Optimus part Eleven.

“So…” Optimus scratched his head. Botanica stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something. ‘I guess we’ll start with the tour.” Optimus looked over to the mill. “That’s the base.” Botanica observed and nodded. Optimus exhaled. “And that concludes the tour.” “Very rustic.” She commented. “I can see you’re quite adapted to the simpler ways of life.” They watched as Ironhide dozed beneath a tree. Road Rage stacked rocks in a pile near the river. Jetfire stared aimlessly at his surroundings as though he had no idea where he was. “Yup,“ Optimus straighten up. “We’re like the Ingalls.” “What?” Botanica said. “Oh, right. You won’t get that.” Optimus made a flippant gesture with his hand. “We watched a lot of human TV back when we had cable.” “Though in all seriousness, perhaps you could use some…” Botanica searched for the word. “Modernising? Maybe start with, I don‘t know, a fire?” “Fire!” optimus smacked his head and snapped his fingers. “That’s what we forgot!” He turned to the others. “Hey guys!” The other Autobots gave their full attention. “It was fire. We forgot fire.” “Oh…” They said together, nodding. Optimus turned back to Botanica. “So, what else could we do?” He asked. Botanica crossed all four arms and thought. “Not to be rude…” She shrugged. “But maybe you could use some of that equipment I see lying in what appears to be factory-sealed boxes?” She pointed to stacked crates through a hole inside the mill. Optimus nodded understandingly. “Yeah we keep putting that off.” Optimus said sincerely. “We don’t have a generator, so…” Botanica hovered down to the river, hoped over and glided to the foremost crate in the pile. She picked it up and held it up. “You mean like this?” She pointed out. Optimus was red-faced as he jogged over, he plucked the crate from her hand. “Yeah, well…” He coughed. “They make the font so illegible…” Road Rage skipped over with Ironhide waddling up behind. “Since it’s quite possible I could be spending the rest of my mortal existence on this planet,” Botanica said. “I could help you set some of this up?” Optimus was a little stubborn at first, but Ironhide and Road Rage gave exuberant nods of approval. After a brief ponder Optimus agreed and they were underway. After pausing so Road Rage could set up her montage camera they began work. While Botanica handled the technical side of things the other Autobots got to work building a more solid shelter. Using only the lumber from the area the needed they constructed better shelter. Eventually it started shaping up, and within a day’s work, not counting breaks, they had basic shelter and essential systems hooked up. The mill was transformed into a much larger log cabin. Due to sentimentality, Ironhide had held onto the old rusty wheel that once lay propped against the demolished farmhouse adjacent their barn. He pulled it out of a box and leaned it up against the new base. Road Rage and Jetfire cleaned up remain building materials and Botanica finished the system diagnostics on their new, more secure, mainframe. Optimus finished moving the remaining crates out of the elements when he noticed an oddity of the mill. They hadn’t replaced the foundation as it was surprisingly stable, yet every time he walked in a certain corner of the original mill he heard a hollow thump. This wouldn’t be much concern except the mill was made of wood. Surely the simple act of him walking across it would cause the aged floor to cave in. Yet it did not. “Hey Botanica,” Optimus called, squatting down to inspect the floor. Botanica turned from her computer. “Could I get your help for a moment?” “Of course.” She said, pausing the diagnostic scan. She drifted over and bent down to see what it is he wanted. “I think there’s a door here,” Optimus said, then looked at his hands. “But my fingers are too thick to find the seam. Would you mind?” “I can do you one better…” She moved her right arm over the suspected concealed hatch. Her lower forearm split open, a small servo unfolding out, then flipping open to reveal some type of scanner. She held her upper forearm across. It, too, revealed a piece of equipment. A small screen. “Neato.” Optimus commented. Botanica didn’t acknowledge, instead using the device to scan the depth of the ground. She noticed an incongruity. “It see what you mean,” She said, not taking her eyes of her arm. “There is a trapdoor here, now to find…” She ran her left hand’s fingers across the wooden panels, then felt a seam. She gripped and pulled. Indeed there was a jostling sound, and as she pulled the door became visible as it’s seams briefly showed. “Locked.” She commented. Optimus crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. His left foot slid and as it did hit something. A small wood encased lever, indistinguishable from the piled of logs stacked tightly in the far corner. As he did there was a hiss. Optimus jumped a bit as the door popped open. Botanica nodded. “Nice one.” She said. Optimus composed himself. “I just have a way with old trap doors nobody knew existed.” He smiled and nodded. Botanica looked at the door. It was wood paneling on top but metal on the bottom. Heavy hydraulics held it up. It led down a concrete hole, wide, though not wide enough for them, still wider than any human. “Peculiar…” Botanica mused. “It’s like a bunker…” Optimus commented. “Those nineteenth-century flour makers took no chances.” “I don’t know anything about, well, anything on this planet,” Botanica said. “But it doesn’t take a scientist to know this hatch was built after this structure was. It’s materials are more robust and appear much more recent. Special care was taken to keep it secret, too. The lever was hidden and they went out of there way to make the hatch itself invisible.” “You think there’s treasure down there?” Optimus pondered. Botanica just looked at him. “Well, I mean that’s what I’d do.” Optimus shrugged. “I’d love to know what’s down there.” She said. “Can’t you do that thing you did when we first saw you? The unhinging thing?” Optimus made loose gestures with his hands. “You kidding? I don’t know what’s down there.” She shook her head. “I’ve been on this planet for less than twenty-four hours, not counting the time I spent sleeping while you drove me back here, and you expect me to jump into it’s bowels without so much as reading a catalogue of it’s species?” Optimus chuckled. “I still can’t believe you slept all the way back her.” He said. “I had jetlag.” Botanica shrugged. “Besides I don’t have an alternate form.” “Wait,” Optimus said. “What happened to it?” “You know exploration protocol,” She said. “Adopt a new form upon reaching a planet and discard it once you leave to prevent contamination once you get to another, only without my ship I can’t get a new one.” “Oh, right.” Optimus said. “I forgot that stupid law. Just because one idiot decides to be a tank on the planet made of glass we all have to suffer.” “Tell em about it.” Botanica said. She looked back down. “So about this hole…” “Ah, don’t sweat, I got it covered.” Optimus said. “Road Rage!” He shouted. Road Rage fell form the roof outside and into the mill. “What?” She asked. “Get Ironhide and some rope,” Optimus said. “We found a deep, dark hole in the ground and I need you to check it out.” Road Rage looked apprehensive. “Why don’t you go?” She asked. “Because I can’t fit,” Optimus measured his torso with his hands and compared it to the hole. “Besides, I went in the last hole we found, so it’s your turn.” “Darn.” Road Rage sulked off to get the requirements. Optimus looked back down the hatch. “So,” Botanica asked. “You make a habit of investigating every hole in the ground you find?” “More like a hobby,” Optimus said. “Like I said, there could be treasure down there.” -------- Megatron and Strika gleefully danced around the parked spaceship. For the first time since being on planet Earth it was an indisputable Decepticon victory and they made the most of it. Megatron spun and fell against the ship, hugging it. “At last,” He said. “The edge we need! I’ve wanted a new ship since, well…” “Since you took apart our old ship to make your magnificent driller!” Strika finished. “Indeed!” Megatron patted the ship and pushed off. “Now with it and this we’ll have ample means to-” “Destroy the Autobots?” Strika said. “Yes!” He said. “However I prefer the odds be stacked a little more in my favour. Are they ready?” He asked. “They have been on standby ever since, my liege.” Strika owed. “Then summon them!” Megatron stood tall. “Let us amass our full strength!” Strika nodded and pressed the comm link button on her head. “Your are summoned.” She said. A few moments of silence passed. Moments turned to minutes, minutes turned to an hour. “What is taking them?” Megatron wondered. Not a second after he said that a dull rumbling echoed in the caves. Through one of the upper tunnels a streak of fire came through. It crashed into the ground, bouncing once. Then a second followed suit. The two fireballs dissipated to reveal they were in fact metal spheres. These spheres were absent of detail, reflective silver and encased in a gel layer. There was a flickering of light around the spheres and the gel poured off. Each one then split down the middle, steam hissing out, and unfolded. Out of one leapt a dark robot. He tripped halfway and fell face-first into the dirt. He coughed and spat out the mouthful of rocks. He tried to stand but slipped on the gel and fell backwards on his rear. The second pod opened fully and a second rust and silver coloured robot emerged, stretching. “I had no idea you were claustrophobic.” The silver robot said. “Being in a little metal ball for three years will make anybody claustarobic…” The dark robot wiped dirt from his face. He looked up at Megatron, who merely stood there. “Oh, hi.” “Is that anyway to address your master!” Strika grabbed him by his head and stood him up proper. “Both of you show some respect!” “A thousand pardons.” The silver robot said. He stout, thick and was clad in deep, silvery blue metal with rusty red accents. His head was dark and square with no face, only a blue visor. He carried a large cannon on his back that looked like it would tip him over. “Yeah, sorry I guess.” The dark robot sneered. He was tall, thick, and had massive upper arms. Wings protruded out the sides of his shoulders. His head was round and silver with a dark face. Four pink eyes conveyed an expression halfway between apathetic and sarcastic. The stout robot elbowed him and he straightened up. “Soundwave reporting as ordered.” The stout one saluted. “Starscream also as ordered.” The dark one saluted likewise. “Most excellent.” Megatron clasped his hands behind his back and walked behind them. He bent down to their level and draped his arms over their shoulders. Starscream and Soundwave were a bit uncomfortable as Megatron merely clasped their shoulders before pushing off and walking back in front of them. He extended his arms. “So how have my soldiers been?” “Uh, pretty good I guess…” Starscream said. “I mean, being in orbit was kinda boring and horrible.” “Any assignment is a gift, lord Megatron.” Soundwave bowed, his cannon nearly hitting Megatron in the face. “I have been gifted with aft cramps.” Starscream muttered under his breath. Megatron laughed. Then instantly changed in demeanour. He turned away and stood straight. “Shockwave is dead.” He said, more disappointed than solemn. Soundwave and Starscream were suddenly a little more alert. “Wait, dead?” Starscream asked. “How?” “The Autobot’s new recruit.” Strika said. “She melted hi into slag.” “And therein lies the problem.” Megatron said. “With Obsidian indisposed and Shockwave gone we’re outnumbered, however we are not without the advantage.” Megatron pointed to the ship. “How come I didn’t notice that when we got here?” Starscream scratched his head. “What is your command, lord all mighty?” Soundwave bowed, Megatron leaning to the left to avoid his cannon again, casually pushing it aside with one finger. “Full-scale assault on the city with what we have, draw out the Autobots,” Megatron waved his finger in the air. “And grind them into powder.” Strika rolled her eyes. “I’ll prepare the usual battle score, then?” She said. “Indeed!” Megatron pointed to her. “Ride of the Valkries if you would! Come my Decepticons!” Megatron bounded into the Driller, as he powered it up he looked back to the three loyal soldiers. He tilted his head to the side and smiled, stepping out of the Driller he stood there and held his arms out. “No.” Starscream said, knowing what he wanted. Megatron took heavy, lazy steps towards them, motioning them towards them with his hands. They all shook their heads and began to back away, but before they could Megatron captured them in his embrace. “My lord I am very, very uncomfortable-” Soundwave began, but Megatron shushed him. He leaned his head into in and whispered. “We can do anything,” Megatron assured them. “Anything when we’re together…” He let go and walked back into the Driller. After the hatched closed Starscream turned to his dumbfounded comrades. “What just happened?”