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Opening Maneuvers
By : sefiru
Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR
Views: 3160 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and make no money on this.
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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.

Hello again, everyone, and thanks for reading! This time we venture into G1 continuity, sort of; the events of this story take place long before the beginning of the series. This is another shot at putting more OP/P fics out there; it’s going to be a bit more serious than my previous fic. Updates will be every second Sunday.

***
Chapter 1: In Which Discoveries Are Made
***
Optimus Prime surveyed his ragtag “army” as they prepared for their first raid. Not for the first time he wondered what he’d gotten into by accepting the Matrix of Leadership. He was fortunate to have an experienced first officer in Jazz, assigned to him from the Elite Guard. The High Council probably selected Jazz due to his less than professional mannerisms, but Optimus was more concerned with results than appearances; Jazz had a talent for making sure that bots and materials were where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be there. At the moment he was going from bot to bot, checking energon and ammunition stocks.
Other than Jazz, they were quite the mixed bag. Optimus feared there would come a day when bots were forced to choose sides, to take up weapons to survive; for now, all of them had some personal grievance against Megatron and the Decepticons. Ironhide, a weaponsmith who had refused to build weapons for them and nearly gotten dismantled for his trouble; Ratchet, a medibot who had been treating him when the Decepticons came back to finish the job. Sideswipe, a young bot who had simply been in the wrong bar at the wrong time. Mirage, a wealthy socialite who had (literally) appeared in their base one day, saying only that he would not stand and wait for someone else to do something about the problem.
They were too few, too new to have an established chain of command. Each bot did whichever tasks he had the skills for; between them, they had nearly everything covered. Optimus himself had a talent for inspiring bots and focusing them on a goal – but what was that goal? What should they do and where should they go? Optimus had spent hours at a time in the archives, studying the records of ancient conflicts, but this aspect of leadership did not come naturally to him. And it would soon be more important than ever before.
Jazz came up to his side. “All set and ready to go, O.P.”
Optimus nodded, and then spoke to the assembled force. “Autobots, we all knew this moment would come. We have all chosen to take up the burden of violence in order to lessen the violence done to others. Some will blame us for escalating this conflict, but if we do not, the Decepticons will whittle us down part by part, and all of Cybertron will be in danger. From this moment forward, we are at war. Autobots, transform and roll out.”
***
The maintenance unit sped for cover as soon as the first shot was fired. It had learned to keep a map of useable hiding places in active memory and constantly update the closest one in each direction. The practice had kept it online far longer than its three fellows. In this case, it was fortunate to have a nearly full tank as well as a hidden stash of energon snacks; they probably tasted of mop by now, but if its fuel was low enough it wouldn’t care.
Once it had shut the closet door and powered down, the unit took further stock of the situation. Usually the shots started in the control room, the energon bar or another common area; this time they had started at two of the entrances and were moving inward. A raid? Perhaps it was a rival band of Decepticons, or the mysterious others that Lord Megatron sometimes ranted about. It didn’t make much difference; either Lord Megatron would triumph and things would continue as before, or the invaders would take the base, and the maintenance unit would have a new owner.
This unit knew little about itself. It knew that it was an intelligent being; it knew its age, ticked out by the microsecond in the core of its processor. It knew that it was not a Decepticon, for it had neither weapons nor a desire for violence. The Decepticons told it that this made it defective, fit only for menial work; lacking any other input, the unit accepted this as fact. But it also understood that the Decepticons were cruel and hateful towards each other and to units like itself. It was unconcerned by its lack of a name or paint scheme; that was a low priority compared with staying in one piece.
For survival, it would soon have to make a decision. The sounds of fighting were coming closer; should it try to move to another hiding place, or sit tight and hope that the raiders passed it over? Not a huge chance of that, since the raiders would likely search every door and compartment for prizes. On the other hand, if it went out in the open, it would almost certainly be spotted. A shot reverberated through the walls around its hiding place; it was out of time.
***
Optimus Prime had all his sensors on maximum gain. He was inside a Decepticon base for the first time in his life, and he didn’t know what to expect. In fact, the Autobots’ entry had been easier than he’d anticipated; they met armed opponents, of course, but no barricades, no booby traps, no sudden explosions. Perhaps Megatron was simply overconfident. Optimus didn’t want to consider the alternative. He’d already had one terrible moment of doubt, as they stormed the entrances; what if their information was wrong? What if they were invading a site full of innocent bots, rather than an enemy base? Then they’d encountered a bot wearing the purple ensign, who immediately drew a weapon and fired on them, and all questions were shunted aside. And Optimus could never mention it to his compatriots, for they looked to him to ease their own doubts.
He emerged suddenly out of the narrow hall into a control room. Monitors bathed the space in flickering light; his chief opponent, Megatron, stood against the main console. “Well, if it isn’t Optimus Prime and his coterie of small fry. I see you’ve finally decided to rise to my level.”
“It’s more like sinking, Megatron. Stop this nonsense while you still can.”
“Brave words from one who will ultimately lose.” Megatron snapped up his arm guns and fired; Optimus was caught by surprise, but Sideswipe, who was right behind him, fired back. His shot went wide, and Megatron laughed as he stepped through a door in the far wall. Just then, all the monitors in the room went dark. Optimus cursed silently; his teammates were reporting that the Decepticons were breaking contact all over the base. All they’d done was stall long enough for their computers to purge.
“Search this place from top to bottom. Record everything,” he broadcast. Megatron was hardly stupid; he knew that the Autobots didn’t have the resources to hold this base and they couldn’t destroy it without damaging public opinion. He was saving energon by falling back and waiting for them to leave. Optimus had counted on that; the Autobots weren’t quite ready to fight Decepticons to the finish. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen Megatron’s band for the raid. His team had instructions to confiscate any weapons they found, but not any spare parts or energon. They weren’t to that point yet. And, Primus willing, they might learn something even from an empty base.
So he didn’t chase after Megatron. Instead, while Sideswipe stood watch, he took the panels off the base computers and examined them. The data was long gone – except for the serial numbers engraved on each component. With the right database to match them to, those could provide reams of information. While he was in there Optimus unplugged every cable he could reach. It would slow down the Cons when they returned, and it wasn’t damage that Megatron could take to the media. I’d like to see that headline – “Decepticon Leader: Autobots unplug network cables during raid.” He’d be laughed off Cybertron.
< Optimus, > Ironhide sent suddenly, < You’re going to want to see this. >
***
The maintenance unit nearly jumped out of its plates when the door of its closet flew open. Standing over it was a bot it had never seen before, in red and grey paint with a red ensign in place of the Decepticon purple.
“Well, you’re no Decepticon,” the stranger said after a moment. “Come with me, we’ll get you out of this scraphole.” He turned and started walking without even bothering to issue a threat. Impressed, the maintenance unit changed to vehicle mode and trundled along at his heels.
The control room was occupied by half a dozen bots wearing the red ensign. The unit could easily tell that the blue-and-red one was the leader by the way the others deferred to him and watched his reactions. And that was the only way it could tell. He didn’t roar, didn’t smack his subordinates around, didn’t demand gestures of respect – he didn’t seem to need them. The unit decided it had better be on its best behavior; as it had been taught, it changed to robot mode kneeling.
“I found him in one of the maintenance closets,” its discoverer explained. “I don’t know what the Cons were up to with him, but it can’t be anything good.”
“What’s your name?” the commander asked.
“This unit does not have a name.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since activation.”
“Hmm. How old are you.”
“33 gigacycles.” The unit noticed another bot, standing behind the leader, look sharp at its second response and then slump at the third.
The leader continued, “We’re not going to leave you here. We’ll discuss what you wish to do later; for now, you are a guest of the Autobots. I’d like Ratchet to look you over, and see about getting you some paint.”
The maintenance unit expected something like this; the raiders had captured the base and taken it as a prize. “As you command, Lord,” it said.
The Autobot leader chuckled softly. “I’m no kind of lord,” he said as he raised the unit to its feet. “My name is Optimus Prime.”
***
I think we all know what name this bot is going to get. ^^
A note on measures: if you assume that a cycle is 1/10 of a second, that makes him about a hundred (Earth) years old.
In the next chapter: Our nameless bot gets a name, and Optimus does more navel gazing. Do robots have navels?
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Opening Maneuvers	By : sefiru Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 3160 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and make no money on this.

Opening Maneuvers