Come What May

by Phantom (phantom1313 at tfrid dot com)


Chapter Fourteen


The mass of Autobots wisely abandoned the small prayer room upon Rodimus Prime's approach. The room had been packed ever since Prime's diagnosis with Autobots praying for a cure. They knew, however, that the Chosen One wished to have privacy to address their god.

Once he was alone, Rodimus sank to his knees and prostrated himself before the simple metal altar in the traditional gesture of homage and worship. He then straightened up, still kneeling, and professed his desire to pray. “Primus, God of Light, I beseech you,” he began, “hear my prayer. I have come to pray for Optimus Prime. I understand that it may be his destiny to rejoin the Matrix, but please, not in this manner. Please, Primus, spare him from his suffering.”

His voice became impassioned. “Optimus Prime has fought for your ideals for nine million years. He has been the beacon of hope for your people when it seemed that all was lost. Save him if it is your will, or return his spark back home, but I beg you, don't make him suffer like this! It's cruel beyond words.

“Primus, take me instead, if it is your will! I'll do anything for Optimus! He 's my best friend in the entire universe! I feel his pain, and it's beyond anything that a sentient being can bear. Primus, hear me! I am the Chosen One, blessed by you, and I have never asked anything of you before. I know you had a hand in my creation; does that not make me your son? I have been told that I even look like you! If I have any voice at all with you, please, please hear me now!”

Nothing. No response at all, not even a tingle from the Matrix. Rodimus was not sure what he had expected – thunder, lightning, a miracle answer – but anything was better than this awful silence.

“Is this how you treat your children, Primus? Have you turned your back on us? We have suffered for eons uncounted in your name, and you abandon us!” He began to tremble with fury, knowing that he was speaking blasphemy and not caring in the least. What good was being the son of a god if their god was unfeeling? “How dare you, Primus?! The Quintessons may claim to be our creators, but I know the truth, that you influenced them! You created us, and now you abandon us to die! You care nothing for the suffering of your creations! Optimus is Chosen too, otherwise he could have never cured the Hate Plague. What of his fate? He has served you faithfully every moment of his life, never questioning your motives. Well, I am! I will not pay homage to such an unfeeling god! You have no right to treat us like pawns for your amusement! You have NO RIGHT!” He screamed at the top of his vocal unit, “I HATE YOU, PRIMUS! I HATE YOU!”

He dissolved in a flood of tears, collapsing on the altar, feeling the mercuric liquid coursing down his face. They ran unchecked, for Rodimus was never one to bottle up his emotions. He expressed himself freely now, as he always had. His sobs shook his frame so hard that he thought he would fall apart. Gradually, the tears slowed, and he slumped against the altar, exhausted. He could not stop his systems cycling down into recharge, and he dreamed….

Rodimus found himself floating through deep space. He looked around himself curiously, noting two suns. A binary star system… fascinating. The fourth planet beckoned him inexplicably, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to it, floating closer. Suddenly the scene shifted, and he was standing on the surface of the planet, in the midst of a swamp. The muck should have sucked at his feet, but he walked atop it as if it were nothing. The heat was sweltering and caused condensation to drip off of his chassis, but he scarcely noticed. Bits of technological components scattered the ground, as if the area had been recently cleaned of debris, or the chassis of the dead. The wind blew on him like the fiery breath of a dragon. Sharp, spiny razor vines laced the area. Not a very friendly-looking place.

The land ended abruptly, swallowed up by a massive pinkish ocean. On the horizon sat an island of sorts, crowned by a circular, stadium-type structure. Rodimus felt drawn to it and proceeded towards it, walking effortlessly across the liquid ocean. Such things were second nature to the Chosen One. Once on the island, he walked straight through the wall of the stadium, which he now saw from the inside was actually a sophisticated laboratory. Large tanks lined the walls, filled with all sort of manner of beings in various stages of repair and healing. A large pool caught the Autobot's gaze. It shimmered with an inviting gold liquid. On instinct, he dove in, opening every receptor in his body. He instantly felt revitalized, more alive than ever! Power coursed through every circuit in his being. He was alive! Wonderfully alive, filled with so much life that it threatened to tear him asunder!

Rodimus slowly awoke from the dream, still feeling his circuitry tingle from that miraculous liquid that had bathed him. He sat up groggily, realizing that he had fallen asleep atop the altar. One word whispered within his neural net, one magical, all-important word, the answer to his prayers… Nucleon.

* * * * *

“Nucleon?” Perceptor asked. Rodimus could practically picture how the scientist would look in human form, large brown eyes blinking owlishly behind coke-bottle lenses. “Yes, I am familiar with that compound. Why do you ask, Rodimus?” The brilliant yet eccentric scientist had spent every waking moment in his lab, searching futilely for a cure for the cosmic rust strain. Ratchet had presented the problem to him when Optimus first was diagnosed, but he had made it seem like just a scientific curiosity to preserve the secret of Prime's illness. Now that the truth was out, Perceptor had dedicated himself to finding a cure.

“Tell me, Perceptor,” Rodimus urged. “Tell me everything you know about Nucleon!”

Perceptor was quite surprised. Usually his fellow Autobots urged him to stop rambling on so inanely. “Well, *ahem*, Nucleon is a compound that was discovered several centuries ago by scientists on Hydrus Four, in the Styrakon system. This compound was found to have miraculous healing properties, and many beings were treated with it. However, the miracle compound turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing, I'm afraid. Most of the mechanisms that were treated went insane, and those were the lucky ones. Others found that their bodies betrayed them, freezing up. Megatron was foolish enough to use the treatment on some of his troops. All of them suffered adverse side effects, including the loss of transformation capabilities. Megatron banished the ones that had gone insane, finding them to be a liability. Even he was not foolish enough to attempt such a treatment again.”

Rodimus frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Why would he have been given a dream about Nucleon if it were so dangerous? He turned to an access terminal and punched in the Styrakon system. The images that came up on the screen were eerily familiar. A binary star system, with the fourth planet, Hydrus Four, highlighted. It was exactly the same as in his dream. “Perceptor,” he said slowly, thoughtfully, “is it possible that Nucleon has been improved upon since its initial usage? Perhaps the formula has been purified?”

The red scientist hunched over his own access terminal. “Yes, I suppose that is a viable hypothesis, Rodimus. I will attempt to contact the scientific facility on Hydrus Four to ascertain its veracity. This could take some time, however.”

Rodimus paced the floor anxiously as Perceptor attempted to patch-in remotely to the Hydrus Four medical computers. After nearly two hours, the scientist exclaimed, “Success! You are entirely correct, Rodimus Prime. There is a purer and safer version of Nucleon currently in existence. No side-effects have been reported, and nearly one thousand beings have been treated.”

Rodimus smacked his open palm with his fist in excitement. “That's great news, Perceptor!” he exclaimed. “Prepare yourself for departure. We leave for Hydrus Four ASAP.”

“We? How many Autobots are gong?” Perceptor puzzled as the flame-colored Autobot leader left his lab without a backward glance. “And people say I'm strange….”

Rodimus lost no time in hunting down Ratchet and First Aid, who in turn prepped Optimus Prime for transport. Optimus had, mercifully, lapsed into a coma. He was no longer feeling the pain as his body was devoured by the cosmic rust. A special well-armored craft was modified as a medical transport, stocked with all kinds of replacement parts. This particular ship had some strong weaponry, for no one wanted to risk losing both leaders.

In a few short hours, the shuttle was prepped and ready to go. Everyone was aboard, except Rodimus Prime. Ratchet was just about to radio him, when he showed up, Andromeda in tow. Nobody commented on her presence. She would no doubt be therapeutic to their patient. He would be aware of her, despite his comatose state. As the ship began to take off, Roddy headed for a private area. He had to pray for forgiveness. Lots of forgiveness.

The Autobot medical transport reached the Styrakon system in seven hours. Rodimus had spent the entire trip in seclusion, fervently praying to Primus. He had a feeling, however, that the god had already forgiven his wayward creation. A glance out of the window gave him a peculiar sensation of déjà vu. Everything was exactly the same as in his dream.

The ship touched down in the clearest spot they could find. They were still, however, stuck in the middle of a techno-organic jungle. Razor vines hung everywhere, and low growls from the distance hinted at dangerous wildlife. The Autobots carefully loaded Optimus Prime, his decayed body covered by a sheet, onto an anti-grav transport gurney that would not be hindered by the slime swamps underfoot. Perceptor had to be rescued several times, his childlike curiosity getting him into trouble.

The small group had a long haul ahead of them. Rodimus fired his weapon in low-powered bursts to clear them a passageway. “They really have to do something about their welcoming atmosphere!” he grumbled. It took nearly an hour to fight their way to the edge of the pinkish ocean that Roddy remembered. The cloying heat was slightly better here, due to the open air. Curiously, Rodimus stuck a foot in the liquid and promptly sank up to his knee joint.

Ratchet hastily grabbed him to keep him from falling in. “What's the big idea? You want to go for a swim?”

“Never mind,” Roddy sighed. Apparently there were a few differences from his dream after all. Now how were they going to get across? Walking across was clearly not an option. After a few seconds, he noted a transport platform hovering nearby. It was big enough to hold all of them, including the prone Optimus. Their patient was loaded carefully, then everyone climbed aboard. The controls were relatively easy to operate, and in no time at all, they were headed to the island with the laboratory on the horizon.

Several scientists met them as they disembarked. “Ah, I see you have a patient,” one observed.

A second one commented, “Let's get him inside and assess his damage.”

The scientists worked with remarkable efficiency, running through the usual routine. Andromeda and Rodimus winced and turned away when the sheet covering Optimus was removed. Much of his body had been eaten through to the endoskeleton. Ratchet and First Aid busied themselves discussing their patient's previous treatment. Technicians busied themselves with setting up an empty treatment pod. Rodimus looked around him, trying to distract himself from the gruesome sight he had just seen. Amazing! The lab looked exactly like in his dream! Vision, he corrected himself. Primus had sent him a vision. Perhaps being the Chosen One counted for something after all! He suddenly felt much lighter, nearly buoyant. Primus still cared!

Ratchet and First Aid helped the scientists and medical personnel load what remained of Prime's ravaged body into the pod, hooking it up to countless tubes and wires. Once the preparations were complete, the pod was sealed, and a technician flipped a switch, flooding the pod with the golden liquid known as Nucleon. The assembled group watched the vital stats, hoping against hope.

“Look!” Andromeda exclaimed, startling everyone. She pointed, unable to voice what she saw. The others turned to see what she was gaping at.

“Primus!” Roddy breathed. “The cosmic rust! It's dispersing!”

First Aid and Ratchet rushed to take readings. She was right, they realized soon enough. “The cosmic rust is dying!” First Aid reported excitedly.

It was true. The plague was dying off, slowly but surely. Prime's internal components, once encrusted with the rust, were now visible. Gradually the disease was beaten back until, the scientists noted with triumph, it was entirely vanquished. Still, Optimus Prime was in terrible shape. Rodimus and Andromeda could barely look at him without feeling ill. A massive amount of his structure had simply been eaten away. Ratchet and First Aid were also hard-pressed to hold on to their professional detachment. Optimus would surely die if his structure were not repaired.

Before anyone could act, hidden mechanisms whirred to life. Nanites were pumped through the tubes into Prime's chassis, where they began the slow, painstaking work of restoring it. The Autobots cheered and exchanged high-fives. They had plenty of raw materials to donate for repairing their stricken leader. Optimus Prime was going to live!

The repairs on Optimus took several days. Each day he looked healthier and stronger. Rodimus kept in close contact with Cybertron and Earth – Magnus had been left in command in his absence. Nothing disastrous had happened. The Autobots were busy celebrating the fantastic news that Optimus had been spared. Magnus warned with a twinkle in his optic that rumors were circulating about Rodimus. One said that he had merged with Primus, another claimed that he had cured Optimus with a mere touch. Roddy scowled. If the Autobots started worshipping him, he would blow a gasket!

At last, the Nucleon was pumped away, and the tubes were withdrawn. The Autobot medics carefully lowered their leader and placed him on the anti-grav gurney, slowly powering up his systems.

Optimus Prime slowly felt his optic sensors come online and he braced himself for the inferno of pain that had assaulted him for the past several weeks. Nothing happened. He looked down at himself. He was whole! Cured! What was this? Was he dreaming? Was he on his way to the Matrix?

“Optimus,” a soft voice called to him. He turned his head to see his beloved femme by his side, holding his hand.

“What… has happened to me?” he asked, trying to sit up. Vertigo assaulted him, and he sank back down.

“Take it easy!”

Optimus slowly took in his surroundings. He did not recognize the facility itself, but it was obvious that he was in some kind of laboratory or hospital. And his friends were here too! Andromeda, First Aid, Ratchet, and—

“Rodimus.”

“I'm here, Prime.” Roddy took his other hand. “You're cured now. You may be a little weak until you can fully recharge, and there are still a few minor repairs that will be done during our return trip, but you're in great shape.”

“Cured? But how? I thought there wasn't a cure.” He looked to Ratchet and First Aid for answers. Both shrugged and pointed to Rodimus.

Roddy looked a bit sheepish. “I had a vision in the prayer temple. I really owe Primus an apology.” He cringed in shame. “I accused Primus of ignoring your suffering. I told him I hated him.”

“You told that to Primus? You said such things to our god?” Optimus was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Yeah.” Roddy scuffed his foot on the floor. “Hey, it worked, didn't it? You're alive and just fine!” Optimus found himself suffocated by a giant hug.

“Hey, that's *my* man!” Andromeda protested. Roddy withdrew with a giant grin, letting the femme have a turn hugging Optimus.

After giving Optimus Prime a thorough physical, the scientists determined that he was at optimum health. Ratchet and First Aid traded some medical technology in exchange for the treatment, taking a small amount of Nucleon with them for study. Perceptor had a harder time tearing himself away from the laboratory. He could have stayed there forever!

The shuttle ride back was uneventful. Perceptor was lost in his own musings, as expected. Ratchet and First Aid were busy compiling notes on the research they planned to do. Roddy spent a short while briefing Optimus on the little that he'd missed, then he gladly left his friend to be alone with his femme.

Optimus Prime could not believe the adulation that he returned to. Scarcely had he stepped out of a shuttle when he was nearly mobbed by the hoard of Autobots that had come to greet his return to the life of the functional. Kup's security force had a hard time keeping the throng at bay. Optimus searched for the words to express his gratitude, but this time he was just too overwhelmed. Rodimus was amazed when he got a large share of the cheers. Maybe the more sensible of Autobots didn't believe he had enacted some sort of miracle, but they knew that he had done something amazing just the same.

“Welcome home!” Rodimus teased.

“It's good to be back,” Optimus replied. And with a feeling of surprise, he realized it was true. He was not yet ready to die. There was too much living left to be done.


end of Chapter Fourteen

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