Optimus part Sixteen.

Megatron’s finger hovered tenuously over the small wooden horse, the shadow of his head cast darkness over the board, and the only illumination came from the red glow of his eyes. It was his third go at it. He had a lot riding on this move, and he had to do so carefully. He leaned back slightly, letting the illumination from the single overhead light give him a clear view. He let the slow, soothing melody that played in the room calm his nerves, then made his move. Soundwave watched intently as Megatron picked up the piece and traced it along it’s four square path, before letting go. Soundwave then picked up one of his pieces and gently tipped the horse over, dropping his piece in it’s place. “Curse,” Megatron mumbled. “You’re better at this than Starscream was.” “I’m better at everything than Starscream is,” Soundwave said. “He’s so stupid I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat the pieces.” “The poor lad,” Megatron said, moving another piece. “He never was one for brains. I think space travel gummed up the gears up there.” “No, he’s always been that way,” Soundwave analysed the board. “He was burned himself cleaning his own thrusters. How do you even do that?” “Ha!” Megatron shook, compressors and hydraulics hissing as he settled. “May I ask you a question, my lord?” Soundwave said. “You just did.” Megatron replied. “Ask another. Checkmate, by the way.” Soundwave was surprised by the move, but set it aside. “You enjoy this planet’s culture…” Soundwave began. “It’s music, it’s games, it’s languages… why do you want to destroy it?” Megatron leaned back out of the light, his eyes squinting not so much into a glare, but as a cynical stare, as if Soundwave should know the answer. “Because, my dear Soundwave,” He said. “There are plenty of lifeless rocks out there. Balls of gas and cosmic dirt that nobody would miss. You see, in order for loss to exist, something, well, must be lost.” Megatron leaned forward, interlocking his fingers beneath his chin and resting his elbows on the table upon which the oversized chess board sat. “You see, while it makes no difference in the grand scheme, every life I end, every soul I relinquish is a story untold. And hear, well there’s billions. Billions of stories to be told, billions of stories the universe will be without. Even if it’s just the story of an average human going about their mundane life. It all matters to someone, and as long as it matters to anyone, as long as someone, anywhere, will miss it…” Megatron tipped over Soundwave’s king. “It matters to me.” Soundwave looked up. His face was but a glowing visor and loosely defined mouth plate, it was impossible to read, but Megatron could tell merely through Soundwave’s silence he’d gotten to him. “So then…” Soundwave asked. “Why even indulge in these practises at all?” “Everyone has a hobby.” Megatron said, he picked up Soundwave‘s fallen king and examined it. “I’d just like to know what they’re like.” He placed it back down. There was a noise to his left, and an hitherto unseen door slid open and Strika stood behind it. “He’s awake.” She said. “Finally.” Megatron stood. He turned to Soundwave. “Would you mind putting this away?” Megatron left the room. He and Strika walked out, leaving Soundwave behind. They made their way down a short hallway to the medical bay. Megatron turned without slowing, barely making it through the automatic door. He kept his brisk stride until he stood before a wide operating table, and on it lay Obsidian. He was cracked, dented, wires and hinges were strewn about. Some parts were asymmetric, chief of which his arm, partially elevated by the metal clamp holding it in place. A Spark monitor hummed next to him. His eyes were dark as he lay, but he stirred. “Megatron?” He said weakly. Megatron walked to his side, leaning down next to him. “I am here, Obsidian.” He said. Obsidian turned his head. His eyes flickered, one remained slightly dim. “Why am I…” Obsidian looked around the room, then back to Megatron. “You saved me?” “You sound surprised,” Megatron hopped onto the table, jolting in and shaking Obsidian, before laying down on his side next to the broken robot, his right arm supporting his head. “After all, how could I possibly do without my most competent lieutenant?” Megatron leaned in close to Obsidian, the latter moved uncomfortably in the opposite direction. “How…” Obsidian leaned as far as he could. “Merciful of you…” Obsidian strained to talk. “I am not without mercy, no.” Megatron said. He idly put his left hand up to Obsidian’s chest. Obsidian was confused and a touch frightened by this invasion of his personal space. “I don’t believe in abandoning my kind.” Megatron tapped his fingers in the center of Obsidian’s chest plate. Obsidian was about to point out the error of that statement, but thought better of it. “I believe that no matter how treacherous…” Megatron stabbed Obsidian with his finger. Obsidian let out a pained yelp, the Spark monitor jolted. “Cowardly…” Megatron dug his finger deeper. Obsidian let out a cry. The monitor went from a hum to a buzz. “Or just plain arrogant to assume I wouldn‘t noticed the aforementioned,” Megatron pulled his hand out. Obsidian gasped and the monitor levelled out. “I want my troops to know I’ll always be there for them. In good health,” Megatron got off the table and stood, back facing Obsidian. “And bad.” He spun on his heel, driving his fist straight into Obsidian’s chest. Obsidian screamed in agony, the monitor wailed. Megatron pulled back, his hand wrapped around Obsidian’s spark. Obsidian clawed fruitlessly at Megatron’s arm, he writhed like a dying animal. Megatron pulled more. Amongst the screams and cries Megatron heard Obsidian plead for his life. “Please, Megatron!” He cried. “I’m sorry! Forgive me please!” Obsidian began to black out. He felt cold, and the world slowly disappeared. Megatron let go and pulled his hand out. Obsidian screamed once more before falling back onto the table. He shook wires and bits of metal from his hand. “Oh please,” Megatron said. “Water under the bridge as the humans say.” Megatron patted Obsidian on the head. “Now you just lay back and relax, you need your rest. How else are you going to recover?” Megatron chuckled to himself and walked out. Strika, who’d been standing in the corner, watching the whole time, followed. Obsidian coughed. He leaned back, clutching the open wound in his chest. As he stared at the overhead light he spoke softly to himself. “Megatron…” He whispered. --------- Outside the ship Road Rage picked up sticks and logs that had been strewn about during the battle with Shockwave. Ironhide helped, moving trees that had been knocked down. While far from engaging work, it needed to be done, and it was better than the alternative. Inside the ship Botanica worked under the console. Panels, circuit boards, wires and other bits of the control module were hanging off or placed aside as Botanica lay with her upper half underneath the dashboard. Optimus rooted through conduits on the top. “I feel like I’m going to break something.” Optimus said. “These pieces are so small. Why does everything expensive have to be small and breakable? It’s like playing Twister with my just my hands… and on a really tiny mat… and the other players are tangled wires… on second thought it’s not like Twister-” He received a shock and cursed. “Twister doesn’t make me want to smash it!” Optimus rubbed his hand. “What’s twister?” Botanica said from under the console. “A human game,” Optimus said. “You lay out a big mat with coloured circles and are randomly assigned which limb you have to place on which circle. You’d be really good at it. Which reminds me…” Optimus rubbed the back of his neck. “How’d you get to be… like you are? I mean, I don’t want to be rude…” “Oh, it’s no problem.” Botanica said politely. “I adopted this form while on a planet dominated by sentient plants. Their species taught me the art of moving with the motionless. To move my body as if it were my hand.” She continued without looking up from her work. “I’ve had it so long even replication can’t over-ride it. It’s just who I am.” She shrugged to herself. Above Optimus looked down at her hip mounted guns. As if she felt his gaze she responded. “They also worshipped the climate, because, well, they’re plants, and regarded the raw power and life-giving nature of lightning storms as a sort of renowned power. They managed to harness this power with their very bodies. What I have is a sort of… mini-version.” “Mini?” Optimus laughed. “You turned Shockwave into a slag sculpture, I’d hate to see what these talking trees could do.” Botanica slid out from underneath the console, a blank expression was on her face. “They didn’t believe in direct conflict.” She said. “I feel a small amount of disgrace for having used them to inflict pain upon another.” “Yeah, well,” Optimus shrugged as he leaned on the console. “It was self defence. I don’t think your blossom buddies would mind if you used them to save yourself.” “I suppose you’re right.” Botanica said. She stood. “It’s working, by the way.” “Sweet!” Optimus said. “Then let’s fire this thing up so we can call off the frown clowns.” Botanica thumbed the console switch. It lit up, dials and diodes blinked and glimmered. She returned to the small fold out screen from before. Her narrow fingers danced across it’s touch screen as Optimus watched intently as she delicately selected commands and options. She then selected the beacon transmitter and cancelled it. They both breathed a sigh of relief. However, the screen did not darken. “That’s not right…” She said. “We turned off our beacon, the transmitter should have stopped.” Optimus leaned in for a closer look. “It’s not transmitting…” He said. “It receiving?” “Impossible!” Botanica said. “The beacon was active for, maximum, two days. There’s no way it transmitted long enough to contact another ship. The odds are astronomical.” Optimus rubbed his neck again, he sighed. “Well this’ll be fun.”