The Ties that Bind:  PART F

CONTINUED FROM:  The Ties that Bind:  PART E

Char:

Soundwave watched dispassionately while the newscasters gave minute by minute updates on the numbers of potential breeders, the progress of clinics and schools being constructed and speculation as to how the Autobots would control the frenzy.  The networks dutifully repeated Optimus’ speeches about restraint, but only half as often as they aired clips of Solstice.  There were even reporters making note of the jump in numbers every time Solstice aired, and debates about whether the networks were being irresponsible, but the segments having these debates aired the suspect clips over and over as part of their reports.

Cyclonus suffered surges.  How had they been beaten by such a frivolous and senseless society?  Why didn’t the Primes just put a lid on all of this?  Why give these ridiculous debates a chance to air and breed unrest when the only explanation for a command decision should have simply been “Because I said so!”?

Rodimus finally announced the breeding order would be first-come, first served, but with command prerogative to move anyone to the back of the line if anything in the parents’ situation was deemed detrimental to the sparkling.  All applications would be subject to review and rejection until all the infrastructure was in place to assist.  The young Prime emphasized and reemphasized that the restrictions were only temporary, only for the moment, only until all medical and social support services were in place to help.  Again and again he emphasized no one was being denied the right to breed, but when the message boards lit up it was plain he might as well not bothered.

Not many people were happy with the notion that they might have to wait their turn.

Cyclonus ground his jaw in frustration.  Behind him though, his leader laughed.

Cyclonus looked over his shoulder and half expected to see an aurora of sparks around Galvatron’s head.  None.  Just the Decepticon leader and his consort on the throne.  Her armor was in disarray from their latest, violent joining.

“Oh, what a lovely cloud of chaos our enemies have set up for themselves,” Galvatron purred.

“Indeed my Lord,” Cyclonus said.

“They run to and fro in a haze.  So many materials...so many workers... all scurrying around,” Galvatron laughed.

“Indeed they are distressingly disorganized My Lord.  It makes me want to strike them simply for being so stupid,” Cyclonus admitted.

“Well then, perhaps you will get your chance.  I think it is about time Viper made herself useful don’t you?” Galvatron said, running his hand indecently high up her leg.  

If Viper was concerned about that statement she gave no sign.  “What service would My Lord desire?” she asked.

“New warriors, Viper.  Really now, in all that disorganization, how difficult will it be for one of those precious creches to get... misplaced?”

Cyclonus and Soundwave exchanged glances.  It wouldn’t be that easy, no matter how quickly the Autobots were moving.  Each creche was precious indeed and therefore carefully accounted for.  Surely, the security around them would be vigilant.

Galvatron’s hand crept higher up Viper’s leg and she wriggled convincingly with anticipation.  “When we have the creche then joining with you will be more than just pleasure Galvatron.  We will form your new servants together.”

He smiled, grabbed her dented pelvic armor, and ripped it off.   “Now,” he ordered.

“Now?!  But my Lord,” Viper cried.  “If we don’t have the creche in two weeks it will kill the sparkling - and maybe me too!”

“Then you will be well motivated not to fail me!” Galvatron rumbled, pointing his cannon at her temple.  “NOW!” he cried.  Without preamble he grabbed her smaller body like it was weightless, bent her over the arm of the throne and plunged into her.  Cyclonus, Soundwave, and the others on duty stood silent witness, and this time none were certain if Viper’s repeated cries were pleasure or fear.


Cybertron:

Once Rodimus was gone and Jazz and Optimus had their orders for the day, Optimus fell back to sleep for another 6 hours.  When his eyes finally opened (not so different from activating one’s optics but still interesting) Optimus felt a bit of disorientation.  Where was Elita?  Why did the ceiling seem so far off?  The breathing and the palpable heartbeat helped clue him in.  He spent a moment, feeling cool air go into his lungs and warm air come out.  Rolling over to find Jazz, in human form, laying sideways across Rodi’s arm chair helped get him oriented too.  The specialist was playing a hand-held video game.

“That looks important,” Optimus grinned.

Jazz didn’t turn to face him but he grinned too.  “Hey...I use every chance to blow off steam I can get Boss-Man.  You two Prime clowns outta take note.”

“I thought I was,” Optimus agreed grimly.  “But apparently I don’t know the meaning of it.”

“I can’t argue with your choice of obsessions Optimus, but your basketball thing is not workin’.”

Optimus sighed and closed his eyes again for a second.  That second turned into five minutes of light snoring.  Jazz actually took his eyes off his game long enough to check that Prime was really asleep.  

“The Decepticons, the Autobots, basketball, Rodi’s slavers....  Vector Sigma made us incapable of just...being,” Optimus continued, unaware he had dropped off in the meantime.

“Well, if this human gig can’t snap you out of that nothing will.  Now, you need to get up and get dressed so we can join his Rodness for breakfast as ordered.”

“I’m comfortable here,” Optimus said.  

Jazz grinned to himself.  Optimus was cocooned in his robe and the blankets Rodi had thrown over him.  Certainly, he did look settled in, and obviously he was reluctant to move.  How very unlike Optimus to resist getting to work!  Maybe Elita was right and this was just what Op needed.

The lack of a chronometer probably wasn’t hurting either.  Optimus clearly had no idea what time it was.

“Man, you need to get that aft in gear or we are going to answer for it,” Jazz said with a chuckle.

“Rodimus wanted to check in with us at 8 am,” Optimus argued.  “Surely even though I’m new it can’t take that long for a human to get dressed.”

Jazz outright laughed.  “Optimus, you have 15 minutes to report for breakfast duty.  Rodimus is kicking everyone out to see you through my cookin’ and I don’t think keeping him waiting is going to help your relationship!”

Optimus sat bolt upright and stared at the clock.  Jazz nodded and grinned even wider at him.    

“I lost track of time!” Optimus whispered.  His eyes stretched wide as they could go.

“Heh...sleep will do that.  The Major General still bitches about that.”

“I don’t believe it!” Optimus whispered.  He stared at the clock for almost a minute, and then a very smug smile germinated across his features.

Minutes later, after some inordinately complex maneuvers involving underwear and sweat pants, Optimus Prime reported for duty like a green cadet at the kitchen table.  The Matrix pulsed once in welcome as he brushed it with his finger tips.  Jazz gave it wide berth and activated the com line at 7:55.  At 8 am precisely the other end activated and Rodimus’ surly face filled the screen.

This inconvenient meeting had been Rodi’s own idea.  He didn’t have time for it, but he didn’t fully trust Jazz when it came to food.  The loyal and brilliant specialist, so entirely reliable in robot mode, was enthusiastic to a fault with all things human, especially meals.

When Jazz had come in that morning Rodimus had given Optimus strict instructions.  

“Jazz is in charge Optimus,” Rodimus said sternly.

“I know.  Don’t worry Rodimus, I will do whatever he tells me to,” Optimus said drowsily.

“Yes but old habits die hard.  You listen to him no matter what and trust his judgement....”  Rodimus paused, and suddenly looked at Jazz with narrowed eyes.  “EXCEPT when it comes to meals.  You are not to give him anything with caffeine or sugar Jazz!  Got that Optimus?  Don’t eat anything with caffeine or sugar no matter what he gives you.”

“Hey Man!  Don’t you trust me?”

“In the face of your addictions?  No.  Not at all,” Rodimus said blandly.  “And don’t give me that face either Jazz!  You disobeyed direct orders and went off for donuts just last week!  If I had anyone to replace you you’d be in the brig just on principle!”

Jazz muttered and shuffled his feet, but he didn’t look terribly repentant.

“Jazz!” Optimus cried.  “That’s unlike you!”

“Wait till you try donuts!  Then you’ll understand!” Jazz grinned.

“He’s addicted and he’s incorrigible,” Rodimus told his partner.  “You are not ready for that stuff yet.  No caffeine, and no sugar.  Got it?”

“I got it,” Optimus seriously.  Then he frowned.  “But...”

“What?” Rodimus grumbled.

“How do I know what has sugar and what has caffeine?”

Rodimus cussed, hung his head, and then ordered them to patch into his office at meal times so he could supervise.  Optimus was under strict instructions not to eat anything unless Rodimus was monitoring.

Hence the 8 am conference call.

“How’s it going?” Optimus asked.  Rodi’s face was wall to wall thunder clouds.  

“Shitty,” Rodimus said.  “And you’re in trouble.”

“What?  Why?”“

”We will discuss it when I get home.  What’s for breakfast Jazz?”

“PLAIN oatmeal,” Jazz answered.  “And that is just a crime.  You are torturing him!”

“Not over-loading his brand new body with half a bottle of maple syrup is not torture Jazz,” Rodimus growled.  “Now make it where I can see you!”

“No respect,” Jazz bemoaned.

“No late to mission over donuts...no crap from boss.  Late to mission for cream-filled pastries?  No whining over crap from boss,” Rodimus simpered.

“Man, I told you I was sorry!”

“It would have worked better without all the powdered sugar all over your face.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard of this incident before now,” Optimus said to no one in particular.  Neither of them seemed to hear him, but Jazz avoided eye contact and busied himself most heartily with packets of powder and water.  Rodimus stared balefully at them from the screen and watched as intently as if Jazz were defusing a bomb.  Optimus watched too, but out of curiosity.

It seemed harmless enough.  The result was interesting too.  

“This is very different from yesterday’s meal,” Optimus commented after about half the bowl.  Jazz was still acting a bit evasive and Rodimus had his chin on his hand.  “It’s interesting.”

“Oatmeal with no flavoring is not interesting Op,” Jazz sulked.

Rodimus snorted.  “Looks like he will survive anyway.”  The door beep started sounding off and Rodimus jumped.  “I’ve got to go.”

“Rodimus!” Optimus called before his partner could sign off.

“What?”

“Thank you.  Good luck today,” Optimus seriously.

Rodimus scowled for a second, and then, just barely, he smiled and nodded.  The screen went dark.

Optimus sighed sadly.

“He’s being a bigger prick than usual,” Jazz complained.  “You were just being polite.”

“He can’t help it Jazz.  Did you see him analyze it?  That was him doing the mandatory check list.  Was I putting him down?  No.  Was I being sarcastic?  No.  Was I being polite just for the sake of being polite and not because I’m really thankful or care about his day?  Maybe.  Is that because I am making an effort to patch things up or is it so I can claim some kind of moral superiority to him?  Possibly...but he’ll give me a smile of sorts just in case I am making an effort...and so I CAN’T claim some kind of moral superiority.”

Jazz stared at him.  “All that from a simple thanks and have a nice day?”

Optimus nodded.  “You can imagine what anything more substantial is like...and I go over everything he says the same way.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jazz said bluntly.  He surged up, threw the frig door open, and poked his whole head inside, shoving things around rudely until he found what he wanted.

Optimus started to protest the language and then stopped.  Crude, true, but completely accurate.  He just nodded and reached one hand out to brush the Matrix with his fingertips.  It lit up right where he touched it and the glow followed his fingertips around.

“We will beat it,” Optimus said.  “We don’t have a choice.”  He looked up and noted Jazz surreptitiously wiping his eyes.  Optimus knew at once he wasn’t supposed to notice that but it must have shown on his exposed human face - an unforseen inconvenience.

Jazz looked a bit embarrassed but decided now was the time for full disclosure if there ever was.  “That ain’t right!” he cried, angry.  Then he visibly fought to get himself under control.  “At least Lancer keeps the good stuff in here,” he muttered, removing a canister of something and setting it on the counter.  Optimus watched with curiosity as his specialist fumbled with his emotions and smoothly went about whatever he was doing at the same time.  Whatever the task was required little concentration on Jazz’s part, telling Optimus whatever he was doing was a repeated chore.  Filling a decanter with water, installing some kind of paper in a gizmo on the counter, and scooping black powder out of the canister.

Finally, Jazz vengefully prodded a button on the device he was fiddling with.  He coughed, cleared his throat and stared vaguely at Optimus’ back-lit fingers.  The machine made noises that Jazz ignored.

“Prowl...Prowl and I used to tag team on you, ya know,” Jazz whispered.

Optimus’ eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and he shrugged.  “I suspected sometimes.”

“Well...we did.  We’d pow-wow up and strategize which one of us was going in to try to get you to unload stuff now and then.  Sometimes he went at you...sometimes me.”

“As I recall sometimes it was both of you,” Optimus chuckled. “but I was never sure if it was just coincidence or coordinated .”

“Oh we had battle plans, contingencies...the works...” Jazz said.  “Prowl meant business.”

They both smiled a bit to themselves.  Optimus played with the light under his hands.

“I wasn’t aware I was under attack,” Prime finally said.

“You weren’t meant to...that would sorta be the point Op,” Jazz pointed out.  “Thing was, when you both died I was relieved Rodimus was more the venting sort and that he leaned on Mags and Kup instead of me.  I always felt like Prowl and me did our best, and sometimes we helped you, but it’s a tricky business talking to your friend when he is also your boss.”

“You helped me many times Jazz,” Optimus assured him.

“That’s good to hear, but me and Prowl both knew that there were simply things we couldn’t do for you and things you could never ‘fess up to because you were our commander.  We wished Elita was around at the very least.”

Optimus frowned and nodded so Jazz went on.

“I watched Magnus and Kup herding Rod along.  I thought they were out of bounds sometimes, but Prowl and I messed up plenty so I didn’t get into it.”

“Some of that was Vector Sigma too,” Optimus reminded him.

“Yeah.  Thing was...I didn’t say anything.  I watched Rod pulling back...I saw him building up the same fences you did and I didn’t ever once get on Kup’s case about it.  I figured it was sorta inevitable.  Part of the Prime gig.  Being lonely.  Living in the land of hurt.   Then the two of you teamed up and I figured that solved it.  You two could look optic to optic and be there for each other.”

“We tried.  It worked.  Especially before either of us went back to Cybertron it worked.  I’m not saying it was easy, but he was getting confident enough to be rude to me about it,” Optimus said with a rueful smile.

“Rude?”

“Rude...as in ‘If you don’t go to your quarters and  take a break I’m gonna send Sludge in there to repaint them any way he likes.’”

Jazz chuckled.  “Now there’s a tactic Prowl never suggested!”  Then he sobered.  “Is that when the whole basketball thing got out of hand?”

“Yes...yes I suppose it was.  What is that thing doing?”

“It’s making coffee,” Jazz told him.  “Lancer may not be here much but she keeps this place stocked.  Only the good stuff for that woman. ....  I suppose most of it comes off of slaver ships.”

“Coffee?  That’s the stuff Sparkplug and Spike always carried around.  I’ve always wondered about it - it seems such a huge part of human culture.  I guess I have to wait until Rodimus checks back in to try it.”

Jazz shrugged - his face looked thoughtful and far away for a moment.  “Young boss said no eating without him, but this is distinctly a drink.  You can’t go all day with nothing to drink.”

“So I can try this?” Optimus smiled.  

“Sure,” Jazz said vaguely.  He opened a cabinet and got out two mugs.

Optimus made note of the array of choices on that shelf.  “Why not the big ones?”

“Those are the personal property of one demonic lady mutant and I know better,” Jazz chuckled, but he got right back to complaining.  “It just galls me that Vector Sigma sabotaged you two.  Prowl would have given his logic centers to see you sounding off to an equal and when you finally get one Sigma makes it all go hay-wire.”  He filled the mugs, placed one in front of Optimus, and got two other small canisters, plus spoons.

Optimus picked up the spoon and turned it over and over in his hands.  He arched a brow at his friend as if to say “Now what?”

“The rule is the first time you try something you see if you like how it stands, or you can tweak it,” Jazz said.  “This is creamer and this is sweetener.  I dig real cream but Rod-man just lets it spoil, so I grab this powdered crap for when her Ladyship is in town.  I like mine with one scoop of the creamer and two of the su...sweet stuff.”  He demonstrated.

“I see,” Optimus said sagely.

Jazz laughed.  “Man you make that BS sound authentic.  Try it black.  And don’t burn yourself!”

Optimus took a sip, and made a thoughtful face.  Intriguing, this drink.  Not distasteful at all, but strong and hot.  He added the demonstrated one scoop of creamer, and made a similar face.  That was different.  Much more of a change than one grade of energon to another, with such a simple modification.  He smiled, enjoying the chance to experiment.  A spoonful of the coarser powder came next.  That was not only intriguing because of the modification, he found he really enjoyed the new taste.  So that was “sweet!” He added another spoonful of white granules and found both the taste and his enjoyment intensified.  So he tried another.  Then another.  Each sip followed another spoonful.  He liked the feel of the spoon in his hand...and of the warm liquid as he drank it.  It was all good to him, start to finish, but he enjoyed it more as the ratio of sweetener increased.

Maybe it was just something new to think about.

“So why didn’t you?” Optimus finally asked between experiments.

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Step in as one of Rodimus’ advisors,” Optimus clarified.

“Oh...well...the things you used me for the most he was already good at.  Thinking on his feet, adapting, understanding humans.  He didn’t need my help there.  Magnus and Kup were supplying the old-school know-how.  Besides...it gave me time to grieve.”

“For me...and all the others we lost that day,” Optimus whispered.  He stirred in another spoonful of sweetener idly, and found his vision blurring unexpectedly.  He started, alarmed, but Jazz just handed him a napkin.

“Dry your eyes Optimus,” Jazz said.  “I think maybe it’s time you grieved for all of them too.”

x
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“Protoform confirmed,” Soundwave said to Galvatron.

Viper’s optics flared wildly.

Galvatron smiled, and sparks danced.

x
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Dressed in camos, a team of photo-journalists armed with state of the art telephoto lenses and microphone crouched in the shrubs north of Metroplex.  Springer and Arcee’s quarters were actually further from their location, but the reporters knew there was an exterior exit the family often used that was fairly visible from this side.  The viewing public was getting tired of satellite images of the new Transformer.  

Bad shots would earn them a year’s pay.  Good ones would make them rich.  They waited.

A faint crunch sounded behind them.  One turned, saw nothing, and dismissed it.  Squirrel most likely.  Long minutes passed.  Autobots went to and fro down in the city, but not the ones they were looking for.

The noise behind them repeated itself, but neither turned...at least until a shadow cut them off from the air.  They both turned slowly and found a glowering monolith impossibly planted right behind them.  Both men screamed as the living tower reached for them.

Ultra Magnus plucked both reporters off the hillside and stomped down to the city with them.  One shrieked protests and apologies as he took them to Metroplex’s civilian “jail”.  The other said nothing - he fainted.  Magnus face reflected nothing but grim anger as he made a point to pass the reporters waiting in the authorized area set aside for them with his trespassers.  Internally though, he was smirking.

Learning from Lancer was having some unexpected pay-offs.  
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Rodimus made an angry bee-line for his quarters the instant his shift was done.  He was on a mission - target locked.  He made a point to morph before going into the secret section because he didn’t fully trust himself to be careful with his target.    When the door opened he was momentarily stunned by what he saw to the point he almost forgot his mission.  

There were several things wrong with the input from his optics... err ...eyes.

First, his quarters were clean.  That simply did not compute.

Second, Jazz the Autobot Specialist, and Optimus Prime, revered Autobot Leader, could simply not be playing with Edana’s vintage Mousetrap game.  

He almost walked right back out again.  This simply couldn’t be the right place.  Instead he stood there quietly, eyes wide.  Neither of them noticed him they were laughing so hard.

Some part of him marveled.  He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d heard Optimus laugh like that.  Actually, he didn’t EVER remember Optimus laughing like that.  Like something was really funny...like it came from his soul and not some kind of social obligation.   The sound bounced around the small room like Edana and Alex’s did.

Perhaps it wasn’t enough to change his target, but it was sufficient to modify his tactics a bit.  He went right past them without distracting them and into Edana’s room.  Rifling through her bookcase was easier than predicted - it had all been organized and the dictionary was easy to spot amidst his daughter’s more entertaining reading.  The other books were all tattered and dog-eared from repeated use, even in this place which she saw so rarely.  Rodimus paused and felt guilty.  Edana was curious about pretty much everything, read and memorized nearly instantly, and they couldn’t even risk her getting online.  All they could feed her restless intelligence was on outdated paper because they couldn’t afford the risk someone might notice electronic activity from these nonexistent rooms.  And yet she had been through all these books enough to wear them out.

No...no distractions.  Grab the book.  Find the page.  Back on target.

Rodi advanced, armed with his book and assassin’s surprise.  Jazz saw him first and yelped.  This gave Optimus just enough time to look over his shoulder to see doom approaching fast.

The senior Prime didn’t have time to smile a greeting.  His mouth opened for a cheerful “Hello” but what emerged was “OUCH!  Hey!”

Rodimus’ hand had snapped out with assassin’s speed to grab his partner by the ear.

“Come here you!” Rodimus snarled, hauling his amazed partner to his feet.

“OUCH!  Rodimus!  That really hurts!”

“I know!  Move your aft!” Rodimus growled gleefully.  Jazz’s eyes dilated as he watched Rodimus pull the Senior Prime along like a troublesome child, brandishing a dictionary like a bludgeon.   Rodimus lead the leader to the kitchen, slammed the book down on the table in front of the Matrix and pointed to a word.  “Pay attention!” he ordered, giving Optimus’ ear a firm tug.

“Ouch!  Rodimus what do you want?!”

“I want you to read that word!  Do you see that word?  D-e-l-e-g-a-t-e?  Delegate!  See it?!  Three syllables!  OO!  Looky!  It’s a VERB!  That means it is something you have to DO!”

“Rodimus!  What’s the matter with...OUCH!”

“Pay attention!  We are learning new vocabulary!  See the definition?”

“Rodi I know what delegate means!” Optimus said indignantly.  He tried to straighten and pull his ear free (amazing how much sensation they transmitted) only to have Rodi’s other hand blur past his vision to grab the other one too.  Head firmly entrapped, Optimus found there was nothing he could do but stare into Rodimus’ furious green eyes.

Jazz wished for a camera.

“Oh really?  You know what that word means?  Then why am I constantly being assaulted with one committee after another going everywhere but THROUGH the proper channels to bug me with petty decisions?  Why are they used to that Optimus?  Why are they coming to Rodimus Prime with everything from appeals for traffic violations to the color of the new school with every expectation that I will make time for them?!”  He released Optimus’ ears but the Senior Prime remained bent forward, transfixed.

“Um...”  Optimus said.   

“Some of them are really quite surprised I am not going to waive their speeding tickets!”

“Um...”  Optimus said.   

Rodimus eyebrows rose sardonically.

“Well,,,um...you see....”

“I do see.  I see you allowing this kind of behavior.  They disrespect you, they disregard all protocols, and you disrespect your own people by allowing morons to go over their heads whenever they choose!  Why did we give Grapple the position as Senior architect if you were going to disregard his authority wherever someone disagrees with his decisions?!”

“Well, I never thought of it that way...I was just trying to...”

“To be nice?  To be helpful?  You are just used to being the only one around to make any decisions!  You don’t lead a handful of Bots in the Ark anymore!  This is a PLANET...shall we look up ‘planet?’  You’ve completely neutered Grapple and Nightbeat!  You’ve made Blaster’s job managing your appointments into a joke!  All the security we set up for you is useless and how in the hell do you ever get anything done?!  I spent more time today scanning for Conversion and kicking people out than doing any actual work!”

“Um...” Optimus said.  He was clearly in shock.

Rodimus crossed his arms and waited.  Jazz had the very surreal thought that Rodimus was suddenly the senior Prime.  In a way though he was delighted.  This was nothing he or Prowl could have ever gotten away with!

Optimus straightened.  “I’m sorry.  I never thought of how disrespectful that was to Grapple and the others.”

Rodimus’ hand lashed out and bopped his partner lightly on the back of the head.

“Ouch!  Hey!”

“How’s about you?  It is also disrespectful to YOU!  You have too many other things on your agenda to be messing around with paint swatches!  You are just lucky Elita is more patient than Lancer!  If she found out I was wasting the little time I have with her on feuding decorators she’d wrap my tailpipe around my head!  My image as a punk trouble-maker isn’t all that much worse than yours as a molly-coddler!  ‘Prime’ should not be synonymous with ‘nanny!’”  

Jazz, trying to stay invisible, grinned to himself.

Optimus frowned, looked a bit rebellious, and then sighed, nodding.  “So I take it you have done some work rectifying that impression?”

Rodimus grinned a bit like Galvatron.  “Let’s just say that they are learning to appreciate you better.  I announced the rules for the breeding queue today.  If I don’t cause riots we will consider the whole thing a success.”

“What are you going to do?”  

“First come, first served - but with the clear understanding that every application will be reviewed and we reserve the right to send anyone at all to the back of the line.  If we feel there is anything detrimental to the newlings they will have to wait until we have enough resources in place to help them.”

“Not forever, just until the infrastructure is ready,” Optimus muttered.  “Makes sense, sounds fair enough, and everyone will agree until you tell them THEY are the ones who have to wait.”

“Right...and think of the line of appeals you will have outside your door Mr. Accommodating.  It’s probably good I’m doing this right now, I’m already used to being called Asshole.  By tomorrow they will probably make that my official title....either that or Ruthless Dictator.”

Optimus chuckled.  “When Kup asked us to work on your image I’m not sure switching from party-hound to ruthless dictator was what he had in mind.!”

“He should be more careful what he asks for then.  Old bastard.  Never satisfied,” Rodimus nodded.

Jazz watched them, and felt a bit more hopeful.  He shifted ever so slightly in his seat, and accidentally sent the whole Mouse-trap game into motion.

“Hey!  You were supposed to wait for me on that!” Optimus complained.

“Very sorry Op!  Totally accidental,” Jazz grinned.  They both watched the little plastic pieces move around.  Rodimus watched them with disbelief.  This time through, the last basket missed the mouse entirely.

“Uh-oh...he got away again,” Optimus complained with a grin.  Then he and Jazz caught the look on Rodi’s face and just laughed.   “It’s an ingenious toy,” Optimus said sincerely, by way of self defense.  

Rodi’s eyebrows just disappeared under his unkempt bangs.  Jazz cackled helplessly.    Somewhere during the uproar, Rodimus got that far-away look which indicated his mate was sending to him.

“I can not cope with confronting what you two have been doing with my kids’ things so I’ll just ask you to move that to the floor,” Rodimus said with a bemused expression.

“We’ll put it away properly,” Optimus offered.

“Don’t bother.  I have just been informed we are going to need both tables for dinner tonight,” Rodimus said with a bit of a smile.

“Company?”

“Lancer’s coming...and she’s bringing Chaos and Madness with her.”

Optimus looked blank, but Jazz lit up.    “Ah, the whole harem of Fair Maidens are coming to redecorate!”

“She’s bringing the girls?” Optimus asked a bit nervously.

Rodimus nodded.  “Now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” the junior Prime answered, “And that scares me.”

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x

Char:

“I am scared my sister,” Viper confessed.  They were alone in their meager quarters.  Viper had retreated there to think and strategize.  For some reason, Galvatron’s spacious rooms didn’t seem so luxurious right now.  Nor were they conducive to planning.  It would take 1 to 4 days to get to Cybertron, depending on how much of a risk she wanted to take getting spotted... but time was suddenly so important.

Adder, of course, said nothing.  Her optics followed a stray insect which flew around the room.  

For some reason, this made her sister feel all the more vulnerable and alone.  Two weeks...and one day already lost.

There was a knock on their door.  Adder struck it twice as always but Viper jumped up so quickly she almost got hit with splattered acid.  She opened the door, relieved somehow that it was her rival and not her mate.

“So,” Cyclonus asked without preamble, “When are we leaving?”

CONTINUED in:   The Ties that Bind:  PART G