“This is crazy, this is crazy!” the flame-colored Autobot muttered to himself, laying a flat palm against the gunmetal-grey door. He looked over his shoulder at the corridor that he had followed, providing a welcome avenue of escape. He traced the Autobot symbol stamped on the door, then the image of the matrix below. No other markings were necessary – every Autobot knew this to be the office of the Autobot leader.
'I could just turn around and leave. Tell Optimus that I'm sick, or that something came up.' He straightened up, bracing himself. 'No. I can't run away from this. I need to face this head-on. Who knows? Maybe I'll develop some bizarre liking for the opera.' He pressed the door chime. 'I hope we can find something to talk about. Primus, what can I say to the greatest Autobot warrior? I can't blather on about the skateboarding that Danny is trying to teach me! I'll be afraid to even open my mouth.” He was about to turn away when the door suddenly slid open. From within, he could see Optimus look up from his desk and nod a greeting.
“Please come in.” Optimus gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “I'll only be a moment. I just need to send off a few messages and I'll be all set.” He typed a few brisk commands at his console, then deactivated the display and put the access console into a security lockout until he returned.
He looked up. “Are you ready?” Hot Rod nodded. “Good. Then let's go.”
Hot Rod followed the large Autobot leader to the shuttle bay where the express shuttle to Cybertron ran hourly. He was acutely aware of the glances and whispers that their presence caused. It seemed that gossip traveled faster than the speed of light amongst the Autobots. Primus, didn't they have anything better to talk about than his parentage? He scowled inwardly.
“Have you ever been to the opera before?”
“Huh?” The question snapped Hot Rod out of his reverie. He mentally berated himself. 'You're going out on an excursion with your hero, and all you can say is *huh*?!' “Um, no, actually. I've never been to the opera before. What's it like?”
Optimus looked kindly down at his 'new' progeny. “It depends on the person. If you're open to it, it can be a very spiritual experience. Ah, here we go. Right on time.” The shuttle glided neatly into the docking bay and settled down. Crowds of Autobots and a smattering of other species spilled out. After the shuttle had emptied, they boarded. Seeing no available seats, they grabbed two dangling straps and braced themselves as the shuttle slowly rose and sailed out of the docking bay.
“Do you go to the opera often?” 'Now that sounded stupid,' Roddy chided himself mentally.
“Only occasionally,” Optimus replied. “Of course, I have more opportunity now than I did before we returned to Cybertron. I have viewed Earthen operas, but they were never the same. There's just something special about listening to an opera in Cybertronian that can't compare.”
Hot Rod's optics flashed in surprise as a large portion of the shuttle riders rose and offered their seats to the Autobot leader and his companion. Optimus shook his head politely. It never failed to amaze Hot Rod, who had been Prime himself not too long ago, how much the Autobot troops venerated those who led. To be frank, it creeped him out. They had treated him more like a god than a person. He had been terrified, not only of leading, but of letting down those who depended on him. It had been a very lonely time, and he was glad it was behind him.
The shuttle passengers barely turned an optic sensor as the warp gate beyond Pluto opened in a fiery light, opening a hyperspace corridor to Cybertron. Within mere moments, it was over, and the shuttle glided serenly towards the docking bay of the metal planet. Hot Rod stole a glance at his companion for the evening. He could swear that Optimus wore a slight smile. The elder Autobot, despite his affection for Earth, had no doubt been missing his home world.
“Well, here we are!” Roddy said cheerfully, trying to sound upbeat instead of nervous. “Which way?”
“It's just a few klicks away now,” Optimus replied. The two made small talk as they walked the short distance. Hot Rod's gaze darted around, trying to take in the architecture, as they headed into the civic center. This building had been reconstructed a short time ago, but the architecture had been built to mimic the old center. The design was stately and beautiful all at once.
Optimus guided his son up the spiral staircase to their seats. “I managed to secure a box just for us. We should have a terrific view, and the sound carries very well.” He handed Roddy a program. “Tonight's performance is about Ova, a young provincial femmebot whose lifemate has left to explore the galaxy. It's a classic story.”
Hor Rod settled into his seat, craning his neck, taking in the groups of robots sitting below. It was kind of cool to be sitting up in the box seats. He could tell why Optimus liked it up here -- it was isolated enough so that they could enjoy the show without anyone talking or moving about.
The lights dimmed as the curtain rose. Optimus straightened in his seat and focused his full attention on the stage. Roddy did likewise, curious about what was going to happen. A polished, refined-looking femme stepped forward and held out her hands imploringly. A haunting song began to flow forth from her vocal chips.
At first, Hot Rod let himself become lost in the melody. 'It really is beautiful!' he thought to himself. But after a few astrominutes, he began to fidget a bit. 'Is this all there is to it? Where are the other actors? Isn't there going to be any cool explosions or rock music?' Just watching some femme bellowing away on the stage was getting a little boring. He had a rather short attention span, and he hated sitting still.
The young robot began shifting around in his seat, just trying to stay awake. “Is something wrong with your seat?” Optimus whispered to him.
“Uh, no,” Roddy stammered. “My leg servos were starting to fall asleep. Just trying to wake them up.”
Optimus nodded and turned his piercing gaze away. Roddy breathed a sigh – even without meaning to, those optics could cut right through him. He desperately wanted to please his father (such a strange word to describe someone that he had always admired from a distance), but opera just wasn't his thing. On its own volition, his head began to nod towards his chest. He had recharged poorly the night before, nervous with anticipation. Now it was catching up to him, and the opera was only serving as a lullaby, lulling him into a light recharge.
It seemed like only moments later that something nudged his shoulder. “Wake up, Hot Rod,” a deep voice spoke.
Hot Rod lifted his head and met a gaze that seemed to pin him to his seat. “I j-just wanted to rest my optics for a second…” he stammered nervously.
The steely blue gaze wouldn't let him look away. “The opera is over, Hot Rod. You've been out for over an Earth hour.”
“Oh,” he said weakly. What else could he say?
Optimus stood and gestured for the smaller robot to follow. They walked in silence back to the shuttle bay. Hot Rod hung back slightly, staring at the rigid back of the red and blue Autobot. Optimus did not look back once or slow down for him. 'Oh no, I've really done it this time,' he thought with a sinking feeling. 'He really seems upset with me.' It was only a few astroseconds until the shuttle appeared, but the time seemed to stretch into an eternity. They boarded the shuttle, this time finding seats, and soon the shuttle took off, all amidst stony silence.
“You should have told me you didn't want to go.”
The words were spoken so softly that Hot Rod was barely sure he had heard them. Optimus did not look at him, staring fixedly outside the window at the stars that streaked by.
Hot Rod looked down at his hands clenched nervously in his lap. “I'm so sorry, Optimus – uh, sir,” he choked out. He felt very awkward about using the elder Prime's first name – it felt almost blasphemous. Optimus finally turned to face his son, and Roddy's fuel pump sank. He squirmed, pinned once more under that powerful stare. “I really wanted to give it a chance. I guess it's really not for me.” He finally tore his gaze away and returned to staring at his hands. He whispered sadly, “I just wanted to make you happy. I'm sorry I let you down.”
Prime's optics softened a bit. “Hot Rod, you didn't let me down. If anything, I let you down. I should have considered your tastes when I planned this outing. If we're going to make this father-son thing work, we need to be honest with each other. I don't want you to be afraid of me.”
'Easy for you to say,' the youth thought grimly, now staring at his feet. Optimus Prime was only the most intimidating Autobot he knew. He had spent his entire life training to be a warrior worthy of the Autobot name, and the past few years trying desperately to follow in the deceased leader's very large footsteps.
Roddy felt a huge wave of relief as the shuttle landed and their conversation was cut off. He busied himself with making his way out of the shuttle. The two paused awkwardly as they prepared to part ways.
“Look,” Optimus said, looking a bit ill-at-ease, “I'm booked solid for the next few days with meetings and strategy sessions, but I'd like to give this a try again. Would you like to meet on Friday? You can choose where we go this time.” Many of the Earthbound Autobots had adopted the Terran time schedule. It had become second nature to Hot Rod, who had been stationed on Earth since Metroplex's creation.
“Sure!” Hot Rod said a bit too eagerly, very surprised that he was getting a second chance. “Sounds great to me. See you then.”
“Until then,” Optimus nodded. They saluted each other and parted ways, each already lost in thought about that night's happenings.