16.Sept.06

And then, one day, he ran out of miracles…

Author’s Note: Assume that Beast Machines never happened.

Someday

By: Lady Dementia

There’s never enough time for what we want to do in life, and I know this. However, unlike most Cybertronians, I also know that there will always be enough time AFTER life. I’ve died; I should know. It’s funny how my memory blurs now, when I need those memories the most, but I remember enough to know what death is like.

A brief pain, the last gasp of a spark struggling to stay in the frail shell of a body, and then…forever. What could I tell you of death? It is everything that has been, everything that is, and everything that will be. There is no time, yet it is nothing BUT time. I may not remember it now, but I saw the first rebellion, how Autobots and Decepticons fought together against the enslavers, the Quintessons. I saw Unicron destroyed, the Golden Disks stolen by Megatron, the Autobots befriending humans for the first time. I saw Starscream reborn, Dinobot reincarnated in a different body, the Nemisis rising from the ocean, Galvatron’s insanity. I saw it all; past, future, present. I wasn’t just watching it, though. I was THERE.

That is what death is. I don’t fear it. Oh, I don’t SEEK it! I grieve for those left behind, try and keep them alive, and I lived my life trying to find the time to do what I wanted to do. I just don’t feel fear for death. I feel regret, yes—there was a lot that I still wanted to do before I was ready to die. Then again, is anyone ever really ready to die?

I wish I could explain that to my friends, my comrades. I wish they could understand. But every time I reach for those memories to use them, to speak of them…they slip away into my mind until I’m not certain they’re real at all. Perhaps Optimus Prime had the same problem, when he returned from death. I’ve certainly never found any mention of him speaking about the after life. It fills me with sorrow to see my fellow Maximals so terrified of death, though, and I wish that I could reassure them somehow. It’s just another way of looking at things, that’s all. Removed from involvement, but there.

But…this time…I hope I’ll be able to say goodbye. I don’t want them to grieve, thinking that I was alone and afraid. Life isn’t forever; we have all of death to be together.

The robot lay on his back, staring up at the sky with flickering optics. Smoke trails from missiles and flyers criss-crossed above him, and they caught the light with brutal beauty. This was the last major battle of the renewed Predacon/Maximals war, or so the Maximal High Council had told him when they’d asked him to lead the charge. The level of combat experience he had was unusual among the Maximals, and they had wanted to exploit that. He could have refused, but it was his duty to help his faction in any way he could.

Besides, he still felt guilty. Perhaps the return of the Maximals from ancient Earth with their Predacon prisoner Megatron hadn’t REALLY triggered the war, but it had certainly contributed to the beginnings of it.

Now he could see an indistinct form walking among the scattered bodies laying around him on the ground. Searching for survivors, but to execute or help? The ‘bot walked closer, though, and he relaxed as he recognized the bulky figure. He cleared his throat, about to call out to him, but all that resulted was a liquid rattle. Mech fluid must have leaked into his throat.

Rhinox glanced in his direction at the sound, however. “Oh, no…”

He tried to say something again, tried to smile as Rhinox sprinted to his side and knelt down, but the he remembered that his battlemask was still in place. It retracted reluctantly, something snapping inside him that told him the mask wasn’t going to be sliding back into place anytime soon. His old friend’s hands were running over his body, causing pain even though Rhinox was obviously trying to be careful. The worried, frightened look on the rhino’s face deepened.

“Oh, NO…”

He sighed and let his head drop back to rest completely on the ground, too weak to even try to support it anymore. “Pretty…” he said softly, wistfully, in a voice with a hint of a liquid gurgle as he stared up at the sky again. Those hands were frantic, but he knew their efforts were futile. Why was his old friend so horrified? “Did we win?”

Rhinox looked down at him with grief etching his face into a mask. “Yes. Yes, we won. When you get back, the High Council will hail you as a hero—“

He chuckled tiredly, even though it hurt somewhere deep within him to do it. “You know I won’t be going back,” he gurgled bluntly, and Rhinox flinched. What could he tell him to stop that fear in his friend’s optics? “This is goodbye, old friend…”

The ‘bot kneeling beside him shivered, words of denial choking themselves in his mouth until none of them could get out. The gentle, expectant, tired look of sorrow on the injured Maximal’s face made Rhinox want to scream at him to fight, even though he knew by the flickering of light inside the robot’s injury that the spark casing was breeched. There wasn’t a chance of him surviving. There were no more miracles for this ‘bot.

Flickering optics turned back to the sky. “Tell the others…” Flick flick. Flick. “…I’ll be seeing them…” Flick. “…someday…”

Flick.

He had been listening to the words so closely that it took him a moment to realize those optics wouldn’t be flickering again. They remained dark; empty glass eyes pointed at the sky, no longer seeing the light reflecting along the smoke trails.

Rhinox bowed his head, grieving for his friend.

Later, much later, after the Predacons and Maximals had come to a truce and there was time for such things, they erected a monument for him. It was actually a memorial for all of the war’s victims, but on its side anyone could read this, written by the survivors from ancient Earth:

“In memory of the great Maximal Hero Optimus Primal, friend and commander. May his life be remembered forever, and may we see him again…someday.”

It’s still there today.

Click here for part 14