Chapter Text
Orion shifted slightly in his berth, staring across at D-16. The miner’s barracks were silent as everyone within was deep in recharge, giving Orion the perfect opportunity to study his opponent. Friend. D is his friend.
His Amica Endura. At least, he is here and now.
I am Orion Pax, he thinks to himself. I am Optimus Prime. I am a miner who digs into Cybertron for energon. I am a Prime and the leader of the Autobots, fighting a war against the Decepticons. The Decepticons are led by Megatron. D-16. The Decepticons do not exist. Yet.
Orion Pax takes in a deep vent, his optics closing as he comes to himself. I am Optimus Prime, but in this moment in time, I am Orion Pax. D-16 is my friend, and he is not yet Megatron. I have the opportunity to stop him from becoming just that.
Orion raises a servo to his chassis, the absence of the Matrix—and a cog—heavy as he gently touches it. He opens his optics and looks back across the corridor at D, still and silent in stasis. And I fear I may have already made a mistake.
He had returned to the barracks with Jazz and D-16 after Ratchet had calmed him down, but the three of them did not speak, the air around them tense. Jazz had been the first to finally speak up, tapping Orion lightly on the shoulder, his derma tight with a concerned frown.
“So, do you mind telling us what that was about, Orion?” he had asked.
Optimus hated lying so much, but he knew they’d never believe what was really happening, and besides, he was Orion right then. A truth Optimus had come to learn in all of his cycles is that sometimes dishonesty was necessary. Still, he had been a little hesitant with his response.
“I just…” he’d started, but trailed off, his arms wrapping around himself. “I had a horrible nightmare.” Primus, that had made him feel awful, but he couldn’t think of a better alternative at that time. I guess I really am Orion Pax now.
“What could have happened?” D-16 had asked, his voice gentle, gentler than what Optimus was used to, and it made Orion's spark ache. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”
Orion had glanced over at him and tried to fight back the tears building in his optics, though not for the reason D and Jazz might have thought. “I watched you die.”
D-16 had given him some frantic reassurances afterward and then they were back in the barracks. Most miners were already getting ready for recharge, so Jazz left them both to go to his own berth, and then Orion had pretended to sleep until the environment had fallen mostly silent. When he’d opened his optics again, he’d caught sight of D and hadn’t looked away since.
Those calm yellow optics had met his and looked so relieved after he’d woken up, but all Orion could think of was those same optics turning from golden to orange to red.
“I’m done saving you.”
Orion still felt the phantom touch of D-16’s servo on his wrist, remembering the sight of those red optics as he spat those hatred-filled words and the sensation of falling after Megatron let him go. He couldn’t get it out of his helm; the moment he’d known he’d truly lost his Amica. But Optimus knew now that he’d lost him long before that moment. What Orion hoped was to perhaps pinpoint exactly where it had happened. And now he had the chance.
Orion once again finds himself fighting back the tears that wanted to escape him as he looked over D-16’s frame, his processor flashing from the friend he once knew, his once-Amica, to the rage-filled warlord who had tried to kill Optimus countless times. It was hard to put the two pictures together, and yet it was all-too easy. Even now, Orion could tell the signs had been there all along, from things D had said to him on the train to the mines to what he’d said during the Iacon 5000.
The Iacon 5000 is tomorrow, Orion remembers. D will want to go to it together. Orion steps out of his berth, approaching his Amica cautiously. The race is where it all went wrong. It’s how we got sent to sublevel 50. Orion suspected that had been when the resentment towards him had first sprouted. He sighs softly as he lifts a servo, reaching towards D as if to wake him, but he doesn’t touch him. Eventually, he lowered his arm.
If we don’t race, B-127 will still be in sublevel 50, Orion realizes. I also won’t be able to get Alpha Trion’s message which will lead to the truth. Despite how simple it would make this life, Orion knew he couldn’t just let Sentinel keep lying to all of Iacon. And despite how much he might want to, Orion knew from all of his experiences that he could not do this kind of thing alone. I need an actual plan.
Orion hated roping everyone else into this mission, but what other choice did he have? He knew, deep in his spark, D-16 would hate him doing something this reckless without telling him. Orion had his doubts that D would believe him if he told him the truth, and anyway, knowing what was supposed to happen was an advantage.
No one can know, Orion thinks as he takes a step back from D-16. Even though, during this little quest I’ll have to go on, I’ll have company, I’ll still be alone, to an extent. He takes another step back, slowly backing away from D. He sighs deeply, finally tearing his gaze away from his Amica. Okay, let’s figure this out one step at a time. First things first: getting B out of sublevel 50.
It would be easy to just jump down the trash chute and sneak B-127 back out and retrieve the message along the way, but then Orion would have to catch the train to the surface immediately, and he’d be forced to deal with B after “killing” Steve. He’d also rather not abandon D right before the Iacon 5000. So how can I get B out without going down myself? Orion began pacing around the barracks, his processor running as his pedes clicked quietly against the floor.
How can I help B? How do I get him out of that hell he's trapped in without getting myself into unnecessary trouble? What a very un-Orion Pax thought for him to have. The thought would have been funny if it didn't make him feel like crying. He sighs softly, his arms coming to wrap around his frame. How do I get you out of that mess?
Then a thought hit him. Promotion. Getting B promoted would surely get him out of sublevel 50, but now Orion had to figure out how he was going to do that, and how many ranks he could promote him before it seemed suspicious. Orion leaned back against a wall, his processor running with ideas.
I'd be able to keep him close if I made him a miner, but maybe that's too high, especially since he's at the very bottom right now. He sighs, his optics closing as he tried to think. He should be in a position where when D and I go down to the waste trains, he'll be there to join us. So maybe I can send him there? He won't get tomorrow off like the rest of us, but at least he'll be in a better position.
Another idea comes to him. And since Elita is also already down there, she'll also be able to join us. If I get her into a position she can train others in, maybe I can put B under her leadership and I can bring them along that way. Orion opens his optics, now sure of himself. Darkwing is the one who fired Elita and sent D and I down with B, so he probably has access to promotions and demotions. If I sneak into his quarters, maybe I can find a way to change their positions.
Orion was already on his way, keeping his steps as quiet as he could as he reached the corridor of the cogged supervisor's berth rooms. The halls were rather cluttered, so it was easy to find places to hide if anyone was walking down the halls. As he walks, he finds himself planning out his next moves. After I get B out of sublevel 50, tomorrow night, I can go down the trash chute to retrieve Alpha Trion's message, and if I have time, maybe I can do a quick raid of the archives and tell D I found it there.
That way, we can enjoy the Iacon 5000 before I get us into this fine mess.
Orion soon found Darkwing's name on a door and took some time to compose himself. Okay, relax. You've got this. You've snuck into the archives several times before this, and you've infiltrated Decepticon territory countless times after this. You can do something as simple as entering someone's room.
Orion shuts his optics, taking in a deep vent, before he starts tinkering with the lock.