Sex, Lies and the Autobot Leader

(or The Crush)

by Phantom


Chapter 7

The group of assembled Autobots gaped as their leader entered the room. They were the head honchos, the braintrust, the command force behind the Autobot army. They were quite adept at dealing with the unexpected, but they had come to anticipate such events as coming from the Decepticons, not their own leader. Such odd behavior had come with the territory with Rodimus Prime, but Optimus Prime had been a stickler for punctuality and going by the book. Thus, the assembled group of Autobots was struck dumb when their commander waltzed through the door. Not only was he twenty terran minutes late, he was whistling. “Hello, all,” he fairly sang as he gave the group a jaunty wave, assuming his customary seat at the front of the table. “Sorry for being late,” he said off-handedly. “So, what have we got on the table for discussion?”

Alita glared daggers at him from the other end of the table. It was her custom to sit next to him at briefings, as was her right as co-leader, but she had hoped to rattle his cage and put physical distance between them by sitting as far away as she could. But so far, he hadn't even spared her a passing glance! How could she slight him if he didn't even pay her any notice?

“Erm,” said Kup nervously, trying to focus on his prepared list. “I've found a few holes in our security that have to be patched ASAP. Just because the 'Cons are out of the picture, doesn't mean that we can afford to get sloppy. Remember that we have plenty of other enemies. The Quintessons, for one.”

Optimus nodded, but he seemed rather distant. “Good idea, Kup. Anyone else?”

Perceptor cleared his vocal unit and launched into a lengthy discussion of his latest effort to further refine energon, in order to achieve a higher purity. This time, everyone visually tuned out. Springer hunched over his laptop, concentrating on it intently. Anyone would have thought that he was hard at work on a serious project.

Magnus heard the nearly imperceptible beep that came from his own laptop and opened it up, also pretending that he had an important project to attend to. What's up with Optimus? scrolled across his screen. He replied to Springer, Not sure, but I'd bet my commission that it has something to do with that femme he met last night.

Springer bit his lip, trying to hide the grin that threatened to split his face. Most likely. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy. But you've known him longer; what do you think?

Magnus shook his head. I've never seen him like this at all, that's for sure. Not even in all the time he'd been dating Alita. Whoever this Crystal is, she's knocked him for a loop.

Springer smirked. She really seems to have gotten her hooks in him! I bet they've already got another date lined up.

Springer! Magnus chided. That's none of our business.

So? The whole base is talking about it already.

Let them talk. It's still none of their business. Magnus shook his head in disapproval.

Perceptor's endless monologue finally drew to a close. He ended his briefing with a flourish of his hand, expecting a smattering of applause, or at least an acknowledging nod from his commanding officer. What he got was something less than satisfying. His leader sat there, staring off into space, a soft glow tingeing his optics. “Erm, Optimus? Is everything all right?” he inquired softly. “Did I lose you at any point?”

Optimus jumped, startled out of his reverie. “Oh, not really, Perceptor. Thank you for that, erm, illuminating report. Who's next? Kup?”

“I've already gone, sir,” the Autobot warrior said gently.

Optimus looked slightly embarrassed. “Oh, yes, of course. Ratchet, would you do the honors?”

Alita gave a disgusted snort and rose in her seat. This whole meeting was a farce and a waste of her valuable time. She wanted to check on how her plans of revenge were going, anyway. Crystal's misery would be so much sweeter if she were there to witness it.

“Going somewhere?” a voice asked dryly.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” she replied coolly.

Optimus' gaze became stern, suddenly all business. “I don't recall dismissing you. Even when we were life-mates, I never would have accepted such behavior. You will sit down and wait until the end of the briefing, along with everyone else. We aren't wasting your precious time, now are we?” he sneered.

“Not if you'd pay attention,” she snapped. “You haven't heard one word that was said here today. You're too busy thinking of the next time you're going to see that blasted Crystal. It's disgusting.”

“I'll thank you to keep my private life out of this, thank you very much,” Optimus said in a glacial tone. “And I will not have you refer to Crystal in such vulgar terms. She is my companion for the moment, and whether you like it or not does not matter one iota to me. Is that clear?” He surveyed the room's occupants, a glint of anger in his optics. Everyone looked at the table, unable to meet their leader's gaze. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said, tone softening a bit. “I figure that's enough for today. You all are dismissed. You may depart now for your pressing engagement, Alita,” he said coldly.

Alita turned and flounced out of the room. Optimus pointedly turned his head and ignored her departure. “What a jerk,” he growled in a sub-audial tone, but not quietly enough, for those assembled still heard his derogatory comment and winced. They looked at each other in helpless confusion. What had happened? Alita and Optimus had seemed like the ideal couple, sticking together through thick and thin, holding fast to their love through the endless separations, always reuniting happily. They had epitomized a happy relationship, giving the rest of their troops hope that someday they, too, would find their ideal partner to spend their lives with. They took the breakup hard, since it meant the death of a dream. Optimus' relationship with Crystal had raised bitter controversy amongst the warriors: some argued that he was only using her for companionship, while others argued that Optimus was better than that. Some just figured that it was none of their business, while most others grumbled that it wasn't right, and that Crystal, fickle as she was, would soon move on to the next victim. They hoped that Optimus would wake up and see her true nature and dump her flat on her afterburner.

Everyone got up and quietly filed out, heads bowed in confusion. They had no idea what had happened between Optimus and Alita, but apparently it was quite serious. And if the happiest couple couldn't get along in peacetime, what hope was left for them?

Springer and Magnus lingered by mute consent. “Optimus, could we have a word with you?” Magnus said gently, taking his old friend's arm and easing him back down in his seat.

Optimus looked at the city commander, seeming a bit irritated, but he relented and sat back. “Okay, tell me what's troubling you.”

Springer looked uneasy. “Well, to tell you the truth, it's you. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you've been acting strange today.”

Optimus' face darkened, giving the impression of a scowl hidden under his mask. “I really don't think my behavior is anyone's business but my own.”

Magnus took over, trying to make his old friend see their point. “Optimus, I totally agree that your private life should be your own to lead, but whatever is happening is beginning to spill over into the public sphere. Today you could barely concentrate, and the tension between you and Alita was palpable. You don't have to give me the details, but I can tell that your breakup was messier than you let on.”

Optimus nodded slowly. “That it was. But as long as I was dragging myself around, Alita was quite content to avoid me. Of course, the minute I find someone else to spend my time with, she has to start causing trouble.”

“Erm, that's something else we wanted to talk to you about,” Springer said uneasily, somehow feeling that he was getting way over his head. He pressed on anyway, since such a feeling had never stopped him before. “Magnus and I know about Crystal's checkered history. We, erm, even have a bit of first-hand information. Me much more so, of course.”

Optimus narrowed his optics at this information. He would have never pictured Magnus with such a femme, but then again Crystal probably had a few wily tricks. “Your point?” he said, unable to keep an impatient note out of his voice. He couldn't see how this applied to him.

“Well,” Springer continued, getting more nervous by the minute, “we just thought you should know that she has an impressive track record. She's not the type to settle down and become serious with one mech. She prefers to play the field.”

“Perhaps that's just what I need right now,” Optimus declared. “I've just come out of a very serious relationship, and maybe I need to just enjoy a relationship with no strings attached.”

“But people are starting to whisper. After all, Crystal isn't really your type.” Magnus began to look rather nervous himself.

Optimus waved his hand dismissively. “Let them. My private life, and Crystal's, is absolutely none of their business. And as for her reputation, I'm sure it didn't bother them when it was their turn with her. I'm sick of all the two-faced gossiping and back-stabbing that has been going on here. Please, both of you, I understand that you are worried and are just looking out for my best interests, but leave me be. I am old enough to make decisions for myself, and I am quite content to be with Crystal for the moment. And if she moves on, so be it. Now, if that's all you have to say, I need to get to my office.”

The two robots nodded mutely, less than satisfied with the results of their little talk. They rose and saluted Optimus as he stood and walked out. “Well, that was pointless,” Springer muttered.

“Agreed,” Magnus sighed. “But he does have a point. Now that things have eased up around here, he's entitled to a bit of fun. Not that I think that having a blatant affair is the answer, of course, but Optimus is a grown mech and we can't stop him. All we can do is hope that it ends quickly.”

Springer shook his head. “Believe me, I think that a fling is just what Optimus needs. I just wish that he'd be a bit more discreet about it. He was never this open about his private relationship with Alita. The gossip mill is churning out rumors like crazy, and I'm worried that Optimus will get hurt by it. And Crystal's reputation isn't helping matters.”

Magnus snorted at the memory of the conniving femme. “I'm not thrilled by his choice of mates either, but it's his decision. And maybe you are right, and she'll turn out to be good for him. I just hope that he loses interest quickly and moves on. For now, all we can do is watch, wait, and pray that this doesn't blow up in his face.”


Chapter 8

Optimus Prime sat his desk, flipping through piles of documents, sorting them in order of importance, as he had always done for the nine million years that he had been leader (besides the four that he had been dormant). Somehow, this time the prospect of work seemed even less appealing than before. He couldn't say that paperwork was his favorite part of the job, but it had to be done, and usually it distracted him from thinking about matters that were painful to him. Lately his workload had dwindled to almost nothing, but today the small pile seemed like an enormous mountain. He wasn't in the mood for dreary paperwork. Come to think of it, he wasn't in the mood to work at all. Still, there was no sense in putting it off, since there wasn't a whole lot, and the pile would only grow if he didn't weed it out now. Sighing, he opened yet another folder and thumbed through its contents.

A small smile crossed his covered face as his mind wandered back to the very pleasant events of the night before. Now that was a way for a mech to spend his time... who needed paperwork when he had a lovely femme like that? The folder slipped from his hand unnoticed, papers spilling over the floor as his CPU fondly recalled last night's meeting.

He shook his head, studying the paperwork that had spilled onto the floor. 'I really should get this paperwork done,' he told himself, but it sounded lame, even to his own audials. With a resigned sigh, he bent down to straighten up the papers that had
fallen. 'I wonder if Crystal is free tonight,' he mused. 'Well, why wonder any longer?' he asked himself. ' Why not ask her yourself?'

“Optimus Prime to Crystal,” he said before he even realized what he was doing.

“Crystal here,” a warm voice replied. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I need to see you right away. Please report to my office ASAP.”

A throaty chuckle floated out from the receiver. “As you command, sir. On my way.”

“Optimus out,” the commander said, unable to keep a note of excitement from entering his voice. He sat back, absentmindedly tapping the pile of papers against his palm.

It seemed like an eternity until the buzzer at his office door sounded. “Um... who is it?” he said a bit nervously, suddenly fearful that Kup or Ironhide had decided to drop by and discuss the defense upgrades after all.

“Operative Crystal, reporting for duty,” a feminine voice replied, dispelling his fears.

Optimus pressed a button underneath his desk that unlocked the door. “Please come in,” he invited her.

Crystal stepped into the office, optics roving around, trying to take everything in at once. Once she had cleared the doors, Optimus pressed another button, and the doors slid shut and automatically locked, assuring their privacy. “So, what do you think?” he said off-handedly.

“It's very official-looking,” Crystal said, a bit overwhelmed at finally being in such an important place, alone with the mighty Autobot commander.

Optimus smiled slightly behind his mask. “I didn't invite you here to discuss business.”

A slow smile crept across the femme's face. “Oh, good. I hope you're free tonight, because I have a few plans.”

“Oh, really?” Optimus inquired, seeming intrigued. “Like what?”

“I thought we could go catch a movie. And after that, we could go explore some of Cybertron's underground passages. Megatron always enjoyed going there, though he always said…” her voice trailed off as Optimus stared at her speechlessly.

“What did you just say?” he said slowly, not believing what he had just heard. “Have you been seeing *Megatron*, of all people? Crystal, how could you? Don't you know that our security is at risk? He could have hurt you, or worse! Primus, you're as bad as everyone says! Is there a mech out there that you *haven't* dated? Just which side are you on, anyway?”

Crystal's face crumpled, and for a moment she looked like she was going to cry. “I didn't expect you to understand,” she choked. “After all, you're a mech, you've never had it as hard as we femmes did. We had to scrounge in the Empty Lands for scraps of energon, perform countless raids against Shockwave's fortress, each riskier than the last. We did what we had to do to survive. None of us liked it, but we each knew that it was the price we paid to stay alive. As abominable as things got, life was still too precious to let go.” Her lip curled as she fixed the Autobot with a disgusted look. “But you and your cowboys blasted off the planet without a backward glance, leaving us behind to fend for ourselves. We thought you were all dead, and many of the femmes had trouble keeping their spirits alive at the thought of living without their mates. Still, we survived, and the concept became a mantra to us.”

Crystal's fists bunched into fists, and her whole frame shook with repressed anger and bitterness. “You stand here and accuse me of consorting with the enemy, when it was my job! Or didn't you know that my unofficial function is 'companion for the Decepticons?'” She smiled bitterly at the shocked look on Optimus Prime's exposed face. “Yeah, you heard right. It's actually my job. Alita *orders* me to go out with the Decepticons! You wouldn't think that someone like me would mind,” she spat, “but
some of them, like Bombshell, have some really disgusting ideas. I can't tell you how many times I just wanted to wash myself off with acid after an encounter with them. I suppose I can't really blame you -- you're just a man, you can't be expected to understand. But the other femmes know exactly how degrading this kind of work is, but instead of giving me the smallest measure of respect, they look at me as if I crawled out of a waste extractor. Just once, I wish I could be accepted for what I am, shady past and all!”

Prime gazed at her, speechless with horror. He'd had absolutely no idea about any of this. He'd known that the femmes had had to do some less than desirable things to survive, but this exceeded his worst imaginings. All this time he'd believed that the Autobot army had a worthy cause, and that every soldier was prepared to make sacrifices to achieve those goals. But where should he draw the line? When did the sacrifice become too much to make? Here was Crystal, a prime example of a victim in a war without conscience or morals. By Primus, did he make such demands on every soldier under his command? And how could Alita, in all conscience, allow one of her troops to go to such deplorable lengths to gain an advantage over the Decepticons? He shook his head, physically and mentally sickened by the whole idea. They were all Autobots. They were supposed to be better than that. And what had he, Optimus Prime, noble and mighty leader of the Autobots, done? He'd overreacted to a statement she had made, and in the heat of the moment had called her all the vile names that had been whispered behind her back for so long. He'd allowed jealousy and the worries that she was a spy override his better judgment. All she had wanted to do was to give him pleasure, and he had insulted her. He hung his head in shame. Could he tell himself, in good conscience, that he was above that kind of behavior?

“Crystal,” he choked, lifting his head to fix her with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I'm so sorry. I had absolutely no idea. Can I ever make it up to you?” He folded the trembling femme into his arms.

“It's a start,” Crystal said, her voice muffled, burying her head against his massive chest. “Oh, Optimus, it should be me begging you for forgiveness. I thought you knew about my real job specifications, and I overreacted at your accusations. I hope you can forgive me.”

Optimus was unspeakably saddened by those words. Was her self-worth so low that she'd beg him for forgiveness after he insulted her? “B--but I said such terrible things--” He broke off, unable to continue.

“Oh, don't worry about that. Everybody does,” Crystal said matter-of-factly, though an edge of bitterness betrayed her. “Frankly, I don't blame them. It may be my job to date the Decepticons for their knowledge, but I have worked my way through the Autobot ranks as well. I've made a lot of enemies without meaning to, and the femmes all hate me for having stolen away their mechs at one point or another.”

Optimus felt a sense of dread settle in his chest like a stone. “But you deserve so much better,” he said softly. “I can't believe you are treated this way by your own people. And for doing your job, no less.” He shuddered once more at the incomprehensible thought.

Crystal lifted her face to look at him sadly, for once letting her true pain show. “I've always been treated this way. I've never known anything better.”

Optimus made a promise to himself right then and there that Crystal would learn what it was like to be treated properly. “I'll teach you,” he whispered, removing his mask and kissing the top of her head. He couldn't believe how quickly this relationship had gone from casual fling to something much deeper and ambiguous. Although he held this battered femme in his arms, a part of him yearned to be alone, to absorb and ponder this shocking information in privacy. But Crystal needed him, and he, for one, was not about to let her down. Someone had to be there for her. Then why did this whole relationship leave him with a feeling of foreboding?


Chapter 9


Crystal woke up groggily, her systems booting up much more sluggishly than normal. It took her a moment to register that the recharge bed was moving. Then she felt cold metal underneath her cheek, its texture different from her sleeping nook. She pushed herself to a sitting position, groaning as the room spun around her. Where was she? What was going on?

She looked around her helplessly, the functioning half of her CPU dutifully reporting that she was in a small shuttlecraft. Trouble was, she didn't remember getting into a shuttlecraft. In fact, she hated interstellar travel -- her time spent in the tunnels and caverns of Cybertron caused her to be wary of the open, inky-blackness of space. The last thing she remembered was tumbling into her recharge bed, laughing softly to herself at the memory of her beloved mech's arms around her. She had drifted right in to a deep state of recharge.

'I've been drugged!' she realized with dread, and her functions roared online, powered by fear. So none of this was a lapse in memory or a mistake. Someone wanted her out of the way, and had gone to considerable lengths to get the job done.

“ALITA!” Crystal roared, wincing as the loud exclamation echoed in the small cabin. There was no one else that wanted her out of the way that much. Her suspicions were confirmed as a small, sealed data case caught her eye. She picked it up, noticing that it was earmarked for her and security-encoded. She broke the code and opened the case, reading over the instructions typed out in Cybertronian hieroglyph.

* * *

Operative: Crystal, Intelligence Officer
Assignment: Surveillance
Details: Keep known Decepticons under surveillance and record any troop movements. You will be in the Poh region for an entire week, until your ship's hyperdrive can repair itself. After your mission is complete, you may return with your findings. Do not return until then.

Mission overseer: Femme Commander Alita One

* * *

“Aieeeeeeeeeeeee!” she screamed in rage, tossing the case aside, narrowly missing a computer console. “How I *hate* that femme!” she fumed. This whole mission was a sham! The Decepticons were too few in number and weak by this point to pose any threat, and getting back to base would be a nightmare. However, even if the Decepticons didn't pose a threat, there were plenty of space pirates and other such undesirables to make this region of space hazardous for a lone shuttle.

“Computer: diagnostics,” she spat.

The computer dutifully reported the condition of the shuttle. “Current speed: impulse power. Current position: Poh star system. Shields and cloak operating at full power. Hyperdrive nonfunctional due to overuse. Estimated time for self-repair: one standard week.”

Crystal breathed a sigh of relief. Deities be praised, at least the cloak was up. That would allow her to maneuver the shuttle undetected by passerby. It was a shame that the hyperdrive was offline, but she was sure that that was Alita's work. She knew, without accessing the flight log, that Alita had been the one to program this course and intentionally work the hyperdrive into burning itself out, stranding Crystal until it could repair itself. Crystal shuddered. She knew that Alita held a massive grudge, but she didn't think that the femme commander would go to these lengths to get rid of her. Of course, Alita had assured that she would have some means of defending herself, but if she did get injured or destroyed somehow, it was no polish off the femme commander's armor, now was it? Crystal cursed fluently in ancient Cybertronian. Now what was she to do?

“Computer,” she said, trying to control the nervous tremor in her voice, “set a course back to Cybertron, maximum speed.” Slag the mission! It was a farce, and she was not about to cater to her superior's whims.

“Acknowledged,” the computer replied, and Crystal slumped down in her seat, cursing this latest turn of events. She hated feeling so helpless! She knew enough to plot a course, keep up the shields, and steer, but that was about it. And Alita knew it, damn her! It seemed that she would never be free from persecution, even amongst her so-called comrades-in arms. What a mockery the Autobot code was!

go to Chapters 10-12
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