Broken Robot

Star Saber had one piece left to snap.

Optimus Prime hung limply from his shackles at the back of the light-starved room. The white noise from the three off-line monitor screens bathed his tired head in an uneasy glow. His optics flickered weakly, and he squeezed them shut in a vain attempt to block out the searing pain from the unhealed birthing scar that trespassed across his abdomen.

“I hate you, Optimus Prime.”

Star Saber’s voice was cold, and Optimus could feel its evil on his audio sensors. “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anything ever to cross my path. I hate you like a brother.”

Optimus was too weak to respond. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Star Saber as he pressed a neuro-enhancer against Optimus’s helmet, “you know what time it is.”

Involuntarily, Optimus’s optics flickered a bright yellow. He tried again to squeeze them shut but the neuro-enhancer prevented any such action. He was the opposite of blind; Star Saber wanted him to see everything. The three monitor screens hummed and glowed brightly as they came to life.

“The Liege Maximo would have been quite content with your death. But it was never enough for me. I wanted to break you, to break your spirit.”

Optimus winced as Star Saber slid a finger over his birthing scar. “I wanted to reach into your soul and strip it bare, tearing it to tiny shreds. One piece at a time.”

Star Saber stepped back suddenly and laughed. “Oh, and how I’ve succeeded!”

“I’ve failed,” sighed Bumblebee as he slumped down into a corner. He had become disoriented completely, inside Star Saber’s base. Typical Bumblebee, he thought to himself, reckless and unprepared.

The idea for his mission (as it were) came to Bumblebee, when he decided to infiltrate Star Saber’s base to visit the incarcerated Ultra Magnus. Only then did it occur to him that something might actually be wrong with Optimus Prime. His “return” was celebrated by those loyal to him, yet no one had actually seen him. The official word was that he was so shaken by his resurrection, and the subsequent battle with Galvatron, that he needed some “time out”. Everyone seemed to buy it. Every Autobot was just so happy that Cybertron was theirs again that they would naively swallow down every piece of propaganda Star Saber fed them.

Wherever Optimus was being kept, it was nigh impossible to find. Bumblebee was the Autobots’ greatest spy -- whether he thought so or not. Surely, he would have found him by now. Or at least a clue. Something.

Bumblebee slammed his fists down onto the floor in desperation. The sound echoed along the corridor. Something echoed back at him. Almost silent to start with, gradually becoming louder as it approached him. Bumblebee cautiously rose to his feet and reached for his weapon. It was the sound of footsteps. Slow. Yet with rhythm, as if someone was dancing. It was a happy walk.

It was Blaster.

Star Saber grabbed Optimus Prime’s chin and forced him to watch the footage on the three monitor screens. It was footage of the Earth being cyberformed.

The first monitor showed a montage of the destruction of all of Earth’s greatest and most famous monuments: The Great Wall of China, the Angkor Wat, the Acropolis, and the Pyramids, Mount Rushmore. The cyberforming fleet blew each structure apart, as if they were made of egg shells.

Star Saber provided a commentary: “See how easily my fleet has destroyed the spirit of the Earth! Every dream and every accomplishment crushed into dust. Everything that they built, everything that you admired in them... gone.”

The next screen played footage of a family running for their lives. They ran bare-footed on a barren landscape and there was no way to describe the fear on their faces. Behind them, slabbing machines laid down the metals panels to become the surface of the new cyberworld. They were catching up fast, but the group -- two parents and three children, untied as a family until the end -- didn’t have the energy to outrun the Transformers. Within minutes they were crushed to death underneath the metal.

“And that’s another five innocent lives lost, thanks to you,” Star Saber. “Who knows how many humans have perished since you brought the Transformers war to their fragile planet.”

The third monitor was Star Saber’s favourite. It was a collection of close-up shots of the cyberforming hardware, technology that had been used for millions of years. Optimus Prime had first seen it all in the 20th Century, bearing the badge of the Cybertronian Empire. But on these machines, those that had ravaged the Earth, it was the Autobot insignia that was worn.

“Wonderful, isn’t it!” Star Saber lauded. “The symbol of freedom, the symbol of your ideals used in such a way. Glorious!”

The monitors switched off and the room returned to near-darkness. Star Saber faced Optimus again.

“It must kill you inside to see the Autobrand perverted in such a way. Just as you must hate to see it on me,” he hissed, pointing at his own insignia.

Optimus’ optics began to dim, the neuro-enhancer finally wearing off. Star Saber could only imagine the retching pain and emptiness that had its fists tightly gripped around Optimus’ soul. But Star Saber had one last thing to break.

“Your good friend,” Star Saber started. “Ultra Magnus, his name? Thinks he used to be Scrounge or something. Anyway, he’s off planet now, dealing with some problem the Vok came to me for help with.”

Optimus turned his head slowly to face Star Saber.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” Star Saber said as he jabbed at the scar. “I’m just waiting for the word from my deep-cover agent that my plan was successful.”

A look of confusion flashed across Prime’s face.

“And with Ultra Magnus gone, you will have nothing left.” Star Saber stepped backwards into the darkness. “You will have nothing, and I will have won.”