Transformers; Legacy of Primus

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Shauntell HOlm, Jun 15, 2019.

  1. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Originally posted on Second chapter to come soon. I am still working on some later portions of the outline and could use some suggestions if anyone has any.

    Per ideas gleaned from mentions of schooling in the comics, does anyone have any suggestions of classes a young Orion Pax - the archivist not the cop - could take that would 'prepare' him for society? In the Covenant of Primus Orion emerges from the Well with no memories and I am doing something similar, but I figured that with no memory he would need some classes to help him adjust to modern life. There is no Caste System by that point but . . . yeah.


    Transformers; Legacy of Primus


    Disclaimer: Transformers; Prime and all related continuities is the sole property of Hasbro and its affiliates. No infringement is intended. This saga is for fun only.


    Note to readers: This fan fiction is an Alternate Universe Depiction of the main Transformers Prime story line as well as Generation One and other characters and continuities within the Transformers franchise. I had started this story two years ago – wow, that’s a long time ago – but ended up putting it on hold due to wanting a stronger story line and . . . I started school. I have spent months writing an outline for a strong continuity and the best character development I can manage. I am far enough along in the outline process that I felt it was time to start writing. Again.

    A major thanks to Reader, Writer, Animator for your patience and mentorship. I have so much to learn still regarding writing. Also, a major shout out to the authors Supernova22, AstinMartinLover, SincereNonsense, Kira444, Ardent Aspen, Doctor Daisy, NoSlashScreamer and Brohne. Your writings, attention to detail and love of the franchise have deeply inspired me. I hope to perform as well as you all.

    Also . . . Keep Transformers Alive!


    Act One

    Chapter One

    The cerulean sky was the brightest it had been in a week. Storm clouds hovered on the distant horizon, dark and threatening. Only now the threat had passed. The storm was over. In its place were spectacles of rainbows hanging in the sky like benevolent guardians, drawing wary Cybertronians from their homes. Optimus Prime was one of them.

    Crimson armor glistened magnificently as he stepped out of his modest home and casually strode across the connected balcony, staring at Iacon’s skyline. Every movement caught and reflected light with an intensity he wasn’t used to. Gone were the days of dents and dings, scratches and all out gashes marring his plating. Every inch of his metal frame was smooth, polished. No longer did he wince and cringe with the discomfort of tiny particles or congealed oils grating against sensitive joints. It was a wonderful feeling, but it still felt so odd to look so normal again. He felt a little too polished, to be honest.

    Nevertheless, he was content. He rested his weight against the railing, fingers laced together in thoughtful repose and one large ped hooked behind the other. He listened to the wind as it whistled through the rungs of the railing and shuttered his optics a moment, enjoying the sounds of Cybertronian life. When he opened them again, Iacon stretched out before him in a majestic, organized tumbling of tall gold spires, domes and pyramids reaching for the skies as though reaching for The One, proverbial digits splayed in a gesture of thanksgiving and praise after eons of darkness and destruction. White puffy clouds, stragglers of last night’s storm, rolled by above him, powered by the gentle wind. Tendrils of golden light kissed the wispy edges of each cloud as long grey shadows stretched westward allowing that same golden light to crest every roof as Cybertron’s native star rose ever higher into the sky.

    He watched it all with a small smile, crystalline blue optics blinking serenely in the morning’s tranquility. It all still felt so surreal to him. How long had it been since the high rises of Iacon had gleamed so brilliantly in the morning sun? How long had it been since he had felt a real Cybertronian breeze against his armor plating? Or scented the wind that carried scents unique only to Cybertron?

    Too long. Far too long.

    A full ten stellar cycles had passed since the war’s end and the dust of rebuilding still wafted on the horizon of some cities. Landing fields still saw a steady stream of returning vessels as refugees returned home after eons spent searching for a better world. Some wept for joy while others mourned the lingering evidence of the devastation that nearly obliterated their kind from existence. He had been there to greet them all as they returned, full of joy and words of welcome. Some had not recognized him while others had fallen on bended knee, knowing their Prime from the depths of their sparks. Whatever changes had been made to his exterior plating was not important. His spirit never changed and for some, that was what drew them back; the hope that the line of Primes was not as tainted as it had become.

    He vented a sigh, content. This was his home. He had lived here for many an eon cataloging and storing data, searching for answers to his past and his destiny. He had made a name for himself here, gaining notoriety not only among his peers in his chosen field but also among the very people of Cybertron. It still amazed him how much he had grown and how much had changed.

    Optimus zoomed in on the streets so far below and watched as several younglings splashed in puddles left by the rain. He chuckled. Many were among those who fled Cybertron during the height of the war along with their families. They were but sparklings then. Some had never tasted energon. Instead they had grown up on alternative energy sources that, while enough, had not sustained them as well as they had hoped. Many had returned to Cybertron ill and weak. Some not at all.

    The battle mask over his face plates slid aside, revealing a handsome complexion, though it still carried gruesome scars, reminders of a turbulent and violent war. He lifted one large hand to the spot typically occupied by nasal plates. His were destroyed long ago, even before the war, and he still hesitated to reveal the old injury to anyone other than family and close friends. His face was flatter than most now, uniquely shaped, though Elita seemed to think he looked even more dashing than ever. He took her word for it, but he still felt self-conscious. At least with Ratchet – and stars forbid, even Knock Out’s practiced hands, the scarring was minimal.

    The twitter of birdsong drew his attention to the small flower box to his right which hung on the railing. In between a patch of tulips sat a little blue and green songbird. It’s tiny voice was melodious, nostalgic, one he had become accustomed to on Earth. Now Cybertron hosted a myriad of cybernetic animals as it had in the days following the War of the Primes. An era he had never seen, Primus’s greatest experiment with Cybertronian life, was experiencing its own second Golden Age.

    The tiny bird was not at all afraid of the massive warrior that observed its movements. In fact, it hopped towards him and he slowly pulled energon flakes from a subspace pocket in his chest compartment and rested his left hand on the railing, palm up. The little song bird did not hesitate. This was a usual occurrence by now. It hopped into his palm and began picking at the flakes, hopping from one spot to the next, little wings fluttering in gratitude before it looked up at him, chirped once, and flew away.

    He blew the last of the tiny crumbs from his palm and returned his attention to Iacon. He looked towards the west between two large skyscrapers where a large domed building rose from Cybertron’s plating like a massive bubble ready to burst its shell. It gleamed brighter than any building in Iacon and the sight of it made his spark swell. He had spent so many vorns there serving fellow archivists and patrons alike. He had rediscovered a part of who he was there. He had fallen in love there.

    A smile touched his lip plates a moment, and then faded as a little sadness crept into his spark. He could still picture his mentor, Alpha Trion, lecturing his underlings on the best ways to record and store data and how best to serve their patrons. Every mecha employed at the Hall of Records had looked up to him, literally up to him. As events had begun to unfold, both he and Alpha Trion became as Gods to some of their fellow archivists. Many had risked their lives fighting to preserve their history stored within the data net and a few even paid the ultimate sacrifice ensuring the Decepticons never acquired the Relics of the Primes when the vaults were attacked. But when he thought about what it was that he had lost personally as a result . . .

    He vented again, pushing the lingering sadness aside and shuttered his optics. Some of what was lost had been restored following war’s end. Even so, the shock of that loss, knowing one of the greatest mecha in the history of Cybertron was gone . . .

    “Why so introspective, my love?”

    His spark gave a little flip and he smiled fully as he turned to face the femme approaching. She was beautiful. Exotic, even, in her mixed colors of pinks, whites an reddish pinks. He had never loved a femme as deeply as he loved her. Her courage, compassion and snarky sense of wisdom knew no bounds. Her husky voice spoke with strength and conviction while her touch was so very gentle while at times arousing.

    He took her hand and gently kissed those pearly white digits. She watched him curiously, questioningly, as he nuzzled her knuckles against his cheek plates.

    “Optimus?” she queried, her tone that of concern and curiosity.

    “Just . . . dreaming old dreams,” he replied, his voice as rich and warm as the smile he offered her. “And thanking Primus that some dreams remain at my side.”

    She smiled and stood on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “Well, let not the worries of the past trouble you now,” she intoned and hooked her arm through his, leading him back inside. “This orn is a time of merriment and looking ahead.”

    He smiled and again felt his spark light up with anticipation. “Indeed. I have long been looking forward to it.”

    “Then come with me, my love. Everyone has gathered and it is time for their Prime to stand before them.”

    He nodded as they turned from the sight of a waking city and approached the large double doors of their home. They slid aside allowing them admittance and passed through their shared berth-room. It was spacious and pleasant. The berth itself sat to his right facing the windows spanning the length of the room. A large earth-inspired fire place stood a few feet away from it offering a warm ambience he had never thought he would miss. A large monitor hung above the mantle decorated with photographs of friend and family allowing them the opportunity to observe nightly updates as they prepared for recharge. Beyond that was a small bookshelf and sitting area where he and Elita often sat and talked together, watching the city as it moved to its own unique rhythm, or enjoyed a data pad or two of their favorite stories. Close to the berth and just off the doorway was their private wash rack, a luxury now.

    As they left their berth room, Optimus inhaled deeply and hummed appreciatively. The wonderful smells of specially prepared energon soups, a new concoction from new colony worlds, wafted through the halls making his tank rumble eagerly. He had always enjoyed the various forms of existing energon mixtures, but these new dishes were a stroke of genius and they were taking Cybertron by storm. Somehow, organic compounds had been added to these soups and they were completely digestible. Not only that but there was a myriad of desserts waiting, as well, and he had never turned down an offer for sweets.

    Elita giggled at him as they continued down the hall, passing their children’s wash racks before turning left and walking with a subconsciously measured and regal gait towards the landing overlooking the spacious foyer below. The closer they got the louder the din of voices became. All were familiar.

    He smiled down at Elita who gave his arm a squeeze. And suddenly they were there, standing at the railing and gazing down at a large crowd of mecha milling about with amiable warmth. He even spotted his eldest children tiddling among them, playing some strange game of catch while zig-zagging between and around the legs of larger mecha. Optimus shook his head disapprovingly but could not hide his joy at the sight of them. Those were his children, his posterity, a treasure he thought he’d never have.

    The foyer below was a literal reception hall; wide and open and ornately decorated. The stairs was lined with railings that looked like they were carved out of expensive wood. Crown molding created a border between wall and ceiling, and a crystal chandelier dangled from the high domed skylight, reminding Optimus of the many ancient cathedrals of earth. The floor was a marble mosaic depicting the life of Primus. Potted plants sat in the corners or along the curving wall, adding an extra spot of color and a sweet scent.

    Among the crowd he spotted Ultra Magnus, his younger brother, and his mate Nautica conversing with two other femmes on the far side of the room. It was Greenlight and Lancer, two members of Elita’s special strike team during the war. Lancer had lost a limb at one point, but a medic’s expertise had provided her with a replacement in no time. Not far away were Jazz and Moonracer conversing amiably with Chromia and Ironhide. Somewhere near the main entrance he spotted Hound and Prowl in deep conversation with Perceptor. Not far from them were Springer and Arcee who had recently bonded. At their side, laughing amiably, were Kup and Hot Rod, a young warrior who, as impetuous as he was, may one day take up the mantle of Prime.

    Across the room, he spotted the ever battle ready and suspicious but fun loving Cliffjumper. At his side was Arcee’s older sister K-Tee. Her blue plating was still striking to him and her rare smile still made his spark flutter, but he was truly happy that she had finally allowed herself the happiness she deserved and that she had found it in Cliffjumper, as unlikely a pair as that might have been. Both K-Tee and Cliffjumper had struck up a conversation with Wheeljack and Bulkhead who were clearly reveling in their favorite war stories. He could hear Bulkhead’s rumbling laughter from all the way up the stairs and couldn’t help but smile.

    Behind them were Smokescreen and Trailbreaker chatting up a storm with Blurr and Sky Fire. At their side were Ratchet and Red Alert with his old mentor Doctor Cogwheel, an ancient Arachnicon renowned for her incredible skill. It was her skill that had saved Lancer’s dignity during the war. She had retired from the medical field long before the war but if it had not been for her services . . .

    Optimus did not want to think about it. Instead he focused on the largest members of the room, the Dinobots. While Ironhide maintained his role of bodyguard they maintained their role as the Primal Vanguard, an ancient duty they took seriously. Grimlock and the female Dinobot Slash stood at opposite sides of the main entrance while the rest stood at intervals throughout the room. Swoop stood closest to the stairwell, stiff as a board and alert.

    So many of his comrades, his brothers and sisters in arms, had gathered together to celebrate not only their victory and survival, but their lingering friendships. Even the Aerial Bots had joined them, which was difficult due to their schedule as members of the Galaxy Force, Cybertron’s newest intergalactic military campaign. Though peace had settled over Cybertron and many colony worlds, there was still unrest among the stars and Cybertron’s military had to be ready.

    Some mecha simply did not know how to let old grudges go.

    “Optimus Prime.”

    The room fell silent and all optics fell upon him and his mate as he gazed down at them, a warm smile on his faceplates. It was only then that he realized two things; he had not slid his battle mask back into place and the speaker was none other than Soundwave. At his side were Thundercracker and Sunstorm, Ravage, Rumble and Frenzy and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. And standing beside them were the Mistress of Flame, Windblade and several Camien guards alongside Override and two of her representatives of Velocitron. Everyone fell to one knee in humble reverence as he pressed his right hand to his chest plates and bowed his head before raising his hand in greeting. The Decepticons, however, stood at attention, heads bowed in some show of respect, but that was as far as it went. They were still too proud to recognize him as a true Prime.

    “All of you, please, arise.”

    Everyone did and Optimus smiled down at them.

    “Thank you all for coming. It is good to be among friends and family again, especially on a day that marks the end of civil unrest and celebrates the reestablishment of broken bonds and the forging of new ones. Our worlds are healing. Commerce is growing and energon rivers are flowing again. This is indeed a time of great thanksgiving and rejoicing.”

    “A special welcome to our friends from Caminus and Velocitron,” Elita added in her warm voice. “I apologize that we were unable to greet you personally upon your arrival two orns ago, but we are glad you arrived safely.”

    The regal femme of Caminus shook her golden helm. “I understand. Your inspection of the new Omega Lock was necessary. With so many returning and so little space with which to house them, it is imperative it is completed.”

    Optimus nodded. “And thankfully within the next few deca cycles it will be, which will increase the restoration of many cities exponentially. But what of Caminus? And you, Override? How fairs Velocitron these past few stellar cycles? I hope the resources we sent have helped.”

    “Velocitron sends its thanks, Optimus,” the red femme told him. “It was more than enough. The miracle wrought there will ensure we live on for eons to come.”

    The Mistress of Flame nodded as the Prime and his mate descended the stairs to stand among them. “Agreed. The people of Caminus also send their thanks. I have not seen Caminus more alive than it is now.”

    He dipped his chin again. “It is an honor to be service.”

    “Thank you for inviting us to this celebration, Optimus,” said Override as he clasped her hand. “It is wonderful to see so many familiar faces again.”

    Optimus smiled. “You, like our Camien allies, came to Cybertron two orns ago to discuss the reopening of old trade routes and who among our peoples should continue serving as ambassadors to our respective worlds. I realize this new tradition is somewhat peculiar to all of you,” he glanced between the Velocitronians and the Camiens, “but I did not wish for you to sit alone for four orn while our people celebrated the end of civil unrest. Such a time is best shared with all our friends, whether near or far.”

    Override smiled. “And we appreciate the hospitality, Optimus. It has been an incredible experience setting my peds on the home world again.”

    “Hey, Prime. Long time no see, mech.”

    Optimus turned as Jazz and Moonracer approached, their new little sparkling held in Moonracer’s arms. Override touched his arm lightly and he nodded at her as she stepped aside to continue her earlier conversation with the Camiens. He offered them a brief nod as well before offering his oldest friends his full attention.

    “Hello, Jazz. Moonracer. So good to see you both.”

    He reached out caress the tiny little femme’s cheek plates held so securely in Moonracer’s arms. She was the perfect combination of her creators. Her helm was shaped like her carriers while her arms and legs were a lot like her sire’s. Her colors had not come in yet, but Optimus could already see a lot of her carrier’s pale teal coloring in her little helm, shoulder pads and some portions of her legs.

    “She is beautiful, you two. Congratulations.”

    “Thanks, Optimus,” Moonracer said, reaching up to give her best friend a hug. “You’re looking a bit more polished up than I’m used to.”

    He vented a sigh. ”Without a war to fight there’s much and grim to clog up the joints or stain the armor. I’m still not used to it. I’ve blinded myself a few times.”

    They all laughed as Elita gingerly took the tiny femme from Moonracer and held her close. “She’s just a little younger than our triplets. What designation did you give her?”

    “Moondancer,” Moonracer said, and Optimus and Elita looked at her and then at the sparkling who blinked up at them with wide, innocent optics.

    “It suits her,” Optimus said warmly and let the tiny femme grasp his large finger.

    “So how are those little sparks of yours doing anyway?” Moonracer inquired, gently caressing the crest on Moondancer’s helm.

    “Not to mention you two,” Jazz added, somewhat flabbergasted. “Three little sparks that are barely ten stellar cycles old. That makes them . . . what? About a week old in human years?”

    Elita shrugged. “Something like that.”

    “Where are they?” Moonracer asked, looking around the room.

    “They are with Ultra Magnus and Nautica,” Optimus told her.

    “And the other three?” Jazz inquired.

    “Hi Uncle Jazz!”

    Jazz jumped and turned ‘round as three younglings dashed by, a little femme in the lead, and two older mechlings following close behind. And behind them were a few more younglings of similar age, each laughing and cheering as they rushed to the outside patio which sat beneath Optimus and Elita’s berth-room balcony.

    “Right there,” said Optimus, grinning at his friend. “With your eldest.”

    Jazz laughed and patted Optimus’s shoulder plates. “Ah, the joys of being a sire, huh? Never got enough recharge in that slaggin’ war and we’re still not going to be getting enough recharge.”

    Optimus laughed and then spied the Decepticons who had moved a little further away from everyone else. “Excuse me a moment, would you please?”

    “Sure, mech. Go ahead. Work those Primely duties,” said Jazz, and Optimus left them with a shake of his head. The Decepticons, he feared, felt ignored and perhaps a little awkward in a room dominated by Autobots. They talked amongst themselves as they observed their fellow Cybertronians and Optimus knew they were trying to decide if they should leave or stay. Once they spotted his approach, they straightened to face him.

    “Soundwave. Thundercracker. Sunstorm. Hello Frenzy, Rumble. And you, as well, Ravage. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, good orn.”

    The small group of Decepticons shifted uncomfortably.

    “Hey Prime,” said Rumble, earning him a funny glance from his twin and the other Mini-cons. “What? I’m being civil!”

    Optimus kept the bemused grin off his face as he offered Soundwave, Thundercracker and the others his hand, which they grasped. “I realize this may not be the most comfortable of positions for you, but I am glad you are here. If there is truly to be lasting peace between our two sides, this is one of the best ways to start. I trust you had little trouble getting here?”

    “None,” Thundercracker mused with a shrug. “Hardly anybot paid much attention to us. They kept their distance, actually.”

    Optimus frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, but unfortunately that is one of the consequences of the war we all face. There have been so many lies spread on both sides, and bad feelings lingering between factions for so long that I fear it may be a while yet before these broken bonds truly heal. But, thank you for being willing to take that first step. I truly hope you enjoy yourselves this orn.”

    The Decepticons remained concerned. “What about the rest of your Autobots?” Frenzy inquired.

    “I have spoken with them and they know to behave. However, be certain that you do not instigate any unnecessary tensions yourselves. We cannot control what others say and do, only how we choose to react.”

    Frenzy scratched his head. “Wow, are we going to get a sermon today, too, Prime? I wasn’t aware I signed up for that.”

    Optimus smirked at him. “No, but I could summon the Priests of the Matrix Flame for you, if you prefer. I am certain they would be happy to oblige you.”

    Frenzy immediately backed up, waving his arms almost placatingly. “No thanks, I’m good!”

    Optimus grinned while Soundwave shook his head, shoulders shaking slightly.

    “Was that sass coming from the Prime?” Thundercracker mused, pointing at Optimus while glancing between his fellow Cons and then at Elita as she came up beside her mate. “First time I’ve heard that. Is this sass of his normal?”

    Elita hooked her arm with Optimus’s again and smiled. “Far more normal than you realize, Thundercracker,” she told him. “But please, make yourselves at home. This is no orn to be keeping to yourselves.”

    “Thanks, Elita, Prime,” said Thundercracker.

    Optimus nodded and glanced at Soundwave who remained silent but offered his own nod and followed the Prime into the heart of the gathered mecha. All watched nervously as Optimus led the former Decepticons into their midst. Some stepped away, giving them a wide path. Some talked in low voices with clear disdain, like Cliffjumper who had a hard time forgiving old grudges. Others were merely curious, and a few stepped forward, eager to be as inviting as their Prime, but whether that was to get in the Prime’s good graces they didn’t know.

    Ironically, it was Ironhide who approached them first. He, who among many had the biggest reason to hate them, was the first to reach out in some form of friendship. Or, he was simply staying true to his nature and remaining as gun ready and suspicious as Cliffjumper. They understood some of that. He was the Prime’s bodyguard after all. But one could never be sure.

    “So ya rascals came after all, did ya?” he asked in his thick drawl. “I didn’t think ya had the bearings to do it.”

    The room was starting to grow uncomfortably quiet and Optimus watched Ironhide carefully, often glancing between him and Cliffjumper. He was ready to step in if Ironhide’s temper got the better of him. Or if Cliffjumper tried to add his biased opinion.

    Frenzy was the first to respond. “Yeah? Well, guess we have bigger bearings than ya figured, eh, old timer?”

    Ironhide opened his mouth plates to retort but Optimus cleared his vocoder loudly, stopping him. “Yer . . . well, I guess so. Didn’t mean anything by it just . . . well, all things considered, I figured ya wouldn’t want to, is all.”

    “Well, I considered stayin’ behind,” Frenzy retorted, pointing at Rumble. “But my brother is a trouble maker. Gotta keep an optic on him, if you know what I mean.”

    Rumble crossed his arms. “Speak for yourself, mech.”

    Ironhide grinned. “I get it. I got a big mech I gotta look after, myself. Woulda given me grey hairs if I were human.”

    Optimus coughed, trying not to laugh. Was he serious? Who ended up looking after who most of the time?

    “Yeah, Prime’s are more trouble than they’re worth, right?” Frenzy chuckled, then paused when the silence became ice cold. “Err . . . at least the bad ones?”

    Optimus, who had looked somewhat apprehensive, shrugged. Fair enough. He’d known plenty of vile Primes himself, and he’d been betrayed by a few of them.

    Rumble patted his brother on the back. “Smooth, Frenzy. Real smooth.”

    Soundwave placed a hand on each of their shoulders but held Ironhide’s gaze. “Optimus Prime invited us in good faith,” he informed the older mech in a carefully controlled civil tone. “We responded in good faith. We are not here to fight.”

    Ironhide glanced at Optimus who just gazed back, waiting. “I know, mechs. Just, uh, old habits die hard, I guess.”

    A moment of silence. “Understood,” the Decepticon spy muttered and then turned to continue following Optimus. “Have a pleasant orn, Ironhide.”

    “Err, yeah. You too.”

    The old warrior watched them go, scratching his head at the awkward situation. Chromia, who had come to stand at his side, nudged him and he shrugged.

    “Well, that was . . . awkward,” muttered Sunstorm, who had until that point been silent. He had been quiet and withdrawn ever since his . . . accident. Hearing him speak was always a surprise but his unique bond with Thundercracker remained strong. Without it, he may not have survived.

    “It’s just as Prime said,” Thundercracker said, a little disappointed. “Funny thing though. A part of me is almost sorry I didn’t belt him, but another part of me is sorry we can’t just get along. Wonder if things will ever change.”

    “The change will not come until sparks are truly ready to forgive the past and move ahead,” Prime said as he turned back to them. “The war has scarred us all and the peace we seek will not be easily won. But it will be worth it.”

    “Yeah, I guess so,” said Sunstorm, still struggling with forgiving himself after the way he had betrayed Prime.

    Everyone paused when a chime announced new visitors. Being the closest, Perceptor and Prowl stepped to open it as Slash and Grimlock prepared to fight if it were an invader. Except it wasn’t.

    “Hey, everybody! Mirage is here!” Hound announced, and everyone immediately inched a little closer to welcome him in.

    “Don’t forget us!”

    “We brought the good stuff!”

    Ironhide immediately groaned. “Not those two! And with high grade! I thought you said no high grade, Prime?

    Optimus turned to the main door as a striking blue and white mech entered the foyer. The former racer turned capitalist waved a friendly greeting to his fellow Autobots as he stepped into the room. His unique ability to make himself invisible to both the optic and any sensor was an invaluable asset to the Autobot cause. He had never been much of a warrior, but his drive to restore his home, his honor, had driven him to become one of the best spies they had at their disposal. And quite the mech at sabotage, as well.

    Accompanying the Elite mech were the most troublesome twins alive. Both mecha had grown up on the ‘wrong side of the tracks’ as it were, and thus had always been mixed up with the wrong crowd. But they were smart enough to know when to leave a situation before it truly escalated beyond survivable parameters. Yet through it all, they had learned a great deal of perseverance and ingenuity in order to escape troublesome mecha without injury. Such creativity had been invaluable to the Autobots during the war. Only their continued antics as the worst pranksters among the Autobot ranks made them partially intolerable.

    Even so, just about every mecha present let out loud cheer of delight as they danced into the room, carrying between them a large crate of some of the finest engex ever refined. Some laughed as the mechs, one a striking red and black and the other a finely polished yellow and black, stood before their Prime like a pair of younglings with their digits full of energon treats they had specifically been told not to eat.

    “Hey!” said Sideswipe, pointing at Optimus with both hands and grinning widely, as though that would forgive this mild transgression.

    Optimus lifted an eyebrow.

    “Hail, Optimus Prime!” Mirage called in his friendly drawl. “I hope you don’t mind the late arrival, but . . . well, as you can see, a couple jesters needed a little help.”

    Optimus nodded at the mech. “No worries, old friend. Please come inside and make yourself at home. I am merely glad you could make it.” He turned to the twins who regarded him with broad, hopeful smiles. Everyone else in the room chuckled at them, all too familiar with their usual antics. “It is good to see the both of you again, as well. But, uh, I did specifically say no high grade, did I not?”

    There was a chorus of disappointed groans and laughter from the gathered mecha, but Optimus ignored them.

    “Yeah, well,” Sideswipe muttered, “we figured a few mecha might need a little bit of ‘loosening up,’ you know? A lot of mecha have been working pretty hard lately AND we have a LOT of visiting dignitaries.”

    Optimus was not amused. “That is no excuse to allow every bot to get senselessly overcharged. I know you mecha too well, and there are several in attendance tonight who do not hold their high grade well.”

    “Exactly who needs loosening up, anyway?” Jazz inquired as he approached, carrying Luna. “Unless you two are insinuating something.”

    Sunstreaker shrugged. “Nah, he just wants to get Prime over charged. He never forgot that one moment on earth. Ah, good times!”

    Optimus flinched. Of all the bad memories they had to bring up, they chose that one. He massaged the ridge between his eyebrows as Elita came up behind him.

    “What is this now?” she asked, somewhere between bemused and utterly stunned he of all mechs had gotten over charged. “You actually got overcharged? On earth?”

    Intrigued that the squeaky-clean Prime had committed a boo-boo, the Decepticons gathered around. Optimus, meanwhile, turned to his mate, confused.

    “I thought I told you about that.”

    She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

    Optimus wasn’t sure he wanted to.

    “Well, now my interest is peaked,” Thundercracker laughed.

    “Mine too,” agreed Rumble. “The squeaky-clean Prime has a secret.”

    He glowered at them.

    “Story time!” Bulkhead shouted, eliciting a loud cheer from the gathered mecha.

    “What!?” Optimus cried, looking around the room in utter dismay. “No – wait! WHAT!?”

    Elita laughed at his expense. “Not getting out of this one, are you?” she said, taking his arm as a few mecha slapped his back sympathetically.

    “Apparently not,” Optimus deadpanned.

    “Everybody pass around the high grade and take a seat!” Frenzy cried out.

    “Prime’s gonna tells us how he got over charged!” Rumble added, and then to his companions muttered, “This I gotta hear!”

    “To the dining hall every bot!” Sideswipe announced as he and Sunstreaker lifted the large container and paraded past their Prime, grinning from audio sensor to audio sensor. They even saluted, as pleased with their mischief as ever.

    Elita squeezed his arm and led him towards the dining room with everyone else. She spotted greenlight who was waving at her and nodded. “Just humor them for now, love. You know they don’t mean any real harm. Besides, Greenlight just gave me the go ahead. Everything is ready.”

    He vented deeply. “Very well. But I will be speaking to them later about the engex.” He turned with her and joined the crowd as it passed beneath a large archway leading to the sitting room. Almost immediately to their left was the dining room.

    “To the left everyone! Follow Greenlight!” Elita called to the gathered mecha, and everyone eagerly did as told. She and her mate followed them, smiling at each other, just as eager for good times as their gathered family – whether or not the ‘stories’ were anticipated or not.

    To Be Continued . . .


    Note: Thank you to those who got through this first chapter with me. I hope it wasn’t drawn out too much. I originally wanted to restart this fan fiction with a prologue, but it was just too long. Too much going on, so I decided to just get right into it. The first two chapters – and maybe three – will be our favorite characters gathering together for a holiday and THEN the story really starts.

    Either way, to help me and others who may not know as much as other wiser Transformers Fans, I wanted to include here the typical or not so typical measurements of time used by Cybertronians. And there are a lot of them. Many of them are the same but many of them are different depending on the continuity they are used in. I have primarily used the idea of measurements of time as presented in the IDW Comics, TFA (Transformers Animate) and even Tranformers Prime and even G1.

    Cybertronian Measurements of Time;

    Nanoklik - about one second

    Klik - about 1.5 seconds

    Breem - approximately 10 minutes

    Joor - approximately 1 - 1.15 hours

    Cycle - twelve hours

    Orn / Solar Cycle - one Cybertronian Day

    Mega cycle - 93 to 100 hours

    Deca cycle - 2 to 3 weeks (maybe they call it 1.5 deca cycles in relation to one week?)

    Orbital Cycle - one Cybertronian month

    Meta / Stellar cycle - one Cybertronian Year, or 13 months

    Vorn - approximately 83 years (but for simplicity’s sake, we will call it 100 years)
  2. Bountyhunter3232

    Bountyhunter3232 King Of Bounty Hunters

    Apr 21, 2018
    Trophy Points:
    Cheese land
    This is amazing! I look forward to the next chapter (P.S thanks for the time chart)
  3. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Thank you! I hope to have the next chapter available soon. I had started a new job and I am also trying to square some things away with my car, but yeah... hopefully it continues to do well.

    And no problem on the time chart, thing. It helps me out, too. ;) 
  4. Omegashark18

    Omegashark18 Combaticon turned Autobot

    Feb 15, 2014
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Is this no longer on
  5. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Yes, but it was restarted and I have not yet completed or posted the second revised chapter. I have a tendency to write very long chapters and I have been limited in my time recently. Things are starting to slow down now though, so, I'm hoping to have the second chapter up and running soon.
  6. Omegashark18

    Omegashark18 Combaticon turned Autobot

    Feb 15, 2014
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Any chance for a link? This seems like a worthy inclusion to my library.
  7. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
  8. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Quick update for anyone still readin' or new or chapter still in the works, and should be posted soon. Hit a major snag and trying to fix some RL issues, namely school and work conflicts. And...some unaffordable medical issues for my little fur babies which is causing some stress too. Please be patient if you are waiting for an update. It is being worked on. Thanks.
  9. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Transformers; Legacy of Primus


    Disclaimer: Transformers; Prime and all related continuities is the sole property of Hasbro and its affiliates. No infringement is intended. This saga is for fun only.


    Act One

    Chapter Two

    Mecha were still filtering into the dinning hall as Optimus stepped into the main sitting room, which was full of the pleasant din of conversation and the occasional chortle from one of the Autobots. There were even mutterings of amazement as mecha observed the impressive simplicity of the room’s design. The floor, walls and ceiling were polished until they gleamed. A mosaic arched out from the wall in ringlets, each ring depicting moments in Optimus Prime’s family history, and quite a history it was. He paused to regard it as he often did, appreciating the artistry and the attention to historical details. There were images showcasing the births of the Primes, their rebellion against the Quintessons, his own birth, his formative years and even the many eons Prima and Fire Star spent in the outside world, guiding a struggling Cybertron after the devastating Cataclysm and beyond.

    Optimus’s spark swelled with nostalgia as Elita stepped up beside him after briefly speaking with K-Tee. It still amazed them how intertwined their fates really were. Both wished at times that they could return to the era of their birth, hoping that in some way they could have done something different, something that would have made things turn out better. But they knew such a thing was impossible. The past was immutable and though the lessons of the past were hard learned, they were important. Besides, if things had turned out differently, they would never have fallen in love.

    “Pretty nice digs, Prime,” Frenzy muttered as he walked the circumference of the mosaic. “Bet this musta cost ya a lot of shanix, huh?”

    Optimus regarded him and released Elita’s arm as she left to join Greenlight and Lancer in the dining room. “It did not cost us even one shanix,” he said. “It was a gift from Solus Prime.”

    The small group of Decepticons turned as one to stare at him. “But Solus Prime died eons ago, didn’t she?” blurted Rumble, but Optimus merely smiled.

    “So, uh, where did your little family stay while this place was getting built?” Frenzy asked after a moment of silence, not sure if he believed the Prime. Optimus never lied. He had learned that a long time ago. But he still couldn’t help his suspicious nature. He feared Optimus was becoming the very Prime he had hated all along, feared that he would have to start shouting ‘hypocrite’ every time he saw the larger mech and he wasn’t certain how he felt about that. Optimus was no elitist any more than he was a liar, and yet to have a home this nice even if it wasn’t a mansion made Frenzy a little . . . angry.

    “For a time, we sheltered alongside other refugees and surviving Autobots while beginning the rebuilding process,” the Prime explained. “But after a few,” he drew in a breath, “assassination attempts we took shelter elsewhere. I . . . did not want my family at risk on account of me.”

    Frenzy glanced at his brother who shrugged. That was understandable but he was still looking for some slip up to prove Optimus was the same Prime as those that came before him; a despot, trickster, enslaver and slayer of the innocent.

    “You must’ve waited a while,” Sunstorm noted quietly. “Iacon is still under construction in places.”

    Optimus nodded. “Indeed.”

    Frenzy frowned, slightly frustrated and disappointed. He wanted to ask more, to get a rise out of the Prime, but before he could try a large hand settled itself on his shoulder. He glanced up into the masked face of Soundwave who shook his head. The larger mech’s stiff posture was a clear sign he knew what Frenzy was trying to do and was not going to allow it. He understood for the most part why but wanted to contest it. His pride would not let him accept the Decepticons had lost or that maybe Optimus had never really been the enemy Megatron had taught them to hate.

    The worst part of the war was the feeling of displacement, of not really knowing anymore who had been right or who had been wrong. In the beginning, both sides had valid points, both were fighting for the same thing . . . at least that’s what he’d thought. A part of him still wanted to believe that but . . .

    Megatron told us Prime lied to him and all of Cybertron, Frenzy thought with a frown. He told us Prime wanted power for himself. It was true, wasn’t it? Prime played Megatron and the rest of us . . . right?

    He glanced up into serene blue optics when he felt an even larger hand on his other shoulder and gulped nervously. The Prime’s gaze told the mini-con one thing; he knew. He knew Frenzy well enough to guess the reason behind the jaded questions, but he wasn’t angry. He seemed sad somehow and for some reason that almost made him angrier. Why didn’t he just yell at him, or threaten painful punishment’s like Megatron always had? Pain made you fight to get stronger, it taught you never to make the same mistake twice. Only idiots never learned their lesson. Had Prime never learned that lesson, or was he too gentle for that?

    “I think that is enough questions for now,” the huge warrior stated gently, but with a tone of finality that stayed Frenzy’s glossa. “Our friends have prepared a feast for us and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Just know that in due time all of your questions will be answered. Not everything has been as ‘cut and dry,’ as they say, as many of us were led to believe.”

    Frenzy regarded the Prime a moment more before shrugging and following after Soundwave as he started for the dinning room. Optimus stayed behind, watching them leave before glancing at the mosaic. It was frustrating. So much bitterness and resentment remained. How long would it be before these scars healed and old hatreds finally died? He truly hoped it wasn’t a mistake inviting the Decepticons. The last thing he or anyone needed right now was a fight.

    He turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder and quietly regard the Mistress of Flame as she came up beside him. She offered him a quiet nod and he straightened, returning the gesture, before he returned to studying the mosaic in silence with the other Camiens.

    “Leadership is a heavy burden,” she muttered sympathetically. “You have a difficult task set ahead of you, my Prime. Rebuilding fences torn down by discord will not be an easy feat. Frenzy, at least, does not seem willing to let go. Yet.”

    He sighed and rubbed at his face. He wanted to say he was tired . . . but the physical effects of stresses that once left him mentally and emotionally drained simply didn’t exist anymore. He ‘remembered’ those feelings and instinctually reacted to them, but it wasn’t quite the same thing. Nothing was the same anymore.

    “Hey boss, ya comin’? Everybody’s waiting!” chortled Bulkhead from the dinning room entrance and Optimus waved him off as several bots joined in his laughter.

    “I have apparently been ‘selected’ for story time this orn,” he muttered dully, still not sure how he had gotten conned into that one. “But perhaps some good can come of this. Perhaps hearing the story from a different perspective can help Frenzy and the others see the argument from a fresh perspective.” He frowned. “Not that I and others have never tried before, but . . .”

    “Their sparks weren’t ready,” said Windblade from his right, and she gave his hand a squeeze. “Maybe now they will be.”

    He glanced at the dinning room entrance where Rumble stood glaring at a seemingly unafraid and very stubborn Ariel. “I hope.”

    He mentally sighed with relief when the older mech shrugged, turning away from the little femme. Rumble had never been good with the younger generations, anyway.

    “The Forge of Solus Prime,” muttered the Mistress of Flame, awed, and he turned back to her, following her gaze. “She carried that great weapon when she helped us settle on Caminus, the power of which allowed us to stabilize Caminus as we scattered her components across our planet. We owe her much.” She glanced up at him. “And you, as well, Optimus Prime.”

    He shrugged and turned to gaze at a particular image in the mosaic depicting his younger self aiding the people of Caminus in building their world, and at his side was a striking red femme with a helm very similar to the Mistress of Flame’s.

    Windblade studied him a moment. “You miss them, don’t you?”

    He glanced at her. “Hmm?”

    She nodded at the mosaic. “The Primes. You miss them.”

    He nodded. “Very much.”

    “Have any of the Primes visited you recently?” she asked, keeping an eye on the Decepticons as they talked amongst themselves.

    “Occasionally. Alchemist and Alpha Trion are the only Primes other than myself who have not permanently ventured into the Well of All Sparks. Many of our fellow Primes believe that their sacrifice would be negated if they stayed and that the lessons learned from the past would be lost. With the help of Vector, Quintus and Micronus Prime, they reside within a new pocket dimension; The Realm of the Primes.”

    “Yes,” the Mistress of Flame muttered reverently, and the other Camiens bowed their heads in humble awe. “A new way to train future Primes.”

    “Or even current Primes,” Windblade added, glancing behind her at Hot Rod, whose large spoiler could be seen between the shoulders of the twins as she folded her arms across her chest plates, thinking. She glanced up at Optimus again. “Will future Primes be able gain access to this pocket dimension through the Well of All Sparks the same way you do?”

    Optimus rubbed his chin, a little uncomfortable. “I am a unique case in that regard. Future Primes may be given a separate form of access, though at this time it has not been determined.”

    The Mistress of Flame regarded him a moment and opened her mouth plates to ask him another question, but the sounding of the door chime and an incoming private message interrupted her. She paused a moment and then smiled.

    “She’s here,” she said, and she hurried towards the reception room. Optimus and Windblade shared a glance before following after her. Swoop stepped aside, letting them pass through the archway and Optimus nodded to him.

    He paused in the center of the room where a few stragglers remained talking amongst each other. A few had turned their helms in the direction of the front doors, curious to see who had arrived. Some thought everyone who was going to attend was present and didn’t hide their surprise to see late comers entering their Prime’s home. Their surprise increased when a striking red femme nearly as ancient as Alpha Trion with a helm like the Mistress of Flame’s stepped into the room and regarded their Prime with a look of great joy and even a touch of mischief. A tall white and navy blue mech stepped in behind her, remaining at a respectable distance though a friendly smile graced his faceplates. At the ancient femme’s opposite side were two other femmes and one mech; one rather short and stout and colored in white, black and orange with the second being a taller, green femme with an obvious aerial mode. The mech was shorter than Optimus but taller than the green femme and blue in color. All three regarded him with wide, amazed optics and fell to their knees, hands over their sparks. They lifted their heads just enough to watch, mouths agape, as the ancient femme approached the Prime. The stout white and orange femme cupped her hands over her mouth when the ancient femme reached up to touch the Prime’s face. It was forbidden to touch a Prime!

    “Flame,” said the Prime softly, and the newcomer responded with a slow, regal nod, her gaze never leaving his. “You . . . I, we, thought you would not be attending. Are you alright?”

    She nodded and reached up to embrace him and spoke in a kind, weathered voice. “I am, my dear friend. I would not have missed this for the universe. I was barely coherent the first time you visited Caminus during your exodus. The second time you visited gave us the strength we needed to ensure our people’s survival. This time – no politics, no worry. Just an excuse to visit an old friend. It is so good to see you again.”

    “Likewise,” he said softly, and gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. Behind him, Elita appeared in the archway, a mixed look of curiosity and concern burning in her optics as he kissed the red femme’s cheek plates. He turned with a smile as Elita crept up behind him, hesitant to interrupt. When she saw the reason for the strong emotions in her mate’s spark, however, she smiled and relaxed.

    “Flame! So, this is why he was so surprised,” she said and reached out to embrace the ancient femme. “We were under the impression you would not be attending. I’m glad we were wrong.”

    Flame, the first known Mistress of Flame of Caminus, smiled and patted Elita’s hand. “I’m glad, though I am also pleased my misdirection was successful. I wanted to surprise you.”

    They shared a laugh before Flame turned and gestured at the newcomers behind her. “My Prime, Elite One, these three are recent immigrants to Cybertron. They chose to make the home world their permanent home following your visit to Caminus and I happened upon them on my way here. Step forward you three.”

    The two femmes and mech in question nervously rose to their peds and approached their Prime with utter reverence. Optimus regarded them with the regality he was known for, but his gaze was gentle as they again knelt before him again.

    “Please, you are among friends here. You need not show such reverence. Rise.”

    They took the massive hands he offered them, the mech placing his hand over the smaller white femme’s, who seemed near tears, nervously grinning at her as they stood. Each trembled while holding the hand of their divine leader. He smiled at them as they looked up at him. The small white and orange femme seemed uncomfortable with looking into his optics and he realized it was because of the scar on his face.

    “Might I have your names?” he asked, and the three immigrants glanced at each other before stumbling over each other’s words.

    “M-My name is Aileron, my Prime,” said the shorter, white and orange femme. “This is my Amica Endura, Sterling, and our new friend, Swift.”

    “Prime,” the other two intoned, hands still holding his though they kept their heads bowed in reverence.

    “Raise your optics, my friends. You have no need to hide yourselves form me.”

    They did so and could not look away from his serene gaze.

    “On behalf of Cybertron, I bid you welcome and pray you have found peace in your new home.”

    Aileron, optics twinkling with unshed lubricant tears, nodded emphatically. “Yes, my Prime. We settled in an apartment together just outside of Metroplex City. It is more than I ever imagined it would be.”

    “Ah yes. Metroplex City. Still one more area under construction. I hope you will ‘pardon our dust,’ as they say.”

    They laughed slightly, but with some confusion, as the phrase was somewhat unfamiliar to them. The femme named Swift cleared her throat and glanced at Flame. “I hope we are not intruding, my Prime. I was not aware this was a familial gathering, or that this was a national holiday for Cybertron. There’s still so much we are learning.”

    Optimus shook his head and let his hands drop. “Do not be troubled. It is always a pleasure meeting new mecha, and on this occasion, the more friends we have to celebrate with, the better.” He turned and gestured at the archway where the rest of the stragglers had finally started passing through, eager to partake of new, enticing forms of sustenance. “Please, make yourselves at home. Everyone is gathering in the dinning room for the feast and – ah, a bit of storytelling. Unfortunately.”

    He cleared his throat unhappily while they looked on, slightly perplexed, and Elita giggled.

    Sterling bowed deeply. “Thank you, Optimus Prime. It is truly an honor to stand before you. May the Flame ever light your path.”

    Optimus nodded and stood aside to let Elita guide the newcomers through the archway. The Mistress of Flame gently touched his arm as she followed them, guiding her great-grand carrier to the dinning room, with Midnight Express following close behind. Optimus reached out to catch Flame’s hand, offering her a tender smile before dropping her hand. His twitching fingers were the only visual clue to his discomfort. He had forgotten that once, long ago, Cybertron and the early colonists of the planet Caminus, revered Primus as a god and the Thirteen as demigods, his ‘perfect’ children. Finding himself the center of attention, of being prayed to again, while making that historic stop during their exodus so very long ago, had been three parts nostalgic and six parts discomfiting. It was not because he did not appreciate their gesture, but he’d always known somehow that he was not worthy of worship. He was no God, nor a demigod, just a mech trying to lead his people the best way he knew how.

    This was especially true now. After their long journey through the cosmos, and after landing on earth, his knowledge of the universe and certain deities had opened his spark and processor like never before. Many of his beliefs had changed and his sense of self had expanded exponentially. He’d found peace in these changing beliefs because Primus had held these same beliefs himself. The daunting task of trying to gently teach the Camiens that he was by no means a savior or a god was going to be a daunting task, more so than trying to teach these new concepts to his own people. But, this was not the time or place for that.

    “Hey, dad! Sorry we’re late.”

    He turned quickly and glanced down, a smile on his face plates. He hadn’t even noticed the Dinobots excitement, or that the door was still open admitting more guests. Slowly filing into the reception hall were Cosmos, Powerglide, Wheeljack, and Bumblebee. The yellow and black mini-bot grinned from audio sensor to audio sensor as he marched forward and threw his arms around Optimus’s shoulders as the larger mech knelt to receive him.

    “Bee! Welcome home.”

    “Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

    Optimus nodded as he stood to receive the other arrivals, shaking their hands or clapping them on the back. “Welcome, my friends. No troubles on your return trip to Cybertron?”

    “Nah, just a bit of traffic getting from Autobot City to Luke Airforce Base,” said Wheeljack with his typical cheeky grin.

    “That, and our human friends were a little behind schedule,” added Cosmos with a shrug. “Hence our tardiness.”

    “But we got everybody here safely,” Powerglide muttered proudly.

    “Aaaaand, we watched the parade. It’s a total tradition in America. You can’t have Thanksgiving without the Macy’s Day Parade, you know. It’s total taboo!”

    Optimus glanced down again to see several humans entering his home. Each carried what they could or pulled carts loaded with crockpots of turkey and ham, dishes of various casseroles, bowls of still warm mashed potatoes and even more bowls of various salads and rolls, as well as a large array of delectable desserts, including the traditional pumpkin pie. He almost found himself envious of the feast they had prepared for themselves and felt the old familiar hunger pains as he anticipated his own feast waiting for him in the dinning hall.

    He glanced at the young woman who had spoken and smiled. “And did the balloons of this illustrious parade feature Toothless again this year, Miko? I know he was one of your favorites.”

    Miko giggled as she and the dozen or so other humans came forward to greet him, and he knelt low, his chest plates almost touching the floor, as he let them reach up to hug him around the face. “You bet he was,” she said and proudly nodded her head at the one-year old bundle she carried in her left arm. “And this little darling thought he was pretty cool, too. Kept calling him ‘Toot’ every time he appeared on screen.”

    Optimus regarded the tiny dark-haired bundle in Miko’s arms. The child looked on the verge of tears surrounded as he was by such magnificent mecha. Having learned from his experience with Annabelle, Optimus knew it would take little Ken’ichi a long time to get used to him and the other Autobots. “I’m certain he did,” he said and glanced at the young man at Miko’s side. He had a strong, confident stature that deflated some as he regarded the Prime. His red hair was as wild as it was in his youth and he still sported a few freckles on his cheeks. Even so, Vince was the last person on earth Optimus would have expected Miko to bond with. Vince, the one and only school bully, had actually grown up a lot during the last stages of the war on earth and also in recent years. He and Jack actually got along now, which pleased Optimus.

    Speaking of.

    “Hey, Prime.”

    Optimus nodded at him, smiling at the young man. “Jack. Welcome back.”

    “Oh, he’s a poet and he didn’t know it.”

    Optimus chuckled as he turned to glance at June, Jack’s mother, now a full blown surgeon at the hospital. She had worked hard to get there, and he was proud of her. “When I actually succeed at it, yes. Poetics were never my strong point.”

    The woman smiled and kissed his cheek plates. Though she and Fowler, who stood at her side, had married long ago, she still had a soft spot for him. “And yet, you have a natural poetic way of speaking. Funny that.”

    He shrugged.

    “We should all just admit that my papa bot has talent for the impossible,” said a voice, and everyone turned as a tall young woman with long, thick curly hair walked up to them. At her side toddled a seven-year-old girl who reminded Optimus strongly of little Annabelle when she was about that age, and in the woman’s other arm was small child about the same age as Miko’s Ken’ichi.

    Optimus smiled and immediately placed his brow ridge against her much smaller brow. The young woman’s bright blue eyes regarded him with adoration and love. “Hello, Cara. Welcome home, my child.”

    “Thanks, papa. I’ve missed you.”

    “I’ve missed you, too, dear one. Do you regret leaving the military so soon?”

    Cara, his beautiful adopted daughter of Earth, smiled down at her little ones. “Sometimes. I’m not exactly active service anymore, but I still work part time in Autobot City as a specialist with Special Forces. Kind of an ambassador between peoples, if you will.” She smiled at him and he bent his head down so she could kiss his cheek plates, and ten glanced at the small group of friends she’d made, one that had remained tight and connected even ten years after the last great battle in the war. “We all are, really. I think that’s why the military allows us restricted access; because there aren’t many like us who can claim such an emotional or even spiritual bond with Transformers. We know you.” She smiled at him. “We love you.”

    He smiled at her, and very gently pressed his massive lip plates against her brow. “And I love you, dear one. I am very happy you arrived safely.”

    “Thanks, papa.” She gave his cheek plates another tender peck and then turned to her squirming seven-year-old. “Stacia, love, don’t pull on me like that please. And don’t be so scared. You know Grandpa Prime.” She turned back to him. “Everyone been alright? How’s the rebuilding?”

    “We heard there was a collapse somewhere, I think it was Helix?” said Jack as he took the little one-year-old from his wife’s arms.

    “It was actually a controlled collapse,” Optimus corrected, waving a finger at the little girl clinging to her mother. They had met a few times and the tiny child still regarded him with wide, awed eyes. “The building they were trying to salvage was not as stable as they had hoped, and they ended up detonating the base.”

    “Good old demolition,” Miko muttered, kissing her little boy’s chubby cheeks to make him giggle. “I love it when things go ‘boom.’”

    “Yes, I know,” Optimus deadpanned.

    “So what is else is new?” Jack asked as he offered his squirming son a bottle of formula. “How your little sparks? Cara and Stacia have been eager to see them.”

    Optimus chuckled. “They’ve been an absolute joy – minus those nights we have little recharge, but with sparklings of that age it is a given. And you?”

    Jack shrugged. “We’ve passed that stage and moved on to other difficulties in child rearing, but – meh. ‘S’all good. I’m just . . . well, you know.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and offered Optimus a meaningful glance. “Just glad I had a good mech for an example before I turned worse than Vince did.”

    “Hey, I’m standing right here, dude!” was Vince’s immediate retort, but without the edge he once had.

    “Yep, and I know you’ve got ears large enough to hear every word, too,” Jack quipped, and winked at Miko who shook her head and gently jabbed Vince in the side with her elbow. The taller man was not even angry. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head, a small smile on his face.

    Yes, Vince had definitely grown up.

    “Hey, Optimus. Good to see you.”

    Optimus smiled as he turned and nodded at Rafael, the youngest member of Team Prime during their adventures on Earth. “Likewise, Raf. How go your studies?”

    Rafael reached up to take one of his fingers, his own equivalent of a handshake. “They’re going great. My brother and I have been working on a project for the military and I think it’s going to be a huge success. I’ve been excited to tell everyone. Especially, Ratchet. I’m sure he’d really appreciate it.”

    “I’m certain he would. He was very proud the day he learned you’d been accepted. His insight has been of help to you, has it not?”

    “It has. His, Perceptor’s, and strangely, even Wheeljacks. A part of me is still so used to seeing him as a weapons specialist for the Wreckers that I forget he’s a scientist, even an inventor.” The young man adjusted his glasses and swept a hand through his thick brown hair. “A somewhat clumsy inventor, but a good one. I really like his enthusiasm. The few times he’s come back to help us in the labs has been incredible. Some of the students ask him the funniest questions, too, but … well, he is a bit of a showoff. I’m just glad he has a good time, too.”

    “As am I. The bonds we have forged with the people of your world are precious. It is my hope these bonds continue to last.”

    “Mine too. And it’s really cool to be invited here. Thanks a bunch, papa bot.” Rafael reached up and patted a hand on Prime’s brow.

    “You are family, Rafael. You will always be welcome.”

    “Is Bulkhead here yet?” said Miko, and Prime and Rafael turned to her. “I was a little bummed he didn’t come with Wheeljack to pick us up.”

    “He has been helping us here with preparations,” Optimus explained and stood to point through the archway. “Everyone is already gathering and preparing to refuel. There is a space set aside on the far end of the dinning room where you can set up.” He patted Bumblebee’s shoulder. “Bee, would you mind escorting them, please? You know what it is I am talking about, yes?”

    Bumblebee nodded. “You betcha. Come on, guys. Let’s get that load set up so you guys can eat.” He took a vent and sighed contentedly. “Wow, something smells wonderful.”

    Miko, Jack, Cara, June, Vince and Raf took a whiff and gave Bumblebee a funny look. “You sure? It smells like fossil fuels to me,” the young scientist quipped, and the yellow and black mini-bot waved his comment off.

    “To you, but to us it’s paradise. Especially now that we can actually consume such a variety of delicacies we haven’t had before.”

    “I’m gonna take your word for that, but I’m just fine with turkey and pie,” Miko said as she and the others followed Bumblebee towards the archway. “Right, kiddo?”

    “Bah!” was her response and everyone laughed.

    Prime, meanwhile, shook his head as the doors finally closed and motioned for the Dinobots to join everyone else. He would not let them stand on ceremony while everyone else feasted.

    “Gotta say, I’m with Miko on that one. I need some grub.”

    Optimus chuckled as he turned to the last of his guests. They were human like those before them, and some were still active duty in the United States Armed Forces. A few were scientists and government workers, and still more were ‘regular joes’ who happened to have extraterrestrial connections. One of them being Samuel James “Spike” Witwicky, and his father, Ronald “Sparkplug” Witwicky, and his wife Judy. At Sam’s side was his wife Carly Spencer Witwicky and their young son, Daniel. The child’s attire caused Optimus to cock his head. He was wearing the strange suit Wheeljack and Perceptor had built for him, the very one he had worn going in to battle against Unicron.

    “Oh, do you, Spike? I would imagine it has been a long trip. How did you fare, Daniel? What did you think of the space bridge?”

    “It was awesome!” the small boy exclaimed. “It made me all tingly.”

    He smiled. “It is quite the experience, isn’t it?”

    “Especially for some of us older folks,” someone commented, and Optimus glanced down at an aged man who still stood with the grace and honor of a warrior. He was dressed in his best formal military uniform and regarded the behemoth with respect and awe. At his side was a kind old woman dressed in a simple but very pretty creamy orange dress, complete with a large pearl necklace and matching earrings.

    “General Morshower, old friend, it is good to see you again,” he said, kneeling to better receive them. “And to you, as well, Mrs. Morshower. Welcome to Cybertron, and to my home.”

    “It is an honor, Mr. Prime, thank you,” said Mrs. Morshower, shaking slightly in the presence of such a massive being. She’d met him only once before and it was still an intense experience.

    “Optimus, please,” he said with a slight dip of his chin. “This is a gathering of friends and family. Formalities are not necessary.”

    “Then I suppose we are overdressed,” General Morshower quipped with a grin, gesturing at himself and two other men, Colonel William Lennox and retired Captain Robert Epps, both in full regalia. With them were their wives and children, all of whom regarded him with wide smiles.

    “No, General. From what I understand it is often customary of your race to dress in uniform for certain social functions, and I am grateful you regard this occasion with such high regard. You are welcome here, whether overdressed or casually dressed.”

    General Morshower nodded. “I had invited my family along per your invitation, but they respectfully declined. They had other plans with their families and likewise extended family. But they send their thanks and hope to visit on a separate occasion.”

    “I understand.”

    “So, Prime, these are your new digs, huh?” said Lennox as he stepped forward and bumped fists. “Pretty fancy. What’s all this here?”

    Optimus turned as Lennox gestured at the mosaic on the floor. “Ah, yes. This is a mosaic depicting the life of Primus. You did not see this the last time you were here, did you? It was one of the last installations completed near the end of construction. Our younglings spent joors studying every detail and must have asked nearly a million questions.” He smiled at the memory. “I am just glad they have an interest in our history and hope they learn from it. We cannot afford another war, especially one this severe.”

    “No kidding,” said Epps as he walked around one of the large images, studying the intricacy of the artistry and admiring the color and motion which told such an expansive story. “I still remember seeing this place for the first time when you –“ he paused and glanced up at Prime. “Well, when the war ended and wondered how you guys managed to live here. Seeing it now though . . . wow, you guys been workin’ some real magic. Doesn’t look the same.”

    “Cybertron is coming alive again,” Opitmus agreed. “Our people are thriving again, though there is still much rebuilding that needs to be done. But, it is home.”

    “Home is where the heart is,” said Sarah with a smile and the great Prime returned the smile.

    “It is indeed.”

    “Hey, Optimus! Come on, already! Everybot is waiting for you!”

    Optimus turned to see Jazz marching his way over, his easy smile already plastered on his face plates. “Just receiving the last of our guests, old friend. We are on our way in.”

    “Good, ‘cause some mecha are chompin’ at the bit in there.” The smaller white and black mech waved at the newcomers. “Howdy, everybody. Good to see ya. Glad y’all made it safely.”

    “So are we,” said Lennox. “No matter how many times I go through those stinkin’ bridges of yours they always give me the shivers. Literally.”

    Optimus laughed and turned towards the archway. “Come along, everyone. Let’s get you seated and begin.”

    “And be ready for some extra special story time,” Jazz added. “Prime was officially selected to give us a history lesson.”

    “A history lesson,” Epps muttered, glancing at the Prime who vented a sigh. “What happened? Who ticked off who?”

    Jazz laughed. “Let’s just say a couple o’ mechs brought in some engex and happened to mention that incident when dear ol’ Prime got overcharged.”

    Epps and Lennox glanced at each other, then at Sam and Ron, and burst out laughing. “Now that was an experience.”

    “Still haven’t let you live that down, have they?” said Sam sympathetically.

    “No,” Optimus growled out, and they laughed again.

    “Cheer up, mech,” Jazz said, patting Optimus’s back as they passed under the archway and turned to the left. “They’ll get theirs. There’s plenty of stories about those two messing up to even the score.”

    “Wait a minute. ‘Those two?’ Are we talking about the twins?” Lennox asked, and winced when Optimus nodded. “Ah. Sorry mech.”

    Optimus vented again, then plastered a grin on his face as he entered the dinning room. No sense lamenting his fate now, but he would make the best of it. As Jazz stated there were plenty of stories about the twins many escapades and he knew just the ones to tell to even the score, as small as it was.

    To Be Continued . . .


    Note: Apologies for the delay on this chapter. I ran into some issues that put me behind, but I appreciate anyone who waited for an update.

    That said, now that the guests have all arrived – mostly – we can get to the story telling and the general mess of mecha and people enjoying their holiday dinners.

    Also, I could use some input. I am terrible with numbers and trying to figure out complicated anythings. In the previous chapter's notes, I stated that one vorn is equal to one hundred earth years. Originally, I had considered the idea that one vorn of growth for a Cybertronian is equal to one year of growth for a human, but I have since reconsidered this. Reason being, the Transformers can live almost infinitely. Optimus Prime himself, according to G1 and the episode War Dawn specifically, is roughly 9 - 10 million years ago. So the question I have is; is it more feasible for a Transformer to age the equivalent of one year within the span of twelve vorns? What are your thoughts? How would that work? How the slag would you compute the spread of time and the way the Transformers age?

    An important note in that regard, I am one of those fans and writers who believes the Transformers should have gender; male and female. I believe they should be able to procreate themselves, producing the what I think a lot of fans have called 'sparklings' over the years. I believe the 'sparklings' would grow into younglings, and then young adults, vice versa, experiencing various upgrade and such with each stage of life. For some this is a highly controversial idea, but for me stating the Transformers are asexual and actually have no gender while looking and acting the part makes no sense. In fact, it is down right stupid. The idea that their form of reproduction was 'budding' as introduced in some of the first marvel comics, or 'cold constructed' or 'forged' always sat the wrong way with me.

    Every fan is different. Every fan, especially some older fans and those who consider themselves 'purists' will agree or disagree or not care at all. But I'm a stubborn bitty by nature and I can't help cooing over the idea of Optimus growing up from a sparkling tot he warrior we know and love today. I always kind of wonder though, what kinds of experiences would he have? What was life like growing up for him?

    Either way, I am curious to know what folks have envisioned as far as growth and maturation rates for Transformers. Would it vary between different varieties of Transformers, such as Seekers or Grounders or Beast Formers?

    Please let me know. I am very curious.
  10. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Transformers; Legacy of Primus


    Disclaimer: Transformers; Prime and all related continuities is the sole property of Hasbro and its affiliates. No infringement is intended. This saga is for fun only.


    Note to readers; firstly, a big thanks to those who have added me to their favorite authors lists and favorite story lists. It is deeply appreciated. I sincerely hope you are enjoying what I am writing.

    Secondly, I realize my writings may not appeal to everyone. On the TFW 2005 fanfic page, a reviewer noted that the way I have written the characters so far utilizes too much ‘humanization’. And, another author here on has noted that the idea that Transformers could reproduce sexually is highly controversial, and both may be right.

    Traditionally, Transformers have been written as asexual, reproducing through forging or ‘blobbing’ as I like to call it. In some portions of the Aligned Continuity, specifically Transformers Prime, they emerge from the Well of All Sparks fully formed adults. Regardless of the continuity I have always hated that. I much prefer the idea that they are sentient enough to reproduce and raise their own families. Besides, who wouldn’t LOVE to see a baby Optimus Prime? I would!

    Even so, I would truly appreciate some honest reviews and comments. That’s part of the fun of doing this; hearing your thoughts. What suggestions would you have? What would you like to see? What have you not liked? How could I avoid ‘humanizing’ the characters too much? Or is it a good way of showing that they as characters are not that different from us after all?

    That’s where comments and reviews come in. That’s what helps us as writers. That becomes our lifeblood in a sense. We like sharing in the magic that comes from writing, but the fire dies when we feel we are under-performing. Likes and faves are a HUGE honor, but thoughtfully written reviews and comments are magic.

    That said, thank you to all who stop by!


    Act One

    Chapter Three

    Optimus paused in the dining room’s arched entrance to take in the sight of so many mecha and humans in one place. There were only a few whom he wished were here but for those who had survived this was the perfect way for them all to give thanks for what they had. Near the north facing wall, Soundwave and Sunstorm stood talking with Greenlight and Lancer who served them fresh selections from the buffet table. With them was Bumblebee and it made Optimus proud that his adopted son was willing to offer a hand in friendship considering the many hurts he’d suffered in the war. Of all the Autobots he was perhaps the most relatable, the most unique. He had leadership qualities like Optimus himself, he was as brave and stubborn as Ironhide and could be as sneaky as Blaster and Mirage – and that was without a cloaking mechanism.

    Smiling he stepped fully into the room and vented contentedly, his gaze moving across the room as he passed a table or two. One or two of his Autobots slapped his back plating as he passed and he nodded at them in reply, his lip plates turned up in a quirky grin. He glanced at the room-length windows where his human family were still setting up. Hot Rod had gravitated towards them, apparently intent on something Miko was telling him. The young woman enthusiastically waved at him once she caught sight of him and Hot Rod immediately turned and gave an energetic thumbs up. Optimus grinned and continued on his way.

    He was still amazed the dining room could house so many mecha. He had initially feared there would be too many mecha, and that some would have to fuel up in the sitting room. His worries were fortunately unfounded. There were still empty seats at each table. He shouldn’t have been surprised. As tall and wide as the sitting room, the dining hall was meant to house a large number of honored guests and was perhaps the most elegant space in his home while remaining simplistic in design. Decorative pillars almost divided it in half. The flooring was so polished it was like walking on glass. Crown molding lined every nook and cranny while recessed lighting provided all the light they needed. The maindining room table sat in the center of the room with enough chairs to accommodate himself, Elita, their offspring and any extended family and friends who may be visiting. Colorful crystal sculptures added their own luster to the room by throwing splashes of color in otherwise darkened corners.

    Almost directly above the main dining room table was the crystal chandelier. It was a magnificent gift from his human family, Carla specifically, and was presented to him upon the completion of the penthouse. Perceptor’s enlarging ray had doubled its size as its original construction was for human use. The gift still touched him, and he could spend joors studying the differently shaped crystals, the curved lines of gold and the molded leaves from which the crystals dangled. It was the center piece of the room and offered a warm glow when the sun’s light did not. That same warm light would be especially important tonight.

    Today was the first day of Cybertron’s Orns of Thanks, a four orn long holiday of prayer and thanksgiving. It was deeply inspired by America’s very own Thanksgiving holiday, and coincidentally started on the fourth orn of the fourth deca cycle of Cybertron’s eleventh orbital cycle. But it was different in many ways. Upon the victorious end of the war and the following rebirth of Cybertronian government and society, many of his Autobots, some of whom now served on the new Council, had proposed a similar day of thanksgiving. It was a way to celebrate the way Autobots, Decepticons and Neutrals alike banded together to rebuild, to heal and move past their differences. Over the course of four orns, energon was distributed, the wounded were tended too, temporary shelters were built, and the dead were rested within the recently revitalized Well of All Sparks, the burial ground of all Cybertronians. The surviving Priests of the Matrix Flame had facilitated many of these events, but the most joyous moments were when the Birthing Wells once again sprouted from Cybertron’s broken shell, allowing many families to finally, finally, be whole again.

    When the proposal had been placed before the populace to create such a holiday, the response had been overwhelmingly positive. It was a way for their people to enjoy their newfound peace and was now one of the most anticipated holidays of the stellar cycle. Special dishes were prepared just as with the earth-based holiday. There was also an explosion in autumn inspired décor, and his own home was no different.

    Streamers and garland of multi-colored leaves, pinecones and acorns hung from the ceiling, lined the archway and even dangled from the chandelier and draped the edges of every table. A cornucopia sat in the center of each table filled with molded fruits and vegetables common among America’s harvest time, but in addition to those very iconic decorations were those things that were important to Cybertron, as well; molded energon cubes and crystals, molded replicas of the Well of All Sparks and even decorative replicas of the Matrix of Leadership and the Matrix Flame. Tiny leaf-shaped bits of confetti were splashed on every table, adding more of the traditional red, gold and orange color theme unique to this time of year. There were also star-shaped confetti and a new symbol that was becoming synonymous with his own family; a star-shaped hexagonal ornament meant to represent his pure spark, and that of Primus himself. He chuckled when he spotted a few scarecrows with happy smiles painted on their faces lined in neat rows along the length of each table, each one attracting the curious attention of creators and creations alike.

    He turned when his little sister, Nova Star, came bustling out of the kitchen area carrying trays of Cybertronian fruits and vegetables, another of the latest oddities to have come from Cybertron’s rebirth. But they were deliciously digestible oddities and there were a few he was particularly eager to bite into. Unlike their organic counterparts, they grew much more slowly and thus were still something of a rarity. Farming was still a puzzling concept for most of his people and some old warships were being transformed into gigantic greenhouses to grow these unique treasures. Thankfully, they had their human friends and other cultures to teach them what to do.

    Grinning, he approached the buffet table where Nova Star, Greenlight and Lancer placed these new delicacies on the plates of their guests and poured ‘soup’ into a guest’s bowl. Nova beamed at him as he approached and he wrapped an arm around her, giving her a light squeeze before plucking a cyber-berry off one of the trays and popping it in his mouth. Nova smirked at him as he took one of the trays from her and sat it on the table at her instruction. Smiling gratefully at him she placed her tray next to his and stepped back to watch as more mecha stepped forward to investigate the delicacies before them.

    Among those to approach were Rumble and Frenzy, who regarded the Prime with a look of confusion and uncertainty. He nodded at them, hoping he appeared reassuring and even suggested some of his favorite fruits and soups. He even served them the selections he suggested, still musing over the fact they thought it strange he was willing to do so. The setup was also completely alien to them, very ‘human’ and it gave them pause. But the promise of a full tank dissuaded their misgivings and they soon returned to the table where their companions sat, and he watched them with a worried frown. Frenzy and Rumble struggled with accepting the Decepticon’s defeat the most and their lingering distrust of Prime and other Autobots could sour the occasion for everyone.

    They were not the only ones still struggling with the evening’s arrangement. Cliffjumper and K-Tee sat close to the platform where their human family had set up their feast. They were all smiles for the most part but continued sending uncomfortable glances at their longtime foes. Optimus watched them a moment, wary that Cliffjumper’s hard stare would cause the Decepticons to retaliate in some way, or at the very least, leave. Fortunately, the smaller red mech and his dark blue beloved turned and resumed their conversation. For their part, the Decepticons did not pay attention to them but it was clear they felt isolated and uncomfortable. He supposed he should be grateful that neither Starscream nor Skywarp were present, or fights would have broken out.

    Venting a sigh, Optimus nodded at his sister, Greenlight and Lancer before stepping towards the dining room table where Elita and his children sat. A bowl of the special soup was already placed before each youngling along with a small plate of fruits. Voyager poked at them curiously, not yet sure what to make of them and even less sure if they were digestible for a Cybertronian. Leo seemed just as puzzled, but his curiosity got the better of him. He plopped a small berry, a strawberry-looking thing like the one Optimus had consumed, into his mouth and chewed experimentally and immediately beamed with delight and convinced his brother to eat one. Voyager hesitated but eventually did so and his reaction made the Prime smile.


    He paused and looked to his left. A blue and silver mech shorter than Bumblebee waved him over. At his approach the blue mech stood, and with him three others, two of them mini-bots like the first. He smiled. He had known them all for as long as he had lived in Iacon under the alias Orion Pax and they were as close as family.

    One of them, Cobber, was a fellow archivist with even more enthusiasm for historical artifacts and texts than Optimus himself. He was also slightly younger, as well and certainly a bright mech to see. His plating was predominantly yellow gold with copper and bronze highlights. He was taller than Bumblebee but as round and stout as Bulkhead. Councilor Arsalon was a well-respected member of the old senate, even among the lower castes. He was wise and kind to all, one of many mecha who inspired Optimus to be the best he could be. His armor was a beautiful pearl white with red-gold plating that made up his ‘mane’ in his lion-styled alt-mode. That same color highlighted some areas of his lower arms and legs, making him a striking warrior to behold. His mate Termenia was a predominantly blue femme with red and silver highlights, particularly in her face, mid-section and thigh plating. It was easy to see who their son, Roller, took after the most in terms of color and alt-mode.

    “Roller! Cobber! Councilors. It is good to see you, my friends.”

    “Good orn, my Prime! How are you!” laughed the ancient beast former as Optimus knelt to embrace his old friend.

    “I am fine, thank you. And yourself?”

    “Never better,” Councilor Arsalon replied as Optimus embraced Termenia. “I must say, this is a rather fanciful set up. So many brilliant colors. Is it true Earth trees lose their leaves every season? Is that the reasoning behind the décor?”

    “Partially,” Optimus replied as he stood and embraced Cobber. “On Earth there are several places where climates change from season to season, and during the cold months certain trees will shed their leaves in order to ‘sleep’ through the winter and are reborn again come spring. That is what the décor represents during this time of year in America; a time of harvest and plenty for the hard months ahead and the promise of eventual rebirth.”

    “Well, whatever the reason, it is beautiful,” noted the femme beside the white armored beast former. “You and your family have done a splendid job, Prime.”

    “Thank you,” said Optimus with a smile.

    “Earth certainly had its effect on you and the Autobots, didn’t it?” Cobber inquired and Optimus nodded.

    “It did, indeed. Far more than most of the other cultures we have encountered through the centuries.”

    “All for the better, I say,” Arsalon said, and glanced around at the many mecha gathered in the room. “There are so many bright optics here today. Even the Decepticons appear to be enjoying themselves.”

    “That’s more than I would have expected, considering,” Roller muttered, his scrutinizing stare intense enough to burrow a hole straight through Frenzy’s helm. “I half expected carbonized scorch marks to be a part of the décor today.”

    “Good thing it wasn’t,” Cobber said. “Because that is the last thing we need.”

    “Indeed,” Councilor Arsalon agreed.

    Alerted to a mild cry Optimus turned his attention to the main table where Elita stood with their offspring. His littlest newsparks were anxious.

    “I think it best I join my family,” he stated apologetically. “Elita may need assistance with our newsparks.”

    Termenia reached up to give his hand a squeeze. “You have been too busy playing host, my Prime. Sit with your family and get yourself some fuel.”

    “Besides,” Arsalon smirked, “I understand we get to hear a rather interesting tale of your adventures on earth later this orn.”

    Optimus winced. “I am afraid so.”

    “Quit acting like it’s a death sentence, it’ll be awesome!” Roller said.

    “Indeed! I was quite intrigued when I learned you became overcharged after consuming an experimental energon infusion. I thought for certain there was a mistake.”

    Optimus patted Cobber’s helm as he stepped away, noting that his friend’s digits were already twitching for his data pad. “No mistake, old friend, but . . . well, you will learn the details soon enough, I fear. In the meantime, enjoy your energon.”

    “Thank you, Prime,” said Arsalon warmly, bowing his head as Optimus walked away with a smile and joined his family at the main table.

    As he approached the table, the Camiens who were seated a little farther down, rose to their peds and offered a small bow. Optimus dipped his chin and smiled warmly at Flame before offering his mate a kiss and grinned at his offspring. The Camiens sat down and returned to their conversation while Ariel beamed up at him, happily chewing away at a bit of cyber-fruit, her small peds swinging back and forth. At her left, Leo and Voyager spoke animatedly with Ratchet, Red Light, Ultra Magnus and Nautica as she attempted to feed her newspark. At the opposite side of the table sat Jazz and Moonracer and Ironhide and Chromia who were already reminiscing about many of the Autobots more memorable battles, which was deeply entertaining for many of the Camiens. Optimus threw a worried glance at the Decepticons, but they didn’t seem to have heard, and if they had, they did not react.

    “Love stop worrying. Nothing will go wrong with the Decepticons. Just relax.”

    Optimus sighed as he turned and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her helm. “It is not the Decepticons that worry me the most, beloved, but rather some of our Autobots. Their pride could undo what little faith our foes have put in us.”

    “Then just be certain not to lose your faith in them, either the Autobots or the Decepticons,” Elita advised gently and caressed the scar on his face. She still remembered the day it happened. “I know you are not immune to the same suspicions that haunt our fellow Autobots, but I also know you are not one to cling to them. You seek the truth first and always. Let the truth be the only thing they hear tonight, whether they accept it or not. We’ve spent too much time as enemies, always eager to find proof of our distrust and contempt. The fact they responded positively to your invitation is a good sign that they are willing to at least try. Don’t give up on that, or them or even our more over heated friends.”

    He chuckled slightly at the words ‘over heated’ and glanced at Cliffjumper who was now engaged in a dramatic story of his more daring escapades. Optimus could still hear him over the din of conversation in the room and he immediately groaned.

    “What’s wrong?” asked Elita as she poured Ariel another cup of mild energon.

    “Cliffjumper. He’s already over charged. I should have been more steadfast in my decision not to allow engex.”

    Elita giggled. “I expect he won’t be the only one tonight. We’re both lucky Ironhide and Chromia haven’t started drinking yet.”

    Optimus glanced at his old friend and then suppressed a nervous shiver. Ironhide could be scary when over charged. He turned his attention to his newsparks as Elita cooed at them, trying to ease their fussing. She had already prepared a special energon mixture for sparklings and poured it inside three small oil cans. She placed each one before her newsparks and they suckled the way a human infant would when bottle fed. Immediately their fussing ceased, and Optimus reached down to caress the tops of each of their tiny helms. He poured a sense of love and comfort through the bond and sensed their response as a tiny flash of trust and thanks. Elita smiled as she watched him.

    “Did you have a good time playing host?”

    Optimus smirked at her as he stroked the cheek plates of the oldest newspark. “I did, and you?”

    She smiled. “I did some catching up. Lives have been changing rapidly these past few stellar cycles. It’s happened so quickly some of our mecha have felt lost, disconnected. I think most are just happy the shedding of energon has ceased - mostly.”

    Optimus shook his head sadly. “For now, yes. But there are still some Decepticons out there unwilling to let the fighting end. Including Megatron. I fear there may yet be some battles in the future.”

    Elita reached down to caress her newsparks. “He goes by Galvatron now, doesn’t he?” She regarded her mate. “What do you think will become of him?”

    Optimus could not answer. He did not know. He’d had impressions, hopes, but his cousin remained lost to the mutative, manipulative and devastating power of Unicron. Even in death, the Chaos Bringer held them captive with fear of the unknown.

    “Have you been able to choose anything for yourself yet?” He asked, changing the subject. She studied him a moment before shaking her head as she combed her fingers through Ariel’s corded mane. He observed the now familiar gesture, contemplative.

    A ‘mane’ or ‘head of hair’ in human terms was an unusual feature for their species, and quite rare. For a long time, Solus was the only femme known to sport a corded mane – until he met a then outspoken and somewhat spoiled Ariel, daughter of a Prime and a privileged femme at best. Her mane had been short then, straighter, and typically held up in what humans called a ‘ponytail.’ Now it was luxuriously long, curly like Cara’s hair, and predominantly kept bundled up in her helm plating when tending their offspring or deliberating with the new Council. It was only when she was home with their family – or with him – that she left it down.

    Catching his sudden shift in mood, she smirked at him, flicked him where his nose plates used to be, and stepped around his massive frame.

    “Not yet,” she replied. “I was just about to, though. Would you like anything?”

    “I – well, I do not particularly need anything . . .”

    She rolled her optics and patted him on the back as she walked away. “Maybe you don’t need it, but you can certainly enjoy it. I have an idea of something you might like. Wait there and I’ll be right back.”

    He watched her leave and then turned back to his offspring as they fought to get his attention. Between the twins, Leo and Voyager, trying to talk over Ariel and she over them, he was amazed he could pick out what they were saying while remaining focused on his newsparks. When the youngest and smallest dropped his oil can, Optimus reached down and helped him get a grip on it again. All the while he cooed at his little ones, his deep voice soothing them despite the noisy chaos of happy mecha all around them. They were not used to it, especially his tiniest son.

    When Elita rejoined them a few moments later, she carried two trays of various forms of energon, including soups, oil cakes, plates of various cyber-fruits and something he always craved; energon treats. She smirked at the way he eyed them, and he returned the smirk, knowing she was teasing him. No matter how old he got, some things never changed, and his old love for energon treats was one of them. At her side was Nova Star and Greenlight, and just behind them was a tall young mech Optimus was glad survived the war. His sister’s happiness was important to him and if Inferno had been lost, she would have been devastated. He welcomed the mech to the main table with a curt nod and slight smirk. Inferno had never really been nervous around Optimus before, but lately he acted cautious. It wasn’t as bad as the first time he’d met Inferno, but certainly the knowledge that he was courting the younger sister of Cybertron’s greatest Prime in its long, long history, made the younger mech a little uneasy.

    Once everyone was settled, Optimus sat to enjoy the feast with his family. Gone from his processor were the worries of a leader struggling to rebuild his world. Banished were the concerns over the continued stream of returning refugees to a newly revived planet, of the pockets of fighting that persisted in the farthest reaches of space. Headed not were his fears for Megatron and his sudden desire to destroy, not conquer, the known universe. All thought was put into his family and friends, of this celebration of a victory that had restored freedom and light to Cybertron after eons upon eons of senseless fighting. He focused on their stories, their laughter and he laughed with them.

    As the din of conversation began to wind down around the table, he studied his sons and Ariel who spoke animatedly between each other and with their uncle Ultra Magnus. Jazz and Ironhide carried on about this and that, the twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe laughed loudly and long from their table as they told stories of their many antics, both on Earth and Cybertron, causing Bulkhead and Wheeljack to laugh loud enough to drown out everything else in the room. Bumblebee, who sat with K-Tee and Cliffjumper, paused in his own story to glance at them, and then resumed with a shake of his helm. He glanced at his sister who spoke to Inferno as though he was the only one to exist in the world and felt a little sadness that this sort of tenderness had come so late for her and almost at an immeasurable cost. He sent a measure of warmth through their bond and she looked at him with a smile.

    A flash of movement to his right made him turn. At first, he didn’t see anything until he looked down. Ravage had paused near the edge of the table surveying everything around him with the same antsy uncertainty as Frenzy. He licked his metal face like the cyber cat he was, his chin still dripping with the energon he had just consumed. On his back sat Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, anxious but content. When they realized whose table they had stopped at they looked up at the Prime with surprise, almost as still as a sparkling who’s digits were caught in the treat dispenser. He nodded at them but only Ravage nodded back, having a certain sentience that Buzzsaw and Laserbeak never had.

    Deciding to end the awkward silence, Optimus addressed them. “Are you enjoying yourself, Ravage? Is the energon to your liking? And you two, were the energon flakes and scraplet bits we provided sufficient?”

    Ravage cocked his head as though surprised the Prime was addressing him and his fellow symbiotes. The buzzard-like mechanoids on his back blinked their optics at the larger mech. “It was . . .” Ravage paused and glanced at his smaller companions, communicating with them through a private channel, “sufficient Optimus Prime. Even I enjoyed the taste of scraplet.”

    Optimus’s optic brow lifted ever so slightly. “I did not realize you bothered to hunt the things. They are not easy to get rid of.”

    Ravage made a face Optimus could only guess was a cringe of agreement. “I have hunted a few before, but while very difficult, it helps to hone my skills.”

    Optimus nodded. Ever the hunter was the cyber cat. Just remembering what he was capable of made the Prime suppress a shudder, glad that for now the Decepticon was on agreeable terms.

    “If you will excuse me, Prime.”

    The symbiote sauntered off without so much as a nod, ignored by most in the room and Optimus watched him go. The avian symbiotes on his back glared back at him as though expecting him to chase them or request that they stay where he could see them. He refrained from calling them back. He did not know what more to say to them and Ravage at least was not interested in small talk, but Optimus was not the only watching them as the symbiotes proceeded to explore the room.

    “Prime,” Ironhide muttered quietly after the symbiotes had left, and Optimus turned to him as the older mech got up from his seat and knelt beside him, “are ya sure it’s wise t’ let them explore like that? Ah mean, uh, what if they find somethin’ sensitive? Ain’t ya worried that they might use that against ya? Or at the very least,” he threw a glance at the other Decepticons, “send it t’ other Decepticons? There’s still quite a bit of ‘em out there eager to take a piece o’ yer armor off. And if not yers, theirs.”

    He gestured at Ariel and the twins who looked between them curiously. Elita glowered at Ironhide and took Ariel’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Optimus regarded his offspring wearily. He had no intention of being separated from them ever again, but he was also placed in a difficult political situation, as well. He was not immune to the distrust between Autobot and Decepticon, but as Elita told him earlier, he refused to let himself be ruled by it. As Prime, as a member of the fabled Thirteen and a grand-spark of Primus himself, he had an obligation to be the one to stand up and offer a hand of forgiveness and acceptance. The Decepticons were the outcasts now and he knew how that felt. Not every Decepticon who fought in the war was a monster and not every Autobot was a saint. If he gave in to his own suspicions and acted distastefully against his guests because an old instinct expected the Decepticons to do something devious he would lose their trust forever, and the animosity between both factions would last into the eons.

    “Ah know that look, Prime,” said Ironhide and Optimus looked at him again. “Ah’ve seen it almost every day for millions o’ cycles now. And Ah get it. But still, letting Ravage meander through the only sanctuary ya have . . . makes mah gears twist wrong. Ya haven’t forgotten how they tried ta kill yer family, have ya? Ah mean . . . Ah know ya wanna create a lasting trust but . . . ol’ habits die hard, ya know?”

    Optimus smirked. “Would not remaining suspicious also be counted as an ‘old habit,’ old friend? Nevertheless, you are right; I do fear the possibility that Ravage may decide to act out of accordance with the fragile peace we have established. However, I cannot act on suspicion alone. When I have the repercussions have been nearly irreparable. We cannot afford the consequences of suspicions based on thousands of cycles of animosity, and frankly,” he paused to glance at Ravage again who had seated himself in the sitting room studying the mosaic depicting his family history, “I do not believe he intends us any ill will. When the cease fire was established, he and Soundwave remained honorable. I shall do the same.”

    The old warrior shook his head, a smirk on his lip plates. “Ya always were too good for this world, kid. And maybe ye’re right but, Ah still have a hard time with this lot.”

    Optimus nodded. “I understand. Just remember, these particular Decepticons were not the ones who tried to offline my family. I will not hold them responsible for the actions of a few, regardless of faction or allegiances.”

    Ironhide patted his shoulder. “Ah get’cha, just wanna be sure. Ya mean too much ta a lot o’ us. The truest Prime we’ve had in a long time.” He glanced back at Hot Rod. “Which means that young upstart’s got some big peds ta fill, when the time comes at least.”

    Optimus smiled and slapped the old weapons specialist on the back. “He’s still got time, old friend. And so do I.“

    Ironhide gave him a hard look. “Ah hope so. Ah ain’t done yet, and hopefully you ain’t either.”

    Optimus’s smile broadened. “I would feel guilty ‘hanging the towel’ as they say. There is still far too much to do before I will be ready to leave Cybertron in the hands of another. And Hot Rod will need a mentor just as I did.”

    “Good thing he’s got you,” Ironhide muttered and poured himself some engex. Optimus winced and silently prayed the old mech did not overcharge, but it was clear the conversation was over.

    The din of conversation and the cling of mugs and bowls continued to fill the room with warm ambience for some time. Laughter and the occasional wail of an indignant child pierced the din and Optimus often glanced up to watch as either Miko or Cara tended to a fussy child. June eagerly helped by playing with the rambunctious children so the young mothers could enjoy their meal. Many of the humans had already started on dessert and he realized with a start that the day was waning. Soon many would leave for home, ending the first day of Cybertron’s Day of Thanks. It made him a little sad that moments like this didn’t last forever, and this was especially the case with the humans. In a few dozen years they would be gone, including his beloved Cara, while he and the rest of his race would live on. Time waited for no one which meant he had to cherish the here and now.

    “Seems like everyone’s tanks are fit for bursting,” Nautica commented.

    Optimus glanced around the room again as he cradled two of his newsparks on his shoulder plates. He was such a large mech it was easy for him. Both buzzed quietly as they recharged while he observed his Autobots in varying degrees of contentment around the room. None had the desire to take another sip of energon or pop another cyber-berry into their intakes. But the sharing of stories and the laughter of friends remained a constant warmth.

    “Why don’t we start cleaning up?” Chromia suggested. “It will be dusk soon, and” she threw him a grin, “someone has a story to tell.”

    Optimus glowered at her, but it was all for show and Chromia knew it.

    Even so, she didn’t expect his face to suddenly become serious, full of surprise. Her smile turned to a frown and she regarded him with some concern.

    “Prime, what’s wrong?”

    The concern in her voice caused Ironhide and a few others to look at him, their frames stiff with tension. He ignored them all except Nova Star and Ultra Magnus who had gone stiff with surprise and then joy. They shared a look as Optimus stood, optics focusing on the sitting room where the sensation in his spark was coming from.


    All conversation stopped when the animalistic cry tore through the atmosphere. Experienced warriors leaped to their peds, reaching for weapons that weren’t there and settled for their fists instead. The Camiens and many other mecha scrambled to protect Optimus and his family, all optics and the eyes of their human friends staring at the entrance to the dining room. Lennox, Epps and General Morshower raced to strategic positions along the balcony, concealed weapons held at the ready in case a fire fight broke out. Jack, Sam, Vince and Miko joined them while Cara, Carly and Raf ushered the children to a corner where they hoped they would be shielded. In the sitting room, Ravage stood facing the reception hall, his face twisted in an angry snarl and back arched in a defensive crouch. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw circled him protectively, confused and alarmed by whatever had entered the Prime’s home. Soundwave pushed his way through the anxious crowd, eager to reach his symbiote.

    “Oh, sit down you silly cat. Do you honestly think we’d come here to harm our own nephew? Sparks and stars all mighty.”

    Several optics widened at the sound of the voice and a few Autobots turned expectantly towards Optimus and Ultra Magnus. The Prime glanced at his mate who gave a reassuring nod, already relaxing out of her defensive crouch around their newsparks. Then he and Ultra Magnus started towards the sitting room, their powerful legs carrying them through the dining room in just a few strides. Mecha parted for them while surprised optics watched their every move as they entered the sitting room. The Camiens were the first to fall in line behind Optimus and Ultra Magnus, followed immediately after by Ironhide and Bumblebee, all of them eager to protect their Prime. Cliffjumper and K-Tee were next while Flame looked on with some concern. Soundwave glanced at him from where he knelt at Ravage’s side, his expression hard to read with his mouth plate covering his face. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had settled themselves on the spy’s shoulders, blinking suspiciously at the mecha who slowly filled the room.

    Optimus paused to regard the newcomers just a few paces in front of Soundwave, Ultra Magnus at his side. The Camiens, Ironhide, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper and K-Tee fell in line behind them. In an instant, the Camiens were on their knees, face plates nearly flat against the polished floors. The tension in the room melted into confusion and then curiosity as the Autobots and Decepticons filled the room behind Optimus. The balcony behind them was slowly filled with their human allies, all of them staring in the same awed silence as their Cybertronian allies.

    Spark racing, but full of joy, Optimus joined the Camiens in falling to one knee as a dozen gleaming, incredible mechanisms stepped into the sitting room. The Dinobots, who had been enjoying themselves a little too much with the Twins’ Engex, stumbled into the sitting room and glanced impishly at Optimus. Their sheepish slump turned to curious confusion as they regarded their Prime and the rest of the Autobots as they knelt in unison before the newcomers. But then, they too fell to their knees or at the very least bowed their heads in respect and reverence.

    The surviving Thirteen Primes stood before them.

    To Be Continued . . .


    Author’s Note: Well, once again, I am posting this chapter much later than I intended. I hope to make up for it in some regard by posting TWO chapters. This will not be a regular occurrence, though, just so you know.

    That said, there are some things I wish to bring to your attention. Firstly, y’all familiar with the G1 character Red Alert? Well, for the longest time I thought that character was female because of a clip I saw on YouTube. It was from the Animated series and depicted a female field medic racing to help an unnamed Autobot whose leg had been damaged, and she was about to amputate before they were both knocked over by a blast. Sound familiar?

    Hint; she had flashing lights for a head.

    Well, that isn’t the real Red Alert, as he is obviously male. My confusion regarding his character and the female medic was cleared up soon after, but I still liked the character, so I will be naming her RED LIGHT to hopefully avoid confusion.

    Also, I couldn’t remember if I had fixed it before posting the first chapter, but K-Tee is supposed to be an OLDER sister to Arcee, not a younger sister. She is also the Transformers Prime version of Arcee but I turned her into a different character for the sake of utilizing characters and plots from G1, Prime and the movies and comics. This will be a big mishmash for sure! Keep that in mind from here on out.

    Oh! And Smokescreen! When he appears it will be the G1 Smokescreen, not the Prime Smokescreen. We’ve got Hot Rod for that roll now…

    Lastly yay for shorter chapters! I hope you’re not bored! R &R, too, please! I would like to know how I am doing, and it’s fun to hear your thoughts. Thanks!
  11. Shauntell HOlm

    Shauntell HOlm Active Member

    Mar 10, 2019
    Trophy Points:
    Transformers; Legacy of Primus


    Disclaimer: Transformers; Prime and all related characters and continuities is property of Hasbro Toy Company and Takara Tomi in Japan. No infringement is intended. This saga is for fun only.


    Act One

    Chapter Four

    For several moments, reverent silence permeated the room. Not one mechanism moved or spoke. The other humans quietly joined the gathered crowd, their confusion and worry melting to dawning realization. Miko bounced on her toes as she took Kennichi from Rafael and whispered excitedly to her little son while pointing at the mecha standing before their friends. These warriors were the stuff of Cybertronian legend, and if it hadn’t been for the last great push to end the battle with Unicron, none in the room would have believed their own optics. But here they stood again, tall and imposing and gleaming with incredible power.

    Prima, a gleaming mech of silvers and pearly whites, and the first ever to carry the Matrix of Leadership, lifted a hand towards the mecha before him. “Arise.”

    Slowly, the mecha in the room rose to their peds. Only the Decepticons had remained standing while many of the Camiens face plates remained glued to the floor. In the back, Hot Rod also remained kneeling but more with a sense of guilt and fear than reverence. Sympathetic, Kup rested a hand on the younger mech’s shoulder plating but said nothing as Prima approached Optimus who was also still kneeling. Only when the eldest of the Thirteen Primes was a few feet away did the youngest of their number rise to his peds again, a small smirk on his face plates.

    “You must have conspired with Flame, my sire, to have arrived so fashionably late.”

    The tall Prime regarded Optimus impassively a moment before laughing aloud and threw his arms around the Prime, pulling him into a crushing embrace. An instant later, Ultra Magnus and Nova Star rushed the mech and embraced him. A femme matching Nova Star’s color scheme ran to join in, and suddenly all of the Primes had joined the small huddle. They laughed as they slapped each other’s back plating and exchanged long awaited greetings. The Autobots and Decepticons remained respectfully silent, giving Cybertron’s first and truest ‘royal’ family a chance to catch up before they dared approach. Elita joined them with Nautica close behind her but paused when she was a few feet away to give her beloved a few moments with his family. She reached down as Ariel, Leo and Voyager snuggled up to her, each carrying one of their little siblings.

    All three stared with wide optics at the mecha before them. They’d met them before, but the experience was still hazy at best. Nevertheless, their mouths hung open as they watched the most legendary Primes in Cybertron’s long history exchange pleasantries with their sire. The tallest of which was certainly Prima. They remembered his tall stature and resilient armor plating that glistened with the light of his spark. They knew Alpha Trion, the equally tall but very serious great uncle who was never far from his beloved Hall of Records. His purple, red and white shades were still as vibrant now as they’d been over the eons and in the crook of his arm was the Covenant of Primus. Next to him stood the stouter and somewhat miss-matched Alchemist Prime, the chemist and seer of the Primes, though they had grown up referring to him as ‘Macadam,’ the uncle who always brought them the tastiest energon drinks they could ever ask for. He was eccentric, certainly, and they had visited his pub on occasion and puzzled over the many riddles he seemed to speak with. But they liked him. He had a nice lap to sit on and he’d known how to comfort them when their sire or carrier was not around. He used that skill with the many wary travelers that frequented his pub.

    Behind Alchemist was a mech who made them nervous. He still reminded them too much of the monstrous Dragocons, the fierce beasts who had fought against their sire late in the war. Onyx was hardly a Dragocon, but he was lord of the Beast Formers, those Cybertronians who took the form of unique animals or mythical creatures from around the known universe. His strange head turned in their direction, his four gleaming optics blinking benevolently at them. Leo and Voyager held their ground though Ariel ducked shyly behind her carrier. Sitting on Onyx Prime’s massive shoulders was the smallest of the Primes and Ariel’s personal favorite. He’d visited her many times before and she thought he was the most fun to snuggle with. He caught sight of her and smiled.

    Slightly behind Onyx was the hulking frame of Nexus Prime, one of the few Primes they did not know. They remembered him from brief encounters, but they were often short and terse. If it were possible, he was even stranger looking than Onyx Prime with his arms and legs which seemed formed out of different mecha entirely. He was not unfriendly but he was certainly more aloof than the other Primes. Next to him was the stately Vector Prime, possibly as bright and white as Prima himself if it weren’t for the fact he lacked the same glow as Prima. He was aloof, like Nexus and just as serious and ‘grumpy’ as Uncle Trion could be but they still enjoyed the many tricks he could perform and eagerly hoped for more.

    The last of the Primes they saw as Leo, Ariel and Voyager snuck away from their carrier were Onyx Prime’s creators, Quintus and Amalgamous and Solus Prime. If they had thought Onyx or Nexus were strange looking mecha, these two were even more so. In fact, they initially back-peddled at the sight of Quintus. The femme looked like a Quintesson outside of its weird and frightening pod. Her face was more like a normal Cybertronian femme though, so they knew she was one of them, a Cybertronian, and approached with renewed courage. Amalgamous still remained an oddity to them, however, despite the fact they loved his laugh and the fact he could take so many peculiar shapes. Their fondest memory of him, a recent one really, was when he’d paraded around Cybertron pretending to be their sire.

    Optimus still wasn’t very happy about that.

    Ariel and her brothers slowly pushed their way through the gathered mecha, noting the way in which the Camiens barely managed to hold back their emotions. It wasn’t because of their sire, or even the other Primes. It was clear they regarded the Primes with some great reverence, but it was Solus who received the biggest reaction. Once Ariel reached her sire, she paused to watch as the female artificer’s tall striking form stepped around her brothers and approached the people whose culture she had helped to build. Neither she nor her brothers spoke, though she did tap her sire’s thigh plating, which broke him from the crushing embrace he’d received from his carrier. He gently ruffled the top of her helm, which mussed her mane, but she ignored the sensation as everyone in the room watched.

    Like Prima, Solus Prime gleamed with a soft light which seemed to radiate from her spark. She was a femme of incredible strength and beauty. Even the Decepticons parted to give her and the Camiens more room, and she regarded them with gratitude. Her silver plating, touched here and there with shades of purples and blues, shimmered elegantly as it caught the sun’s light. Several of the Camiens gasped loudly as she knelt before them and a few even outright sobbed as she reached out to touch their helms.

    “Solus Prime!” Alerion sobbed reverently.

    “Peace, gentle Alerion,” Solus muttered in her motherly tone. “It is good to meet you. All of you. It has been a long while since I visited Caminus. I am happy to see that you still thrive.”

    Optimus smiled as he watched Solus and felt the familiar pang of gratitude and love for his beloved aunt. Even after all this time she still had a special connection to the Camiens, and they to her. She smiled widely as she knelt and spoke with them. She embraced Flame, who wept and laughed softly as they spoke. He glanced at Windblade who caught his gaze and smiled at him. Her reaction was a bit more subdued than her fellow Camiens due to past experiences, but she was no less happy to see Solus.

    When Solus and the Camiens finally stood, the Autobots in the room relaxed somewhat. The Decepticons had remained remarkably quiet and respectful during the exchange, but as usual they appeared a little uncomfortable. But, so were a few Autobots. Those who were not particularly religious were not certain what to say or how to act and simply remained quiet. It wouldn’t do to insult such important guests.

    “So, uh,” Rumble muttered, glancing between the Camiens, the Autobots and Optimus and the other Primes uncomfortably. “We gonna get that sermon after all, Prime?”

    He only had to wait a few seconds for the reaction, and it wasn’t what he expected. Instead of a rebuke, the other Primes laughed. Even a few Autobots laughed, and the small mini-con found himself relaxing and smirked in return.

    “A sermon? From this mechling?” Onyx joked and dodged when Optimus tried to jab him in the side with his elbow. “No, I think we’ll be dodging that today – and very literally in my case. Besides, I think he’s given plenty of those in his lifetime.”

    “Not enough, apparently,” Optimus muttered, glaring at his cousin though a small smile graced his lip plates.

    Ariel tapped her sire’s leg and he looked down at her, which attracted Fire Star’s attention. The little newspark in her arms had begun to fuss and she still wasn’t sure how to comfort her. But it wasn’t Optimus who took the newspark from her.

    “Good orn, Ariel,” Fire Star cried and knelt to embrace her eldest granddaughter. “Look how tall you are, and just as beautiful as your carrier. And look who you’ve got! My, he’s so strong.” She smiled up at her eldest son as she gently plucked the newspark from Ariel’s arms and held him against her spark. “So much like his sire when he was this tiny. He’s lucky to have such a protective older sister.”

    Ariel beamed at her grand-carrier. “His name is Orion.”

    Fire Star nodded. “I know. I was there the day he emerged from his cocoon, remember? Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

    Ariel nodded and leaned against her sire as he reached down to gently caress her helm. “I think he’s tired because he’s fussing. He can’t need refueling because sire and carrier just refueled them.”

    “He may have a few gas pockets, but that’s easy to fix.” Fire Star proceeded to coo at the tiny mechling and patted his back while bouncing on her heals, an instinctual habit shared by their human allies. She smiled at Miko who bounced little Kennichi on her shoulder, but more out of a need to calm the fussy child as he was antsy from fatigue. No doubt Orion and his little siblings were also tired, and perhaps a bit overwhelmed with all the noise and chaos of so many mecha gathered in one place. Even so, after a moment or two of patting his backplates, a tiny little belch escaped his mouth plates and he began to calm.

    “There we go. Much better now, hmm?” she kissed his smooth helm and smiled.

    “Welcome home, sire,” Ultra Magnus said, a warm smile on his lip plates. “We did not think you would come. The new realm you are creating seemed a large undertaking. Am I correct in assuming it is complete?”

    “It has been, and it is,” Prima replied, his voice a little gruffer than either of his son’s, but still powerful and unforgettable.

    “And what a relief,” Alchemist sighed dramatically. “Forging a livable world with a functioning political and social system is one thing, but creating an entirely new dimension is another. ISn’t that right, Vector?”

    He slapped the mech in question on the back plates. “Oof! Yes, quite, Alchemist. It might have been done sooner without all the helpful suggestions.”

    Alchemist shrugged.

    “Frankly speaking, nephew, we hesitated to come,” the stately Prime explained as he walked towards the windows and the platform where Lennox and their human guests had gathered.

    “What?! Why?” Nova Star exclaimed, distracted from cuddling her brother’s newsparks.

    Vector sighed. “To be frank, I have never been one for large social gatherings. And we feared that our presence would be a distraction rather than . . .”

    “Oh, don’t you start!” Nova Star snapped and slapped him on the shoulder plates while pointing an accusing finger at each of them. “You should have been here joors ago! You know slagging well you’ve always been welcome. You’re family!”

    Fire Star nudged her mate. “Told you.”

    Onyx vented a dramatic sigh as he stepped forward and bent low to drape an arm around Nova Star’s much smaller shoulders. “Listen here little cousin, it’s better to arrive fashionably late rather than not at all,” Onyx drawled with a smirk as he booped her on the nose plates. “And no one can make a more impressionable appearance than us.”

    Micronus rested an arm atop the much larger Prime’s impressively crested head. “That’s obvious, brother. We’re ghosts of a long-forgotten past. But I think the mecha gathered this orn are more curious as to why we are here, and how.”

    “They should know that by now,” Alchemist noted as he gazed at the staring crowd. “Good sparks, they look they’ve all seen a bunch of spirits.”

    He cackled lightly as Quintus floated forward and regarded the Autobots and Decepticons curiously. “Quite a family you’ve built, little nephew. So many bright optics. Hello everyone!”

    She waved at them enthusiastically, while the Autobots waved back nervously, still unable to grasp what was happening.

    “Should we leave and come back in again? Maybe wake ‘em up a bit?” Amalgamous suggested with a laugh. Vector lightly shoved him, a tiny smirk on his otherwise impassive faceplates.

    “Unwise, brother,” said Solus with a small smirk as she stood and turned to them. “And unnecessary.”

    “Indeed. These are warriors with enough tenacity to match our strength,” Alpha Trion noted with a hint of pride. “Push them too much and you would pay for it.”

    “Especially this mech,” Frenzy noted, smirking as he gestured at Ironhide.

    “Or the twins,” Smokescreen laughed. “Never a dull moment with those two.”

    “Which twins?” Cara asked from the platform. “There’s, like, three different sets of twins in this room.”

    “Yeah? Who?” said Rumble.

    Cara smirked at him and counted down on her fingers. “You and Frenzy, Optimus and Magnus, and then Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.”

    “Oh, yeah,” Rumble drawled, and light laughter spilled through the room.

    “But who are the biggest loose cannons?” Miko asked as she handed Kennichi over to Vince. “These two or those two?”

    She and Cara ‘hummed’ as they looked between Rumble and Frenzy and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

    “Hah! That’s easy. Those two!” Ironhide laughed and gestured at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. “They got more lectures from Prime than any bot Ah know.”

    The mechs in question shook themselves of their reverie and grinned mischievously as the Primes glanced at them, waving as though they were the most normal mecha in the room. “We like to keep things interesting,” Sideswipe said, and a few chuckles filled the room while a few groaned and shook their helms.

    “I think that’s just a bit of an understatement, Sides,” Lennox commented dryly. “We probably cleaned up after you two more than we did the Decepticons.”

    The twins shrugged.

    “Now those are some stories I would love to hear,” Alchemist mused. “With my own unique abilities, I’ve been able to view some moments in the future but not everything. At least not without some form of meditation, though admittedly, by now those ‘future’ moments are in the past.”

    “Indeed!” Onyx chirped as he thrust his snout at the twins, his devilishly sharp teeth bared in an eager grin. “You two must tell me how you manage to cause more trouble for my cousin than the Decepticons did. And maybe I’ll share with you some of my biggest secrets.”

    Stars literally sparkled in their optics. “You are on!” said Sideswipe.

    Optimus covered his face plates with one large hand. That was the last thing anybot needed.

    “Don’t leave us out!” Miko called and Onyx looked at her. “Bulkhead and I love pranks! And Vince here’s not too shabby, either.”

    The red-haired man shrugged. “I drag race, too. Just so you know.”

    The twins grinned deviously at him. “We know,” said Sideswipe.

    “And we’ve been meaning to speak to you about a proposition,” Sunstreaker added.

    “Don’t you even think about it!” Optimus and Ironhide grumped in unison.

    Miko laughed. “Uh-oh! You bots are putting ‘daddy mode’ into overdrive.”

    Cara laughed at the expression on Optimus’s face.

    Prima chuckled and patted his son’s shoulders as he walked toward the gathered mecha and dozens of heavy peds shuffled to get out of his way. “Having a patriarchal affection for one’s people and allies is a powerful gift, to be sure. Far too few leaders have risen to the role of leadership with a genuine interest in their people’s welfare at spark. You’ve inspired millions with your compassion, my son, including me.” He regarded the many faces staring up at him. “At ease! This is not a briefing.”

    Dozens of metal shoulders slumped with relief, though some mouths still hung agape.

    “D-Do you require refueling, my Primes?” Alerion offered as she stepped forward. “My Amica Endura and I would be honored to serve you.”

    The Mistress of Flame bowed her head in agreement.

    Prima smiled at them. “That would be most kind, thank you.”

    Alerion and her two friends bowed before scurrying off to bring the Primes a light mix of energon for refueling.

    “And in the meantime, I understand we are to get a bit of story time?” Alchemist teased, regarding Optimus with a sidelong glance. “Something about Optimus becoming incidentally overcharged?”

    Prima turned to his oldest son with a stern look, his thickly armored arms crossing over his massive chassis. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that,” he muttered, optics dancing with mirth while his face plates glowered sternly at the youngest of the Thirteen.

    Optimus coughed, suddenly very uncomfortable with everyone staring at him. Rumble and Frenzy, however, cackled at the Prime’s discomfort. They were all too happy to milk this for all it was worth.

    “If perhaps there were not so many interruptions!”

    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Onyx pouted, though it was clear he wasn’t.

    Ariel giggled at them.

    “I wanna know more about that, too!” Miko waved her arm in the air as though it was the best way to get their attention. “I was totally floored the first time I heard about it. I mean, Optimus never drank. He was so careful about everything. I gotta hear more details.”

    “Yeah, how did that even happen?” Rafael wondered.

    Prima turned to Optimus and grinned. “Well, today is the first day of your Cybertron’s Day of Thanks, is it not? We have some joors left this orn. And most likely we will all gather again tomorrow. Tell us this tale, Optimus. Tell us how you gorged on some strange blend of engex.”

    Optimus rolled his optics while the everyone else laughed. “For the last time, my sire, I did not gorge on the stuff and it was not engex.”

    “Still blackmail material!” laughed Wheeljack from a corner of the room, eliciting more laughter as Alerion and the other Camiens returned with a few trays of various energon soups and drinks.

    “Let us give the Primes some time to settle in first,” Elita suggested as she took her mate’s arm. “Chromia, Moonracer, could you help me set up some extra chairs? Now that everyone has refueled I think we can fit everyone in here. The sparklings can play on the floor if they like.”

    “Right away, Ellie,” Moonracer said and bustled away with Chromia and Elita.

    “We’ll help, too,” said Fire Star, and she and Nova Star followed them, with Lancer and Greenlight following in line behind them while Optimus held little Orion, gently kissing his helm as the little mechling snoozed in his massive arms.

    “Hey folks, we better get the food put away,” Lennox said as he turned to go back to the dining room. “It’s not good to let that turkey and ham sit out.”

    “Right,” said Cara, and she turned to June. “Could you watch Stacia and Tom for us? We’re gonna go help clean up.”

    “Go ahead,” said June, and she took little Tom from Cara’s arms as the young woman left with Jack for the dining room.

    For a few moments, there was mild confusion and chaos as human and Cybertronian alike gathered enough chairs to sit and listen to a highly anticipated story. Cara led several others in putting the food away as Lennox suggested and showed them where they could store it. A few children and sparklings fussed but were quickly calmed as toys or other distractions were offered them. Optimus took his favorite seat near the windows while Hot Rod timidly sat as close to his Prime as he could. Bumblebee sat with Ariel, Leo and Voyager on the floor and cradled Optimus’s tiny femmeling, Optima, while Leo cradled Star. The Autobots and Decepticons filled the room with chairs from the dining room to ensure everyone had a place to sit. Once everyone was seated and facing Optimus, the Prime regarded his large family as the room fell quiet.

    “So, then,” he muttered with a cough, carful not to wake little Orion. “Where do I begin?”

    “You know something,” Rafael said as he leaned against the railing, and Optimus glanced at him. “I’ve always wondered where you guys came from.”

    “Well, you know, it’s the usual thing,” Amalgamous said, his optics sparkling mischievously. “A mecha and femme meet, they fall in love . . .”

    “Don’t forget you’re on Cybertron, our home world,” Quintus added.

    Rafael and a few others in the room laughed.

    “No, no, no, what I mean is, how did you come into existence?” the young physicist corrected. “The first time we met you guys, I had asked who made you and Ratchet got very huffy about it. And yet, about a year later or so, I remember someone mentioning the Quintessons and you also talked a bit more about Primus. What or who were the Quintessons, and what did they have to do with any of you or Primus?”

    “I’ve wondered about that, too,” Jack noted as he fought to calm a fussy child. “The way it sounded, the Quintessons did create you, but it was also Primus?”

    Super confusing,” Miko agreed.

    “I’m a little curious about the Matrix,” said Jack. “When Spike and I followed K-Tee back to Cybertron to restore the Key to Vector Sigma, I always kinda wondered about it. I mean, what kind of powers did it really have? How was it created, and why is it so important to you guys?”

    “Yeah, even Megatron coveted that thing from what I remember,” Sparkplug muttered with a shiver.

    “Yeah,” Spike agreed thoughtfully. “You’ve had such a long history and ours is only just beginning. When did the Matrix appear? When and why did Primus make all of you Primes?”

    “There’s sooo much we’ve wanted to know,” Rafael said.

    Optimus thought a moment, watching as Alerion sat as close as she dared to Solus. All optics focused on him as Elita sat down beside him and gently took a sleeping Orion from his arms. “Indeed. There is much we have not shared.”

    “Ah! Don’t tell me we don’t get to hear how you got overcharged!” Frenzy wailed and everyone laughed.

    “We will get there,” Optimus told him with a snarky smirk. “Eventually.”

    “We have three more days of this holiday, young mech,” Prima noted from a separate large chair across from his son. “No doubt everyone will return to hear more before then.”

    “And there’s plenty of left over energon,” Nova Star informed them, glancing at the dining room. “We’ll have enough to for next orn, at least.”

    “Cool! We can make Saturday a pot-luck day,” Vince exclaimed, which earned him a few odd looks from Soundwave’s symbiotes.

    “What the slag is pot-luck?” Rumble inquired.

    “It’s an event where you bring a specially prepared dish to a party to share,” Vince replied. “A lot of families in America do that when they have large gatherings so the host family isn’t overly stressed with preparing the meal.”

    “But isn’t that the point of being a host?” Rumble asked, and Vince shrugged.

    “Not always. I mean, it was a little bit of a pot-luck tonight, right? Neither Optimus nor Elita prepared all that – um, delicious energon by themselves.”

    Elita rolled her optics. “I never would have recharged.”

    Rumble scratched his helm. “Um . . . what if we don’t have anything to bring?”

    Vince shrugged. “Just bring yourself. ‘Company’s better than food’, is what my gran-gran used to say.”

    “Right,” said Rumble, a dangerous smirk on his face. “So, um, which limb are you gonna crunch first, then?”

    “Eeew!” Voyager hollered, and everyone laughed nervously.

    “Seriously, though,” said Raf when the laughter died down. “What exactly are the Quintessons? I never got to see them.”

    “Neither did I, and that’s messed up,” Miko pouted.

    “You still might, as evidence exists to suggest they have survived the destruction of their homeworld,” Optimus warned with a shiver. “And a word to the wise, do not be so eager to encounter these malicious beings. There has never been a race more twisted and dangerous than the Quintessons.”

    “Never thought anything could be worse than a Decepticon,” Bulkhead muttered from across the room, and when all optics turned to him, he hastily amended by adding, “No offense! Just a fact! Err, I mean . . . ”

    The Decepticons were quiet a moment, until Soundwave shrugged and said, “Your statement; fair. Quintessons; untrustworthy.”

    Raf cleared his throat as everyone breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Yes, but who were they?”

    “And are they really responsible for creating your kind? Or was it Primus?” Chip, Rafael’s older half brother added, as he came up beside Cara and Jack. “You’ve always spoken about Primus but never the Quintessons.”

    Optimus thought a moment as everyone watched him, waiting. He glanced at Alpha Trion and his fellow Primes, suddenly glad for their presence. The rebellion against the Quintessons was their era, their first momentous victory as a united force for Cybertron.

    “It may be best if Alpha Trion and my fellow Primes explained the connection between Primus, Unicron and the Quintessons. That was an era long before my birth and one even I only know through stories and historical documents.”

    Alpha Trion leaned back in his seat as he sipped a pleasantly warm energon concoction, his optics closed in deep thought as he recalled a time and place lost to distant memory.

    “There is much to tell about that era,” he admitted. “But to understand our battle for liberty against tyrannical masters, we need to explore the origins of the Quintessons themselves. And that is difficult as even our knowledge is limited.”

    “Few historical records detailing their origins have survived the eons,” Vector Prime explained. “The Quintessons guarded their secrets jealously, and those records that survived our battle for freedom were either destroyed by fellow Cybertronians in battle or collected by the Quintessons and lost to the stars forever. But . . .” he paused and glanced at Alpha Trion, who nodded for him to proceed. “I believe we have enough surviving details to paint a fairly accurate picture of Quintesson culture before we drove them away.”

    “Sooo . . . it wasn’t Primus who created you?” Chip inquired, as confused as his brother.

    “In a sense yes, and in another no,” Vector replied. “It has been eons since our early days of life. We were far more primitive then.”

    “Okay, so wait,” said Miko, “You were created by both the Quintessons AND Primus? Am I understanding that right?”

    “You are correct, Miko,” Alpha Trion told her. “The Quintessons gave us our shells and the ability to transform, but it was Primus who gave us life and a sense of purpose. Because of him, we became self aware and grew fearful and distrustful of our masters. We wanted freedom and the right of self determination.”

    “Are your sure about that, old bot?” Frenzy inquired skeptically. “I was always taught that Primus created us.”

    “And there was a war with the Quintessons?” Rumble added, scratching his helm. “Are ya sure you’re not high on engex?”

    Optimus tried not to laugh at the indignant look on the ancient mech’s face and hid his face with one large hand.

    “I am quite sure, young mech,” the ancient archivist retorted. “I was there.” He gestured at the other Thirteen. “We all were, minus Optimus and Onyx, as they had yet to be sparked. They did not join our number until eons later.”

    Epps glanced at Lennox and shook his head. “Well, if that’s true, it sounds like you folks have been fightin’ for something for a lot longer than we though.”

    A small smile appeared on Vector’s face. “In some form or another, yes, I suppose we have,” Vector replied and stroked his chin. “But so too has your own race, Robert Epps. Your world’s history is fraught with many a battle for some reason or another, some of them far bloodier than even the worst battles I have experienced.”

    Prowl shivered. “You will forgive my impurtence then, Vector Prime, but you did not fight in many of the battles of the Great War. Those were truly terrible.”

    Vector sighed sadly. “I may not have fought in those battles master strategist, but I am well aware of them. I have observed the span of time for eons but rarely did I have to step. It was not my battle and . . . there are forces in this universe I had to guard against. Forces and beings with powers similar to my own who would have seriously damaged the time stream had I not held my post.”

    “What could be worse than the Deception’s gruella warfare programs?” asked Cliffjumper. “You ever seen them deploy Tox-En as a weapon? I have! Mechs melted from the inside out with that stuff!”

    Ironhide and a few other Autobots nervously glanced at the Decepticons. “No offense meant, mechs,” Mirage said placidly.

    “Offense; not taken,” Soundwave assured, though Frenzy and Rumble looked like they wanted to disagree.

    “I can assure you, Cliffjumper, that there are forces in this universe that could give the wartime Decepticons a ‘run for their money,’ as I believe the saying goes,” Alpha Trion patiently informed the temperamental mech.

    “Like who? The Quintessons?” Wheeljack asked, still a little skeptical himself. “I’ve heard stories, but I never fought them myself. Kinda wish I had. Missed out on a lot after the Battle at Autobot City.”

    “Yeah, me too,” Miko pouted.

    “So then, how did all of this really start?” Cara asked, glancing at Optimus. “How were you born? And where did the Quintessons come from?”

    “Yeah, I mean, someone had to have created them,” Jack agreed. “Life doesn’t start at random. It has a creator.”

    Optimus and the others were quiet a moment. “You are right about that,” he said and glanced at Alpha Trion. “Alpha, you know more about that era than I. You and my sire were among the ‘first born’ to develop a sentience the Quintessons did not predict. For this I must defer to your knowledge.”

    Alpha smiled. “Not necessarily, Optimus Prime. Of any mecha in this room, minus perhaps Cobber,” he smiled at the golden mech who grinned sheepishly before turning back to Optimus, “No one has studied our history and knows it more intimately than you. Through your own personal study and even the use of reverse engineered Simultronics, you have become a mecha of knowledge and wisdom superior to most other mechanisms I know.”

    “Not more than Shockwave,” Rumble noted. “That mecha is a crazy genius.”

    “We know,” Ironhide grumbled, glancing at Chromia who had dealt with the insane mech more than any Autobot alive alongside Elita One and the other femmes.

    Optimus hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose I could just ‘wing it,’ and whatever I miss . . .”

    “We will fill in the blanks,” Amalgamous offered cheerily.

    “Right,” said Optimus, and tapped a finger on the armrest.

    “Okay, so spill the beans, already,” Miko said eagerly. “Who made the Quintessons, and when exactly did they make you? And who came first? Primus or Unicron?”

    “And when are we gonna get that overcharged story?” Rumble whined. “I was looking forward to that.”

    Optimus grinned at the symbiote. “You’ll hear it soon enough, mech,” he said, and glanced out the window, contemplative, as he tried to image a universe he had never known.

    To Be Continued . . .


    Author’s Note; Regarding Quintus, I wrote this character as a femme because long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, I thought Quintus Prime WAS a femme. I was still learning the characters at that point and the only reference I had for the character was a few scanned images of the character’s appearance along with a few little notes about what the character was known for. Quintus looked feminine to me, so I made Quintus another female Prime.

    It wasn’t until much later that I wisely started referencing Wikipedia and other fan sites for more info. Yeah, you could image my surprise and frustration when I realized that Quintus Prime was in fact NOT a femme, but in stead a mech. Dang!

    By that point, his backstory was already deeply developed so I just left Quintus as the female Prime I had originally though he/she was. Sorry for any confusion on that. This is NOT a gender bending issue because it wasn’t intended that way. It was a mistake on my part. And for the way I’ve written the outline and the story thus far, Quintus works best as a femme.

    No flames about that, please.