Precious Things

by Phantom

Chapter Two

'What now?' Optimus groaned as the office door slid open, discharging one visitor only to admit another. 'I ought to charge by the minute, then I'd be rich and could retire.' He fought down a bitter laugh. Instead he pasted on his 'capable, efficient leader' expression. "What can I do for you, Perceptor?" It *would* have to be him, of all mechanisms. 'I wonder if he'll short out his vocal box this time?' he mused, then felt a wave of guilt. Perceptor was a bit more verbose than most, but he was through and enthusiastic about his job. He didn't deserve to be insulted, especially by the Autobot commander, who was supposed to be impartial and non-judgmental.

A feeling of uneasiness took root when he caught sight of the scientist's expression. Perceptor, who was frequently teased for his absent-minded and easygoing demeanor, now looked distinctly distressed. "Prime, I believe that we have a crisis on our hands."

Optimus frowned behind his mask. "Perceptor, those are dire words."

"I am aware of that," Perceptor fretted, "but I believe the situation warrants no less. I was scanning a remote sector of the galaxy in order to study the decay of a red giant star, but my instruments picked up something far more interesting and disturbing."

Optimus took the proffered data pad and studied it carefully, then looked blankly at his science officer. While Perceptor, contrary to his name, tended to be a bit unobservant of his non-work surroundings, he had seen that look, most frequently from Ultra Magnus, to understand what it meant. "There seems to be more mass in this galaxy than is accounted for by the assorted planets and asteroids. I surveyed the transmissions received by my vidcam, but nothing unusual has appeared."

Optimus chewed this over for a moment, breaking down Perceptor's inherent technobabble into mentally digestible fragments. "So there is more mass than there should be. What does this mean? Is something hidden there?"

Perceptor looked even more pained. "Difficult to say. If something is hidden there, it isn't registering on our other sensors. I've never heard of this phenomena before, so I strongly suspect that whatever it is is being obscured by a cloaking field."

That was the last thing that Optimus wanted to hear. This did not bode well at all. Optimus asked the same question that he always did whenever something unusual took place. "Could the Decepticons be behind this?"

"Quite possibly."

"What would they want to hide in such a remote corner of space?" Optimus pondered aloud.

"Perhaps it has something to do with the destruction of Earth," Perceptor suggested, oblivious to Prime's flinching as if in physical pain.

Optimus quickly quashed the guilty feelings rising within him. "Perhaps. What the Decepticons will do with such an enormous quantity of energy is frightening. Knowing Galvatron, he could have destroyed the Earth on a whim, but I have a dark premonition that something more sinister is at work."

"I would like your permission to run several scenarios through Teletran Seven."

"Agreed," Optimus confirmed. He glanced at the sizable pile of paperwork on his desk, then firmly turned his back on it. "I'd like to accompany you. We should learn as much about this troubling phenomenon as possible."

The two robots strode towards the command center briskly, Optimus greeting his underlings politely but distantly, almost as distracted as his science officer. The tight ball of dread and foreboding in his gut was growing. He felt as if events were crashing down on his head.

"Hello, Teletran," Optimus said to the huge supercomputer as he entered the spacious command center.

"Hello, Optimus," the computer replied in melodious tones. "How has your day been?"

"I've had better," he confessed ruefully. He had gotten used to making small talk with the computer, treating it as another of his soldiers. The designers realized that users would interact better with a computer with a pleasant voice, rather than the flat, inflectionless tones of the prototype, especially if the voice was feminine. Sometimes a sympathetic voice could do wonders, no matter its source.

"What can I do for you today?" 'she' inquired.

"Perceptor would like to run a few programs," he replied.

"That would be--" The computer's steady voice rose in intensity, indicating an urgent matter. "Receiving an emergency message from undercover operative Punch."

The visage, lined with feminine contours, faded away and was replaced by a much more disturbing sight. Punch, in his Decepticon Counterpunch persona, stood desperately hunched over the monitor at the other end. "Optimus! Thank Primus I reached you!" he gasped, energon and other viscous fluids flowing from myriad wounds. "Something's going down here, something huge!" He jumped as a loud and powerful hammering began at the door behind him. "The 'Cons have built a huge battleship, much more formidable than even Scorponok! I'm telling you, the thing's virtually unstoppable! The project is so sensitive that I tripped an alarm just accessing the subject."

The huge metal door behind him began to dent inwards ominously. Punch grasped the console, knowing that these few moments would be his last. "They're on to me now, Prime. They know that I copied the blueprints and that I'm sending them to you. My service to the Autobots is at an end. I just hope that my life has bought all of our kind a chance of survival. Good luck and farewell, leader." He quickly typed in a few commands, initiating a data transfer from the Decepticon base to Teletran Seven. Optimus oversaw the reception intensely, not wanting Punch's sacrifice to be in vain.

As the last bytes of information finished their instantaneous journey, the door behind Punch gave way, shattered by a powerful cannon blast. A horde of Decepticons rushed into the room, led by a distinct imposing purple figure whose character would not be complete without the maniacal grin. "Counter Punch, you wound me," he growled, aiming for sarcastic humor but missing the mark.

Punch turned towards the behemoth and straightened his shoulders, accepting his fate. He shifted form, wanting to die as an Autobot. So many times he had felt a pull towards the other faction, a part of him relishing the backstabbing and fuel spilling that was an undeniable part of the Decepticon hierarchy, but in his final hours he had been able to clear his mind and serve his cause. He was in a way relieved that the deception, walking the fine line not only between Autobot and Decepticon (for sometimes the difference was not so great) but between control and lunacy, could at last come to an end. He could be himself.

"What's this?" Galvatron laughed mockingly. "Your Decepticon form, however traitorous it was, was more becoming. No matter, for not a single fragment of either will excape my wrath."

He turned and sneered at the horrified visage of Optimus Prime on the screen. "Know this, Optimus! With the death of your precious operative begins a new era in the Decepticon Empire! You may struggle and fight as much as you like, it will do you no good! We are invincible!"

"Power to the Decepticons forever!" Cyclonus exclaimed, raising his fist in the air. The chant was echoed by the throng of fuel-thirsty Decepticons behind him. With the cheer still reverberating in the air, Galvatron shattered the viewscreen, mercilfully sparing Optimus and Perceptor from seeing what, no doubt, would be a very grizly and agonizing death.

end of Chapter Two

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