"Each relic was programmed in a manner distinct from the others; there is no guarantee that any of them could serve as the solution to so great a problem," Optimus said, well aware that the vast majority of the relics were designed for military use.
"Still, there must be something that works, mustn't there? The ancients surely would have created something for this purpose," Arcee asked, her voice carrying the fragile hope of a viable solution.
"Perhaps such a thing exists—or perhaps it does not. It is difficult to know," Windblade replied, understanding that this subject could not advance beyond a frail glimmer of hope against the calamity Megatron had brought upon them all.
"The only Cybertronian who might know where they are is Alpha Trion, but any attempt to seek them out is futile." Optimus could not help but recall his old teacher. "Knowing him, he would never have permitted the Decepticons to gain access to the relics."
"That means we face a decision—one that concerns both our future and that of the Allspark." Windblade turned her gaze toward Arcee, perceiving clearly what was stirring in her mind. "And I fear Cybertron shall not be granted that chance."
"You are not suggesting…" Arcee looked at her sharply, her tone edged with anger. "Abandoning Cybertron?"
"It is the most logical course. Cybertron has become a field infected by the god of chaos," Windblade said calmly. "The power of the Allspark is immense, but it cannot resolve all things… not in this case."
"Perhaps…" Arcee began, attempting to argue.
"I am sorry, but I doubt Lux could ever save Cybertron with the power of Unicron so deeply entrenched within the planet," Windblade declared firmly. "Were I in his place, I would not attempt it."
Grimlock observed in silence. Yet within him burned a fury against Megatron—greater than ever before. For the first time, Megatron stood foremost on his list of Decepticons deserving destruction.
"Do what is logical: find the Allspark. Once Megatron is defeated, it will be far easier to contemplate the future," Grimlock said, with a blunt objectivity that all present recognized as the most sensible course.
***
Already on his way to the entrance of the secret base, Grimlock halted his steps and cast a sharp glance at the Autobots' medic."If you are here to stop me, it will not work. You know very well that I have my priorities." Grimlock muttered, his words carrying no threat — the respect he bore for the medic was evident in his voice.
"It has been a very long time…" Ratchet replied, his tone softened. "I know you dislike being addressed by your original name, but I am glad you are still alive."
Grimlock remained silent. Yet his steady, piercing gaze conveyed what words did not: no matter how much he refused to admit it, the sight of a familiar face stirred something within him.
"I will be direct with you," Ratchet continued, leaning against the wall and folding his arms, utterly unshaken in the presence of the towering Autobot. "I know the pain of losing a comrade… and I know you want to save your brothers. But leaving now, without your vehicle mode, will accomplish little. You would expose yourself to the Decepticons… and, as a bonus, reveal the location of our base."
"And what do you expect me to do? Stay here, arms crossed, obeying every order Prime gives me?" Grimlock's voice carried the wild edge that lingered in his nature. "I am no lapdog. I said it before, and I will say it again: I do not respect a leader like Optimus."
"I understand your point perfectly," Ratchet replied, unmoved. "Optimus is not the kind who leads with killing. And I am well aware that you are far too straightforward to accept drawn-out plans or needless complications in matters that should remain simple." He narrowed his eyes, weighing each word. "This is your choice, and I will not stop you. Nor could I, even if I tried. But… time has passed. There are few Cybertronians scattered across the cosmos. Fewer still like you."
Grimlock remained silent, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed that he absorbed every syllable.
"I know you will not like what I am about to say…" Ratchet went on, his voice deepening. "But there is a very real possibility that you are the last Dinobot. And as a medic, I tell you — it would be a waste to lose someone of your potential."
Grimlock hesitated, as though wrestling with restraint, though his spark burned with resolve. "I know that. But I cannot deny it… part of me, part of my spark, believes they are still alive." He struck his right fist against his chest, the metallic sound echoing through the corridor.
Ratchet took a step forward. "Then, at the very least, allow me to help. It is far wiser for me to stand at your side than to leave you wandering this planet without any guidance."
The medic moved closer to the towering Dinobot, whose silhouette loomed at twice — perhaps more — his own height.
"Are you certain you want to help me with this? Would that not be disobeying Prime's orders?" Grimlock prodded, a cynical smile curling at the edge of his metallic mouth.
"What I intend to do aligns with Optimus's plan," Ratchet answered calmly, holding the Dinobot's gaze without faltering. "I know you have no desire to work with him, but think of what could happen if we can make it easier to locate the other Dinobots… if they are still here."
Grimlock folded his arms, the faint grinding of gears serving as a subtle warning. "And what, precisely, are you planning, medic?"
"Sector 7 was the human organization that found you in the ice," Ratchet explained, his voice low and measured. "If we request from them the exact coordinates of where you were recovered, we could trace the trajectory of your arrival on this planet. From there…"
Grimlock did not allow him to finish. Realization lit his eyes; the gears in his chest clattered in response.
"We may yet find my companions," he cut in, his voice now dripping with purpose. "It makes sense. They would be near the place where I fell."
Ratchet raised his arm in a conciliatory gesture, offering an arrangement that sounded more practical than paternal. "Then remain at the base for now. We shall investigate that site first. And if we find nothing at the location of your fall, I will aid you in searching other parts of the planet until you are satisfied."
Grimlock stood motionless for a moment, as though weighing each word with the slow caution of one who carried old wounds. "Were this under ordinary circumstances, I would not accept such terms — not even from you." A sound escaped him, something between a growl and a sigh restrained. "But I cannot afford arrogance, nor abandon my comrades to wait in vain."
The Dinobot extended his massive metallic hand. The handshake was firm, nearly a vow sealed in steel. "I will cooperate and remain beneath this mountain," he declared in his deep voice. "But do not think for a single moment that I shall follow Optimus's orders."
Ratchet clasped the hand with care, as one who respects both strength and pain. "Thank you for granting me this chance. I know it is much to ask, but let us have faith — we will find your companions."
On the other side of the base, the leader of the Autobots and Agent Fowler spoke in hushed tones about the measures that would need to be taken in the coming days.
"I wish to contact Sector 7 regarding the secrets they still withhold. Above all, any additional information they may possess about Lux," said Optimus, his deep voice resonating through the chamber. He carried with him an undeniable curiosity about Lux's fate and the choices he had made upon this planet.
"A sensible course of action," Fowler replied, folding his arms, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily upon his shoulders.
"Would you assist with the initial contact? In doing so, we might hasten the process as much as possible." Optimus's gaze fell upon the agent with the same trust he had always placed in the few humans he chose to call allies.
Fowler rubbed the back of his neck, releasing a long sigh, his features marked with exhaustion. "I'd rather get some rest, but all right. In any case, I suspect Tom will want to meet you personally as well, not merely through the coded reports from Sector 7. If you take my meaning."
The agent's tone, however, soon shifted. Irony gave way to a sharp, sobering gravity.
"The situation has grown more complicated since recent events. The battle at the dam, and the public exposure of that strange forest, have made things far more delicate than when we last spoke. I cannot guarantee that the same privileges will hold. Public opinion is in uproar; governments across the globe are restless.
"I understand," Optimus replied, his voice both calm and compassionate. "Fear is natural. A developing civilization will respond with panic when faced with the revelation that it is not alone in the universe. I cannot fault them for that."
"We need something concrete to persuade our government to uphold the alliance between humans and Autobots," Fowler pressed, urgency now clear in his words. "It is true that we hold an advantage over the Decepticons for the moment, but that alone is not enough. We must expand it swiftly."
Optimus inclined his head slowly, reflecting on the weight of the agent's words. He knew well the burden Fowler bore in sustaining trust between two such different worlds.
"Be assured of one thing: I will not allow Megatron to reclaim any advantage in this war."
The Prime then bowed his head and rose, his immense silhouette casting an imposing shadow against the walls of the base. His gaze traveled upward to the illuminated panel of the heliport above. There was someone there with whom he needed to speak. And beyond that, he knew he must find a way to ease the burden that weighed upon Arcee, still marked by the impact of recent events.
Minutes later, when the cargo lift that ascended to the mountain's peak finally reached its destination, Optimus lingered there for a moment, contemplating the vastness before him—the carved valley, the miniature city below, the sky streaked with bands of cloud. Yet he did not allow himself distraction for long; his eyes soon found Arcee, seated at the edge of the rock, as though she hoped the wind itself might scatter her doubts.
"Have you managed to quiet your thoughts?" he asked gently, careful not to intrude upon her space. There was tenderness in his voice; he knew the wound was still raw.
Arcee remained silent for a moment, her hands tightening almost imperceptibly. "I do not wish to speak much," she said at last. Her voice was clipped, taut. "I cannot understand why it had to be her. Of all Cybertronians, why her?"
Optimus allowed the question to linger in the air, weighing the ironies of fate. "Chance and war often make strange choices," he replied. "It troubles me as well. Yet if, in some way, what Airachnid does protects Lux and keeps him from Megatron's grasp, then perhaps we must, for the moment, accept that advantage—bitter though it may be."
Arcee lifted her head, her gaze too hard for the beauty of the horizon before her. "Bitter is not the word. She is a murderer. She killed my partner. She toys with chaos as though it were an art form. To call that strategy feels like an excuse. How can one who revels so deeply in destruction fight for the chance to save our world, or our race?"
Optimus approached and knelt down next to her. "I do not know," he admitted. "I cannot say what drives this alliance. I can only speculate. Perhaps Airachnid perceives, within the ruins, something still worth preserving. Perhaps in her logic there lies a twisted fondness for what once was. Or perhaps she plays solely for her own gain."
Arcee cast him a look that mingled pain with reproach. "You speak as though it were easy to rationalize the death of a friend."
"I do not rationalize," Optimus answered with candor. "I present possibilities. I cannot lie to you, nor to ourselves. If she acts out of self-interest, we must remain vigilant. If she acts out of some rare fragment of memory of what Cybertron once was, we must understand it—and turn that frailty to our advantage. In either case, our priority remains Lux."
Silence returned, heavy yet less cutting. Arcee released a restrained sigh—which, from her, was already a concession.
"We must proceed with both caution and haste," Optimus concluded, his gaze fixed upon the horizon as though sketching strategies in the air. "We cannot allow hatred to blind us to that which might yet save many. We will discover Lux's whereabouts and ensure that no one—not even Airachnid herself, if it comes to it—places him in danger."
Arcee remained wordless, her fists clenched. She bore no resentment toward Optimus—quite the contrary—but the fire that consumed her was born of fate itself, of the irony that seemed to mock her at every turn.
"You do know how to speak, Optimus Prime," said Windblade as she approached the pair. For an instant, her gaze lingered on the horizon, as though choosing her next course before taking flight.
"Then you remain resolute in this decision? I thought you might consider staying here, at least for a time, to aid in the search for Lux," Optimus replied, casting a sidelong glance at the crimson Autobot who gleamed beneath the light of sunset.
Windblade was unmoved by the request. "You bear many responsibilities. I know you will reach out to Sector 7 and likely undertake missions aimed at easing the mounting tensions of this world. I understand that rescuing Lux is a priority, but your duty also lies with Earth—and with the survival of our kind." She spoke firmly, without reproach, merely stating a truth. "We cannot allow Megatron to outpace us in this race. I must act swiftly. I trust my abilities; I know I will find him sooner or later. When that time comes, I will inform you at once. We will remain in contact."
Without waiting for further reply, Windblade leapt from the cliff. In one fluid motion, she transformed into a crimson jet that tore across the sky at sonic speed, vanishing into the horizon within seconds—as if she had never been there at all.
"Remain here as long as you need," Optimus said at last to Arcee, his voice calm. He regarded her one final time before turning toward the lift, carrying with him the weight of the decision and the urgency of the mission.