around the size of a human, its muzzle was buried in his palm, working its way up to his digits. Every once in a while, its pink tongue flicked out to dab at some of the dirt on his metal.
Optimus stayed perfectly still as he observed it. Its huge eyes didn’t once stray up to his face, or caught sight of the glowing blue optics silently observing it. It simply continued to sniff at him, pressing its warm and soft snout against his.
Optimus’ spark soared. This animal was not scared of him. Perhaps it was due to his stillness, perhaps it was due to something else. But this one was studying him the same way he was doing to it. This creature seemed to find great enjoyment in lapping up every part of him, trying to figure out what this new thing was before it.
He expanded his sensors’ field, curious to see how many animals were around him and resolving himself not to feel disappointed if this was the only one. There was no need for such deliberation, however, as he felt the small talons of birds perched across his chassis, and a couple furry shapes pressed against his legs.
There were a few more observing from the edge of the foliage, he realized, and others still walking past – not running – in the field nearby.
He was part of their world now, no matter how briefly. He was one of them.
Optimus had never felt so happy and relieved, letting the peace course through him. Perhaps the humans had not accepted him, would never like him no matter how still he held, but the animals didn’t care. They lapped up his presence, eager to explore his frame.
He was crippled by the realization that that, too, would be temporary because he would have to move eventually, and he knew that would scare them away. But for now, he basked in the peace that came with it.
Maybe the Allspark was not on this world, but he was grateful for the opportunity to explore it if it meant he got to experience this.
Optimus waited about two joors of silence, barely daring to vent, before he began to move. The amount of animals surrounding him had remained consistent, some more coming and others leaving. They were all curious about this new thing intruding upon their home, but none of them seemed particularly agitated with him.
The birds continued to perch and sit around him, squirrels darted near his pedes. He felt so content by it all, but he could not remain here.
Optimus began to creak forward carefully, the quiet whirring of his vents enough to startle a rabbit that had been sniffing his plating to back up a few alarmed steps, but it didn’t quite run. Optimus lifted a pede carefully, setting it down on the ground. The dirt slightly caved under his weight, compacting down, until he rose completely.
“I’m sorry, little ones,” Optimus said quietly, wincing when the noise made the rabbit scamper off a little further, still staring at him with confused, beady eyes. “I’m sorry.” He repeated again, guilt clawing its way into his spark.
Elita-1, if she were here, if she were on the Ark, would tell him with both affection and exasperation that his leaking spark was to be commended. That it was the reason he was a Prime, and the reason his Autobots adored him.
It brought him pain and anguish more times than he cared to admit. While he was grateful he was sympathetic the way he knew so many others – both Primes and Autobots alike – were not, he did not enjoy the way it squeezed his spark. Empathy was good, but there was a reason he needed Ultra Magnus to encourage him to remember his logical sides.
Then again, there were times when he fell into spirals, weighing all the knowledge he had gained both while being an archivist and from the collective intelligence of the Primes before him. When that happened, he needed to be pulled back to remember others emotions.
Even after four million stellar-cycles of being a Prime, Optimus had never found a good balance. He was always too much in one area and not enough in the other.
And right now, emotions were getting the better of him.
“I will leave you now,” Optimus told them, relieved that they had seemed to adjust to the sound of his voice already, but were still watching him with wide-eyed anticipation as he began to retreat, watching every step he took. He did not want to crush their delicate bodies beneath his pede.
Professor Grove had warned that their entire beings could make them dangerous to such delicate creatures. Their weight alone was an issue, but their strength and size would only expedite that. It was just another thing that made Optimus feel wholly guilty for his existence on this planet.
Perhaps it would be better if he never was able to spot Orion’s Belt here. Then he would not have to worry about such delicate creatures. He would simply… have to enjoy this world for what brief snapshots he got of their lives while he was allowed this single week of solitude.
Despite being on a mission, this was perhaps the only personal time he had gotten since being nominated as a Prime. As long as he was working towards his goal, he could spend time observing the animals. Maybe from a distance, next time. As to not scare them.
(:)
The way through the next city he came to was long. He thought he took an exit that would keep him away from the city, and lead him to the side roads so he could go around the infrastructure. Avoid cameras, even though the humans had no possible way of knowing he was now a truck.
Instead, he found himself in the midst of it.
If not for the occasional tree planted along the edges of the road, it almost looked like Cybertron, Iacon specifically, with its packed roads and towering skyscrapers. Buildings made of metal and glass just like Iacon, varying in shape and style from each architect's personal style.
Or at least, that’s what it would be on Cybertron. There was really no way of telling why their structures were the way that they were here on Earth. Opitmus hoped that Earth was as tolerant and encouraging of creative freedom as Cybertron was during its pre-war era.
Optimus did learn to tell the difference between red and green lights on Earth. The amount of cars that honked at him for driving through a red light or remaining stopped at a green one was extreme. Sometimes they honked in annoyance at his back strut anyway when he stopped too soon.
Optimus learned to take that in stride, sometimes, too. He couldn’t control how fast he learned, nor could he control their reactions to him.
The only thing he could do was his best.
Still, he was relieved when he got through it and could get himself back onto the “I”, driving away from the city, free from their flashing lights and people who would run across the road as if they thought they could beat him.
Optimus was more careful with leaving the roads earlier to avoid the cities after that. At least his experiences in the city saved him well when he started to travel along less well-known roads.
He kept track of every street he went across. He would, after all, eventually need to get back to the Ark. And no longer having straight shots he was traveling on was complicated at best.
But he made do, anyway.
(:)
Along one patch of backroads, there was a flock of birds hopping about, pecking at the gravel beneath their feet. Their wings would flutter every once in a while, but they were not afraid. They were simply scavenging, the way Optimus and his Autobots had done so many times on Cybertron itself.
The birds were not afraid of an impending Decepticon attack. The birds were existing, and how beautiful was that? They were finding peace on this planet.
Optimus slowed almost to a stop as he approached.
As much as he wanted to fully take a break and just watch them rummage about, he could imagine a car racing up behind him, whipping around without thought or heed and slamming into the birds, who would not see it coming and have no opportunity to escape. If he pushed by slowly, he did not suspect there would be any issue.
He approached, keeping his tires turning at a minimum as he neared where they were hopping about. A few peered up and saw his lumbering self approaching, and let out a series of warning chirps. However, it was like they knew he meant them no harm. They took their time hopping out of the way, not bothering to fly off, but hop-skipping in opposite directions.
Optimus loved them so much, rolling by carefully, keeping an optic on his tires to make sure there were no stragglers about to be crushed.
They filled up the path again behind him, chattering to each other excitedly, as if nothing had even happened and their foraging had not been briefly interrupted by a giant robot beyond their scope of understanding.
Optimus wanted to laugh to himself at how silly the little creatures were, wishing his Autobots were with him. Hot Rod especially, he felt, would enjoy the birds very much. Their first deca-cycle on earth, he had tried to grab one of the birds that flew into the open doorway of the Ark, and that…
Hadn’t gone well in the humans’ eyes.
How fortunate Optimus had it, that he was able to see and interact with a group of birds without threat or worry.
(:)
There was a small creature sleeping in his undercarriage, Optimus realized. It was rumbling like it had an engine itself, even though it was so small and fuzzy that it must have lungs and a stomach just like everything else on this planet. He couldn’t quite get a feel for what it must look like, but he could feel every centimeter of its little body.
The temperature outside was cold, and his engine was warm. It must’ve found him and chose him as its sanctuary.
The duty and responsibility the animal had pressed upon him was honoring. Optimus made sure to keep his vents pulsing warm hair on the animal’s…
Oh, what was the word for it? Fur? Yes, yes, he was pretty sure fur was for animals, hair was for humans.
He turned his engines on as quietly as he could, allowing his whole frame to rumble around the tiny body.
This time, even if he wanted to, he was unable to move until the creature left itself. He could not risk it being crushed by his components or taking it far away from its home. Optimus may not be knowledgeable on creatures on this world, but even he knew they would not want to be taken far away.
None of his Autobots wanted to be, and really, neither did he.
It was painful to remember how far they had come, and then how far they had fallen as a result. Optimus wanted to… fix everything. Wanted to fix his Autobots, fix his home, protect this little creature that had never given him anything, but was deserving of grace anyway…
He wished he could help it properly.
Still, it seemed to enjoy him for a few joors. When it finally shuffled, Optimus arose from his mild recharge, too, centering his full attention on it. Little paws patted his engine silently, and then it stood fully and jumped down through his undercarriage.
Optimus had an idea of what it looked like – uncurling from its oblong orb into its regular shape – before he actually saw it.
However, the nano-klik the pointed black ears and waving black tail came into sight, balanced on four neat paws, his spark tightened in his chassis in sudden shock.
Oh. It was…
A cat.
Like Ravage.
Optimus was unsure how he felt about that, but the longer he studied it as it stalked away, the more the tension that had suddenly gripped his spark melted away. This was no Decepticon, sent out to spy on him. This was no Decepticon, intending to cause pain and rip apart his family. This was a tiny creature, looking for a bit of comfort.
And it really was a cute little thing. Optimus was glad he was able to offer it a little bit of comfort during the cold lunar-cycle.
Goodbye, little friend, he thought after it as he carefully searched his systems for any more intruders. When he found none, he started himself up again to begin rolling forward and back onto the road. I hope you are able to find somewhere warm and safe tonight, too.
The cat didn’t even look in his direction as he rolled past, too busy venturing out on its own.
(:)
There was a small human, a child, staring out the back of the vehicle as it slowly drove past him. It was staring up at his window, but the fact that he had no human driver did not seem to occur to him.
It lifted his hand, clenched in a fist, and pumped it slowly.
Optimus wasn’t sure what it wanted him to do, but it was trying to communicate in some small way. He could see that.
There was only one way he could communicate back himself that would not immediately out himself. Hesitantly, he honked, trying to keep it as friendly as he could, even though every vehicle sounded aggressive on this planet.
But it seemed to be the right answer, because the child brightened and smiled at him until the car was out of sight.
Optimus found himself smiling too, even without his helm out in the open.
(:)
Optimus startled slightly as he felt something climb onto his pede from where he was crouched in a cave, hollowing itself out into a hillside far away from any hiking trails. When he looked down, he found a small furry creature, much, much shorter than even the tip of his digit. When he focused his optics in, he found he recognized it with its biggish ears and small beady eyes.
“Oh,” Optimus cooed, making his engine rumble the same way the cat did, softly enough that it was hopefully comforting without being overwhelming. The mouse did not startle other than a twitch of its nose. It did not know fear. “Hello, little friend. Are you here to keep me company?”
The mouse dug its little claws into his metal, body quivering as it began to scamper its way as far up him as it could. It didn’t even try climbing up his leg, seating itself neatly on the top of his pede before turning around to stare at the tops of the trees spreading out before them.
Optimus smiled again, looking out over the fields of green. “I am trying to find a specific pattern of stars,” he explained to the mouse. “If I can find it, I believe it means that the salvation of my people is on this planet. Have you seen a series of three stars in your spark-cycle?”
The mouse, obviously, did not respond.
“Or perhaps,” Optimus continued, honestly just talking to talk at this point, “you have seen a metal cube, with glowing blue glyphs along its side? It shrinks and grows depending on its need, so perhaps to you it is very small if you needed to carry it. Or perhaps it is very big for you, but servo-sized for me. What do you think?”
The mouse, as if finally understanding where his voice was coming from, craned its helm up. Its entire body moved with its next breath, even as it stayed firmly rooted on his pede.
“But then again,” Optimus smiled wryly. “I pushed it through the groundbridge a very long time ago, and I have been informed that nothing on your planet lives longer than a vorn. Nobody would remember it appearing here, and it might be buried under dirt and plants. Perhaps we would never find it, even if we knew it were here.”
The mouse paws twisted together, tail flicking.
“Or maybe it is in one of the humans’ archives or museums.” Optimus continued. “I wonder, even if they knew how important it is to us, if they would allow us to have it, or if we would need to take it by force. I do not want to use force, but they have not been particularly kind to us.”
The mouse turned, looking down off the edge of his pede, small claws tapping against the edge as it tried to figure out how to climb down off his leg. Optimus moved his arm down as quietly as possible without moving too much, lowering it down so that the mouse had a new platform to climb down onto.
The mouse startled slightly, but as Optimus held steady it slowly gained the courage to set one paw down on Optimus’ servo and then lowered its entire body onto his outstretched palm.
“Here you are,” Optimus coaxed, setting it down firmly on the ground. The mouse immediately leaped off his hand and scampered away, little tail dragging in the dirt after it as it ran into the light and turned a corner, disappearing out of Optimus’ sight.
Optimus sighed, turning his helm back up to the sky. The sun was at its highest peek, and clouds were starting to spread across the sky. He could only hope that they wouldn't completely take over by nightfall. He wanted a chance at seeing the stars.
The animals, after all, could not help him no matter how much he asked them.
(:)
The clouds completely covered the sky for the entire night. Rain started to pour from the sky, and part of Optimus wanted to recoil as far back into the cave as he could get, legs brought up to his chassis, trying to escape the onslaught of water.
They had been cautious about landing on Earth at all, barely managing to change their collision course from slamming into the ocean to instead crashing into land. They had switched trajectory with enough time to land several hundred leagues inland, but Optimus could not imagine how fast they would’ve rusted if they truly did land in Earth’s water. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea.
But… the rain shouldn’t cause too many ill effects, should it? The Ark had sat through multiple sprinkles if not downpours since they landed, and Optimus hadn’t seen any contamination of rust. It was surely not as bad as the cosmic rust that had taken down a multitude of colonies both before and during the war.
If nothing else, Ratchet would be able to cure him if he got a little infected.
Cautiously, Optimus pushed his servo out into the rain to feel it.
It almost tickled, drizzling across his arm and sliding easily off of the metal. The echo of it through the cave was melodic, even though it had no real rhythm. Like a sparkling playing on a drum set.
Optimus had not heard such a noise since long before the war, and the brief times he strayed near the entrance of the Ark while it rained only to shy back with the rest of his Autobots.
He rotated his servo, letting the rain cover him in its fluidness. The way the water moved was so much faster than any oil or coolant or lubricant that he had ever seen. It was wet and messy, unable to be contained, and yet it set Optimus’ spark free to see it. His biolights illuminated the space in front of him as he observed the rain, his spark relaxing in adoration.
“This planet is so lovely,” he murmured to nobody but himself. “I wish we had more time to explore it.”
But he didn’t. So he had to transform and roll into the rain to continue his search, no longer trusting the view would provide the observation point he was hoping for. But, oh, the rain against his plating felt magical anyway.
It would only be until later that he learned the dangers it could pose for vehicles on roads, and that he was lucky to get out of the forest before it turned into a swamp and captured his tires to its bog. But today, he escaped unharmed.
(:)
He learned about the radio and Earth tunes rather quickly, in his opinion. Then again, he had nothing else to compare it to. Even the soldiers surrounding their base tended to keep their music consumption to a minimum while they were on the premises, but from what he understood, that’s because they were ordered to.
He on occasion heard them talking about the lack thereof, but the nano-klik they caught him listening they would snap their mouths shut and no longer speak on the matter. Optimus searched through many channels until he found a station that actually played music he enjoyed.
The music swelled around him, and he relaxed into it, almost letting it control his speed before he thought better of it. It sounded like when wires got pulled taut, in a way, but no bot on Cybertron ever thought to turn that into an instrument of any sort. Some of the music sounded like air whistling through tunnels or vents.
Noises he was familiar with, but never in the context of music. Just like the rain, Optimus found himself enjoying the sounds. Earth felt magical.
(:)
He found a news station not too long after that, switching through signals when the music came to a temporary end. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t to hear them talking about him and his Autobots.
::“–at are we supposed to do about these giant alien robots?”:: One of the humans asked the other, and Optimus felt his processor begin to still. ::“We’re just supposed to accept that they’re here for good? When are they leaving?”::
::“Well, that’s an interesting question. They haven’t tried threatening us as far as the navy and army have reported.”:: The other human responded. ::“So this isn’t a hostile takeover. Even despite the rising fears, it doesn’t seem like they’re making any moves to threaten us.”::
::“I can’t believe Stephen King predicted this with “Trucks”.”::
::“That’s nothing like this! They haven’t even done anything from what we know! Do we really think that they’re just going to stay around forever?!”::
::“Maybe.”::
::“No! I bet they aren’t. Look, they’re aliens. If I know anything about our government, they’re going to try to manipulate the bots to either work for us and take over other countries, for the sake of “freedom of tyranny”,for their own benefit… Or they’re going to figure out a way to properly capture them. Tie them down, cut them open, figure out how they work. And then mass produce them for, again, say it with me–”::
::“–for their own benefit. Yeah, sure, but what else are you supposed to do with them? We can’t just step back and let them roam free.”::
::“So experimenting on them is the answer? That’s torture! From what they’ve reported, the aliens have been making an effort to learn our language. It won’t be too long until we can establish communication with them. Communication with aliens has been the dream of people everywhere ever since the idea there’s more life out there was even founded!”::
::“Right, but–”::
::“They know how to travel across solar-systems if not galaxies! I’d rather learn how to do that before finding out how they work.”::
::“They’re robots, Chrissy! That means they have a creator. They might not even know how to space travel. They only know what they’re programmed to learn. If their creators follow them down here, we’ve got to have an army ready to fight back against them.”::
::“Or maybe they’re just refugees.”::
::“Right. Giant, artificial intelligence, refugees. This is just what all those horror movies were talking about.”::
::“What is your holdup about horror movies today?”::
::“I don’t know! Maybe the fact that we’re living in one?!”
::“Oh for–”::
Optimus shut it off, and allowed himself to roll along in silence for a while. He could understand their holdups, really, he could. It didn’t change the fact that his spark sank at the fear they had caused.
There were no creators coming to reign down terror upon them.
Primus was all but dead, and the Quintessons had long since been practically wiped out from the surface of Cybertron. If he had done his job right, the Decepticons did not even know they were out here on this distant planet. The humans had nothing to fear from them.
In fact, the Autobots were scared of them. They wanted to be here no more than the humans wanted them here. Optimus enjoyed seeing the landscape and their creatures, but he by no means wanted to stay here forever. At maximum, just long enough to find the Allspark.
The radio made him scared of what could be happening back at the Ark. If the humans had started trying to manipulate his Autobots, if they had captured any of them…
Maybe the Autobots did not have access to their communications center anymore after the humans had furthered their quarantine on them.
Suddenly, no news stopped seeming like good news.
And yet Optimus still could not return for a few more solar-cycles. He was helpless to help them or stop the humans.
Oh, Primus, if the humans restrained the bots and discovered his own copy was a hologram, a fake… He wasn’t sure what he’d do. The thought made him sick.
(:)
The small town was the only one around for miles. Hardly any of the people wandering down the sidewalk looked up as Optimus lumbered past, and the few that did just glanced further down the street like they knew exactly where he was going. Optimus wondered what they would do when he drove past where his supposed destination was, but they had all looked down again and continued moving within a few kliks.
He wondered how often they got a truck of his caliber here. Likely not often; he did not see big vehicles in towns like this much. They usually pulled to the side of the road at rest stops far back off the “I”s. Interstates, he thought was their full title from some of the traffic broadcasts he caught off and on.
Sometimes, on said traffic broadcasts, they warned him of crashes on the route ahead. Sometimes, they were out of his way. It did not matter where they were, or whether or not he saw them on his drives or not. He felt guilty he could not help them. It would risk his Autobots’ safety if he did.
But the sight of small humans, bundled in blankets, eyes staring at the ground before them as if they couldn’t process it…
It made Optimus feel horrible. If only he were not tied down by necessity, he could offer them something more than passing glances and emotions greater than he could handle.
I’m sorry, little ones. He thought at them, peering at them in his rearview mirrors until they blinked out of sight.
(:)
He got a message from Jazz before he even woke from his recharge on the fourth solar-cycle.
::We’re all good here! Humans haven’t even blinked at the fake Prime. I hope you’ve made progress in your mission. Do not respond to this.::
It must have been risky to send the photo connected to the message, but Optimus smiled at the sight of Hot Rod, the twins, and B-127 all pressed into frame, grinning for the picture.
Something soft billowed out through his field before he could stop it. Nothing could feel his field on this planet, though, so Optimus let it remain.
He would not have attempted to send back a message to Jazz anyway – it’s not like he had the technology to send an encrypted message to them – but the reminder was nice. They were all safe.
He clung to that reassurance with all that he had.
(:)
Driving along smaller roads did not prove to be much better than the interstate, he had to admit. In fact, it was plagued by its own individual dangers. In fact, it was plagued by its own individual dangers.
Once, a ball rolled into Optimus’ path, and a small child ran into the middle of the road, hands outstretched as the child chased it down.
Perhaps the scariest part was that the child had looked right at Optimus as he approached and had clearly weighed the pros and the cons. Finally, it reached the decision that it would beat him across the road. Since Optimus had seen the child looking, he believed, foolishly, that he would use common sense and would not cross.
Child versus truck, right?
When the child began to run, Optimus started to apply his breaks a klik later than he should have. A femme woman dashed after the child, eyes blown wide in clear terror as she reached for it, selflessly risking her own spark for the potential safety of the little human.
Although Optimus managed to stop, twisting his wheels sharply so even if he kept going it would not crush them, the woman still used her own body to shield the child. Against him, it would not do anything to save either of them.
But Optimus felt impressed nonetheless by her spark – her heart.
You have the spirit of an Autobot, he thought at her. Ultimately, it would mean nothing to her, he knew. But it was the highest compliment he could think to give.
As he began to creep forward, she uncurled, turning her head up to stare up at him with huge, terrified eyes. She relaxed for a fraction of a second, sighing deeply as she held onto the child. And then her gaze found his window, and her face clenched with confusion.
Right. There was no human behind his wheel, the common denominator between every human vehicle Optimus had seen, and that he had been informed about by Professor Grove.
She knew he wasn’t right, that he was unfamiliar.
Optimus hated to make her doubtlessly already poor day worse, but he could not exactly transform and apologize without terrifying her into running away and, worst, managing to contact their human government.
There was nothing he could do but drive away as she continued to cling to her child, burying her nose in its hair.
(:)
Optimus did not often allow himself to linger on the memories of Elita-1 and her team.
When she decided to stay on Cybertron, she had been holding his servo while she told him. They had long discussed potentially keeping a team on Cybertron, to play a decoy so the Decepticons would not realize their whole militia had abandoned the planet
By the time Elita-1 had approached him, the plan had developed into instead using timed bombs spread through various facilities, all with different fuse lengths. Perhaps it would take stellar-cycles to blow, perhaps vorns, perhaps mere joors in some places. After all, they did not want to leave any bots behind.
But Elita-1 reminded him just how easily those bombs could stop working, the chances of them being discovered by Soundwave tracking down their signatures, the chances of them going off early and spoiling their plans…
The list went on, and Optimus had been unable to manage his horror as Elita-1 continued speaking, continued telling him that she and a precious few other bots would be staying behind to enact their original plan. They, she told him, did not want to leave their home, no matter the personal cost.
That horror was only doubled when she told him that Hot Rod was considering staying back, too. He was unsure what he would’ve done if he lost both of them, and was relieved when the young firecracker chose to come with him to Earth instead.
Greenlight, Arcee, and Cliffjumper had stayed with Elita-1, though, as well as a few others he regretfully was unfamiliar with. He tried to know each Autobot personally, and that somehow became simultaneously easier and harder as the war continued on.
He tried not to dwell on Elita-1 and her team too hard. He tried not to remember how he had lost her, how he could only hope that she and her team would survive without backup, that all of the safeholds they could use would be all but gone.
The Ark, after all, had packed up whatever supplies they could use, and it would leave Elita-1 and her team with nothing. He could not imagine how they must be doing.
But as he drove along, he could not stop his thoughts from wandering. At least Elita-1 was not living in captivity. She would never allow her and her team to be caught; “death before capture”, she always swore. Thankfully, she still agreed that it was not always the best thing when B-127 and Hot Rod began to repeat it.
Elita-1 would probably scoff at him if she knew Optimus and all the Autobots were living as prisoners within the Ark. She would probably encourage violence, if only to guarantee their own freedom. He would not be able to blame her, just as he could not blame a single member of his high command as they began to demand they all leave.
The Allspark was important, but not more important than his last few Autobots’ safety.
Optimus wanted to be the strength they needed, and he fell short in so many ways.
He hoped Elita-1 was doing better in more ways than simple freedom back on Cybertron. He hoped that she was not just surviving, but thriving, too. He hoped that the Decepticons feared her name. He hoped that her plan had worked, and that she and her team had managed to replicate a full army, fighting for salvation against Megatron’s army.
He could only hope.
Please be alright, Optimus prayed at her, or perhaps to Primus on her behalf, worry coursing through him. Please be alright.
He got an answer from neither. Even the Matrix was condemningly silent, but what was new there, really?
(:)
On his fifth lunar-cycle, Optimus found a field just as night began to fall off of one of the backroads. There were no clouds in the sky, threatening to cover up the stars. It was so far away from everything else that light pollution was no longer an issue. In relief, quiet bliss unspooled its way through his spark.
He could see the distant lights of a farmhouse across the blades of grass, twinkling like distant stars. He was too far away for them to notice, nor did he suspect they would even care to look out their windows this late. Typically, from what he could tell anyway, Earth creatures did not have bio lights that were easily recognizable from a distance.
If they wanted to stop animals from coming into their fields, they would need to have guards.
As Optimus slowly rolled off the roads, he found that he could not see any humans milling about, nor could he even hear a crunch of vegetation as they moved through the tall grass. He did not believe any were nearby, or would be any time soon.
Their security would likely be around their livestock instead of around the plant life, he suspected.
Optimus carefully transformed as he edged away from the road, keeping himself crouched halfway over so no passing cars would notice him any different than another piece of farm equipment. Professor Grove had shown him images of tractors, rototillers, wagons, and so much more. There were so many different varieties that even she, a native, had to look up what some of them were called.
While he suspected most humans would assume he was just another machine, especially cloaked by the night, he naturally would rather keep the amount of time he was exposed to a minimum.
Even bent over as he was, the tips of the foliage reached to his knees. It wasn’t all that tall, all things considering, but certainly taller than most of the grass he had seen in people’s backyards. He didn’t know much about produce on this planet, but from studying the archives he knew there was plenty of it on every organic planet.
Earth, if the numerous fields were anything to go by, were much the same.
Optimus tread through the grass as lightly as he possibly could, feeling their bristles prickle against his. He was sure he was leaving trails behind him, clear evidence that he had come to this field to seek out his goals. Guilt clawed him alive, and he prayed that it wouldn’t do too much damage.
But he couldn’t see the sky from the road without being caught or the woods without his sight being obscured, and this field was… the best he could possibly get.
Eventually, the grass fell away without the crunch of his pedes as he found a place where the grass had already been razed. The aforementioned tractor sat in the middle of it, silent and cold, having long since being abandoned out here.
Optimus sat down beside it silently, setting one servo on it to keep himself balanced as he lowered himself onto the trimmed down foliage. Arms tucked behind his helm, Optimus studied the sky intently as he switched to night vision.
This was it. As soon as his optics adjusted to the sky, Optimus would either see Orion’s Belt, or he wouldn’t. If Earth was anything like Cybertron – and when it came to orbital rotations, he knew it was – then constellations could change based on time of year and location on the globe.
Except Optimus could not afford to travel beyond this little sliver of land, and his Autobots were already pressed for time as it was. If his vision was predicting a sight he would eventually see himself, then it would have to be here or not on Earth at all.
This is your last chance, Optimus prayed to Primus, tucking one servo under the back of his helm and resting the other over his chassis. Please show me if the Allspark is here on this planet. Please… let it be the right decision for my Autobots. I know I am your champion. I know I am.
Primus did not send a pulse of energy to Optimus. His Prime, after all, had ripped out his spark and sent it to the most distant reaches of the universe. Perhaps Optimus had done the right thing, but he never knew for sure.
He could’ve been wrong and killed their god. The Autobots could’ve put their faith in a false Prime.
Perhaps…
Perhaps the vision was never real, and all the faith his soldiers, his commanders, his brothers put into him was all for nothing. Perhaps the young archivist had an overactive imagination and nothing more.
Perhaps Optimus had ruined their chances at survival, stringing them on, promising a new home, or at least salvation.
All for nothing.
He hoped not. He was… optimistic that he had made the right decision.
How hard it was to remain upbeat, as he was named, in a losing war. How hard it was to endure, especially when bots around him yelled at him to be more realistic, but this wasn’t about realism. It was about hope, and that was different.
I cannot sacrifice my Autobots for your life. Many given up for only one spark… that is against everything I preach. The stars began to become more vivid, and Optimus vented in sharply, studying them closely for any sign of three in a very distinctive row. Please. Please. Let my hope mean something. Let there be a purpose to remaining optimistic. Let the humans see reason if the Allspark is here, let there be something we can do–
Three stars stared down at him.
Beautiful and brilliant, they winked at him as Optimus’ spark did summersaults. He shoved himself up to his pedes, stumbling slightly where he stood as he stared up at them.
That was his constellations. Those were his stars.
“Orion,” Optimus whispered up at the glowing beads of light. “Oh– Orion, it is so good to see you. I have thought about you every solar-cycle, wondered what… You are real. You are real.”
Orion’s stars continued to twinkle in sync with Optimus’ spark.
“I have found you.” Optimus continued. “And I– I hate to sound ungrateful. But what… What am I supposed to do next? What will you have me do?”
A twist of something against his audial, the presence of a ghost servo on his shoulder. ~Oh my champion, my fourteenth Prime, chosen savior of our people.~ Came the gentle whisper, Matrix humming softly as it chimed at him. ~You have been right all along. The Allspark is here.~
“Where?” Optimus demanded, eager.
~Somewhere we have yet to pinpoint. But it is certainly on this planet, and it is very impressive you have narrowed it down in so little time. Your hope has served you well.~
Ah. Just on this planet. Why did Orion not contain directions to its location?
~You will know when you are near it. Within a hundred leagues is all we need.~
Optimus nodded. He knew enough not to try to grab the spector’s servo, not to seek comfort in a being that was not really there. He began to lean into its presence anyway.
~Continue to have faith, my champion.~ Primus, the Matrix, continued, squeezing his pauldron in a quiet farewell. ~You will know when the time is right. Your spark, your connection to me, has never led you astray before.~
Oh. Optimus’ optics fogged slightly, and he bowed his helm as that insecurity was put to rest. “Thank you,” he whispered as the ghost faded from his side. “I will continue to listen and serve you. I will continue to do my best.
Primus had no more answers for him.
But it was better than nothing.
Optimus took a picture of the sight above him for nothing more other than proof, and then turned to begin his long trip home.
They would not be happy, but at least they had some direction. At least they had purpose. They had a goal to work towards now. This planet was not that big. It would take a few trips, but they would find the Allspark.
Optimus had faith, had hope.
This planet was full of it, too.