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Baby Bone Lullaby	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Slash - M/M Views: 2664 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10: Last Moments
Sentinel headed home quickly, quietly, and down every back way he could think of so that no one could see him or stop him. He especially didn’t want to run into Optimus Prime because a deep part of him … wanted to ask his oldest friend for help, but it seemed Primus did not want anyone or anything to intervene with his dark thoughts because he finally arrive at home.
It was a nice flat he had lived in for vorns but finally was able to purchase when he was briefly Magnus. It was a smart move to purchase it when he did. It was a plan incase Ultra Magnus awoke and his pay went back to normal. The flat was supposed to last until he could become the permanent Magnus, but … but his dreams were dead.
‘Dreams matter little to the dying, Sentinel. Why dwell on it,’ whispered Elita as her shadow drifted into the room.
Frowning though unable to disagree with her, Sentinel looked around his home. He didn’t want to leave a mess for whoever would be given the responsibility in sorting his assets after he was gone. So, Elita’s shadowed form watching him from her perch in a shaded corner, he started to clean. His mind was still clicking away like a broken clock as he asked himself the ‘where’ and ‘how’. Even late into the evening, when the floor was gleaming and his berth room to his kitchen were spotless and organized … the thoughts did not dismiss themselves.
In fact, with Elita’s musing, he had come to some decisions.
‘I would do something dramatic. Something romantic so everyone would remember me,’ she offered with a mysterious giggle as if this was a game to her.
“I don’t want to be remembered for this, Elita,” murmured Sentinel as he started making sure his personal paperwork was organized.
‘Come on … at least give me a hint of how you are going to do it?’ she purred.
As much as a deep part of him wanted to rub it in Optimus’ face, a prouder part of him did not want to be remembered for this deed he was going to do. In fact, he would rather them never know. After all, even though no one seemed to care about him anymore … he still cared about them. He would spare them this pain at least.
Making sure to leave the flat like he was planning to come back so no one would suspect his true actions, Sentinel left an empty cube on the counter and some random paperwork around. He took very little with him. He wouldn’t need worldly things where he was going anyway. He also wanted it to look as if he had went on a small trip meant to clear his head. He even left his weapons and only took some credits, a few data pads as if for reading, and what looked like his paint-care kit. Not uncommon things for a short trip. After all, most mechs liked to look their best especially on vacations, but for him … He took the paint kit for another reason.
… He needed to hide his Autobot symbol and some of his finer details so if he was found … no one would know his designation.
His model wasn’t that rare and … the nearest colony to find his corpse, if at all, was a shunned one. It was a home to Halflings. Mechs that were half Autobot, Neutral or Con: a disgrace to Autobots and weaklings to the Cons. Mechs with purple optics. They belonged to no one because no one wanted them so they started their own small community though some did become Cons if they were strong enough. The settlement started during the war, because rapes were not uncommon, and had flourished as the war drew on because the city was not affiliated with anyone. The Halflings made their own laws and own civil soldiers, and they paid little attention to Cybertron or the Cons. Docker City as it was called.
Neutrals found it to be a haven.
And so would Sentinel before he made his way back to … her. His Elita. He was bringing her ghost back to her corpse. The spider planet wasn’t very far from Docker City after all and, ironically, if Elita had lived … they had all been planning to go over there to stare at the Halflings like ignorant brats.
His feet somehow having led him to the docks, Sentinel found himself buying a ticket for a ship to Omel, an Autobot space colony known for its party attitude to make it look like he was going to go on a binge to cry his sorrows away. Though, the ticket abandoned, Sentinel wandered away from the expensive space ships and to the cargo ships where he knew they would need some extra hands. His paint job was now completely blue with a neutral sign on his chassis and so it was easy to get onto the cargo ship, Eureka Seven. Though his false name felt heavy when he asked the ship’s captain to call him Rift Ring, his false name for the trip. It was smooth and almost simplistically easy. Most of the dock-workers could give a frag less about who was the current Magnus since they didn’t live on Cybertron themselves.
The ship pulling out of the gravity, some of the crew men forcing him to drink an extra cube because he looked ‘beat’, Sentinel almost thought it was ironic how he had been disgusted once by the dock workers. He was now glad that he had kept such a paranoid eye on the dock workers. His disappearance, for that was what it would be filed away as after a steller-cycle or so, would never be noticed by these hard working mechs. They would just consider him a mech catching a ride in return for some honest labor and the Autobots would theorize that he ran off disgraced and shamed and that would be that.
‘And that is fine, for you will be with me,’ whispered Elita in his audio as he worker away on Eureka Seven.
Perhaps they would even think a Con got a hold of him, un-armed, and killed him. And that was the best-case scenario.
He had sent vacation paperwork to Cliffjumper saying he would be gone an orn and a half, two tops. He would have seen Docker City by then and be in Elita’s soft embrace before anyone even thought to look for him. The Well of Allsparks was waiting. And so, nearly an orn later after working from dock to dock with the strangely fair crew of Eureka Seven, Sentinel found himself staring up at the self-made city of stone and steal. It was a mixture that might have disgusted him in the past, using even some organic materials to help the city thrive, but now … he felt kind of numb, the glitch not even notable with a black visor on. He was going home… and there would be no need to worry about organics or titles or dishonor.
So a few groons later, Sentinel soon found himself staring at a glass of high-grade. He had been asking around, looking for a ship that was going or could take him to the spider planet. Some mechs would laugh at him asking him why he would like go to that hell hole. It was full of organics, big ones, and others would tell him that the Decepticon’s long forgotten horde of energon was found and exploded long ago. He best go elsewhere if he was a treasure hunter.
He, of course, said he was an organic enthusiast and wanted to observe some of the species there. It was the only excuse he could think of, and if depression was not so heavy on his spark, he might have chuckled at the irony.
Strangely, the title organic enthusiast wasn’t a taboo in Docker City … everyone merely thought he was some type of scientist. Not an official one by Cybertron standards, mind you, since there were no Halflings that could go to an official Cybertronain schools, but that didn’t stop anyone from calling the smart ones scientist or healers regardless. So … the Halflings soon call him a student and he was luckily directed to Docker City’s College. And if it wasn’t for his particular mindset at the time, he might have taken time to be amazed with the school system that had been built from the ground up. If this continued, the Halflings could make their own faction in vorns to come. Not that he was worried because, quiet honestly, these scientists were complete egg heads.
Huge ones at that… especially if the group of scientists he was currently meeting with were anything to go on.
Skyfire and Aquila were both large cargo jets and brothers. They were both obviously parented by a Con, given both of them had wings, but an Autobot as well … since one had blue optics and the other purple. Both… were surprisingly chipper and like minded though Skyfire seemed more welcoming of another mech with a black visor than Aquila.
“So, you are joining us on our research trip,” said Skyfire. “It’s always nice to have another scientist interested in the study of organics … and the rare techno-organic.”
Sentinel almost dropped the cube of energon he had been drinking, surprisingly hungry despite what he was planning on doing, “What? T-techno-organic! N-no, that’s not possible.”
The two brothers, joined by three other scientists and what looked like to be a guide or adventurer (given that her femme form was decorated in heavy ding-proof armor) all gave him a weird look. One of the scientists, Graph who was a medium grounder with a visor that probably hid purple or red optics, asked, “Yes, they say that the explosion contaminated some of the spiders… one spider was even rumor to have spoken vorns back. Though… no one has seen that specimen since.”
Blinking, Sentinel felt slightly sick. Here he was going back to that pit-hole that had normal organics, which were bad enough, but now apparently had techno-organics as well? Well … At least Earth had prepared him for this pit slightly.
Gathering himself quickly so his organic-phobia would not be noted, Sentinel murmured, “I-I just wanted to document o-organics. I don’t know if I can take techno-organics.”
The femme guide actually laughed at him, punching his shoulder as her yellow optics and bulky Con-like structure overshadowed him, “Don’t worry, Autobot.”
“I’m a Neutral,” murmured Sentinel blandly though he was truthfully nervous.
“Whatever, you act like one. That’s what I’m here for. I’m Sonic Trip and I can direct my sonics to scare away or make organics pass out if there is any threats against us,” she said, flashing her ego.
Sentinel actual took a step back, a look of fear overcoming his features as he recalled the only other bot he had met with sonic weapons: Soundwave.
Noticing the ‘Neutrals’ sudden reluctance, Skyfire (the mech was worried about losing another participant, especially since the mech had offered Cybertronain credits to get to the planet) acted. Cybertronian credits were an uncommon payment type in these parts, most Autobots disgusted by the city of half-breeds, and the school really needed equipment straight from Cybertron. They needed the credits. So placing his arms in front of Sentinel, he smiled and stated warmly, “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt any of the specimens. She is quite good. We’ve used her skills before.”
Blinking, suddenly realizing that he had pulled into himself by crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his joints like a scared femme, Sentinel blinked behind his visor and murmured, “N-no, I trust her… it’s just that … that I had a bad experience with sonics and became quite … injured. I would rather have them not used around me.”
Sonic Trip, as if being slapped, stepped back and whispered a soft, “Oh.”
Skyfire, the unofficial leader of the students, smiled again and added, “Well, hopefully we won’t have any needs for her sonics but don’t worry, Sonic Trip would never hurt you. She has never hurt any of us. Us being my twin brother Aquila, Graph, Inquis and Static Charge. We are all scientists, though it sounds like you are more of an enthusiasts.”
Sentinel glared behind his visor. Was a planned death really worth putting up with egg-heads?
Elite giggled at his stoic expression and he found himself whispering, “Yes… I’m very interested in them. I’ve been to two organic planets and I … want to know more about them.”
Inquis, a mech of pale orange that might have been a type of hovering flyer, smiled softly and in a gravelly voice that did not belong to such a small body, said, “That is how all great scientists start out. Curiosity. Perhaps if you find that you like the observation and documentation of organics and techno-organics you can join the school. We are always willing to have transfer students.”
Sentinel, finally feeling his age, noting that he was probably younger than most of the mechs here, nodded, “Perhaps. But … lets be on our way. There is a cave I have a date with.”
Some of the scientists laughed at calling his documentation a date and then, feeling more comfortable around the strange blue Neutral mech, the scientists murmured into his audio about things he really didn’t have an interest in. He nodded none the less though, saying he never went to a School of Science before and didn’t understand … only to have them tell him in a different way. If he didn’t already have his goal set, he might have pushed back his plans to release himself if only to spare the odd ball scientists.
But he had promised Elita’s ghost that he would be with her. He would be with her even if he had to hide his fraction, his name, and his body. He would be with her. She was his happiest moment and he wanted to reclaim that feeling to chase away all the pain in his spark… even if it was for a few seconds before he offlined.
He would do what he had tried all those vorns ago when Optimus stopped him. He would jump down after her.
…
Cliffjumper moaned and allowed his face to collapse into a pile of data-pads. Apparently … allowing Sentinel Minor to have his vacation time was a bad idea. The Communications Branch was getting pelted with requests and inquiries and meetings and Cliffjumper was fairly self sufficient but there was a lot he couldn’t do. He had already shot down three other Primes’ requests for meetings and that in itself wasn’t a big issue, he told them Sentinel would be out for the next orn, but … Sentinel wasn’t responding.
The ex-Prime had even told him where he was going and where he would be staying. And Cliffjumper kept sending paperwork that needed to be signed and accepted, as well as the question of replacing some of the Communications’ staff, but … he never got any replies from his sent messages. He had sent through countless hails to the room that Sentinel was supposed to be at. He even tried at odd hour intervals praying that he would at least get a drunk and shit face superior, but he never got a single reply.
Frag, this morning he called the pit fraggen motel that Sentinel was supposed to be in and asked if the Minor had overcharged and had been lying on the floor this whole time, slagged, for the last few mega-cycles. When the hostess replied that Sentinel never checked in, Cliffjumper almost freaked. Now, he was half a groon from having a complete and total meltdown when Jazz picked the most inopportune moment to step in front of his desk.
Would this orn never end?
“Yo red, I hear Sentinel works in this dig. Why has he been trippin’? If he’s been hidin’ low, I understand, but ignoring Big Blue’s and OP’s meeting requests… It’s not showing good character,” said Jazz, a little angry that Sentinel was so bitter that he would scuff on his duties as well as his old friends. Optimus seemed to really want to reconnect with Sentinel … especially after the loss in the blue mech’s title.
Optics becoming wide, knowing instinctively what Big Blue meant, Cliffjumper struggled to find something to say but the only thing that came out was, “Ultra Magnus … was trying to set up a meeting? W-why hadn’t he contacted me? I would have set up a time.”
Jazz gave the red bot a look, asking, “And why can’t Sentinel make a meeting himself?”
Cliffjumper, not wanting to make an enemy of his to-be boss so soon, cringed and tried to think of something to say when Jazz put on a placid smile, stating, “I’m just trying to look out for him, get me? We still are friends even after the hammer incident. If he’s in there moping … that’s it, I’m going in there. If he’s holdin’ up in there highlight the Autobot rule book, I’m handed his aft to him.”
Jazz walked past Cliffjumper’s desk and toward the office that had used to be Long Arms and was now Sentinels’. Unsurprisingly, it was not locked, but as Cliffjumper rose and said he wasn’t allowed in there, Jazz opened the door. He, truthfully, expected a moping or maybe a hung over Sentinel sprawled behind his new desk… but as he opened office he noticed it was dimly lit and … bare.
Everything had been cleaned out of Long Arms’ office except for the furniture… and not an article of Sentinel’s life was in place. Not a poster or trophies or even a crystal display, the equivalent of a potted planet on Cybertron. Sentinel had never been terribly decorative in any of his housing or offices, but … he always believed that his rooms had to look professional and slightly comfortable since he would be spending a lot of time there. There was not even a couch … which Sentinel would fall asleep on while doing paperwork no doubt.
Sentinel had many faults but at the same time he took his role as a Prime very seriously. His paperwork was impeccable and his knowledge of rules and regulations was superb which was why Ultra Magnus did not discharge him. Sentinel knew very little flexibly at times and Jazz always felt that one day he would find out why because, from what he knew of Sentinel’s past, the ex-Prime had been an adventurer and apparently had enough of a sense of honor to be Optimus’ friend.
Where that bot had gone, Jazz didn’t know and currently … he didn’t know if it even mattered.
His tone was soft as he slowly turned to Cliffjumper, “Where is Sentinel Minor?”
Coming up behind the taller bot, frowning and irritated, the red bot murmured, “That’s what I was trying to tell you … He took some vacation time. Two orns.”
Frowning, still thinking it was odd that Sentinel wouldn’t at least set the office up in order to try and crawl up the chain again, Jazz stated, “That doesn’t seem like Sentinel. He … rarely took vacation time unless he didn’t want to go to the medic. Vacation time was his sick time.”
Cliffjumper, trying not to let his inner turmoil show, murmured, “Okay… so now that that is taken care of, w-would you like me to set up a meeting for the Magnus when he comes back?”
Staring at the empty room for a moment, a feeling of unease settling in his spark suddenly feeling that Optimus Prime’s paranoia about Sentinel’s status wasn’t unfounded, Jazz murmured softly, “Yeah, Red … that would be great. Though it’s odd he hasn’t been replying to his messages. Just … let me know when he gets back.”
Then, turning his head to the other, he smiled that million credit smile of his and added, “Sorry, time for introductions. My names Jazz. I use to be one of SM’s old peeps and since I’ll probably be divin’ into this place all the time, what’s your name?”
Cliffjumper merely sighed at the introduction as he gingerly shook the ninja-bot’s hand. It was times like these that he kind of missed Long Arm, even though he was a spy. At least in those days it was quiet around here.
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Baby Bone Lullaby