Chapter Text
They don't find a berth. They do find a table which is just big enough to set down the new Prime, who seems really not ready to lose consciousness.
Optimus and Bulkhead manage to maneuver him into laying down. Salvus cooperates, mumbling something he can't quite make out. Something about being fine, probably.
With his new apprentice finally laying down, Optimus responds to the repeated pinging in his spark from the Matrix. Through the connection, fainter than he's used to, but still nice and clear, he gives Salvus a little push, and he finally dips into recharge. Optimus is delighted to discover a new trick to keep up his sleeve.
As might be expected, Ratchet is hovering. The second Bulkhead steps back, their medic moves in to run new scans.
“This doesn’t make any sense. His readings were fine. What happened?” Ratchet speaks tersely, tapping away at the screen on his forearm.
Optimus is not sure he can answer his friend. He places a servo on Salvus’ shoulder and pings the Matrix. It replies with a happy chime, as it always has, perhaps a little slower - more like a conversation than an instinct. It doesn’t seem damaged, or glitchy, or even slightly concerned. This convinces him not to be either.
“Salvus is alright,” He feels the relief of the team around the room.
Ratchet’s servos are tightly clenched. Optimus knows his friend only shows tension in his servos when the danger isn’t immediate.
“Optimus, how long has it been, since the base was destroyed?”
Ratchet should know the answer to that question, but Optimus answers it anyway, “In Earth reckoning, almost eight days.”
“And he’d only just escaped Decepticon captivity before that…at least we partially refueled before heading to Cybertron…” the medic drifts into mumbling.
Optimus gives in to curiosity, “Have you discerned an issue, Ratchet?”
He grumbles a reply, “Yes, I have. His energon levels are low. Almost dangerously so,” Ratchet turns to Optimus and scans him again, “When was the last time either of you had any energon?”
Low energon is concerning, but an addressable issue. It’s the source of low energon which one should be concerned about. The most common cause is simply not refuelling. That thought does not comfort him.
Optimus checks his levels. They are within acceptable range, which does seem strange, considering he doesn't remember consuming any energon since before the evacuation. Perhaps the Forge had an effect? If so, why were Salvus’ levels so low?
“I am sorry to say, I am not sure.”
Ratchet does not appear happy with that answer. The medic flicks his scanner away and taps a few things on his forearm screen.
“Your levels seem alright. For now, at least,” he glances back to the resting Prime, “So what is the difference here?”
What indeed? Optimus looks at Salvus, hushing the concern in his spark with the confidence of knowing where the Matrix sits. Becoming a Prime was no small feat. Perhaps energon had been consumed faster than it could be replaced by the Forge? Or the upgrade had unintended side-effects, being performed on Earth, away from Primus?
Ratchet shakes his head, “You know, nevermind.”
Optimus takes a half step back as he is ushered away from Salvus by the firm medic, “He needs energon, and rest. He’ll be fine. But we will be talking about this later.”
Optimus nods at his old friend. Salvus will recover, in time.
Besides Salvus’ current condition, their refuge in the Harbinger should not last much longer. He allows Ratchet to push him back to the main group, running through the next steps for the team in his processor and trusting the Matrix to alert him of any changes in his protege's condition.
The team looks up at his approach. He moves to speak -
Jack’s phone rings, as if on cue.
The teenager jumps, and fumbles it out of his pocket, “It’s…Agent Fowler!”
Of course, their liaison had surely had a busy day.
“Uh, hello?”
Optimus can hear Fowler’s shouting through the small device from where he stands.
“Uh, yeah, yeah! No, we’re fine. Yep…Uh-huh.” Jack strides towards Optimus with confidence, apparently not concerned about his new size in the least, “Hold up, let me put you on speaker.”
Jack taps the device and Fowler’s voice gains volume, “- these autobots. Oh, hello? Is Prime there?”
Jack smirks, now standing at Optimus’ feet as if he knew just who Fowler would be asking for.
Optimus takes a knee, cautiously aware of his enlarged frame, and places a servo on the floor. Jack steps onto it and takes a knee for stability in his palm. He lifts him up, and the teen steps confidently onto his chestplate, holding the phone up.
“Yes, Agent Fowler, I am here.”
“And am I happy to hear that! Uncle Sam is taking care of your mess, Prime, and they’re going to want a very long explanation for why they had to send a military strike to a honking great metal tower in the middle of the Nevada desert!” His stress is clear, but his tone softens with a long sigh.
Optimus supposes their liaison has been through almost as much as they have over the last week. Jack takes a seat, legs dangling over his windows.
“Look. I know Home Base is now Ground Zero, and y’all have probably just started to get back together. I’ll…run some interference. Try and buy you a break. This country may not know it, but us and the whole world owe you our lives.”
Optimus is glad they have someone as reliable and understanding as Fowler to work with.
The human sounds tired, “I’ve sent Ratchet the details for an air base where June and I are currently running things from. The Autobots have approval to move in. Whether temporary or not, we’ll see.”
Optimus glances at Ratchet, who gives him an affirmative half-wave before returning to fuss over Salvus, “Coordinates received. As usual, you do fine work.”
“It’s the least I can do. You lot had better get your big metal behinds down here before the Decepticons regroup.”
“We will journey with haste. Thank you, Agent Fowler.”
“And Jack!” Fowler’s shout makes the teenager startle.
“Uh- yeah! Yeah, what’s up?”
“You three kids had better get here in one piece, or I think June is going to start causing problems.”
Jack smiles at that, “Yessir, we will.”
“Fowler out.”
The call ends with a beep.
Jack steadies himself on Optimus’ chestplate as the Autobot leader stands.
Human governments are never simple to deal with. Just as Cybertronian ones had been, they always have layers, and agendas, and resources and people to think about. A complex problem for another time. His first priority right now has to be getting his team somewhere safe. Well, safer than a ruined Decepticon warship, at least.
Turning to the team, the next steps fall neatly into line.
“Autobots, we must prepare to relocate to the Air Base at the coordinates Ratchet has received. It will be a long journey to recovery. We will be missing many resources. Thus, it is critical that we use all that is available to us,” He gestures to the ship around them, “The Harbinger may be old, but it bears many powerful and useful cybertronian technologies. Find anything useful. It must be either able to be carried, or loaded onto Ultra Magnus’ vessel for transport.
I doubt we will be able to return here. I am certain the Decepticons are not interested in leaving such a valuable resource intact for much longer. We will take what we can, and leave when we’re ready.
Autobots, search and retrieve.”
It had been a while since he’d said those words. He finds ‘scavenging’ a little too informal for military commands. They’d all become familiar with the term in the final years of the war on Cybertron, as resources grew slim. Thus, he was certain his crew would remember the process.
Jack, still seated on his chestplate, looks up at him, “Is there anything we can do?”
It warms his spark. These human children have certainly become a fine part of the team.
“Perhaps your mother would like to hear from you,” he lifts a servo, which Jack hops onto, before gently lowering the human back to the floor, “They may appreciate knowing when we may be arriving, and with what.”
Miko seems disheartened at not being allowed to pull out cables herself, but with Jack’s persuasion, the three humans take up station by the door. They stay on call with Fowler and June, cataloguing the scraps and resources which begin to collect in front of them.
The groundbridge technology will be the most essential. Optimus hopes his team finds other useful materials, but he will not raise his expectations too high.
He supervises the retrieval for a time. Eventually, Bumblebee gets tired of watching him stare back at Salvus.
:We’ve got this. Go on.:
It’s the only persuasion he needs to return to the younger Prime’s side.
Ratchet’s focus is locked on the medical charts displayed on his scanner. He doesn’t acknowledge Optimus’ approach.
Optimus’ own attention is drawn to the prone form of the newest Prime. A miracle, really. He appears cosmetically quite similar to Smokescreen. Relaxed in recharge, Salvus looks so, so young. A part of his spark aches at the loss which isn’t really so; a rebirth born from sacrifice. He finds himself wondering if Salvus truthfully understands just what he’s given up.
Trying not to dwell on the thought, Optimus steps up beside his old friend, and tries to keep his volume low, “How is he doing?”
Ratchet sighs, and Optimus’ audials pick up the old medic’s cooling fans running overtime.
“Are you sure you don’t recall any time that either of you were able to refuel? Or if he recharged, at all?”
It’s a weight on his processor that he can’t.
“I am sorry, old friend. I believe that my condition during that time has impacted my memories of the events.”
Optimus walks to stand beside Salvus’ shoulder. His surface plates pick up a buzz from the Matrix when he gets close enough. So familiar, it’s strange. Like an echo of his own spark, they’ve been united for so long. He’s used to not even thinking to connect with the power. Now, he and Salvus may have a lot of learning to do together. The thought is both exciting and discomforting.
The two old friends stand in relative silence for a moment, the autobots busy clanging and scraping around the ship behind them.
“I have…theories,” Ratchet starts. He doesn’t continue.
Optimus is not sure he wants to hear them, “What do you suspect?”
With a flick of his wrist, Ratchet closes the scanner, “Based on these numbers, it has been some time since he’s had energon. I suspect it’s been a similar amount of time since he’s had a proper recharge, as well.”
Optimus frowns, but lets Ratchet continue uninterrupted.
“I cannot begin to process the data about his upgrades without proper equipment, so who knows what impact that has had on his systems,” a characteristic frustration peeks through the tiredness in Ratchet’s tone, “Put all that on top of the stress we’ve all been through with this…Omega Lock race. All of these are factors which likely contributed to his…unexpected collapse.”
A culmination of minor things. It is often said that the small can topple the mighty, given time or number. Optimus is reluctant to imagine the conditions Smokescreen had been in, attempting to keep both of them functioning.
Ratchet looks up at him, “However, your levels are in acceptable range. And you were, apparently, in critical condition.”
He’s sure Ratchet will question him more about said condition later. For now, Optimus is curious about the medics' suspicions.
“The most likely scenario is the most undesirable one,” Ratchet sighs, “I suspect Smokescreen may have been sacrificing some essentials to...ensure your survival.”
Ratchet looks at Optimus, but he is far too caught up in thought to reply.
An uncomfortable rumble runs through his engines. Of course, he’d had a similar suspicion. Having it voiced by one as experienced as Ratchet is the final screw in the plate. It is always difficult to come to terms with sacrifices when they are for him. He has always strived to live in a way where no Autobot would need to do so. To think of Smokescreen, so new on their team, thrust into such a situation would surely be one of those memories which will haunt him in the dark hours when recharge escapes him.
A young bot in a cave, trying to keep him alive.
It makes his engines twist and choke.
Then again, if it had been the other way around, Optimus knows he would have done the same. Spent days striving to keep a spark lit, through any means possible. It is, perhaps, one of the flaws of the Autobots. That they would sacrifice themselves for each other. He knows, one day, that fact will be impossible. It was difficult enough, choosing the humans over the keys. But he is not Megatron. He is certain another chance will arise. One without the risk of harm to another living race.
However, the burden of the Matrix is not one he takes lightly. And it is not one Smokescreen should have needed to take at all.
After giving him some time to think, Ratchet speaks, “Those are my suspicions. The only way to know for sure will be to ask him when he wakes up.”
Optimus clears his smokestacks, and tries to find comfort from that familiar hum coming off Salvus’ armour, “Of course. We will be ready when he does.”
Cybertronians don't dream. Not like humans do, at least. When he was Smokescreen, he found that out during a slow afternoon at the base. Miko had rolled off the couch with an exclamation and described a very strange dream she'd had. Something about a massive electric guitar and rainbow slides?
So when Salvus opens his eyes and he's not at the base, he's either been kidnapped or he’s going crazy.
It takes him a moment to orient himself. He's in a lavish room, enormous and blindingly golden. Tall, ornate pillars line the walls and seem to stretch up forever. The architecture is notably Cybertronian. In the centre of the room, surrounded by throne-like chairs, is a very long table. There’s enough room for two more beside it though, such is the scale of the room itself.
The most confusing part, other than his sudden appearance there, is the view out the windows. They’re towering, slim rectangles of darkness, evenly spaced between the ridged, glimmering pillars. Curious, Salvus heads towards the closest one. Standing at a cautious distance, he doesn’t see much. Infinite void. It's unnerving. He peers over the windowsill. There’s nothing out there, except the suggestion of shifting light in a never-ending space.
Cool. A floating room. That ascends forever. Cool cool.
As he wonders if he should start panicking yet, his audials pick up the muffled sound of voices. Looking around for the source, he spots a large set of double doors at the head of the table. They're so intricate they blend remarkably well into the wall around them. The wall itself is certainly a feature of the space. The massive wall, which is probably a door, is covered in a carved metalwork. The mural depicts thirteen frames, all of which he recognises, the Matrix a shining beacon in the centre.
Sounds like the voices are coming from behind it.
He cautions another glance around. There’s no one else in his room. Not even a gentle breeze. There aren’t even any signs of who this room belongs to, friend or foe.
Well, he thinks, maybe whoever's on the other side of the door will be nice enough to tell him where he is. Although he’s starting to get some ideas.
His pedesteps echo across the decadent chamber. The door is much bigger up close. So are the figures carved into it. At this scale, the detail is incredible. Tiny gears and every screw, as if the artwork could come to life. There are intricate glyphs etched down the sides of the artwork in a language he feels like he should know. He can see the seam of the door a little more clearly, splitting the Matrix of the mural in half.
Taking one more look around, he figures the best thing to do is just knock.
As he raises a servo to try, the door splits open. It’s unnervingly silent as it does so. He can hear the voices more clearly as the gap widens.
“-not take the blame for a situation so clearly out of any of our control!”
“Well, I think you did wonderfully.”
“Thank you, Almagamous!”
Oh, here we go.
“Considering your inferior frame, that is.”
“You know, I almost thought you were going to leave it at the compliment.”
The door swings open just enough for him to peek through. Behind it is a much smaller chamber. Rich blue curtains drape from the infinite ceiling, a pale blue glow coming from nowhere in particular. It's cozy, almost homely in furnishings. Mismatched chairs are scattered around the room. However, Salvus can’t focus on the curious decor. He's a bit distracted by the eleven Primes, appearing just as mismatched as the furniture, scattered around the room in various states of relaxation. Or stress.
A few of them give him a glance as he sidles in the door. Nexus even smiles, waving him in.
Last time he'd seen them, they were still in the blue void space. They'd basically read him a lot of rules, and recited some apparently important verses. It gave him a chance to get a better grasp of their personalities, which he knows is an insane thing to say. This time, they seem far more solid. They look like actual Cybertronians, made of metal and energon, not just glowing figures. Their colours are beautifully buffed to shiny perfection.
But if they were here, was he dead? Or is this just another Matrix thing? Would he be seeing these guys a lot? They’re a lot to handle, he’s not sure how much more ‘wise council’ he can take today…
“Ah, the bot of the hour!” Alchemist spots him and steps forward, faceplate lighting up with a wide grin, “It's lovely to see you again, Salvus.”
The Prime leaves behind a conversation with Quintus and Solus, who both appear a bit more annoyed that they've been interrupted.
Salvus doesn't get a word out before Alchemist continues, “I believe you ought to have a say in this conversation!”
Alchemist approaches him at a friendly pace, grinning under his large goggles. The slim Prime is still a fair bit taller than him, and leans over to give him a pat on the shoulder.
“What do you think? Considering our absence from the presence of Primus and severe lack of quality resources,” Alchemist directs that part to Quintus, who almost manages to hide an offended sneer, “How are you liking your new frame? I think we could have done better, personally, but not everyone agrees with me.”
Salvus is wondering if he really wants to be a part of this, “Um…”
Alchemist interrupts again, “It's logical that if we had used the quantum layers like I'd suggested, we may have enhanced the energon efficiency by at least 20.683 percent, which may have allowed us to give you some better subspace plating, or even an extra foot or two in height! Actually-”
“The sparkling doesn't need your ramblings, Alchemist,” Quintus cuts him off, “And as already established, neither do we.”
Salvus feels the scientist deflate beside him.
Well, at least the conversation is almost relevant.
He lifts a servo, “Actually, I had some questions, about that.”
Alchemist perks up immediately, “Oh, ask away, young Prime!”
“Well, I kinda…passed out. Am I dead?”
Amalgamous barks a laugh, “Kid, that would be a crazy way to die.”
Solus rolls her optics at him, “No, Salvus. You are not dead.”
Well, that’s a relief, “So…where are we this time, then?”
Nexus, who is lounging on an enormous couch, gestures to the room and rumbles, “This is the Matrix, of course. Our simulated consciousnesses have to go somewhere. Lucky for us, Primus knows what we like.”
Wait, “So…before, with the glowing blue void-”
“A transitionary space,” Quintus explains, “Only a Prime can enter the Matrix proper.”
“Oh. I…think I get it?” Salvus does not get it. He shakes his head, and decides he’ll have to ask Optimus about it later.
Solus, voice booming a little too loud for the small room, “We have seen much of you today, young Prime. What brings you here?”
“Well, I’m not… Actually,” Maybe they can explain his situation, “Do you know why I just like, shut down out of nowhere? Is this like, a normal Matrix thing that happens, or…?”
Quintus answers first, brow furrowing, “It is not. However, it may be an unfortunate side effect. We have been discussing your current condition, under Optimus’ request.”
“Request?”
Could Optimus do that? Could HE do that? How does it work? Wait, does Optimus have the Matrix on speed dial? Could they like, read each other's minds? As if this wasn't intimidating enough…
Alchemist chuckles lightly beside him, “Do not let your imagination get carried away, my boy. Optimus sent through a short signal when you came in contact on your collapse. He’s been working with the Matrix for so long, that kind of thing is easy to do. You’ll figure it out too, one day!”
Maybe.
Solus draws their attention with an exvent that sounds like the steam of hot metal hitting water, “To answer your question, Salvus, the fact of the matter is simple. My Forge was never meant to perform immensely taxing crafts in such quick succession. In addition to its draining power, it was unable to supply the energy necessary for both your Prime ascension and Optimus’ revival.”
Salvus is confused again, “But it worked. Optimus is fine, I’m mostly fine,” Alchemist nods energetically beside him, “So..where’d the energy come from?”
Quintus’ optics glint in pride, “The question of the hour! Earth is a remarkable place. It has some truly incredible sources of energy. We were able to adapt some from the natural cave metals in your surroundings, as well as materials from the slumbering Unicron. Genius, if you ask me.”
Alchemist scoffs under his breath, “Only because it was your idea. “
Salvus’ spark drops in panic, “Wait, Unicron? Did you use dark energon? “
The bots in the room recoil, disgust evident in the air between them. Salvus swears that even the room shivers.
Quintus scowls, “Primus, no! It was the cyber matter we wanted, not any of that foul energon. A remarkable material, but it has no place in our work.”
That’s a relief, at least.
He continues, “But it still wasn't enough. There’s a very small amount-”
“Aha!” Micronus interrupts that useful explanation by walking firmly into the group, a data pad held high, “I found it!”
“Oh, oh, send it here!” Alchemist is basically buzzing beside him, a data pad appearing from nowhere, “Let's see! “
Salvus is getting tired of being confused, “Found what? I'm lost.”
Solus explains, “The excess energy. The amount that was used for Optimus’ revival did not match the amount we gathered. There was a small amount that appeared from seemingly nowhere,” She looks back at Micronus, “Are you certain you have the right numbers?”
“Checked and checked again.” Micronus is grinning, “Its source does have curious implications. Oh, this change is turning out to be quite exciting! “
Nexus rumbles a laugh, not moving at all from his spot on the lounge, “I told you, change is good.”
Alchemist begins mumbling to himself, scrolling through the datapad so fast that Salvus finds it hard to believe he's actually reading it. He glances around to notice half the Primes in the room have a datapad in front of them and are scanning it at the same pace.
After a few moments, Alchemist mutters, “Incredible. That's just -”
“It shouldn't be possible, is what is is,” Quintus murmurs, “Even with the Forge, that kind of direct transfer-”
“Without any kind of equipment! Solus, these readings suggest the Forge facilitated the transfer, is that even possible?” Alchemist seems about to jump out of his plating from this new puzzle.
Solus stares at the data, seeming just as surprised as everyone else, “It wasn't designed for living transfers, but I suppose it must have.” She pulls up a secondary floating datapad and begins scrolling through some other numbers. Because in Prime space, Salvus supposes, datapads can float.
Salvus sighs, “I'm sorry, I feel like I'm missing something here. Anyone want to explain in normal cybertronian, please?”
Quintus stops Alchemist from answering by holding up a single digit. The scientist grumbles and goes back to his data.
Quintus looks at him, “To put it simply, young spark, we suspect you volunteered some of your own energon to support Optimus’ revival.”
Huh. He doesn’t remember doing that. “Is that even… possible?”
“Apparently,” Micronus shrugs, “It's all here, in the data.”
Alchemist seems like he's about to buzz out of his frame, “Un-precedented. A direct energon transfer to jumpstart a spark, using only the Forge of Solus Prime as a conduit!”
“What truly makes it interesting,” Solus draws his attention, and Alchemist drops into mumbling about equations, “Is that you did not entirely deplete your lifeforce in the process. Either you exercised impressive control, or my Forge only took what it needed.”
Salvus shrugs, “I don’t remember ticking the ‘hand over my life force’ box on the Prime application.”
“Perhaps,” Micronus hums, “You didn’t think. You just…did.”
“...Are you saying I subconsciously volunteered energon? Without thinking?” He always had been a bot who put actions before words. Whether that’s a good quality or not has yet to be decided.
Micronus shrugs, “Mayhaps your desire to save Optimus manifested in a willingness to sacrifice, which both the Matrix and the Forge detected. They were able to use that to… fill the gap, so to speak.”
Well, this was going to be a hard one to explain to his elder Prime.
A willingness to sacrifice, huh? Well, in the moment, he knew what he’d needed to do. In his spark, he knew he’d do anything to save Optimus. Had the ancient artifacts really been able to pick up on that?
Salvus feels the weight of the Matrix in his chest more heavily with every new thing he learns about it.
“If that is so,” he looks up to see Quintus, who gives him an approving nod, “You are shaping up to be a worthy Prime indeed, young Salvus. “
His systems come back online pretty slow. His first conscious thought is hunger, before embarrassment. Coming back from just … knocking out in front of, like, everyone? After a cool speech and everything? That surely would not help convince everyone of his capability in his new position.
Salvus blinks his optics online, groaning at the too-bright lights. He registers someone beside him, that fresh little tag on his HUD alerting him to a scan. Must be Ratchet, then.
The headache has died down, at least. Hopefully for real this time. His frame still feels like it’s been through a melter - which it kind of has, being reforged and all. The Matrix hums away happily in his core, as if it (and the ‘wisdom’ inside) isn’t the cause of most of his aching right now.
The moment Salvus musters the sanity to sit up, Ratchet hands him an energon cube.
“Here.”
That wakes him up. A fresh cube, finally! He downs it eagerly. The energy rush feels just as good as the upgrade, actually maybe better. Based on what the Primes had said, he desperately needed it too. Pulling up his diagnostics, he’s shocked to see just how low his levels are.
They tick up with the energon. A little. Far less than they would have before.
Does a bigger frame need more energon? Probably. He’s got a lot to learn, still.
Ratchet is watching him like a hawk, so he sighs in satisfaction, consciously putting effort into at least smiling a little bit, “Man, who knew energon could taste so good, seriously.”
“Salvus,” the severity in Ratchet’s tone is impossible to miss, “Your levels are too low. It’s likely the main reason for your collapse.”
Salvus rubs the back of his head with a servo, ignoring how forced his smile feels, “Uh heh…yeah, I suppose it has been a while…”
Ratchet glares at him. He tries not to squirm.
“As your physician, I need you to be completely honest.”
Yeah. Probably. How much could he really say? Between Ratchet and Optimus, he’d probably get the whole story out eventually. He’d never heard Optimus talk about Matrix visions before. Although, he could guess why. Those conversations don’t exactly align with the stories of old.
Salvus glances around. He catches glimpses of the team, hauling scrap and supplies back and forth. Scavenging what they can from the ship, most likely. Seems like he’s been laying on some kind of bench.
Ratchet forces his attention back on topic, “What have you been running on, since your initial capture with the Omega Keys?”
Salvus is doing his best to avoid looking at the medic. He knows the answer. Doesn't mean he wants to share it, though.
Should he feel more nervous? Being interrogated by Ratchet is usually more fear-inducing. Then he registers the soothing hum of the Matrix, like cloud cover from the sun. His discomfort isn't gone, but it becomes a little easier to deal with as he listens to that hum. It’s a weight that keeps him grounded enough to make his report.
“I was probably running low when we went to Cybertron,” He forces himself to look at Ratchet, and, with great difficulty, be honest, “I…haven’t had anything. Since the base went down, I mean.”
To his relief, Ratchet doesn’t start steaming. He does sound on the verge of losing his professionalism though.
“Did you not find any scraps? Anything, on the Decepticon warship, when you retrieved the Forge?”
“I…didn’t find much. Decepticons picked the base pretty much clean, and there was no time for an extended warship tour.”
He had found some pocket-sized energon. On the first day, a cube, hidden behind a burst energon line in the ruins of the old base. He’d gone back a day later. One more, in a blocked off storage unit of what was once Ratchet’s quarters. Before he’d left for the warship, he checked again. A final cube beneath the medical bay, half empty, as if it had been sitting there forgotten for a long time.
Two and a half pocket-sized cubes.
Ratchet had told him to be honest.
“Every scrap I found was given to Optimus. It was the only way to keep him alive.”
If he hadn’t been looking at the medic, he might have missed it. If he hadn’t had the Matrix, he might not have known what it meant.
Ratchet freezes. His optics adjust, a minor spin. There’s a dip in his EM field. Fear. It lasts only a microsecond before professionalism returns, and the medic frowns in thought.
Salvus blinks in surprise. He’s never seen Ratchet do that before. Or maybe, he’s just never noticed? Optimus did say the Matrix would help him notice things. Is Ratchet always this worried about them? His brief excitement at being able to better read the bots around him is tainted with discomfort. Feels a bit invasive, being able to catch microseconds of motion or signals. But, considering the stereotypical political work a Prime usually does, it’s probably very useful.
It takes Ratchet a while to compose a response.
“While I appreciate your…dedication, we can’t have any team members suffering from low energon, especially not now.”
Salvus dips his helm like a bashful sparkling. Ratchet is right, of course.
But the medic isn't finished, “And as a Prime, this will be even more important for you.”
Salvus meets Ratchet’s optics. They’ve softened.
His volume is low as he continues, as if the medic is sharing a personal secret, “Optimus hates it. When he needs the resources, when he has to retreat first, when we sacrifice for him. It’s only natural, for a Prime. But as a Prime, you are the most important assets in this war. We cannot afford to lose you.”
Uh oh.
“You are invaluable, now.”
Oh, no.
He chooses to postpone the gravity of that statement to focus on his energon issue.
“Well,” he smirks, hoping it covers his panic, “I wasn’t a Prime during all that, Ratchet.”
Ratchet frowns at him again, before rolling his optics, “Puh-lease. If your Prime priorities are going to be anything like Optimus’, then that won’t matter. You’re going to want to protect people. Just as you did when you were Smokescreen. And you can’t do that, if you die of starvation.”
Salvus shutters his vents. Ratchet is right, of course. Again.
He decides not to mention the whole ‘voluntary life-force sacrifice’ thing. Might overcomplicate the situation.
He musters enough courage to mumble, “...I mean, I wasn’t that low, when I was Smokescreen…”
Ratchet’s huff sounds amused, “This frame is much larger, and thus more energy consuming than your last one. Your tanks are bigger. So even if you still had the same amount of energon as before, it won’t fill the space as much.”
Salvus shakes off the weight of the conversation with a massive sigh, leaning back on his servos, “Come on, that’s just inconvenient. Can’t I just -”
“Uhp uhp uhp!” Ratchet interrupts, “Don’t even THINK about getting that low again, young Prime. Or I will confine you to quarters!”
Salvus winces dramatically, “Can you do that?”
“As your physician, yes I can.” Ratchet replies with a firm nod. Salvus notices the slight upwards tilt on his faceplate, and is just glad he hasn’t completely ruined his relationship with the grumpy old medic.
“Ok. In that case,” Salvus bows from his seated position, happy that the motion doesn’t make him dizzy, “I will vow to adhere to your commands, oh gracious overlord.”
Ratchet scoffs, but Salvus can see that smile grow a little bit bigger.
As soon as Ratchet reports that he’s awake, Bumblebee dashes up to his make-shift berth and flings his arms open.
:Dude! What was that for!:
Salvus laughs and opens his arms, which Bumbleebee drops happily into, “Sorry man, I didn’t mean it.”
Bee's chirping sounds agitated, face buried in Salvus' armour, :You’re lucky we caught you. Might’ve been embarrassing to fall on your face, as a Prime.:
“Oh yeah, it would’ve” Salvus won’t admit how happy he is that Bee still hugs him just as tight as he did before.
Bee pulls back to stand up straight and bounces on his pedes, pointing a firm digit at him to emphasize his annoyed beeps, :Don’t do that again!:
He chuckles, hoping the awkwardness of this whole situation will fade eventually, “It was a once off, I swear -"
:Seriously,: Bumblebee chirps, and Salvus’ spark tightens at the tone shift, :I mean it.:
Salvus notes his friends' brows furrowed in concern, iris’ spinning in worry. If only he could share the comfort of the Matrix, this would be a whole lot easier.
“I’ll do my best, Bee.”
The kids come running up to them as they leave the temporary medical zone, and Salvus is a little surprised at how much smaller they look. Jack is barely taller than his pede-plating! They stop a little further away than usual, too.
Raf talks first, wonder and excitement radiating from him, “Salvus Prime! I’m so glad you’re ok!”
“Of course he’d be!” Miko shoves him playfully, “He’s a freaking Prime now, he’s got to be like, indestructible!”
Jack rolls his eyes with a smile, “Noones indestructible, Miko. But we are glad you’re alright, Salvus.”
The kids look at him with varying degrees of wonder and curiosity. They probably have a million questions. To be honest, so does he. For now though, he’s just glad they don’t seem scared of him. It’s sparkwarming.
“Yeah, I’m…I’m good. Thanks, guys.”
Bee leans over and whistles in his audials, :I’m sure they’re curious about the view from up there…:
Salvus turns to Bee, who has that playful look in his optics. Of course, he’d want him to pick them up. But what if he hurt them, or worse, dropped them? He was feeling a lot better than before, but he’s still a lot bigger than usual, and humans are pretty squishy.
Bee must pick up on his concern, because he nudges him with a shoulder plate, :Only if you want. I’ll be here.:
He looks back down at the humans. Raf’s expression has lit up. Miko is demanding he tell her what Bee said. Jack is pretending not to pay attention.
He’s only picked up the kids a couple times. Usually when one of their guardians was out, and they were chilling in the base. He wasn’t nearly as practiced at the others at it. But seeing Raf look at him like that is all the encouragement he needs to give it a go.
“Ok, sure,” He smiles.
“Yes!” Raf throws his hands into the air, confusing Miko even more.
Salvus takes a knee, and Miko catches on. Her own face lights up in excitement.
“Really!? Yes!”
Jack hesitates, looking up at him, “You sure? You woke up like, five minutes ago.”
Salvus grins, “I just figured our three liaisons weren’t scared of heights.”
Jack scoffs, but smiles back at him, “By now, not a chance.”
He offers a large servo for them to clamber on to. It’s large enough for all three of them. He stands, slow and measured, keeping his optics locked on the small forms in his palm.
Miko excitedly wraps her arms around a digit and gives it a tight squeeze, “Yes! Optimus like, never lets us hitch a ride. Glad you’re still a cool guy, Sal.”
He smiles at the nickname. Of course, she’s already shortened it. Her tiny hug sets his spark buzzing in joy. Who knew these humans would end up meaning so much to him.
Thinking about it, she’s right. He’s never actually seen one of the kids sit on Optimus’ shoulder plates. Although, his are a lot higher than their guardians’. Salvus is a little blindsided at the thought that maybe Optimus is just as nervous as he is about letting the kids hitch a ride on his Primely shoulders. The thought of Optimus being nervous does make him smile a little.
Eventually, the kids all find spots next to his neck cables. Miko on the right, standing with a death-grip on his collar, and Jack and Raf seated between the collar and his shoulders on the left. He keeps his doors raised a little higher, just in case they go backwards.
“Woah…” Jack’s quiet awe is so close to his audial it’s impossible to miss.
“This - this is pretty high, huh?” Raf sounds a little nervous. Salvus resists the urge to turn his head and check on him, in fear his plating might move and disturb them.
“This is AWESOME!” Miko shouts, also right next to his audial, “Imagine a concert view from up here, woo!”
He hears Jack huff a laugh, “Thanks for the lift, Salvus.”
“Anytime, kids,” and he really means it.
Bumblebee leans over and appraises the setup. He gives an approving nod, :Cozy.:
Raf’s nervous laughter is music to his audials, “Super!”
The next one to greet him is Optimus, whose smile is just as understated as ever, but whose EM field seems to connect much easier through the Matrix. It’s a happy, relieved, worried kind of buzz. When he spots the children, his smile grows just a little.
“Hiiii!” Miko waves enthusiastically at their leader.
“Hello, everyone,” Optimus says, approaching the group, “I am glad to see you on your pedes, Salvus.”
“And I’m glad to be on them, boss.”
Optimus places a servo on his shoulder and it feels like a static shock. He swears the Matrix pings like a bell. Optimus seems just as surprised as he is, but adjusts quickly.
“I believe you and I may have some testing to do, during your training,” Optimus smiles and it feels like the Matrix warms up in response.
Salvus hopes that doesn’t mean it would prefer to go back to the other Prime, at least not just yet.
“I guess so,” he smiles back.
Optimus steps back, but he can still feel the humming - it seems a little bit louder.
Arcee appears out of nowhere, and she doesn’t seem nearly as happy to see him.
“What were you thinking?” She points an accusing digit at him.
His throws up his servos in surrender, careful not to dislodge the kids, “I…wasn’t?”
She huffs. He picks up on something - the quiet sound of her engines running in excess. Was she…worried? What, about him? Well, he has caused her more than enough stress on Earth…
“Sorry, Arcee.”
That gets her attention. She raises a brow at him, but her anger seems more superficial than anything else. She stares at him for a tick, and it kind of feels like being judged by the Primes again.
Eventally, she sighs again, “Just…stop doing stuff like that, kid.”
He pushes his apology through his field and tries to sound like he means it when he smiles - because he does, “Yes, ma’am.”
Salvus Prime has never really thought of life as having a smell, before.
Sound, sure. Miko and Bulkhead blasting music through the base. Jack and Arcee coming roaring down the entry tunnel. Bumblebee chirping at Raf as a remote control car whips around their pedes. Even Ratchet’s ceaseless work was part of the soundscape. And of course, the telltale heavy steps of Optimus, whenever he entered a room.
Sight, definitely. The glint of clean plating, or flash of headlights. Green, rolling grass or red stony desert. Dark, ugly caves and glowing energon.
But smell? He’s never really thought about it.
They groundbridge onto the empty air field, most human personnel still out at Darkmount. He takes a deep breath, running the air through his vents. It smells human - full of petrol, dirt and hot tarmac. The hanger is musty, a lingering scent of jet fuel and heavy machinery left to stew in the empty space. The fresh air from the wide open bay doors is warm, not quite as dusty as at the old base, but still clear as it gets in the Nevada desert.
As the hanger begins to fill with noise and scavenged materials, the space comes to life.
Life sounds like laughter. Clanging metals as resources are sorted and organised. His optics pick up on more body language than he’s used to, his people enjoying slowing down after their trials. The fresh air is clear in his systems, and he knows what it doesn’t smell like.
He looks over to Optimus, who is hefting a large component of groundbridge technology to go against a hanger wall.
They made it. Megatron may have destroyed their base. They may have been pushed down. But they'll get back up.
Alive.