Precious Things

by Phantom

Chapter Four

As the night wore on, the list grew longer and longer. Unfortunately, it was the list of rejections. Optimus was touched by the number of his followers that would lay down their lives for the Autobot cause, but some of the applications were ridiculous. Blurr was certainly fast, but what this job required was subtlety, which was not his strong suit. Wheelie had volunteered as well, probably as an effort to feel more grown up and respected, but compared to the others he was still relatively immature. His annoying characteristics had worn away over the years, and giving up the obnoxious rhyming had gone a long way towards winning the acceptance of others. However, some of the older veterans still couldn't handle his unendingly cheerful enthusiasm. Prime had to confess that the young robot grated against his nerves at times. The possibilities list was of an acceptable length, but the candidates list was absolutely empty. The blank spot glared out at him accusingly, waiting to be filled with the name of the next Autobot to give his life to the cause.

Optimus sat before the silently efficient computer, the bluish light casting an eerie glow over his polished battle mask. At the top of the screen he kept a menu divided into three sections: rejections, possibilities, and candidates. He hated this method, treating the lives of his soldiers as if they were pawns in a chess game, but this was what his position required of him, this was what his followers asked of him, and this was what he must do. He had a responsibility to each soldier under his command, but he also had a responsibility to the army as a whole, and in this case the old cliché applied: the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

His thoughts wandered as his actions became automatic, opening files and glancing briefly at the contents before moving it to one of the three sections. His mind towards, as it so often did these days, to the planet Earth, and how its destruction wounded him. So many had died, countless numbers of humans and hundreds of Autobots. Many he had not known at all, but he had been very close with some of the casualties. He linked the task at hand with those that he mourned. Mirage and Hound would have been excellent choices for such a tricky operation. Hound did not have much of a flair for sabotage, but his holograms had made him a skilled infiltrator. Mirage, however, had been an ideal saboteur. His ability to generate a field of invisibility around him had been highly valued, as well as his extensive knowledge of explosives, as well as the best sites to plant them to cause the most destruction. Optimus Prime had occasionally been accused of being too compassionate, and he would be the first to admit it. When the two had come before him begging to be transferred to Earth, he didn't have the heart to refuse, despite his desperate need of their skills and know-how. He had seen the expression in their optics, the disgust at killing and the weariness of fighting an endless war. Optimus himself had often felt like that, as many of his officers also did, but he could see in this case that they had reached the breaking point. If they didn't find a way out soon, they would crack. Optimus felt for them and arranged the transfer, not as reinforcements for Autobot City but as neutrals who simply wanted to explore Earth's natural wonders and find some peace. From the reports that were beamed to Cybertron as the catastrophic assault of Earth began, Optimus learned that Mirage and Hound had taken up arms once again to defend the planet that was now their home.

He was startled out of his reverie as the last file appeared on the screen. It was the name that he prayed he wouldn't come to, the one that he had hoped to spare from this madness. He had placed the file at the end of his list, praying, perhaps somewhat selfishly, that he would find someone more suited to the task. He quickly closed the file, not allowing his optics to rest on the name, and opened the list of possibilities. Kup was certainly a good security chief and knew plenty about search-and-destroy missions, but even though he tried to hide it, his age had begun to slow him down a bit. He had suffered several inexplicable malfunctions in the past month, which were minor in themselves but could spell disaster during a touchy mission such as this. Optimus wasn't about to leave it up to chance.

All too soon he came to the end of the list with no clear choice. Reluctantly he opened the remaining file and scanned its contents. It was as he feared. Alita was everything he was looking for- in a lover, in a mate, in a companion, and tragically in a saboteur. She was not an outstanding pilot, but that part of the mission required no special skill other than staying close to the transport ship. Her years underground had taught her the fine points of evading capture, and her hit-and-run strikes for energon had honed her abilities and taught her how to manipulate the enemy's equipment. She was quite simply the best choice.

"No!" he yelled, the cry of defiance echoing through his quarters. "She's been through too much already! How can I just sacrifice the woman I love? I've let her down before, and my job has always been a barricade in our relationship, but we've managed to work through it. I can't possibly hurt her in this way."

He reached out to hit the delete key when his hand froze. The image of Punch standing in front of Galvatron's fusion cannon was branded into his memory. Punch had risked his own life to send the Autobots the information he had gained. "How can I answer his sacrifice with another?" he argued with himself, but his rational side was all too ready to answer. If he didn't send Alita, the entire Autobot population would die. It was as simple as that. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but someday soon. He was so sick of sending off his friends to die in the Autobot name, but Punch had bought them all a chance with his own life, and if Optimus didn't honor his sacrifice it would have all been for nothing.

Optimus balled up his feelings and shoved them behind a mental wall as he began typing out the instructions to Alita on her mission. His hand trembled as he clicked on the "send" command. "May Primus forgive me," he murmured, covering his optics. "For I know I never will."

 

end of Chapter Four

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