Punishment for his Brother

Optimus Prime’s Autobrand lay on the dirty floor. He sat on a nearby ledge with his fingers knitted underneath his chin, staring at it intently. A shaft of light pierced the thick dusty atmosphere of the atrium. The Temple of Knowledge was silent and still. Optimus Prime was alone, no longer an Autobot.

The insignia had been resting where it had been thrown, mocking its owner. Its symbolism had been tarnished. It had been the last memory of the humans before the Earth was devastated. Optimus clenched his fists.

There was a time when his resolve was solid, to continue the relentless fight against evil. To defy his enemies’ machinations at every turn. But the end of the Earth… the death of Ultra Magnus… it had all worn him down. The pain inside was hot. Burning demons clawed at his soul. There was a time when he would never have given in. That time had passed now.

Optimus Prime stood up, lowering his foot over the Autobot symbol. He pushed down on it, squeezing it into the floor. After a moment, he looked up into the light, thinking of the one who had broken him. Not Megatron, not Shockwave, not Starscream, not the Liege Maximo. Not even Unicron.

Star Saber glared out of his window at the statue of Ultra Magnus in Praxus Square. Reductionists. He hated them. But still, it was the smallest of his worries. He turned back towards his desk and smiled down at the Autobrand lying on it. His hand reached up to his shoulder, where the insignia should have been, and his fingers traced around the logo of the Cybertronian Empire.

It was all for show. Nearly everything he’d done for the last four hundred years had been for show. It was worth the wait. Xal himself had taught Star Saber that the longer revenge had to simmer, the more satisfying it would be when it finally boiled over. And with Optimus Prime scurrying away after the Barricade, it had boiled dry. His hatred had finally evaporated, leaving him happy at last.

A small alarm sounded. Star Saber turned to his monitor screens and he saw Grimlock marching (he never walked these days) towards his offices. To think, after all these years none of Star Saber’s visitors ever wondered why the corridors were painted green. The ruler of Cybertron reattached his Autobrand. He was ready to deal with the Autobot Leader.

Optimus Prime was not a coward. For vorns he led the Autobots with a decisive hand, always sure of the right thing. He always knew what to do. Except now. He knew it was wrong to have fled the Barricade, leaving his comrades, condemning them to death. And he knew now that Star Saber had no right to remain on Cybertron. But what to do? What would be the right punishment for his brother?

And before Optimus could give any more thought to the dilemma, a vision appeared before him. Her name was Sarah.

Grimlock made to leave Star Saber’s office.

“One last word of advice,” Star Saber offered the Autobot Leader.

“What?”

“It’s just that… well, considering his cowardice during the Barricade, and how he was indirectly responsible for the deaths of Snarl and Sludge—”

“If there point, Star Saber,” Grimlock said, “please make way to it now.”

Star Saber opened out his hand, palm facing upwards. “You’re in charge of the Autobot Army now Grimlock, you know I won’t interfere. But if you find Optimus Prime, would you really want such a coward fighting by your side?”

Grimlock frowned. He clenched his fists and grunted.

“Think about it, Grimlock,” Star Saber said sternly. “Optimus Prime doesn’t care about the Autobots any more.”

Optimus Prime looked into the girl’s bright blue eyes. She looked back up into his glowing yellow optics. She was human and he was a Transformer. “There’s not enough green on this planet,” she said. “You need to find some green.”

“What are you?” Optimus asked her.

“A fragment. Like you.”

The Autobot considered her answer. He touched his chest lightly with his fingertips. “Does this have something to do with the Matrix?”

“Not your Matrix, Optimus Prime.”

“I’ve had visions before,” Optimus whispered. “Why are you here?”

“We sense your guilt about Earth.”

“But I failed. I allowed Star Saber to get away with—”

Sarah smiled. “Not exactly. The Primal lineage continues, and Earth and her children will eventually be restored.”

Optimus moved his fingers down to his abdomen. “Are you talking about Fire Convoy?”

“There is no need to feel guilt, Optimus Prime. With your intrinsic influence, your offspring—and Ultra Magnus—are addressing the balance.”

A wave of confusion and relief flowed through Optimus’ circuits. “He’s not dead?”

“He’s with us. We’re keeping them both safe. They’ve done very well.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll realise soon enough, Optimus Prime.”

Optimus blinked in an attempt to make sense of the vision. “If you’d like to stick around, I need some advice. I am at a loss on what to do with Star Saber.”

There were many options available to Optimus. He could remain hidden away from the Autobots. Unacceptable. Star Saber had no right being in charge of Cybertron. He could remove Star Saber by force, banishing him from the planet. Again, unacceptable. It was hardly a punishment. In fact, it would set him free to poison more worlds and cultures. He could imprison Star Saber. Unacceptable. He would most surely find a way to escape. He could kill Star Saber. Absolutely unacceptable! Optimus only killed as a last resort, and he would not stoop so low, not even now. What to do? What to do?

“Stay true to yourself,” was all Sarah said. “Be Optimus Prime. Be brave.” She faded.

Star Saber kept his focus on the monitor screens, watching Grimlock leave the Citadel via the green corridors. It was an idea of Wheeljack’s. He was the Autobots’ greatest inventor. And stunt driver. During his time on Earth, Wheeljack would study films, especially those that featured car stunts, eager to find something new to impress the Autobots with. He also studied filmmaking techniques and how any subject could easily be removed and manipulated from a green background.

Those who entered or left the Citadel had been filmed by the security cameras on green backgrounds. With a bit of imagination, Star Saber could digitally place them on any background. He could even make it look like they’d left the building, when really he’d murdered or kidnapped them.

Star Saber let slip a quiet, smug chuckle to himself. He stood from his desk and walked to the window, again disturbed by the chanting of the Reductionists. And that’s when something hit him.

It was a single punch. A single punch knocked Star Saber offline. It sounded like glass being crushed underfoot as the fist connected with his jaw. He never saw it coming, and he would never in four million years have thought he would be knocked out in one punch.

Optimus Prime flexed his hand. Flakes of green paint fell from where his knuckles had been introduced to Star Saber’s chin. He remained silent. He hoisted Star Saber up over his right shoulder. He promised himself this: An entire lifetime of pain would be paid for in full, tonight.

It was payback time. Optimus Prime style.

Star Saber was roused into consciousness by a gentle tap from his brother. He lay on the floor of temple’s atrium curled up, almost like a foetus. Optimus Prime tapped his chest. Star Saber’s optics flickered at first and then glowed a steady bright blue. He sat up, stroked his cracked jaw and then looked down at his hands and up at Optimus. “I’m not restrained.”

“Not my style,” Optimus said calmly. His voice was deep, gravely and strangely warm.

Star Saber stood. He glanced around for a door. “I’m free to go, then?”

“Of course. I’m not holding you against your will.”

“I’m curious.”

“About?”

“Why you’ve brought me here, sneaking into my Citadel and kidnapping me.”

Optimus Prime folded his arms.

Star Saber continued, “Too afraid to face up to the Autobots? No wonder Grimlock doesn’t want a coward like you in his ranks.”

There was a pause.

“I’m not sure you completely understand the concept of courage,” Optimus began, his voice maintaining its warmth. “To be completely courageous, you need to be completely selfless. To put others ahead of your own needs.”

“Did you abduct me just to lecture me?”

Optimus ignored Star Saber and continued. “It’s about not caring about yourself, not caring what happens to you.”

“And that’s how you’ve lived? Not caring?”

“I’ve tried to. And that’s the difference between you and I. You care too much.”

Star Saber stifled a laugh. “I care too much? That doesn’t sound right, I don’t care about anything.”

“Except yourself.”

“Which makes a coward then, by your logic.”

“Yes.” Optimus lowered his hands to his hips. “And such cowardice has led to your downfall.”

Star Saber allowed the laugh to escape. “My downfall? Surely you’re not serious! Look at us. Me, in charge of the homeworld, and you, here. With nothing.”

“You care so much about yourself, that all you’ve done with your entire life is plot and seek revenge on me.”

“And it worked.”

“Temporarily, yes. But I have found peace with myself and I know I am brave enough – to not care about what happens to me – to deal with the pain you inflicted.”

Star Saber didn’t like where this was going. Anger started to burn inside his forehead. (“I often wished to test myself against the Autobots’ greatest leader,” he had once said.) Star Saber drew his sword.

Optimus didn’t flinch, his returning resolve preventing such a reaction. “But you, on the other, are not brave. Still you dwell on yourself, consumed by hatred for me. You’ve been the same for millions of years, and—” Optimus tapped the tip of the sword “—it doesn’t look like you’re going to change now.”

Star Saber growled. It was a cold growl that pierced the still air. The warmth of Optimus’ voice stopped it in its tracks.

“Remind me,” Optimus said, pushing the sword down. “What is it that you think makes Transformers better than all the organic species the Empire has purged in its wake?”

Star Saber increased the pressure of his grip on his sword. “Because we are stronger, and they have no right to—“

“No,” Optimus interrupted, “it’s because we can adapt. It’s our gift. What other species can adapt to new environments and situations as well as us?”

There was no response.

“Come on, do I need to transform and show you how adaptable we are?”

The anger bubbled inside Star Saber’s head some more. “I get your point.”

“’To grow, to evolve, that is the Decepticon way,’ Jhiaxus once told me. You’re a Decepticon, Star Saber. Why haven’t you grown? Why haven’t you evolved?”

“I have evolved. I’ve grown so much that I rule the centre of the Cybertronian Empire!”

“You’re delusional. You haven’t evolved at all.” Optimus’s voice quickened and cooled slightly. “You’ve allowed yourself to stagnate all the time you’ve spent trying to break me.”

Star Saber’s anger and frustration were boiling now.

Optimus leaned in, the glow from his optics reflected on Star Saber’s mask. His voice deepened. It was resolute. “Do I look broken to you?”

Star Saber clasped both of his hands around the handle of his sword. He was spoiling for a fight. If trying to break Optimus Prime wasn’t going to work, killing him would be the next best thing.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to fight you.”

“Aren’t you angry at me? Don’t you hate me for what I’ve done?” (Rolling boil.)

“I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated anyone.”

“Not even—”

“Not even Megatron. Villains like you and he, I just feel sorry.”

Star Saber’s anger seeped out from behind his optics. It was palpable. “You feel sorry for me?”

“You’ve wasted your life, and accomplished nothing. I pity you.”

“No,” Star Saber whispered to himself.

“And it’s because I pity you that I brought you out here,” Optimus said, warmth returning to his voice.

“No,” Star Saber said, a little louder this time.

“I wanted to tell you something.” Optimus wrapped his hands around Star Saber’s, which were still gripping the sword.

“No,” Star Saber said. The word echoed.

“I forgive you.”

“No!” shouted Star Saber.

Optimus let go and stepped back. Star Saber’s grip loosened on the sword. It fell to the ground.

“No.

“No.

“No.

“No!”

Star Saber stamped his feet down onto the ground. He began clawing at his left forearm with his right hand. His fingers sunk into his own armour. He pulled off a strip of white metal, throwing it to the ground. He lifted his hands up to his head. He snapped off an antenna, and then the other one. He gripped his own head, squeezing with all his strength. There was a sickly crunching sound as the metal buckled under the pressure.

Optimus Prime turned away. He’d forgiven Star Saber, and that was enough punishment for his brother.

Star Saber released his head and dropped to the ground. His knees crumpled with the impact. Through the pain, he watched Optimus leave the temple.

Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, including Optimus Prime. After all the million years of pain and war and suffering, he was able at last to walk away. Cybertron was at peace. Grimlock and his army could take care of what was left of the Decepticons. Star Saber’s insidious revenge-plot had unravelled.

Optimus Prime had been released.

He looked north, watching the sun shyly emerge from behind the gleaming horizon. He took out his rifle and glanced down at the trigger. For a moment, the sound of a thousand shots echoed in his mind’s ear. He squeezed his optics shut. He held the weapon tightly and then hurled it into the distance.

“I’m free.”