Archive of Our Own

They were calling it the Second Great War.

That may have been a little premature, based on the comparative length of the Great War and how long they had been fighting. But it had gotten vicious fast.

It was… Well, it was bad. Optimus had never seen anything like it. It was one thing to study the war and those who fought in it, and a very different thing to see the carnage firsthand.

“Captain! We just heard from the scouting team!” came a shout that startled Optimus out of his musings. “They’re coming!”

He was up in a flash, giving orders and locking down the fortress. This was the third attack this deca-cycle, and with each subsequent attack, their resources dwindled and the damage got harder to repair. Optimus wasn’t confident they would be able to hold out this time.

They didn’t have much of a choice. Help wouldn’t be coming.

Everyone got into position. They all knew the drill by now. Someone spotted the scouting team making their way back into the fortress at top speed, and the doors were opened just long enough for them to slide back inside.

And not a moment too soon. The Predacons were not far behind.

“Hold fire until they get closer,” Optimus ordered. “We don’t have energy to waste on missing our targets.”

He watched them come through a viewscope, trying to do a rough count on what they were up against. To his despair, it looked like nearly twice the number of troops Optimus had left in the fortress. This was a larger group than they had ever sent before. Clearly, the Predacons were getting tired of their resistance.

Optimus didn’t know what it was that caught his optic initially, but he zoomed in, his brow furrowed, only to see…

Dinobot.

It had to be him. Optimus had never fought him before, but he’d seen images and heard stories, and none of them bode well for his group.

“Now?” one of his officers asked nervously, looking through her own viewscope.

“Not yet.”

Optimus made a split-second decision not to tell them. Morale was already in the pit, and they were about to fight for their lives. They didn’t need any more bad news. Maybe a better leader would have made a different decision, but Optimus was at the end of his rope.

“Now!” he shouted, and Optimus and all his troops fired off every cannon they had at once, and then kept firing.

A good number of Predacons fell, but many more kept going. Too many. They made it to the walls of the fortress and began their attacks. From behind them, mobile cannons of their own shot off projectiles that shook the fortress. It was more firepower than they had ever taken before. Optimus glanced at a computer display and took in all the weak points that were fragmenting.

The Predacons were going to get in.

“Rhinox, Driveby, you and your division are with me!” he ordered. “The rest of you, keep firing!”

Optimus led the two squadrons to the lower levels. They grabbed whatever weapons they had and waited by the weakest point of the fortress.

They didn’t have long to wait. They leveled their guns at the cracks in the wall, which grew and grew until the first heavily-armored arm punched through. The Maximals began their barrage, breaking down what was left of the wall themselves and taking down the first row of Predacons along with it. The next came, and most of them fell, but a few slipped through and got closer, requiring some of the Maximal troops to drop their guns and fight close-range. The next row, more broke through, until the room was filled with Predacons.

Optimus dispatched a few of them himself. He happened to be facing the hole in the fortress wall when Dinobot entered.

Dinobot tore through two soldiers almost immediately, batting them away with his spinning shield. Ignoring the chaos around him, Optimus dove to the side and shot around the shield. His aim wasn’t the best, but he nicked Dinobot’s leg, which at least drew his attention. Dinobot snarled at him and approached, meeting him just as Optimus got back to his feet.

It was a fierce battle. Optimus felt out of his depth, barely managing to hold his own against the practiced warrior, but at least he was keeping Dinobot’s attention away from his troops.

“You put up a big fight for a little Maximal,” Dinobot snarled at him between meetings of their swords.

Like he had much of a choice. “What do you want with this place?” he demanded. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Surely you have more important places to be.”

“Crushing Maximal strongholds is important,” Dinobot said, and Optimus just barely avoided being skewered by his sword.

Moments later, they were locked in a wrestling match, raw strength against strength, and Optimus shouldn’t have directed his attention anywhere but at the foe in front of him, but—he glanced behind Dinobot’s helm at the larger battle going on. His troops were fighting hard, but the Predacons were just of a higher caliber. They looked well-trained, well supplied. They were better fighters, and Optimus’s Maximals were already exhausted.

There was no point to this. The battle would just end with Maximals dead.

Optimus looked Dinobot in the optic. “I surrender,” he said.

Dinobot froze, for just a moment. Then he slammed Optimus to the ground and stood over him. “Say that again,” he said.

“We surrender,” Optimus said, louder this time, unmoving, his hands open and weaponless. The battle taking place in the room didn’t stop, but there were some hiccups, as both sides wanted to see what was going to happen.

Dinobot stood there, looking at him. Finally, he held out his hand.

Optimus sighed, and reached into his subspace. He pulled out his ID plate, the Maximal insignia proudly emblazoned on it, and handed it over. He’d never had to do this before.

Dinobot looked pleased as he turned it over in his hand. “Alright,” he smirked, then turned on his intercom. “Predacons, cease the battle. We are victorious!”

The Predacons cheered. The Maximals stared at Optimus, their expressions a mixture of relief and shock.

Well, at least they were still alive, Optimus thought.

Everything felt like a blur after that. The surviving Maximals were disarmed and shuffled into holding cells, where they were kept until the time came to transport them to Predacon prisons. They were loaded into transport ships and carried deep into Predacon territory, then unloaded and put into cells.

Dinobot oversaw the whole thing. He kept a careful watch on every step of the process, and stepped in whenever he believed a Predacon was being too rough with them. And he personally escorted Optimus to his cell.

“What happens now?” Optimus asked, because he didn’t think any of the guards in this prison would be willing to talk to him.

Dinobot shrugged. “That is up to others to decide,” he said. “I imagine you will be traded back at some point. Until then, make yourself at home.”

That would not be happening. Optimus had heard plenty of stories about Maximal POWs disappearing. “Very hospitable,” he commented as they arrived at his cell. It had a slab to recharge on, at least. He didn’t put up a fight, and walked inside.

Dinobot locked the door behind him. “It was an honor doing battle with you, Optimus Primal,” he said. By the time Optimus had turned around, Dinobot was walking away.

Optimus thought about that a lot, in the following deca-cycles. That, and the battle as a whole. There wasn’t much else to do. He tried to determine what he could have done differently, or if there had ever been a chance, but ultimately he came up empty. There just hadn’t been enough of them, and not enough supplies.

There were worse bots he could have lost to, he decided. His surrender could have been met with a massacre. It had happened before.

They stayed there for a while, and were underfueled and in bad shape, but in the end Dinobot had been correct—they were traded back to Maximal custody. Finally, Optimus was able to give a full debriefing on what had happened. His superior officers decided he’d made the right call, but it was some time before he was put back in an active command position.

Optimus could have lived with never seeing a battlefield again, but they needed officers. Too many were dying on the field. So, no matter how reluctantly, Optimus heeded the call.

It was a long time before he ran into Dinobot again.

It was a battle again—this time, an open battlefield, with thousands of troops on either side. It was chaos, the noise deafening, and it was just by chance they found themselves fighting one another again.

They were more evenly matched this time. It was a hard fight, but Optimus didn’t feel like he was being overwhelmed in quite the same way as he had during their last encounter.

Optimus wasn’t the only one who noticed—Dinobot actually smiled as Optimus knocked his shield out of his hand. “Interesting,” was his only comment. Now only armed with similar weapons, the battle around them seemed to fade away, Optimus’s entire focus narrowed to Dinobot’s movements and his own.

Overhead, aerials were locked in dogfights of their own, with even bigger ships in the atmosphere above. Optimus didn’t see where the shot came from, but something hit the ground nearby, throwing them both off-balance. The surface of the battlefield shook and threatened to give way to a lower level of Cybertron. It clearly wasn’t strong enough to put up with this level of abuse, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that now.

Dinobot recovered more quickly than Optimus did. He knocked Optimus to the ground, and, kneeling over him, pressed sharp claws into the sensitive wiring in Optimus’s neck. It hurt, and when Optimus struggled, the claws just dug in further. So he stopped, trying to come up with a plan—something that would be quick and effective in getting Dinobot off him without internal wiring going with him.

“You put up a good fight,” Dinobot grinned.

“I don’t think I’m beat yet,” Optimus said.

“And how do you suppose that?”

“Well—“ Optimus started. He caught sight of something over Dinobot’s shoulder, plummeting to the ground, and his face went slack.

“What was that?” Dinobot questioned. “Perhaps you’d like to surrender again.”

Optimus couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what he could even say. After a long moment, Dinobot realized something was wrong, and looked behind him.

And he saw it. There was a projectile, a bomb, rapidly hurtling towards the ground. Optimus had seen the dogfights, but this…. This was far beyond them.

Dinobot’s grip relaxed. He turned back and looked Optimus in the optics, and Optimus saw fear there. He didn’t really know Dinobot, but the sight still struck him as profoundly wrong.

All Optimus remembered after that was a loud, horrible noise, a bright light, and then nothing.

Optimus had never been in so much pain in his life.

That was really all that registered at first. Every one of his sensors was alight, relaying information that this was very, very bad. He couldn’t move or think—only feel.

Eventually, after feeling heard, the sensors lightened up. Optimus was able to adjust enough to at least online his optics. Or, at least, the one that was currently functional. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure out how he had gotten here. He was lying on his front, with warped metal in front of him that curved upwards into the sky. There had been a battle. Optimus remembered his spar with Dinobot, and then…

The bomb.

The surface was already unstable. The bomb must opened up a hole and dropped him to a lower level of Cybertron.

Optimus tested his limbs, slowly and one by one, and managed to pull himself up into a kneeling position. Now that he could look upwards, his theory seemed to be substantiated—he could see gaping holes above him that revealed a view of the stars in Cybertron’s sky. A quick glance around revealed no obvious ways to get back to the surface. It looked like Optimus was stuck down here for the time being.

He wasn’t the only one that had been knocked down here. All around him were Predacons and Maximals, dead or in stasis. Slowly, Optimus crawled around, checking on each one he could reach. Most were dead. A few that were in stasis might make it if help arrived soon enough to make some needed repairs.

Then, Optimus heard a cough. He turned, as quickly as he could, and followed the sound. It led him right to Dinobot.

He was in very bad shape. And not in stasis—either he had overridden some automatic commands, or his processor had decided hibernating wouldn’t help him here. He had two serious energon leaks, one from his side and one from his chest. His optics were dull and unfocused, pointing straight upwards at the slivers of sky. He didn’t seem to realize he had company.

Optimus put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him, but Dinobot jerked and his gaze flew around until he found Optimus. “You,” he hissed.

He struggled to rise. Optimus pressed down on his shoulders, keeping him still. It didn’t take much strength. Dinobot didn’t need to do anything that would worsen his wounds. “Don’t move,” Optimus told him. “You’re hurt.”

“What happened?” Dinobot demanded, his voice raspy.

“I… I don’t know exactly,” Optimus said, while glancing around for anything he could use to slow the steady leak of energon coming from Dinobot’s body. “I don’t know where the bomb came from. Just that it knocked us down a level.”

“The bomb,” Dinobot said. His optics unfocused in remembrance. For a moment, it looked like he was going to fall into stasis in spite of himself, which would at least give Optimus a chance at patching him up unhindered. But then, Dinobot reached up and grasped Optimus’s arm with a clawed hand.

“Kill me,” Dinobot hissed.

It made uncomfortable static ripple across the back of Optimus’s neck. “No,” he said.

Dinobot growled at him, but it was quiet and labored. ‘Why?” he demanded.

Optimus reached for him and pulled him into more of a sitting position, propping him up against a piece of wrecked air transport behind him. He hoped it would slow the energon until he could try to plug the leaks. “You had the chance to kill me once, and you didn’t,” Optimus pointed out.

“You surrendered. There is no honor in killing a surrendered foe,” Dinobot hissed back. “And I… will never surrender.” As if to illustrate this, he squeezed Optimus’s arm, his claws poking into Optimus’s plating. Dinobot was still surprisingly strong considering the state he was in, but Optimus was in no danger. He scratched Optimus’s armor, but did no worse.

“I’ve fought valiantly,” Dinobot wheezed. “Give me the honorable death I deserve.”

“You’re going to live,” Optimus said firmly. He sounded more sure than he felt. Optimus was not a medic. He was trained in basic first aid, but the help Dinobot really needed was beyond his capabilities or resources he had access to. All he could hope for was a decent patch job that bought Dinobot enough time to survive until their rescue.

Dinobot seemed to deflate at that answer. “At what cost?” he asked weakly.

“That’s a question for later,” Optimus told him. He pulled out the small first aid kit he had in his subspace and opened it. It wasn’t very comprehensive, but it would have to do. He started with the deep gash in Dinobot’s side, which was more exposed and therefore easier for him to do something about without Dinobot’s cooperation. He cleaned the excess energon away from the wound as best he could, and starting from one end, pressed aluminum repair strips to the hole in Dinobot’s line. Then he took out the small portable solder and started attaching the strips to the line, one after another. Dinobot hissed and squeezed Optimus’s arm as he did so, but otherwise didn’t struggle.

Eventually the leaking had mostly stopped. Optimus took half of the padding he had and packed it in to help insulate the area from the cold, and grabbed a nearby bit of scrap metal to solder on top of the whole thing. It wasn’t pretty, and wouldn’t hold up to a lot of movement, but Optimus hoped it would do.

That just left the wound on his chest. It didn’t look like it had penetrated Dinobot’s spark chamber, but it was in the area. For Optimus to properly reach the damaged energon line, he would need Dinobot to shift away some plating.

“Will you move this for me?” Optimus asked.

“Why should I?” Dinobot hissed.

“Because I’m trying to help you,” Optimus said, which seemed to gain him zero sympathy. “And you deserve a better death than this.”

There was a long pause, but finally, grumbling all the while, Dinobot relaxed the necessary plating, allowing Optimus to move it out of the way. This one was more fractured than the other had been, on top of being a bigger line, but Optimus did his best to patch it up. By the time he finished, there was still a tiny amount of leakage, but he hoped that the insulator would provide enough pressure to keep that from becoming a problem.

Optimus had no concept of the amount of time that had gone by, but Dinobot was still conscious. That was a good sign.

“Thank you for holding still,” he said. “I know that wasn’t comfortable.”

“I’ve dealt with far worse,” Dinobot said.

Optimus thought to the stories he’d heard, and the news of Dinobot’s many victories against Maximal forces. That didn’t happen without also suffering the occasional defeat or injury. “I can imagine,” he said, and sat back against the piece of air transport next to Dinobot.

Compared to the sounds of the battle earlier, it was eerily silent. Aside from himself and Dinobot’s systems continuing to function, Optimus couldn’t make out any sounds, and there was no movement. Just still bodies strewn at the bottom of this hole, Predacon and Maximal alike.

“Who do you think is responsible?” Dinobot asked after a long silence.

Optimus didn’t have to ask him what he meant. “Maybe it was an accident.”

He saw Dinobot’s head shift towards him slightly. “No,” he said. “Something this big doesn’t happen by accident.”

Optimus couldn’t imagine the series of orders that would lead to this outcome. He said the only thing he could think: “I hope it wasn’t the Maximals.”

Dinobot snorted softly. “Not very confident.”

“No,” Optimus admitted. Maybe he would have been, closer to the beginning of the war, but not anymore.

“What would you do if it was your side?” Dinobot asked. He bore into Optimus with his gaze, now.

Optimus thought, but he didn’t have an answer to that. “I hope it wasn’t,” he said finally.

“Hm,” Dinobot huffed. Maybe it was the wrong answer. But it was the only one Optimus had.

They waited at the bottom of that hole for four days. Whenever Optimus had the strength, he stood and sorted the bodies, dragging them into collections. Maximal dead and Predacon dead. Maximal and Predacon in stasis, separate enough that, should rescuers come at the same time, they wouldn’t have to cross paths too much. When he grew tired, from lack of energon and the internal injuries he doubtless had sustained from being knocked down here, he went back to Dinobot and sat.

They talked, when Dinobot was awake. Mostly about life before the war. Where they were from, the jobs they’d had. Optimus told Dinobot about the exploratory missions he’d wanted to go on, when he was younger, and he convinced Dinobot to reveal how he had started training to become a warrior in the first place, long before there was a war to fight in.

Optimus found himself fascinated. Dinobot had lived a very different life than he had, which was interesting on its own, but the way he told his stories sucked Optimus in. He wasn’t an easy bot to get stories out of, either, so when he did reveal something about himself Optimus paid attention.

“You know, I think you saved my life,” Optimus told him on the third day. Dinobot looked at him with confusion. “You shielded me from the blast.”

“Not purposely,” Dinobot felt the need to point out.

“I know,” Optimus said. “But the result is the same. I probably wouldn’t be walking around right now if it weren’t for you.”

“And I would have died long ago were it not for you,” Dinobot mused weakly. “We are even, then.”

It got harder as the cycles dragged on. Dinobot wasn’t losing energon anymore, but he’d already lost a great deal, and they had no access to a new supply. Even though he didn’t move, Optimus could watch him decline, and the worse he got, the more worried Optimus became. He could feel himself grow weaker as well. If they weren’t rescued soon, the chances were neither one of them would make it.

Then, finally, there was an outside sign of life. Optimus thought he was hallucinating when he saw a jet fly overhead.

“Was that…?” he trailed off, but moments later, it returned. A figure transformed and landed at the edge of the hole.

“Anyone alive down there?” the bot shouted.

Dinobot groaned. “Terrorsaur,” he called. “Get down here.”

A Predacon, then. Optimus belatedly realized he might be in danger, but he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. Terrorsaur followed the order, landing on the floor of the pit with a loud thump. “Dinobot! What a relief to see you… alive,” he said. “I would say ‘alive and well,’ but you aren’t looking so good. And you seem to have a Maximal problem! Let me take care of that for you.”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Dinobot snarled, with a strength that surprised Optimus, considering how the last day had been. “You will take me to a medic. You will send a rescue team down here for the surviving Predacons. And you will alert the Maximals to the existence of survivors at this location.”

Terrorsaur looked at Dinobot, and then at Optimus, like each of them had produced a second head. “You really aren’t feeling well, huh?”

“Now,” Dinobot snarled, and finally Terrorsaur hopped to it. Optimus stood and backed away, giving Terrorsaur space to lift Dinobot so that he could fly him out of the hole. Optimus winced and had to force himself not to intervene as Dinobot was jostled around, but ultimately this was no longer his problem.

And that was it. The two of them left, and Optimus was alone with the static bodies. Enough time went by that he suspected Terrorsaur hadn’t followed all of Dinobot’s orders, but finally, he spotted a head peak over the edge.

“Well I’ll be slagged,” came a familiar but faint voice. “Hey, Rhinox! The shouty Pred was tellin’ the truth!”

Optimus could do nothing but laugh, weakly and under his breath. After everything that had happened, at least he was being rescued by friends.

The Maximal rescue team wasn’t long in appearing after that. Optimus was rushed to the mobile medical facility. He assumed they recovered the Maximals in stasis, as well as the dead bodies for their rites, but he never saw it. Instead, he spent the next three days on a medical berth while they made absolutely sure he was back in fighting shape.

Rhinox and Rattrap stopped by often, whenever they had a free moment between the rescue work. It wasn’t their usual job, but it looked like everyone nearby had been reassigned temporarily for the purpose.

As expected, once the official statements came out, each side blamed the other for the bomb. Optimus couldn’t get Dinobot’s question out of his mind. What if it had been the Maximals?

What would Optimus do?

The next time they met, Optimus was stationed on the front line. Elsewhere the war was raging strong. Here, they had worked themselves into a standstill. Neither side could make a move without being blown up, so they all just waited for the other to make the first move.

This time, their meeting didn’t begin with a physical confrontation. It was a POW negotiation, where Optimus was a negotiator rather than the one being negotiated. Normally this type of thing would be done over encrypted messages sent back and forth, but they had been having some trouble reaching an agreement that way, so both parties agreed to an in-person meeting. Optimus’s superior officer had invited him along to help come up with potential solutions.

The meeting was held in a pre-cleared ship hovering in no-man’s land. Three officers from either side met. For the Maximals, there was Crossblades, Rhinox and Optimus.

The Predacons brought Megatron, Iguanas and Dinobot.

Megatron being the one they were negotiating with was most of the problem. Optimus didn’t know him personally, of course, but his reputation for being unreasonable and hard to work with preceded him. Optimus had come prepared with a list of potential bargaining chips they could use to get the prisoners they wanted returned to them.

Seeing Dinobot alive and well was a pleasant surprise. Optimus saw Dinobot looking at him from the other side of the room and smiled. Dinobot quickly diverted his gaze.

The six of them sat on opposite sides of a table, and the negotiations began. By the end, Optimus was starting to regret accepting this mission. If possible, Megatron was harder to work with in person than he had been through messages. He kept asking for concessions that were impossible, either because the value of them was wildly out of proportion or because Crossblades just didn’t have the authority to give them. At times Dinobot or Iguanas would try to suggest something more reasonable, only for Megatron to bulldoze over them.

Occasionally, Optimus would look over at Dinobot and would find his attention returned. Once, Megatron was in the middle of saying something truly ridiculous, and Optimus made a face in spite of himself. Even though the negotiation wasn’t going well, it felt like a kind of victory when he watched Dinobot stifle a smile.

Finally, finally, after nearly a full day of arguing, they came to a tentative agreement. It wasn’t a good one, but it got Maximal troops out of Predacon prisons, which had been their ultimate objective.

Megatron looked smug during the disengagement process. Optimus hoped he never had to come into contact with him again outside of a battlefield.

Protocol required each of them to shake hands with all three of their foes before they could return to their side of the battlefield. As much as he would have liked to, Optimus didn’t plan on speaking to Dinobot. It was strange, to have someone he had seen half-dead and who he felt he had gotten to know fairly well, on the opposite side of the negotiating table and having to treat them as a stranger. But he knew acknowledging they had any sort of shared experience could spell trouble for either one of them.

When Optimus came to Dinobot, he nodded minutely and they shook hands as normal. To Optimus’s surprise, he found a small object left in his hand. Instinctively, he balled it up in a fist.

Their departure was uneventful. There were no unexpected attacks from behind. The three Maximals returned to their ship and set back down on the surface unharmed.

“That was a nightmare,” Crossblades said, her shoulders sagging a bit now that they were back to relative safety. Or at least as much safety as there could be on the front lines. “I still have to write up a report and get back to the regional headquarters. Thank you for your help, you two.”

“For all the good it did,” Rhinox sighed.

“Do you need any help with the report?” Optimus asked.

Crossblades shook her head. “You have your hands full here, I won’t give you more work to do,” she said. “Keep it up, soldiers.”

They saluted as she took her leave. Optimus was anxious to find a private place, but Rhinox stood in his way. “You doing alright?” he asked.

“Fine,” Optimus said automatically.

Rhinox tilted his head. “You haven’t seen Dinobot since you saved his life, right?”

Rhinox was the only one Optimus had told about that part. He’d had to write up a report of the incident, but left that one detail out. “It… was good to see that he was okay,” Optimus admitted.

Rhinox nodded. “I’m just worried about you empathizing with him too much. I doubt he would hesitate to kill you in battle, given the chance,” Rhinox said. “He is still a Predacon.”

“He’s not a typical Predacon,” Optimus said.

“No, he is. He’s just not Megatron’s brand of Predacon,” Rhinox said.

Optimus deflated somewhat. “I know, Rhinox,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Rhinox patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t,” he said, and let Optimus be.

Opening his fist revealed a data slug. Inside, 3D coordinates and a time.

Curiosity overtook him. Optimus input the coordinates and found a space underneath Cybertron’s surface, in the middle of no man’s land. Comparing it with maps of the battlefield, he wasn’t sure he could even reach the spot. But he could try.

Moments after that thought, guilt overtook him. Rhinox was right. Dinobot was a Predacon. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t try to kill Optimus again. He was playing with fire, here.

...But Optimus didn’t think Dinobot would lure him somewhere unknown with the intention of killing him. That didn’t seem to jive with Dinobot’s personal sense of honor, which he took very seriously. Optimus knew that much about him, if nothing else.

It didn’t matter. Going to a secret meeting with a Predacon was out of the question. Optimus was the highest ranking officer permanently stationed on this section of the front. He didn’t have time, and more importantly doing so would be irresponsible and arguably treasonous. It was out of the question.

Days passed, and the closer the time on the slug came, the more Optimus thought about it. What if Dinobot had some information that it would be beneficial to know? Optimus trusted himself not to give away Maximal secrets. And if there was a fight, Optimus had no doubt it would be a fair one. He could hold his own against Dinobot in a fair fight.

Optimus went back and forth on the question many times. But ultimately, a little bit before the time designated, he found himself off duty and in the lower levels of their encampment.

There were many levels of Cybertron that were confusing and largely unexplored. There was always a real fear that their enemies would find a way through the catacombs and attack them from below, so guard detachments were posted on various levels, protecting their territory and making sure nobody could get in. Usually, it was a quiet job. The soldiers down there weren’t expecting to see Optimus while at their posts.

“I’m here to investigate a potential breach,” he told them, and felt bad about lying. “I’ll be back in a few mega-cycles.”

“Shouldn’t someone go with you? What if it’s dangerous?” one of the guards asked.

Optimus shook his head. “We can’t afford for any of you to leave your posts,” he told them. “I’m perfectly safe. It’s just a scouting mission. I’ll be back before the next shift change. If I’m not, then you can alert Rhinox that I’m missing.”

They nodded and saluted, and Optimus was left to make his way through the dark tunnels.

He had something of a map, at least. It was only what had been able to be scanned from the surface. It didn’t look like there were any passages that would get Optimus directly to the point he was trying to find, but the scans weren’t always entirely accurate. Sometimes smaller  connecting passageways were obscured. And if there weren’t any, Optimus could always make some.

It was a slow process, making his way through the dark tunnels and trying to end up where the coordinates wanted him to be. He probably should have left earlier, to give himself more time to reach the meeting spot, but that would have made it feel even more premeditated, and Optimus hadn’t been prepared for that.

Still, he made progress. Just after the designated meeting time, Optimus found himself just next to the dot on his map. There didn’t seem to be a direct path to get where he wanted to go, but…

Optimus started feeling along the wall of this tunnel, tapping in certain spots. When he found one that sounded weaker than the others, he started looking for raised edges of metal he could strip away. That done, Optimus landed a few hard punches and felt it giving way.

It didn’t take long before he was through to the other side. Optimus climbed through the hole and walked forward, into a bigger clearing.

Sure enough, there was Dinobot. Waiting for him. He had been sitting, but he stood when he saw Optimus come into view.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said.

“I wasn’t either,” Optimus admitted quietly. “Why did you want to see me? Did something happen?”

Dinobot was quiet for a long moment.

“I need to find out who is responsible for that bomb,” he finally said.

“The Maximals said it was the Predacons,” Optimus said.

“Yes, that is the official story,” he said. “And the Predacons blame the Maximals. So one of them is lying.”

Optimus hated to admit it, but he was right. Nothing had changed, and there was no way of knowing which side was responsible for bombing their own bots.

“I don’t know what I can do about that, Dinobot,” Optimus said. “I’m not that high-ranking. They aren’t going to tell me any details.”

“Yes… I suppose I had hoped you already knew,” Dinobot said. “Good troops were lost in that explosion. Needlessly.”

Optimus felt bad disappointing him. He felt bad that part of him didn’t want to know the answer. “Are you stationed here permanently?” he asked, in a feeble attempt to change the subject.

“For the foreseeable future, yes.”

“With Megatron?”

Dinobot scowled. “Unfortunately,” he said.

“Is he that bad with everyone?” Optimus asked. He had a hard time imagining how someone so difficult could rise through the ranks like he had.

“Not… necessarily,” Dinobot said, looking conflicted. “He can be persuasive when he wants to be. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“I guess you wouldn’t tell me if he had any particular plans,” Optimus said.

“No,” Dinobot agreed.

It struck Optimus, then, how ridiculous this all was—a Maximal and a Predacon in the catacombs, discussing nothing in particular. But Optimus didn’t feel unsafe here.

“I can ask some of my superiors to see if they know anything about the bomb, but even if they did, I can’t guarantee they would tell me,” Optimus said, and Dinobot nodded. Then again, that information wouldn’t be helpful to Dinobot unless Optimus had a way to relay it. “Will I see you again?”

Dinobot cocked his head to the side slightly. “Do you want to?”

That was a very good question. “Yes,” Optimus realized. He didn’t know why he did, but here he was.

“Well… I suppose,” Dinobot said. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that. “If this is a secure location, we could set a time to meet here again.”

They chose a time for the following deca-cycle, and departed. Optimus kept his promise, returning to the guard before their shift was over, and reported no breach of the catacombs. He started contacting those higher up in the Maximal command structure that he had garnered some favor with and asking them about the bomb.

By the time their next meeting rolled around, he hadn’t learned much. So he reported on what he had, and then they talked about other things, and set another time to meet. And another, and another after that.

It didn’t take long for these meetings to become a regular and expected occurrence in each of their lives. And Optimus looked forward to them more than he probably should have.

Life on the front was hard, he rationalized. They shot at each other and bots died and neither side ultimately made any progress. It was demoralizing. Having something to look forward to was nice, and Dinobot was…

Well. Dinobot was a good conversation partner, was handsome, and they had saved each other’s lives. Optimus knew on some level that he was making a mistake, but it wasn’t one he was about to stop making. Whatever else he knew, he knew that Dinobot was a good person. And that transcended Maximals or Predacons.

Optimus had no inkling of how it would end. Then one evening he arrived at their meeting place and Dinobot was pacing. It took Optimus a moment to get a good look at his face, but when he did, he could see the obvious distress.

“What happened?” Optimus asked, instantly going to Dinobot’s side and putting a steadying hand on his arm.

“We did it,” Dinobot said, his voice hoarse.

“What?”

“The bomb,” Dinobot clarified, and Optimus felt his tanks sink. “The Predacon high command gave the order. They were so eager for a win that they murdered their own soldiers.”

Optimus should have felt relieved, but he couldn’t find it in him. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it.

Dinobot turned away from him. “I can’t… I cannot serve leaders that would make a decision so shameful,” he said. Optimus’s spark ached for him. “Mistakes, I can tolerate. This was not a mistake.”

Optimus put himself back in Dinobot’s line of sight. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

Dinobot had no answer for him. He looked Optimus in the optic, and then diverted his gaze.

Spurred on by some instinct, Optimus opened his arms. It only took a klik for Dinobot to fall into his embrace, and Optimus just held him. For a long time, they stayed like that, not talking. Optimus held Dinobot close, rubbed at the plating on his back, and waited.

“I cannot stay with the Predacons,” Dinobot finally said. He straightened slightly, pulling away enough to look Optimus in the face but not enough to leave his arms.

That was… “Are you saying you would follow the Maximals?” Optimus asked.

“Perhaps.”

“We aren’t perfect either,” Optimus said. He thought briefly to the scrapped Protoform X experiment he’d been told about, informally, by Crossblades the last time they’d met. “We try to do the right thing, but we’re wrong sometimes.”

“Hm,” Dinobot said. “Perhaps I would only follow you, then.”

Optimus opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was “Oh.”

A moment later, they were pressed together in a kiss. It was slow, careful, but right. Optimus felt a combination of thrill and belonging humming through his processor in a way he’d never experienced before. He held Dinobot closer, and Dinobot reciprocated, weaving his arms around Optimus’s shoulders and squeezing.

Eventually, the kiss ended, and when Optimus looked into Dinobot’s face he saw possibility where he had never seen it there before. “Were you serious?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. “If you wanted to join the Maximals, I can ask around for you.”

Dinobot vented and let his forehead rest against Optimus’s. “I’ve dedicated my entire life to the Predacons,” he said. “I don’t want to betray them.”

“They betrayed you first,” Optimus said. “You nearly died.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Dinobot said.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be flippant,” Optimus apologized. “I know this is hard. I just want to know what I can do to help.”

Dinobot nodded just a fraction, his optics offline now. “Speak with your superiors,” he said finally. “I would prefer to stay out of prison if possible.”

Optimus felt a surge of hope, of anticipation. He and Dinobot on the same side, fighting together instead of against one another… Optimus vowed to himself to do everything in his power to make it a reality. “I won’t let you go to prison.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

Optimus grinned up at him. “I am,” he said.

As much as they didn’t want to part, the two of them went back to their respective sides soon after. Optimus immediately went looking for Rhinox.

He found him in his tiny, cramped quarters, sitting at a table tinkering with a broken weapon. Optimus pulled up a chair and sat across from him. “What would be the best way for someone to switch sides?” he asked.

Rhinox looked up at him and became very still. “I don’t mean for me,” Optimus clarified, and realized he probably should have led with that. “For a Predacon wanting to join us.”

Unexpectedly, Rattrap’s head poked out from under Rhinox’s berth. “Ooh! Is that who you’ve been sneakin’ off to see every deca-cycle?”

Optimus gave Rattrap a look, and then shifted that look to Rhinox, whose gaze was directed toward the ceiling. “I don’t think you should be spying on a superior officer, Rattrap,” Optimus said.

“It ain’t spying if I just happen to notice when you disappear into Cybertron’s underbelly,” Rattrap said. “What am I supposed to assume? You’re just goin’ down there to have regular picnics?”

“Who’s defecting?” Rhinox asked, trying to steer them back to the topic at hand.

Optimus hesitated, but they would find out eventually, and Optimus needed them on his side. “Dinobot.”

“Optimus,” Rhinox said sharply. Optimus could do nothing but smile.

The two of them spent a good deal of time talking it out, with the occasional comment from Rattrap. It wasn’t unheard of to switch sides, but usually those that defected weren’t as high ranking or well-known. They threw around ideas whenever they had a moment to spare—would it be best for him to seek asylum? What would be the best way to convince Maximal high command he could be trusted?

In the end, they didn’t get the chance to put a plan into action. Optimus received an urgent, almost frantic call to come down to the lower levels where the guards had apprehended a Predacon, and when he rushed down, he found Dinobot being held at gunpoint, his hands held aloft and his sword and shield laying on the ground.

For a moment, Optimus was too stunned to speak. He locked optics with Dinobot, and Dinobot nodded subtly to him.

“What is going on here?” he finally asked.

“We were on patrol and he came up from one of the tunnels,” one of the stammering guards said.

“And he didn’t attack?” Optimus asked, just to confirm so that everyone gathered around was on the same page.

“No, sir,” the guard said. “He… He dropped his weapons and said he needed to speak with our commanding officer.”

“I have important information,” Dinobot said seriously. “You’re all in danger.”

This hadn’t been the plan, and Dinobot was taking it very seriously, so Optimus didn’t doubt that it was the truth. “Bring him to the command center,” he ordered. Two of the guards lowered their guns and went to take hold of Dinobot’s arms. Optimus heard a few other bystanders mumbling amongst themselves, and he could see the need for some damage control. “We aren’t so far into the war we can’t even speak to Predacons.”

Optimus had them bring Dinobot down to an interrogation room. It wasn’t used often, and Optimus wasn’t planning on doing any interrogating, but it had other benefits. It was secure and monitored, which was exactly what Optimus wanted.

The guards weren’t happy with Optimus’s orders not to restrain Dinobot. That didn’t bother Optimus much. They would be able to stand outside and watch all of the proceedings, able to jump in at any moment they felt his life would be in danger. Dinobot took a seat on one side of a table, and Optimus sat across from him.

“Dinobot,” Optimus said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Since your surrender, yes. I remember,” Dinobot said. His hands rested on the table, curled in front of him nonthreateningly. “I would appreciate if you had someone retrieve my sword.”

“Why did you bring a sword with you if you weren’t planning on using it?” Optimus asked.

“I like that sword.”

It took a lot of effort on Optimus’s part to keep from smiling. “This conversation is being recorded,” he informed.

“Good. You can send it to your higher-ups,” Dinobot said.

Optimus was dying to ask. But he needed to approach this as a commander, and someone who wasn’t expecting a Predacon to show up in the underbelly of his post. “How did you get in?”

“I blasted down some weaker tunnel walls until I was able to find a clear path,” Dinobot said, tapping a finger against the table impatiently. “I did not come here to expose your security risks to you.”

“Then why did you come?” Optimus asked.

Dinobot looked him dead in the optic. “Megatron has discovered the recipe for Gideon’s Glue,” he said, loud and clear enough for anyone listening in to hear him. “You would all be fools to assume he won’t use it.”

Optimus felt his spark drop. Dinobot wouldn’t lie about this, but it was… It was unthinkable. Optimus had studied the Great War, and there were lines crossed by their ancestors that the Maximals and Predacons never had. Optimus had always felt a sense of comfort in that, no matter how bad things got. Apparently, that was no longer the case.

“Gideon’s Glue violates the Nebulos Convention, which Maximals and Predacons have both agreed to,” Optimus pointed out.

“Megatron doesn’t care about the Tripredacus Council. He cares even less about treaties,” Dinobot said, frowning in disdain. “All he cares about is power. If he is given the chance, he will use this weapon on any Maximal army within his reach, and possibly against dissenting Predacons as well.”

“Why didn’t you bring this to the attention of the Predacon high council? Why tell us?” Optimus asked.

Dinobot was silent for a moment. He folded his hands together and straightened in his seat. “I find my values no longer align with that of the Predacons,” he said. “I do not want to fight to support them.”

“What do you want?” Optimus asked. He already knew, but it was good for the cameras. Any proof he could give of Dinobot’s voluntary separation from the Predacons would help.

“That is up to you now,” Dinobot said meaningfully. “Alert your superiors. There is no time to be lost.”

Optimus left him in the interrogation room, posting guards there with orders to use force only if force was used against them. He didn’t think they would have a problem with it. The room was much, much quieter than it had been before he’d spoken to Dinobot. Their faces were solemn.

Rhinox appeared at Optimus’s side as he walked to his office. “This wasn’t the plan,” he pointed out.

“No. It’s worse,” Optimus said.

“We don’t have any way to fight Gideon’s Glue,” Rhinox told him. “It was only used once. There was no time to develop a countermeasure.”

“Well, let’s hope we can get through this war without needing one,” Optimus said. Rhinox took a seat in his office as he sent the video to everyone he could think of, tagged as urgent, and waited. It didn’t take long for someone to get back to him.

His communication screen filled with Crossblades’ face. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” she asked, foregoing any greeting.

“I’m almost certain he is,” Optimus said. He didn’t want to give too much away, but he had to be honest. “I’ve dealt with him before. He isn’t dishonest. And I don’t think we can afford to risk doubting him.”

She nodded. “I’m going to make some calls. If he’ll cooperate, I’m sure we’ll want to talk to him.”

The call clicked off, and for a moment it was silent. “There’s nothing else we can do,” Optimus finally concluded.

“Nope,” Rhinox agreed. “You’d better find a more permanent place for Dinobot to go before something goes wrong.

Rhinox was right, as he usually was. Optimus returned to the the guards keeping watch over the interrogation room.

“Sir?” one of them asked.

“I’ve passed on the information to Commander Crossblades. She’s going to take care of everything,” he told them. “Dinobot is going to be staying here for the time being. One of you, go down and get his sword and shield.”

Optimus put Dinobot in a berthroom with a guard posted at his door. “It isn’t a prison,” he said, when they had a moment alone together.

“With time, I’m sure it will come to feel as such,” Dinobot responded.

“I wouldn’t keep you in here unless I had to. But it shouldn’t take long to prove you’re telling the truth, and that you mean us no harm,” Optimus said. He shot Dinobot a teasing smile. “Besides, it’s not my fault you didn’t follow the plan.”

“Well. I wasn’t informed about any plan,” Dinobot said. “I suppose I should have left all of you to rust.”

Optimus stepped towards him, and rested his forehead on Dinobot’s. “Thank you for not doing that,” he said. “In case nobody tells you later.”

“You can repay me by retrieving my sword,” Dinobot said.

Optimus grinned. “I already did,” he said. “And you’re welcome.”

Dinobot kissed him, and that was all the thanks he could ever need.

As it turned out, Optimus’s office became more of a prison than Dinobot’s room could. A whole series of Maximal high commanders wanted to speak with the two of them, so over the next few days, that’s where they spent most of their time. It was tedious—Dinobot answered the same questions and gave the same information over and over again, and Optimus watched, and jumped in when necessary. Dinobot didn’t give away anything related to the Predacons as a whole, but when it came to Megatron, he was more than willing to reveal secrets. Apparently, this wasn’t the first treaty-breaking behavior Megatron had engaged in, but it was the most heinous.

Finally, after what felt like eons, they were given some answers. “We’re in talks with the Tripredacus Council now,” Crossblades informed them. “Thanks to the information Dinobot has given us, they’re taking our accusations seriously. He’s being investigated, and if all goes well they’ll take care of him themselves.”

“If they can catch him,” Dinobot muttered, but Crossblades heard him.

“It’s the best we can do for now,” she said. “In the meantime, we need to figure out what we’re doing with you.”

“Dinobot has expressed interest in joining the Maximals,” Optimus said.

Crossblades looked… surprised. “Have you?” she asked with interest.

“I cannot fight for the Predacons, and I’ve seen more than enough from them to want to fight against them,” Dinobot explained. “That said, if I were to become a Maximal, I would like some assurance that I would be able to retain some semblance of my former rank.”

Crossblades hummed in contemplation. “Well, it’s certainly unprecedented for someone as well-known as you,” she said slowly. “But it’s not like we can turn you away… You’d have to do some training.”

Optimus could practically feel Dinobot recoil, and evidently, so could Crossblades, nearly half a planet away. “It’s probably not what you’re thinking,” she said. “I’m well aware you’re a proficient soldier and commander. But we can’t just let you loose with a command of your own the moment you come to us. We need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“I see,” Dinobot said stiffly. “And when would this… training take place?”

“I can send a transport as early as tomorrow.”

So. Arrangements were made. Dinobot would leave in the morning for training, and ultimately his Maximal initiation rites. Optimus wouldn’t be able to see it, most likely, and he didn’t know how long Dinobot would be gone, or if he would ever return to this spot.

Optimus snuck Dinobot into his quarters that night, and they lay on the berth, wrapped up in each other, and talked long into the night. It was the first time they had ever been together where Optimus wasn’t worried about something happening, but there was also the knowledge that he would have to let go soon.

“Will you write to me?” Optimus asked.

“If they allow me to.”

“I don’t know why they wouldn’t. They don’t stop any other Maximals from talking to each other,” Optimus said. He shifted so that his head was tucked securely under Dinobot’s chin, and smiled privately when Dinobot’s arm around his shoulders tightened.

“Do they monitor your communication?” Dinobot asked.

“They can. Usually only if they think there’s something going on.”

Dinobot huffed. Optimus couldn’t be sure from his current position, but it sounded almost like a laugh. “Could this not be considered something going on?” he asked, running his claws in small circles on Optimus’s armor plating. “Are there not rules about this sort of thing?”

“Only when it becomes a problem.” That wasn’t strictly true, but in practice, no one cared unless it became a problem. “There’s too much else to worry about to get upset about every relationship.”

Dinobot pressed a kiss to the top of Optimus’s head. “Then I shall endeavor not to become a problem.”

Morning came too quickly. Dinobot, sword and shield returned to him at last, boarded a Maximal transport. Optimus saw him off at the airfield, and tried to shut down the voice inside that worried. Optimus would see him again, he decided. He just didn’t know when.

Life went back to normal, or as normal as life on the front possibly could be. They held their positions, and reinforced the tunnels Dinobot had managed to find his way through. Eventually the news came that Megatron had been found guilty, but had gone into hiding before the Tripredacus Council had managed to detain him. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he wasn’t likely to have the resources to create deadly weapons.

And Dinobot did write. In very little time at all, they were writing long, frequent messages back and forth. Optimus kept Dinobot up-to-date on what was happening on the front, and the news they were hearing from the Predacons. Dinobot told Optimus all about what he was being forced to sit through which somehow constituted training. But there was only so much news to be shared, so they talked about other things as well. Dinobot was interacting with Maximals that Optimus had known for a very long time, so Optimus told stories he had. They discussed where Megatron might have run off to, and what he might be planning. They shared their hopes for after the war.

‘Would you be happy not fighting?’ Optimus asked.

‘A true warrior knows when to lay down his weapons,’ Dinobot responded. ‘But… I have been fighting for a very long time. I would need to find a hobby.’

‘I have some ideas,’ Optimus told him.

The end of the war felt very far away, but Optimus had spent a good bit of time thinking about how he would spend it. He hadn’t expected he might have someone to spend it with.

Finally, the day of Dinobot’s Maximal initiation rites arrived. Optimus received a call early that morning, before he’d even made it out of his room. It didn’t exactly surprise him, but it was the first time they’d been able to speak in real time since Dinobot left.

“Are you nervous?” Optimus wanted to know.

Dinobot huffed. “Should I be?”

Optimus couldn’t hide his fond smile, and now, didn’t need to. “No,” he said. “Everything will go fine. I just wish I could be there.”

“Hm,” Dinobot said, looking away from the screen briefly. “There has been some… discussion as to my posting once all this is over.”

“Yes?” Optimus asked, perking up slightly.

“Well. Despite my extensive qualifications, they aren’t going to give me a command of my own and leave me unsupervised from the beginning,” he said. “I believe I have convinced them I would be of best use on the front.”

“Have you?” Optimus grinned.

“I can’t promise anything, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But. It is a… possibility,” Dinobot finished.

It was only a possibility, but Optimus’s spark felt light. He was utterly charmed, he realized. “I look forward to seeing you again,” he said. “Whenever or wherever that might be.”

“I… yes,” Dinobot said. “I feel the same.”

The transfer wasn’t immediate. But eventually, sure enough, Dinobot found himself under Optimus’s command.

Optimus had worried, while they were apart, while waiting on letters. Not always, but enough—he’d worried it was a fluke. That their initial attraction was a product of dramatic circumstances, and wouldn’t stand up to the stress and monotony of daily life on the front. He was pleased to find he was wrong. They settled into their relationship easily. When there was a fight to be had, they fought side by side, and when all that was left to do was wait for the next barrage, they waited together. Moments alone were few and far between, but cherished.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t anything big or dramatic. But it was steady, and comfortable, and good.

Of course, life was not without trouble.

Optimus went looking for Dinobot. It wasn’t often difficult to find him. At that moment, he was in a training room. There wasn’t a class going on, just himself and Cheetor, one of their new recruits. Dinobot hadn’t been happy with the quality of those just out of basic training, and had elected to work them himself. Cheetor, it seemed, needed or had asked for extra assistance.

“You aren’t holding your arms steady enough,” Dinobot told him. “That’s most of the problem. They shouldn’t be stiff, but you’re going too far in the opposite direction.” He manually adjusted Cheetor’s grip on a gun.

“There. Try it now.”

Cheetor took a moment to recalibrate his aim, then pulled the trigger. The hole in the target wasn’t quite in the middle, but judging from the other holes, it was the closest he’d gotten so far. He looked up at Dinobot, his optics wide.

“Good work,” Dinobot nodded, and Cheetor’s grin practically split his face open.

It was a sparkwarming sight to behold. Optimus hated to break it up, but… He shifted to catch Dinobot’s attention.

“Keep practicing that. I’ll be back in a moment,” Dinobot instructed, and met Optimus at the door.

“I need to talk to you privately,” Optimus said. At Dinobot’s nod, he led him to a nearby empty room. And then, just because of habit, wrapped his arms around Dinobot and pulled him into a kiss.

“That didn’t sound like an excuse,” Dinobot pointed out once they broke apart.

“No,” Optimus sighed, and laid his head on Dinobot’s shoulder. “I got a communique from a committee up the chain. They denied your request again.”

Dinobot growled. Optimus could feel it rumbling through his chest plating. “I have never seen a military so unwilling to use an asset,” he snarled. “How long must I sit here accomplishing nothing before they begin to trust me?”

“I don’t know,” Optimus said. It was self-defeating—they wouldn’t allow Dinobot any freedom to command or maneuver on his own, so he couldn’t prove to them he wouldn’t falter facing off against his former troops. Optimus had tried vouching for him, but it was decided he was biased.

A small, selfish part of Optimus was glad Dinobot’s raids kept getting denied, because he wouldn’t be able to leave his posting to accompany him. The thought of Dinobot being out there on his own scared him. But he knew Dinobot was more than capable of taking care of himself, and he didn’t like seeing his partner so often disappointed.

“...Just give it time,” Optimus finished lamely.

Dinobot had given it time, and gave it still more. His patience was commendable, but never rewarded. It got to the point Optimus had turned down two promotions for fear of them being separated. He wanted off the front lines, but he wasn’t willing to leave Dinobot behind—or Rhinox or Rattrap, for that matter.

Optimus didn’t know what he was looking for, but it found him anyway.

He was in a routine briefing meeting with Crossblades. They exchanged what news there was, and Optimus gave her his reports on their supplies levels and how his troops were doing.

“You’ve been out here for an awfully long time,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Someone has to be.”

“Someone, yes. But it doesn’t have to be you,” she said. “You’re supposed to rotate. But you keep turning down opportunities. Why is that?”

Optimus shrugged. He trusted Crossblades, but she was also his superior. “I guess I haven’t found the right thing to do next yet.”

She stared him down over the viewscreen. “Alright. Suit yourself,” she said finally. She seemed to have moved on to the next subject when she continued. “Protoform X was captured.”

Optimus’s optics went wide. “Really?” he asked. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to know about Protoform X. Crossblades kept him up-to-date anyway, a symbol of her trust in him. “How?”

“Depth Charge finally managed to bring him in. I’d rather not discuss the details. It was a little…” She winced, and Optimus got the picture. “He isn’t dead. But he is in stasis.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Optimus asked. “Are we…?” He didn’t want to finish the thought, because there was no good option. Optimus didn’t believe in the death penalty, but if that thing were ever to get out again....

“We’re sending out a ship,” she said. “A few ships, actually. Each will have a group of Maximal protoforms on them. They’re going to be spread out to different spots in the galaxy. A guarantee we won’t be wiped out if the Predacons take Cybertron, if you will. One of those ships will just happen to have Protoform X on it as well.”

“Are things really that bad?”

She paused at that, and didn’t look him in the optic. “It never hurts to be prepared,” she said. “If nothing else we need to get Protoform X off this planet as soon as possible. If the Predacons get hold of it, we’re all in big trouble.”

Optimus waited for her to complete the thought, the reason for telling him all this, and she didn’t make him wait long. “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think of what?” Optimus asked.

“Commanding one of the ships. It would get you away from the fighting for awhile,” she said, and looked at him pointedly. “And you’d be able to choose your crew.”

“How many?”

“Four, plus yourself. That should be plenty. Any more and it will look suspicious,” she said. “The official story for these missions are exploratory in nature. Peaceful.”

“In the middle of a civil war?” Optimus asked, doubtful.

Crossblades shrugged. “Even peaceful missions can lead to military gains down the line,” she said. “So?”

He thought it was incredibly tempting, even with the dangerous cargo. There was no way Protoform X could break out from the inside, so all they needed to do was stay away from the pod. And it would get them away from the front lines, for a time.

But he couldn’t make a decision like that on his own. “Can I have a day to think about it?”

She smirked, and Optimus didn’t dwell too much on that. “Fine. I’m trusting you not to give this information to just anyone,” she said. “If the news gets out, the whole mission is doomed.”

“You have my word,” Optimus said.

Rhinox was on duty, so Optimus went to his quarters. Dinobot was there waiting for him, reading a datapad on Optimus’s berth. They shared the room more often than not, now, and if the troops noticed anything they didn’t mention it.

“That took longer than usual,” Dinobot commented.

“I got another offer,” Optimus said.

Dinobot rolled his optics. “Imagine that.”

“This one was a little bit different,” Optimus said. He hopped up onto the berth and pulled Dinobot close to him. “I want to talk to you and Rhinox about it later.”

“Why?” Dinobot asked suspiciously.

“Because I can take four people with me,” Optimus said. “And it would get us off the front lines.”

Dinobot hummed in contemplation, but didn’t prod. Optimus sent a message to Rhinox, and later that evening when he was off-duty, he stopped by Optimus’s quarters. There, Optimus explained everything Crossblades had told him about the potential mission.

“When you said away from the front, I didn’t realize you meant away from the fighting completely,” Dinobot said. He didn’t sound thrilled with the idea.

“We’ve been out here a long time. We all could use a break,” Optimus argued.

“It might be just the thing you need. You aren’t getting anywhere here,” Rhinox pointed out. “Having a mission like this under your belt can only help you look more trustworthy.”

“I suppose,” Dinobot grumbled. It wasn’t fair that he was still having to prove his ability to be trusted, after everything, but here they were.

“It’s worth a try,” Optimus said. “We’d be no worse off.”

He watched Dinobot think it over. “I… am not opposed to the idea,” he said finally.

The next morning they talked it over with Rattrap in an empty meeting room. Optimus gave him the cover story, about five of them going on an exploration mission. It wasn’t that Optimus didn’t trust Rattrap, he just… didn’t trust him as much as he did Rhinox and Dinobot. Rhinox agreed that was probably a safe assessment. Rattrap liked knowing secrets, and could keep them. But he could also be bullied into giving them up.

“Are you kiddin’ me? An exploration mission in the middle of the war?” he asked. “What, we’re owning the Preds so hard we can just send people out to goof off in space?”

“They think it’ll end up being beneficial to the war in the long run,” Optimus explained. “And frankly, I’d take just about any excuse to get out of here for a little while.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Rattrap sighed. “And I’m sure not gonna let you guys go without me.”

So, that had been easier than Optimus expected.

“You said you could choose four people, right? Who else would you pick?” Rattrap asked.

It was a question Optimus hadn’t put any thought into. He was friendly with a lot of the troops stationed here, but not to the same degree as the three in front of him. “I’m not sure,” he admitted.

Just then, the door slid open. The four of them turned to see Cheetor frozen in the doorway.

“Uh—” he started, and then came to his senses. “Sorry! I thought this room would be empty, I was just—leaving!”

Optimus exchanged glances with the other three at the table. Rattrap grinned. “Now hold on there a klik!” Rattrap called out, just as Cheetor was turning to make his escape. “Have a seat, kid.”

Cheetor reluctantly turned back around and walked into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I wasn’t trying to sneak around or anything, I just wanted to look something up in the database.”

“You aren’t in trouble, Cheetor,” Optimus said, gesturing to an empty chair. Cheetor took a seat. “How do you feel about space travel?”

Cheetor’s optics grew bright with interest. “Uh… I’ve never done it before, but I want to someday,” he said. “...Why?”

Optimus just smiled.

The launch was uneventful, and at this point, that was all Optimus could hope for. There were warships from both sides hovering over the surface of Cybertron, but the Maximal ships were able to give them cover, and they got out into the depths of space without a scratch.

Optimus hardly let himself believe it until it was over and they were safe. Then again, safe was relative—the war was still in full swing, and there was always a baseline risk involved in space travel, to say nothing of the experiment sleeping in their cargo hold. Trouble could catch them at any time. But it was quiet, without laserfire as a constant background noise. Optimus thought he could get used to that.

He went looking for Dinobot, and found him standing in front of a window looking over the vastness of space, just staring into it. Optimus came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on Dinobot’s shoulder. “Still think this was a good idea?” Optimus asked.

“The journey has barely begun,” Dinobot huffed, but he held his hands over Optimus’s. “But… I am enjoying it so far.”

Optimus chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “All this happened so fast, I didn’t really think about what I should spend my time doing during the trip. Any ideas?”

Dinobot seemed to mull it over, resting his head against Optimus’s. “You were the one who was supposed to find a hobby for me,” he said finally. “But no. I’m doing what I want to spend this journey doing right now.”

“Is that right?” Optimus grinned.

“Mm,” Dinobot hummed in agreement. He was quiet for a moment, then straightened and pulled away. Optimus stifled a frown. “I have something I want to give you.”

“Alright,” Optimus said cautiously. He watched as Dinobot pulled something small out of his subspace, but it didn’t register what it was until it was in Optimus’s hand.

Dinobot’s ID plate. His Predacon ID plate.

“You still have this?” he asked quietly, turning it over in his hands in wonder. At once, Optimus remembered their first meeting. Of his own surrender, and handing his ID plate over to the very bot in front of him.

“I was able to convince them keeping it on my person could be helpful someday. I want you to have it,” Dinobot said. He closed Optimus’s hands over it, and held them in his own. “I love you.”

Optimus’s spark surged with a feeling that nearly overwhelmed him. It was familiar, but so much greater. “I love you, too,” he whispered. And he meant it, with every fiber of his being.

He no longer worried about what the future would bring. Whatever happened next, good or ill, they would face it together. Optimus wouldn’t have it any other way.