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Opening Maneuvers
By : sefiru
Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR
Views: 3161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and make no money on this.
Chapter List
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Opening Maneuvers
A Transformers fanfiction by Sefiru

Warnings: M/M, stickyfic, violence, angst
Rating: R, possibly higher
Pairing: OP/P
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers and I’m not getting paid for this.
Confuzzled_Neko: thanks for reading!
GabrielC: I start as I mean to continue. ^^
Less antics and more angst coming up; we’re going to find out exactly why the senior Autobots despise Megatron so much.
***
Chapter 2: In Which Bots Are Named
***
Optimus sat in his office, optics darkened, deep in a processing trance. He was indexing the equipment serial numbers which the Autobots had collected suring the raid; this was his contribution to the team’s data gathering. Thanks to his previous function as a dockworker, he still had access to the databases that tracked where and when an item was manufactured, and often who it was shipped to.
Life had been so much simpler as Orion Pax. He’d enjoyed his work, had modest ambitions of running his own shipping firm, was in a stable relationship. Megatron had destroyed all of that. Elita-1 wasn’t with them; despite being rebuilt from near death by Alpha Trion, she still believed in a peaceful solution to the Decepticon conflict. He hoped that she would never need to change her mind. Either way, their relationship was over – a civilian had no place in a military base, and it wasn’t in Elita’s Spark to be both a subordinate and a romantic partner.
Sometimes Optimus questioned whether his focus on Megatron was fueled by that very personal grievance. There were objective reasons enough – Megatron was the first, the smartest, the most organized of the various Decepticon band leaders. The original, from which all imitators spawned. The threat he posed to all of Cybertron could not be denied. And yet… that indexing program was a bit too efficient; it left him too much bandwidth to think with.
A text message scrolled through his receivers, a note from Ratchet that he had finished examining their guest. Switching on his optics, Optimus stood. The mere existence of the nameless bot was disturbing – why did Megatron have an unpainted “maintenance unit” in his base? Worse, how had he gotten him? And were there any more?
Their guest was lying on an examination table, but he rose as Optimus entered the medbay and moved across the room to face him. To Optimus’s relief he didn’t kneel this time. Ratchet glanced at them and then turned his back to pretend to study a readout. Optimus started with, “Are you well?”
“This – ” he paused, shook his head minutely. “I am very well, thank you.”
“That’s good to hear. Have you given any thought to a name?”
The winglike components on the bot’s back flexed slowly in and out. “I would like for you to give me a name, Optimus Prime.”
Optimus hardly felt worthy of the honor, though it was a tradition for Primes and senior officers. He considered. He replayed the last few minutes, noted the way the bot sought the shadows as he crossed the room, optics measuring angles and distances. A word came to mind; a near-automatic check of the directory showed that it was available. “Then I name you Prowl,” Optimus declared.
“Prowl.” The bot nodded once, in approval or acceptance, Optimus couldn’t tell. He sent the update to the directory.
Ratchet finally turned around and said, “I”d like to put him in your quarters, Optimus. I don’t want him to be alone, and he seems to have taken a liking to you.” Prowl gave him an inscrutable look, but didn’t deny it.
Optimus could imagine that Prowl was feeling some confusion at the moment. According to the report that Ratcht had just uploaded, the bot had none of the basic educational databases; his networking software had been deleted. He might appreciate having someone to ask for advice. “As long as Prowl has no objections, I agree,” Optimus said.
***
Prowl was, for the first time in his life, wearing a coat of paint. He had chosen a scheme of bold black and white, with the red Autobot ensign square in the middle. He would probably have to make a verbal statement, for those who put stock in such things, but his choice was made.
Ratchet had been unsure whether he understood that he was a person and not property. He’d merely raised a brow and said, “Surely you don’t expect me to turn my back on my rescuers simply to assert my individuality.” That shut the medic up. Though it wasn’t all, or even mostly, about debt – he’d gotten the biggest shock of his life when the Autobot commander had come into the medbay in person to check on him. He reacted as he had been trained, to present himself at once (the trick with Decepticons was to avoid being in the same room as one). And the first words from Prime were an inquiry about his health! Before he knew quite what was happening, he had a name and a berth in the commander’s quarters. Objections? Hardly. Ratchet had restored his network drivers and since then he’d been catching up on the data that most bots received as sparklings. Old habits remained – the first thing he accessed was a floorplan of the base.
He wandered into the mess hall, where a red-painted bot, who the directory designated Sideswipe, handed him an energon ration. “You settling in Ok, Prowl?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You were so quiet on the drive back, we were kind of worried.”
“I have much to process.” Including the idea that bots that barely knew him were worried about him. He took a sip of energon.
“Planning to join up?”
“Yes.” He knew better than most just how dangerous Megatron was. “And you? Why do you fight?”
Belatedly Prowl realized how intrusive that question could be. But Sideswipe didn’t seem to mind. “I was in anenergon bar, minding my own business, when a bunch of seeker goons started shooting up the place. They nearly took my block off and killed a couple of bots – in broad daylight, too. I knew something had to be done, and Optimus is doing something.”
“You obey him willingly.”
“Sure. He’s pretty good at keeping everyone on the same frequency, he’s got the Matrix of Leadership, and … well, he’s Optimus. He’s got this touch.”
Prowl understood what Sideswipe was trying to say. He, too, had been fascinated by Optimus Prime almost at first sight. Matrix of Leadership? He shrugged; it was something he could search the databanks for, later. Looking around the mess hall, he saw a bot in the corner that he recognized – the bot who had reacted so strongly to him, during the raid. Mirage. He handed the empty energon cube back to Sidswipe and walked over. There were things he needed to say.
“Mirage.”
“Prowl.” This bot was just as laconic as himself.
“I wish to apologize to you.”
“What for?”
“I couldn’t keep him safe.” This got a reaction; Mirage whirled to face him, optics blazing and fists clenched. He looked ready to tear off Prowl’s wings, or possibly head. But the sorrow and sympathy in Prowl’s optics stopped him; his hands dropped slowly to his sides.
“He would have been ten gigacycles old now,” Mirage said. That meant the fourth unit – the youngest, the smallest. “They stole him right from the assembly plant. The Cybertron High Council did nothing.”
“What were you going to name him?”
“Dial.” A brief pause. “ … Was it quick?”
“No.”
Fortunately, Mirage did not ask for details. His hands clenched again. “Never. Again.”
“Yes.”
***
Megatron is evil.
Dial is an official character, though a toy-only one. His alt mode is a mini-cassette.
In the next chapter: Prowl discovers what the Matrix is and plays chess against Optimus.
- 1
- 2
- 3
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Opening Maneuvers	By : sefiru Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 3161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and make no money on this.

Opening Maneuvers